Peter gave a small nod to Jane as she went to comfort Rowan it looked like. He turned his attention to Fred as the Librarian came up to them and spoke at length. He listened carefully as there was a lot to process. Trask was in a hurry, which Peter couldn't completely dismiss, but he looked at Fred and spoke up. "So. Things are going well then in the talks. What does that mean for us? Our mission was the talks a...and Simon. Having failed in one, I assume we are no longer needed nor wanted around?" He wasn't being mean, he genuinely felt he had failed at the job he'd been tasked with.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 247):

Jane gave Rowan a hug for support and went back to the guys.  She knew that sometimes you just needed to process things by yourself.

She arrived at the end of Peter's question and nodded.  He asked good questions.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 247):

Noting that Peter was understandably downbeat, Fred tried to be reassuring.

"It only looks like you failed. Those that know what really happened down there know that not only did you not fail, you succeeded in preventing a disaster we can only guess at. After all, you got further into the Down Below than anyone we know of."

The Librarian checked around to make sure that no one was listening. "The story is out that the Combine killed Simon after he escaped their efforts to brainwash him. No one blames you for killing the Demon. I won't use his real name, of course.

"The only questions that we have is why the demon possessed Simon at that time, and wiped out the Combine when it seemed clear they were working together. It's clear from the killings in Boise by the Horror that the Demon had possessed Simon without his knowing for years, ever since Simon battled it and thought he defeated it. The Demon possessed other people, like he tried to possess Schaeffer, and caused the victims to kill themselves. Now, I can't prove this but I think the Combine and the Demon were working together to infiltrate and disrupt the summit. In the aftermath of the Combine attack, a possessed Simon would have been a natural leader. But the Combine double-crossed the Demon, capturing Simon and taking his body down to their hidden base. From what Vundra has described of their medical setup it sounds like they were attempting to "chip" Simon with a device that also acted like a fetter, to fully control Simon themselves. When the Demon figured out what their plan was, it acted and destroyed them all. Once it made its way back up and emerged victorious from the Down Below, the demon-possessed Simon would be able to dominate the Iron Alliance if it wished, or just continue to cause havoc."

Finished with his long exposition, he continued, "your Posse, Peter, is known as a group that gets things done. And your Posse is not known to be connected to Ike or one of the factions in Junkyard, or others. If something needs doing in the near future, you can be sure you'll be called upon."

 Jason listens to Fred and snorts a few times. He doesn't chime in just listens.

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 250):

"I came as fast as I could!" Trailing an oxygen tank, Dakota rolled into the hospital's ER waiting room where the rest of the Posse was gathered. "Hadda give the nurses the slip." His voice was muffled due to the oxygen mask he was wearing.

Dakota Jack had been a long-time member of the Posse. He'd come down with a serious pneumatic illness. It was possibly a biological weapon or postwar mutation. Fortunately, it didn't seem to be infectious and Dakota was responding to antibiotics but was expected to be in hospital for at least another week.

"I could go for some fresh air. Anyone want to join me on the roof? I've been smoking up there with one of the orderlies. It's got a great view of the "Steel Sky" up above.

"It's more private."

While the protective metal dome over Junkyard had been dismantled, the maze of smokestacks, piping and ventilation that had filled the space between the dome and the buildings remained. This tangle of piping once redirected the thick industrial smoke generated by Junkyard's factories and pipe in breathable air still largely remained. Standing on the ground one could now see the sky (now that the dome was gone) but only through this overhead 3D grid of ductwork that was called the "Steel Sky". The Steel Sky predated the now-gone protective dome, dating to the late 1800's when Junkyard was the most technologically advanced city on Earth courtesy of the genius of Dr. Darius Hellstromme.

Peter listened to Fred speak in silence. His eyes shifted slightly to the side to look at Jason every time the man snorted. After Fred was finished, Peter gave a small nod and shrug of his shoulders. "As good a theory as any I might come up if I tried. Very well."

Then Dakota Jack showed up. Peter frowned slightly but gave a cautious nod. "I suppose that would be fine." He headed up towards the roof.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 252):

Trask stood at the back of the group somewhat feeling unsettled in the hospital ER and without his armour. He watches as the new to him associate Dakota rolled up and was kind of glad he suggested they move on. Dressed in his camouflage fatigues and sporting a Model 1876 cavalry campaign hat, complete down to the crossed sword badge. He had his revolver in its custom M7 cross draw holster and his various other pieces of cutlery spread around his person.

Once on the roof he pulls out a cigar and enjoys the view as he savors the taste of the Petit Edmundo smoke.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:50, Thu 05 Jan 2017.

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 250):

As he talked, Fred forgave Jason's implied sarcasm. After all it would be difficult for anyone to live through the horror down below, along with losing Simon, to see things in a positive light. Peter was right, in a real way they had failed, no matter that the task was impossible to begin with. There was a stark clarity to this view.

"Yes, let's head up. More private there."

He followed Dakota to the stairwell door.

Dakota led them to an elevator, then down a hall to some stairs. He then got out of the wheelchair "I don't need this, I just don't like to walk when I don't need to!"

While the Posse was allowed to keep personal sidearms, various longarms (and Trask's powered armour) wasn't allowed up to the wards, for obvious reasons.

The stairwell to the roof was narrow and dark, leading to a door that was propped open. There was a nice view from the roof, broken by a few elevator mechanical rooms and HVAC gear. Above them was the maze of piping and ductwork forming the Steel Sky. Below them was Junkyard. In the middle was a narrow strip of horizon.

Through that gap above and below they could just see to the north and east were the grey Wasatch mountains. Past the wall to the south was complete bombed-out desolation. More desolation to the west, but there also the Great Salt Lake.


Marshall's Note: To visit Schaeffer the PCs need to give up anything bigger than an SMG. Sorry for not making this clear before.

"Well that is some sort of view." He walks over to the guard rail and leans on it as he inhales from his cigar, blowing the smoke out over the edge of the building and flicking some ash as well.

It is hard to read if Trask is impressed by the view or bewildered by the destruction outside the walls or both.

-

Since they were in a hospital, he felt a little naked only carrying like two weapons instead of his normal mini-arsenal. Peter gave a look at Dakota Jack as he got up out of the wheelchair and made his statement. He refrained from making any comments, however. He just shook his head and headed up to the roof.

Once there, he took a long moment to look around slowly. One part of him was annoyed that so much of the natural sky was blocked by pipes and ducts and whatever else. The main part of him, however, was already analyzing the steel sky and its stability, unconsciously looking for ones that could be potential escape routes. And the quality was solid but old, which was a little impressive and offensive at the same time.

"So. We are private now. What conversation is desired?"

Smoker just tagged along. He hadn't been bristling with weapons anyway, and had not needed to divest himself of anything he was carrying. He did, however, find the stairs a bit of a struggle. By the time he reached the roof, he staggered over to the nearest HVAC cover and sat on it.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 258):

Junkyard was once on the outskirts of Salt Lake City. To the south were once suburbs, now scored clean. The ruins of downtown SLC would be difficult to make out from here.

Due to the height of Hellstromme Memorial some of the lower parts of the Steel Sky was only about 20-30 feet above them. In fact, one of the support beams ran up the side of the building. There was an access ladder running up the side but it was locked off.

Junkyard itself was separated into two halves: the industrial west side and the mixed residential and commercial east side. Separated by the Taylor Reservoir, both sides abutted the southern flank of the Wasatch Mountains, honeycombed with old Ghost Rock mines.

Night was falling. The sun dipped below the western perimeter wall. It suddenly got a lot darker underneath the Steel Sky.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 258):

Fred watched the sun disappear below the wall.

"Peter, we're going to need people to go into the Combine. Into Denver. There are groups of survivors that are resisting Throckmorton. It wouldn't be to stay. A quick in-and-out mission. I can't tell you what for. But it's important."

A wind came off the mountain. In response the metalwork grid above them started to creak and rattle, flexing and swaying a little.

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 261):

Trask chocked on his last inhale and turns to look at Fred as he brings his hand up to his mouth. A series of coughs later he manager to get out "cough"... just in and out,"cough""cough" have you ever seen that place... that is not how it works."cough""cough". He spits something off to the side.

Trask shakes his head "Let put it from my perspective, I don't think you have that much money."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:24, Mon 09 Jan 2017.

"Survival Trask. Throckmorton wins we die simple as that. Whatever it is count me in." Jason had followed Silently and knew the only response as soon as the mission was out.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 262):

Biletnikoff raised an eyebrow at Trask.

"Money? I don't believe that's important. Although Junkyard can pay you a lot the Combine is a threat to everyone left alive in the west. Perhaps the world. You can't spend anything once you're dead."

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 264):

His throat now feeling like a porcupines scrotum Trask stubbed out the rest of his cigar on the handrail and flicked it over the edge of the building. He nodded at the rest of the posse's concerns without making eye contact or acknowledging them individually.

When Fred spoke again Trask looked up from watching the cigar butt fall."You get some confirmation on that and what they are offering as a reward and I will consider it. As well as telling us what you want done of course. How about mundane stuff like logistics for the mission, travel, insertion you know those sorts of things.

I think we will all need some heavy hole making ordnance so you may ask them if they will help out with that as well, but for me something like a M200, M3M, Barrett XM109 hell even a M242*, M230* if we are going up against those cyborg shits and their blackhat cock carriers."


*Chain gun/autocannon.

Smoker stays quiet. He wonders if there's really a place for the likes of him in a mission like this.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 265):

The darkness came suddenly to Junktown behind it's wall, under the Steel Sky. However, unlike almost any other place in the Wasted West, streetlights came on. There were lights in the buildings. A few vehicles moved through the streets, not many compared to pre-war times but again more than what they were used to.

Fred shook his head. He addressed not just Trask but Peter and the others.

"The briefing will happen when it's time. Right now, if you're interested then that's good enough for me. Things won't happen for at least a week or two. When it's on I will let you know.

"I can't say at the moment what gear, if any, Ike will authorise for this. You're not in the Militia so the tradeoff is you won't have full access to their arsenal. And Denver will require a degree of stealth. Trask's power armour, while good for defeating Combine automatons, will be at a disadvantage. People who can blend in or keep out of sight will be useful as well." He smiled at Smoker, tacitly acknowledging his doubts.

"Meanwhile,, head back to the hotel. With luck one of our lookouts will spot this Kargo fellow soon enough, maybe tomorrow."

Just then, in the darkness, they heard a soft moan that trailed off into sobbing. It seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere.

Smoker looked around.

"What was that?"

He tried to identify the direction from which the sound came.

"Denver? Really?" He let out a small sigh. "Nothing is ever easy and there is no rest for the wicked."

Peter turned to look directly at Trask. "No one is forcing you to join us. Feel free to look for mercenary work around town if that is all you want."

He then turned back to Fred. "A little time off after recent events would be good so that is good. I can not speak for everyone, but if you need our help though, I believe that most of us will aid you."

Peter's head slowly turned around one way and then the other as the sound was heard. His face slid in to a frown as he tried to figure out what it was and where it was coming from.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 269):

"Every time this thing comes out of the box it costs, and I usually like it to be someone else paying. Now you may be able to eat kindness, gratitude and good intentions, but I can't and I don't have any organization behind me either backing my corner either. So if you need my help you know where I will be. Just remember how well you fared when you encountered one of those cyborgs, a pre-war model at that. Now think how you will go up against of squad of Denver's finest cyborgs. Good day." He waves his right hand as he leaves.

Trask was not being an arse, but there were certain survival considerations the others did not have to face to stay effective.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:10, Tue 17 Jan 2017.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 269):

Fred nodded to Peter and was just about to reply to Trask when he was cut off by the scream. It seemed to be coming from the floor below the roof.

The odd thing was no one could remember there being anyone on that floor before!

Trask found himself back in the main corridor of the hospital's top floor. It was deserted and, now that the sun had gone down, poorly lit. It was about 20 yards to the elevator. Or he could continue down the stairs....
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:13, Tue 17 Jan 2017.