Firefox, with all of the distractions going on and the concealment of living plants, plus the shrieking smoke detector and knock-out gas, you're having trouble perceiving anything right now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:26, Thu 19 June 2014.

Carver slots another pair of darts onto his tazer, and moves to stand over St V. If any murder teddybears were about to chew on his buddy, Carver was going to have 20 thousand volts to...
wait...
Carver sighs and makes a mental note: if Becka clings to StV's head, drop the tazer and stab. Taze the unconscious troll is no-no. It would screw with their table tennis tournament thursday.

Thursday, so I'm going to move forward with another turn ...

There's a rustle in the bushes and a furry ball launches out from the shadows as though launched from a furry cannon or somesuch. Carver is ready and takes the shot. There's a crack of electricity and a fluffy cuddly bounces harmlessly off of Carver's chest to land on St. V's body. It does appear to be a drop bear, and has been effectively dropped.

OOC: Any reaction to Snow's attempt at crowd control and egress cover?

Firefox squints and woozily points her finger toward the area her elemental appears to be pointing at.  "The target's over . . .".  She spins, her arm attempting to track the bundle of fur until it stops pointing at St. V's chest. . . . there.  She pinwheels her other arm trying to avoid falling over in her way too high heels.

Stabilized, she bends over and attempts to verify whether the teddy bear is, in fact, out.  Finding her astral vision more than a little cloudy, she settles for giving it a poke.

If it's non-responsive, she'll grab it by the arms and attempt to lug it out of the room.  No way she's going to attempt to lug St. V . . .

Carver hands off Marylin's leash to Firefox and tries to pull StV to his feet. (TN 4 STR test, 4 successes)
With a grunt, he hauls the majority of V's weight onto his back and awkwardly drags the troll to safety. When they are no longer in the room, Carver breaks open his medkit to see if he has any doses of Freeze-Foam prepped for casts. If there are, he will spray the foam over her forepaws and mouth (the foam does not inhibit breathing)

St. Velveteen tries to help Carver move him out of the room, but isn't sure if his help is actually providing aid to the dwarf.  His mind feels foggy and he can't seem to keep himself oriented correctly.  Out in the hall, now that the gas isn't so thick, he sits against the wall and tries to regain at least a moderate amount of control over his senses.  He sluggishly reaches up and reapplies his wig that was hanging off of one of his horns, but doesn't really care that it doesn't go back on straight.  "What's a lady gotta do to get some help around here?" he asks nobody.  "Just give me a couple seconds.  I'll be good as new."  Exaggeration of the century.

Carver starts rummaging through his purse satchel, making room for Becka amid the many ramrods. He pockets the few pieces of equipment he had concealed therein, and tosses Snow's borrowed party favor back at him. "Well, ladies, looks like it's time to exit stage right."

Firefox manages to lead the goat (or possibly vice versa) towards the doorway.

Carver is definitely leading St. V out. Despite the human's aid, the troll is wobbling back and forth, stumbling, almost taking you with him.

St. V is very nearly leading Carver out a window. The world is a blur of green and grey and cinereal tufts.

In the hallway, Snow successfully scores digits from the cute lady in the underwear. Everyone seems to be filing out neatly. Then the elevator bings. Out rolls an ork in thigh-length boots, a bright purple afro, and a skirt that looks to have been air-brushed in (much to your chagrin; it ain't the cutest ham you've ever seen). Flanking her is a dwarf in day-glo orange lipstick, a whalespout, and a shirt that says "My Tits Are Down Here", and a troll in leather carrying hand cuffs and a whip. You seem to recall them from the camera footage.

Snow informs her of the fire, et al. She brushes him off, "Oh lordy it's a fire elemental. Ain't nobody got time for dat. I got big money riding on riding on me. Now I already cracked me two security guards. Do I gotta go through you too?"

Carver and crew manage to clear the smoke into the hallway. (Carver can spray his freeze foam if he feels the prostitutes aren't an immediate threat.)

Snow continued to play the role of security guard relying on demeanor and orders to make up for the fairly obvious lack of uniform.  When the other group of transgendered freaks gets onto the floor Snow stands aside and lets them by.   If they are trouble then he is in a position to flank them, if not then he is in a position to help guide the residents off of the floor and use them for cover.

“Hey sweet cheeks, it’s your choking death.”   He does pass the squid shaped ~ehem~ marital aid to the lead to the ork, “You’re going to want to take that with you.”

After the new transvestites (sounds like a band name) pass him he calls on his radio, “We got guests.  Do we have the mark, head for the stairs, use the crowd as cover”

OOC and someone hit St. V with a stim patch.

Carver gently stuffs Becka into the bag and does a quick spray job to secure her in place. (Stealth check to do it covertly, 4,2,3,4,3,5,1,4,5,5. Bonus if my trench coat applies.)
With the package secured, he clasps the top of the bag shut and props Valentine up, leading the poor troll in a drunken ramble down the hall. Carver mutters a "damn, they're good" as they pass the second group of Women Of the Night, and gives the ork a thumbs-up.

Firefox struggles to get out of her boots without toppling over.  If the plan is to use a fire evacuation as cover, she can certainly handle that . . .

She reaches out to her elemental.  Wanna have some fun?  Go fly around various common areas of the floors near this one and make lots of smoke.  Try not to burn too much though.  Avoid anything threatening.

Saint Velveteen stumbles along, still pretty messed up.  At this point he is probably resting more of his weight on the wall than the floor.  "Don't forget Marilyn," he manages to say halfheartedly, not even bothering to look back to see if anyone had heard him.  "That hair is nicccccce," he comments as he nears the orc with the colorful afro that is swirling in his vision.  He flashes a humongous smile her way and readjusts his own hair as it starts to slip again, then continues to stagger toward the steps.  Those would be interesting...

Snow hands over his Mr. Squidy and the prostitute glowers, but the confrontation is disrupted when the rest of the party piles out of the suite. Firefox is now barefoot and wearing a gas mask; St. V is leaning heavily against the wall, hair askew, as Marilyn wobbles out and snuggles with him. Carver immediately turns on his heel, opens his trench as he leans over the body in his duffel, and sprays his foam all over before zipping it up and rejoining the group.

The ork reaches for her hand cuffs, the dwarf for a night stick, the troll pulls her business card. "Why don't you just keep on movin', if you're all done here? Amateurs like you make life tough for the rest of us." The ork shakes her head as you roll out (but the lady troll slips Carver her card).

Firefox's elemental appears in front of her with a flourish, "Wheee!" it flies down the hallway, leaving the carpet burning in its wake.

(At this point, I'm assuming you're making good on your escape. Rolled for Stealth for everyone; everyone passes, oftentimes by quite a wide margin.)

The party follows the group flowing towards the stairs and elevators. An older gentleman is bellyaching to his staffer that the elevator isn't arriving fast enough, and the staffer needs to go downstairs to see what's causing a delay. In fact, most people seem a little confused on how to operate these manual stairs. Still, enough people are flowing out that it's a bit of a jam. Outside, the area around the hotel is jammed with Lone Star and Mitsuhama security cars, as well as fire trucks and fire drones. The sidewalk is littered with broken glass; it seems someone jumped, although there's no sign of a body. As you're going with the flow of the crowd, you all see Firefox's elemental in hand cuffs, being guided into the back of a squad car. Marilyn looks up at St. V for guidance as to where you're going next. Meanwhile, the duffel wiggles a bit, as the bear gradually comes to.

Snow will lead the way, now that they are out of the building he drops the Security guard role because it would just draw attention at this point.  He tries to stay with a large group of half naked and other eccentric guests as they make their way to the getaway vehicle.

snow gets behind the wheel of their car.  Fox and V are to effed up and carver is on Bear Duty.

St. Velveteen makes his way along with the group, leading Marilyn toward their vehicle.  He is still having trouble keeping his balance and all of the noise and lights are disorienting, but he presses on.  When he sees Carver's bag twitch, he isn't sure if it is because of the drop bear or because of the gas, but Saint V tries his best to keep his excessive bulk between the bag and the officers in the vicinity.  Normally he would be making comments as his normal suave, witty, and charismatic self, but right now he just wanted to be out of this place and rest.

So with you guys out safely, where are you regrouping with your loot? Also, how are you getting there? Finally, who is responsible for bringing food?

St. V already bout some "meat" at the butcher shop for just such an occasion! Lets all ride with Snow back to Carver's place and chillax before getting ready to meet the fixer.  St. V is planning to collapse in the back of the vehicle and work off some of that psychedelic gas Carver dosed them with.

I dont remember who but someone had a vehicle.

Snow starts the car and heads away from the scene of the liberation with a brief stop by white Castle for a crave case before heading back to Carver's safe house.

"Right, So now what?"

Firefox moves away from her little party before replacing her boots, taking her time and bending over just a touch more than necessary to ensure the Lonestar goons have something more pleasant to look at than a disheveled tranny troll and a dwarf humping a bag that may or may not be wiggling.  As the officers struggled to shove the elemental into the back of the squad car without lighting the seat on fire (unsuccessful), she casually dismissed it causing both the handcuffs and the officer who had been doing the pushing to fall unceremoniously onto the singed plastic.

Seeing her compatriots successfully make it out of the building and moving rapidly toward their vehicle, she headed to the nearby alley where she'd stowed her bike and set off to follow at a safe distance, keeping an eye open for other tails or anyone who might decide to snatch their prize.

Presume we're headed back to the hideout where we planned things, given that I don't think anyone's shared any alternative addresses?

Carver slings the satchel and moves towards his beloved powder-blue scooter, strikes up the two-stroke motor... strikes up the two-stroke motor... strikes up the two-stroke motor... briefly applies percussive maintenance... strikes up the battered, 80-year-old two-stroke motor, slides one of the authentic "FlowerPower^TM" decals to cover the newest dent, and scoots at a responsible 34kph towards his hideaway.
When he has ridden about 10km from the job site, he pulls into an acceptable alley, doses the koala with a safe amount of tranquilizers (erring on the "groggy" side of unconscious/dead), and clears up some of the extra freeze foam to check Becca for any obvious transmitters. With that out of the way, he more carefully applies the foam to minimize discomfort and "accidental dismemberment" of teammates, seals the bag, and meets up with the party.

I think Castanova had the vehicle.

Saint Velveteen made himself comfortable in the back of Snow's ride.  Which is to say, he was sprawled out like a spilled sack of potatoes.  Potatoes  dressed up in a mini skirt and blonde wig.  Normally he would have helped watch the road, maybe even jack in to the vehicle, but the way his mental state was right now, he probably would have done more harm than good.  He took it easy the whole way back, occasionally mustering up the energy to scratch Marilyn behind the ear.  The poor goat was cuddled up on the floor in a similar state.  "Hope you plan on sharing that crave case.  I think I might be getting the munchies."  Or maybe it was just regular hunger, but he intended for the end result to be the same.

I wonder what transvestite trolls wear as undergarments ...

ANYWAY, great job! Scene closed, 2 karma for everyone. Fantastic!

I think by this point we've all had a peek, but no-one seems to want to talk about it . . .

rule 34, and no i'm not going to go looking for it