Rowan walks to the door and stands in the entrance and waits for the racket to stop when she is noticed.
There will be a moment for speech but it is not yet

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 97):

Rowan sees Smoker being grabbed by three beefy bikers. Another half-dozen, obviosly part of the same gang by their vest patches, head towards her (or at least the front swinging saloon-style doors). Another ten or so rough-looking bikers are sitting at tables or at the bar and drinking, watching the proceedings, but are probably non-affiliated with the gang.

The skinny redhead gets into Smoker's face and yelled, "who the fuck are you and what do you want? Start talking or we'll fuck you up, asshole!"

Rowan's voice barks. "As you were riders of hell". "The man is a messenger and he speaks for me."
Rowans AK comes up the Red dot sight targets the closest biker.
IE from where it was hanging at her side
"Far enough till this talk is done."
"Talk or fight which is it to be.?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Sun 16 Oct 2016.

Smoker smiles gently.

"No need to get excited, neighbours. Can't a fellow come into a bar for a drink without everyone getting excited? Those your bikes outside?"

Then Rowan sticks her head around the door, and he switches from what he'd intended to say.

"As the lady says, I'm her messenger. Seems like one of you guys has somehow managed to pick up some stolen property, namely her bike. Sure it's just an unfortunate misunderstanding, so let's see if we can sort it out peaceably, like, OK?"

In reply to Macon (msg # 93):

"There and back here. I'm not wasting juice walking back from the fight."

-

"Juice is free, hombre. Courtesy of Junkyard's electrical net. But time isn't. Let's go rescue your friends. Where are they located?"

Grabbing his fatigue jacket, Macon barked orders into his radio as he headed for the door.

Marshall's Note: I guess Trask can post getting to the armoury and suiting up. It's down the street from the casino.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Sun 16 Oct 2016.

There was a general cocking of weapons as the remaining bikers aimed their weapons at Rowan as she brought her AK up.

The biker closest to Smoker tried to disarm him while the red-haired man cocked his revolver and put it to Smoker's head.

Tables were flipped as the neutral bikers took cover and/or fled for the rear exits!

It was clear this group of rough desperate men were used to meeting force with force, and she was heavily outnumbered, the way they liked it! Rowan found herself staring down the barrels of several Colt M1911 pistols and Ruger Redhawks, three sawed-off shotguns and a Norinco SK-70 rifle.

The biker she was aiming at replied, "how about you drop your weapon and we'll let you live?"

MArshall's Notes: Rowan and Smoker must make Guts checks, TN3, to resist the biker's Overawe attempt. As well, Smoker can make a roll to resist the disarm attempt using an appropriate skill.

Smoker holds still.

"Uh, better to jaw, jaw than war, war, neighbours. Let's get some drinks in, sit down and talk this over, hey?"

Once they were at the armory Trask found the suit case where he had left it. Punching in his code and then having his hand print scanned he heard the locks give and the lid side to one side. He punched in his code for the suit and let it step out of the case and stand up right as he stepped up into the seat and let the armor close up around him as he began the diagnostic and moved out into the road to board Macons Humvee.

He never like the man and even less now he had stolen from him. Hopefully he will get in the way and someone will accidentally on purpose blow his head off. Tapping the cab roof to show he was ready Trask spent the short ride finishing up he pre-fight routine and making sure everything was correct and in order.


This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Tue 18 Oct 2016.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 105):

They quickly loaded the suit up on a Humvee. Macon smirked up at Trask.

"Man, don't you look like a right real sour puss. And I didn't even collect my side of the bet or nothin'! You were not raised right, pal, not right at all. All right, let's get goin'."

The humvee backed out of the armoury, and he swung aboard.

<Aqua>"I see you're not reachin' for your wallet. On account of my generous nature, this ride's on me. Your friends seem like decent folk, I don't mind helpin' 'em out none. Use that forty dollars on a good bottle, and I'll drink you under the table."

They picked up speed, roaring towards the gate. As chance would have it three Militia Police Humvees with red lights and sirens blazing cleared the wall access gate in front of them, and they fell in behind.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 104):

The biker grabbed Smoker's Colt Python. Cocking it he held the barrel against Smoker's right temple. "Drop the gun on the floor, lady, or I paint the fucking wall with this asshole's brains! All the guns and knives you got!" Another beefy biker held Smoker immobile while a third searched him for other weapons with one hand, holding a sawed-off in Smoker's chest with the other hand. "Three, two..."

Rowan could guess what happened when the count got to zero.

Of the seven left, all were behind flipped tables. One had a Norinco, two had sawed-off shotguns, one a Colt M1911 and two others .357 Ruger Redhawks. The one with the Colt was crouched down and covering the rear. More bystanders headed for the rear exit.

Marshall's Note: Ok, other PCs can start reacting or putting plans into motion. But make it a short action, maybe 5 seconds long!
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:09, Tue 18 Oct 2016.

 The flood of bikers running out of the bar caused Jason just a little bit of concern. "We will finish this later our friends stepped in it." Jason doesn't walk he runs at the door. He stops right outside the door to assess very quickly the situation. "Shit. Shit. Shit! Smoker has his own gun to his head. Rowan has about a half dozen on her."

Took a little liberty there boss, but I don't think to much. What are the walls made out of?

Peter had ignored Jason up until the point he mentioned that there was trouble. Then he quickly headed around the back of the building to see about finding a back door and seeing if he could get inside the back door. It would help to have people in different vantage points, he assumed.

Rowan calmly answers "you can do that but then every man jack in this room dies when I unleash hell."
"All I want is my bike back", I have Credit and goods to pay for it"

In reply to Macon (msg # 106):

Under his breath Trask muttered "Yea an accident..." Once the suit was up and running and the sensors had started to feed back onto the HUD Trask began to prepare the SAW intending to let it do the talking if shots had already been fired when he arrived. Given his mood Trask did not reply to Macon, but he did add. "We can double down on those batteries when we get back and you can throw in this truck."

-
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:32, Tue 18 Oct 2016.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 111):

Macon laughed and shook his head. "Oh, no thanks! You are already acting all down-in-the-mouth. You lose another bet, God knows what'll happen!" He held on as they were through the gates, then swerved right along the wall to head towards Marketplace. "Looks like them MPs are already goin' our way..."

In reply to Macon (msg # 112):

"Wasn't me that lost, my good friend Macon." Trask felt that they maybe going in hot so he readied his weapon and faced forward on the back of the humvee using the cab as partial cover. He looked back at the trucks following and then forward again as they speed along.

-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 113):

Macon laughed in response. "You didn't win, neither. It ended up even-Steven. Sometimes you gotta take what you can get." The driver joined in, laughing alongside. Trask got the feeling maybe they didn't believe him.

Dust was kicked up as they sped along the rough road just outside the wall.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 110):

The head biker stopped his countdown. "You don't listen so good, lady. I said to drop the guns.

"One..." Without waiting for "Zero" the biker lowered the pistol. He then shot Smoker in his right leg! Smoker tried to get his leg out of the way but the bullet scoured a hot furrow down his leg. Fortunately, it was just a flesh wound. While it felt like someone just shoved a hot poker into his thigh he didn't even collapse.

"NOW FUCKING DROP YOUR GUNS OR THE NEXT ONE GOES IN HIS HEAD!" he yelled at Rowan as he aimed the pistol back at Smoker's temple. Blood oozed down Smoker's leg and began pooling in his boot.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:43, Wed 19 Oct 2016.

In front, Jason and Jane couldn't really see what was going on until they moved closer to the front, swinging door. They could sort of see Rowan just inside the entry, pointing her AK at a biker who was holding a gun on Smoker, plus two others that were holding him. Suddenly, the biker shot Smoker!

Out back, Peter found a rear door. Next to it were some trash bins. Propped beside the rear door was an object that Peter recognised. It was Schaeffer's sniper rifle, still inside its carry case. Bikers and bar staff of all descriptions, male and female, were running out the rear door. One of them, an old biker in an eyepatch with a large grey mustache, wearing leather chaps over denim jeans and wearing a leather duster on top stopped once he was safely outside to gather his breath. He looked at Peter with his good eye.

Rowan lets go of her guns and smiles gently, "oh I listen but as my Man says I am damn poor on doing what I am told."
Then cups her hand in a pouch and brings it up blowing a sleep spell aimed at the Bikers in the room. and drops to the floor rolling out of the door

Peter hesitated, staring back at the biker eyeing him. He picked up and then shouldered the Colonel's case, opposite to his main gun hand. He gave a nod to the biker but didn't say anything unless the man spoke to him. The gun in hand was also not pointed at the biker, but downward instead at the moment.

He heard the gun shot and shouting, though muffled, from inside and his eyes darted to the side. He headed inside, keeping a sidelong eye on the biker out back just in case.

Jane joined Jason by the front door.

Inside, they could see Rowan dropping her weapons. The red-haired biker advanced to collect them. He didn't see Rowan slipping a bag into her palm. As he bent down, still looking at her, she blew a powder into his face! His eyes closed and he slumped over, while she rolled out the door.

The other bikers opened fire, but their aim was hampered by their comrades standing in front of them in the line of fire. Rowan made it out the door.

Other bikers were coming around the side of the bar. They were armed but not with weapons in hand. These seemed to be unaffiliated patrons and just seemed intent on getting to their bikes and getting the Hell out of there!

In the rear of the bar, Peter's eyes adjusted to the gloom. Someone had turned the lights out. Probably it was Schaeffer, crouching by the kitchen door to the front of the bar with M4 carbine in one hand and a flashbang grenade in the other. Behind him from outside the bar Peter heard the old biker yell, "hey! The fuckin' piggies are comin' in the rear door!" When he glanced behind him the man was gone (or at least not in line of sight of the rear door).

Someone must of heard him because several bikers opened fire to the rear.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 119):

Bullets started zipping through the doorway and punching through the thin plywood interior walls that separated kitchen from barroom.

"Hallo, mein freind! I count ten. Three are holding Smoker hostage near the front entrance. Seven are behind the bar to the right. Keep low!"

More wild bullets struck the walls around them.

Schaeffer was wearing night-vision goggles, so his vision was not impaired in the darkness. He held up the flash-bang grenade, pulled the pin and said, "go on three. Ein, zvai..."

Marshall's Note: Peter has time to get ready (draw a weapon, put on NVGs, etc.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:16, Fri 21 Oct 2016.

Peter let out a small growl as he took cover. That stupid old biker had made things even harder. He nodded to the Colonel and even tapped the case to let him know it wasn't in danger of being stolen. He slipped on the NVGs and closed his eyes before the end of the countdown, auto-shotgun in hand. He took a deep breath to steady himself.