https://datafortress2020.com/n...zone/combatzone.html



The smell in the air is acridic as always, add in the sound of gun shots and screams in the distance and you know you're in the combat zone. Law is what you make of it here and you only have a moments chance to decide what to do when that Booster on the corner starts looking at you... stare him down, put him down or cower and walk away. The choices are yours....
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:02, Wed 02 Oct 2019.

Artemis spent a lot of time at Ironhaus. Her hobbies were lifting and boxing, so that made sense. Even with the various augmentations she had, it was important to continually work out to maintain reflexes and flexibility. And of course, if you weren't improving and sparring in hand to hand, you might as well just check into an organ bank in her line of work.

She also worked there. Her job was primarily spotting and sparring. She was good enough and intimidating enough to teach the advanced boxing classes. And of course there was always helping out the FNG's not to kill themselves.  Of course, that hardly paid anything, really it just cut her gym membership and got her very cheap rent. Theoretically, lots of other people could have wiped the blood off the mat and taught the basics to people, but having someone as terrifying as her added a certain bit of prestige to the place. Plus, very few were dumb enough to abuse the equipment knowing that Artemis would snap them in half if they tried.

The equiptment was.. I mean it was mostly big metal weights. The stuff went cheap, some of it was pre-collapse, others stuff techies had bashed together for the cybered crowd. Once in a while some oldtimer would shake their head at someone bashing out 3 reps on a quarter ton bar. It was a real hodgepodge of steel.

The place had a large empty classroom with mats used for a variety of fitness classes. The anti-bacterial matting kept mold from hitting the place, but gave off a distinct weird chemical odor it had taken her weeks to get used to. It was easy to hose off. Right now it was some areobics fad craze for housewives. Later it would be a licenced Araskarate class for wannabe toughguys.

She also got real work at Ironhaus. It was just logical: if you needed to hire a couple hundred kilos of chemically and cyberneticly augmented beef to put the lean on someone, a gym in the combatzone was the natural place for it. Recruiters and low level fixers commonly posted stuff on the job boards for bouncing gigs, illegal fights or as impromptu bodyguards. But Artemis wouldn't call them solos.

Artemis was relatively new to the edgerunning scene, and had done enough of these minor jobs and scut works that fixers had started to poke around. Finally, she could get her job done and earn her place among the killer elite: the living legends, the solos who street punks whispered about in alleys, who gave even corporate execs pause, uncertain that they were safe from their harm.

Right now though, it didn't look like anyone was coming in today. The place wasn't quite abandoned, but only a few of the stalls were occupied. She'd just finished the last of her morning routine and was digging into a peanut butter kibble n whey bar and trying not to grimace. The stuff was nasty, but it was the cheapest high protein kibble she could find, and money was a constant problem given how much she had to eat. There was a lot of things she missed about her old life as an athlete, but real food was pretty high on the list.

Artemis chewed absentmindedly and took a few glimpses around the gym to see if anyone important was there today. Technically her "shift" was over in 15. She'd planned to meet her bestie Sai for lunch and a movie, but some kind of AV had crashed and now Sai was pulling an all nighter putting people back together. She saw something about a high body count earlier, but she hadn't given it much thought.

All in all, a pretty boring day. If she didn't see anyone worth talking to in 15, she'd head to the local bar and see if anyone needed a heavy tonight. Gotta keep up that hustle.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:34, Wed 12 May 2021.

Although one might now know it unless they went looking, houses were still a thing further out in the Zone. Houses in so far that they were, more or less, free standing structures. But in practice they were just as cramped, filthy and dangerous as the blocks. Even more so depending on the neighborhood. His was technically Stomp, but it was near enough to the Zoners, Elders and the Digital Renegades. He was still so new that his cover, running food shipments in and out, was still pretty solid. Everybody needed to eat after all...

This particular home was an ancient, souless, flat roofed hovel with rotting eggshell stucco, boarded up windows and a weed ridden gravel yard. The front door hung uneven in the frame where it had been kicked in at some point, and an overturned trashcan sat in the side yard partially filled with a foul looking liquid.

The one redeeming feature was a detached garage that protruded out towards the street on one side. It had long ago been converted into a small bedroom, the seams around the garage door itself duct taped from within and the wires pulled from the door motor. It was hot, oppressively dusty and home to a colony of curious spiders. What's more there was no bathroom (a plastic bucket sufficed), only a hose spigot for water and the only lightbulb had been replaced by a green tinted one at some point.

For all that, it kept it's lone occupant and his ride out of sight from the street, which is why he paid good eddies for it.

The interior did resemble a little camp site, with the mummy bag laid out and the little backpacking style gas stove with a lone pot on the fragile looking struts. The olive drab military sea bag nearby had a hand pump water filter hose protruding from it.

But off to the side stood a hard used VMW dirt bike, a "Volksrad" model that had been stripped of the more fragile parts and rattle-canned a flat tan color at some point. The flat cargo potion behind the seat was crisscrossed with faded bungee cords.

He was in the middle of pulling the air filter for the second time that week, just knocking the caked dust off really, when a slightly distorted sound crackled to life just a few feet away, his full faced Motocross style helmet.

Rip didn't own a cell. They were pricey, and they had never worked in the areas he had come from. But the flip side was that he had a decent radio built into the helmet, not that most flat landers even knew what a radio was...

Rip groaned as he reached for the helmet, picked it up and adjusted the stubby antenna that protruded from the left side. The voice within was no clearer, but he could make out the basics.

"Yeah, I'm here, sent it."

What followed was an odd, segmented, somewhat distorted conversation. It was only a few minutes long, but the intent was clear...some gonk named "Phoenix" was calling in a favor from the Clan. Not his Clan per say, but he was already in Night City and this Elder was calling the shots. "Kids" like Rip didn't say no to an Elder, any Elder, even if they were not specifically in his Family.

"Solid copy jeffe, I'm on it. Give you an update same time tomorrow. Rip out." he sighed and rubbed his face in the green light, took a deep breath and started packing.

The bag with the rest of his possessions got hucked up in the rafters, out of the light and into one dusty, cobweb ridden corner. It was not much security, but if somebody booted the door they would not see much more than a concrete pad and some oil stains.

He suited up, the full "Moto" armored look, a nylon flap holster cocked to one side about crotch level on his belt, and a sheath knife worn horizontally along the small of his back. The armor was also a mix of browns, tans and a little black and mostly unadorned.

The only concessions being a faded red "Sturm Ruger" patch on his left shoulder, and a newer looking black rectangular patch on his right that just read "JODES" in all white caps. A smaller rectangle the same length beneath it read "FOUNDER". This was sewn into some kind of backing and attached with metal grommets, evidence that he really did not want to lose it.

He mounted up, jammed in the key-card and thumbed the bike to life with a audible whine as the hydro began to flow. With a little effort he threaded the doorway, paused to kick the door behind himself shut, then jumped the curb and was on the road...headed for the Jesters turf of all things.

Family, like a lot of things, you get out what you put in

Sometimes, a workout is what you need to get work stuff out of your system. It had been one of those days.

There’d been a shootout in the morning, no gangs, just a mum disagreeing with her daughter’s choice of boyfriend, but mum had backed up her arguments with a few grenades. And then, when the shift had just ended, on the way back to the station, there had been two punks shooting at the police car. Badge would have pulled a §23, but his partner insisted on just ignoring them. One who had actually said they were “good guys paying their dues”.  So much for his hopes of escaping a corrupt corporate environment by joining NCPD.

Pushing some bars, pushing it all out of the system. The Ironhaus wasn’t fancy, nothing compared to the corporate-sponsored high school gym of his childhood, but it smelled of honest sweat and iron. He also kinda liked Artemis who usually was around.
His mood improved a littlewhen he saw her around as he entered.

"Badge." She gave a respectful nod, making sure no one was too close to overhear his nickname. She didn't expect anyone would try and gank a cop in the open, but that was not a headache she wanted to deal with, and this was a combat zone gym.
Thankfully, the gym was pretty quiet. "Good to see you."

Artemis's didn't usually think much of cops, but it was clear that 'Badge' was as good a one as you were likely to find. She only knew he was one through numerous conversations, and it was clear that he'd paid his dues from the long scar on his pretty face.

As a rule, Artemis wasn't particularly empathetic, but there were certain frustrations with controlled anger she was very familiar with herself, and Badge wore them plainly on his face.

"You look like you really need to lift or hit something. You want a sparring partner, a bag, or should I just let you get to the iron?

Badge considers sparring, knows that practicing his wrestling moves will pay off on the job, but today is different, today he wants to kick something. Hard.

So as he goes through his warm-up sequence, he replies: "I'm gonna make that bag over there regret the day it was born."

Humor, he realizes, surprised. He wonders if Artemis could be having a positive effect on his mood, cursing her momentarily for spoiling his pure and undiluted streak of anger. He is still on the trial membership, and bringing that up might not the best of ideas, but he decides it's better him than her.

"Look, I'm really broke at the moment. I'm not sure how much longer my trial time goes, but my credstick is see-thru empty. I don't know if I can chalk up a month. Or maybe, I can work my fee off, if you have some odd job for me. Doesn't have to be glorious. It's not like my other job is stroking pink unicorns..."

His face clouds over for a moment as he thinks of his workday. Then he gives one of the bags an experimental kick, relishing the hard contact it makes with his left foot.

She paused for a second, then gave a full throat laugh.

"Sorry, gato, but I'm actually kinda in a similar boat.
You can imagine what I go through just in kibble and ripper fees.

Most of my jobs are bouncing and body man work.
Skip tracers, repo men and process servers. None of those can touch a cop.

But there are some jobs where a big cop with a gun might go well. Fixers. Bouncing in wannabe solo bars.

You'd be surprised how many gonks get a hold of a wondernine and suddenly think they can start something with me cause I'm not packing.

If I see anything, I'll let you know. And vice versa. Always looking for extra work and I'm in a bit of a dry spot right now."

She studied his form. Kicking wasn't her forte: kicking was something you did when the ref wasn't looking, though she'd picked up a few low stomps to adapt proper fighting technique. She could tell he knew what he was doing though.

"I was planning on checking out a place I hear has regular work, though it's a bit more high paying.

I'm off in a bit if you want to check it out togeather."

OOC: Might as well use the excuse to meet up at Battalion, right?

Before he had gotten what he called the kibble rash, he would have suspected she was coming on to him, but with his face at the moment, there was no chance. Only one person so far had seen past his red rash, and he loved Paine for it.

It was one of the things he had learned after leaving the corpzone: People treated you differently when you didn't look like money.

He had just told her that he was broke and she wasn't asking him for his great looks: It dawned on him how friendly and generous her offer was. It felt strange: Friendly hadn't been a common reaction by people lately - came with the job, of course. Friendship was a rare pleasure.

So he gave the bag three more kicks for good measure and said: I'll have a quick shower. Promise I won't be long. Ready in five?

The showers were cold water usually, and heavily chlorinated, so everyone was eager to get done quickly.

Artemis and Badge made their way to Batallion. Artemis had thrown on her armored black jumpsuit. The "armor" was more designed for rough combat sports, but it was servicable protection and it was far less gauche than her armored flackjacket. The bow on her back stood out, but people rarely gave her any trouble over it in a Night City combat zone. The helmet was just good policy.

You never knew what was waiting for you in a CZ. While most predators wouldn't be crazy enough to come after Artemis or Badge, there was always the possibility of running into someone who just didn't care from cyberpsychosis, or some gang who had enough numbers that they'd try and pick on tougher prey.

Thankfully, that level of threat was very rare this close in to the CZ.. but it kept you sharp.

To go along with the noise pollution that is the club's music, trash piles up on the streets, rats scurry into the sewers, a smell permeates the area and even the drizzle of acidic rain does little to make it go away....

---

Feel free to give me awareness rolls.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:04, Fri 21 Apr 2023.

Phoenix stands under the eaves of a building, hoping to stay out of the acid rain as much as possible.

17:43, Today: Phoenix rolled 14 using 1d10+11, rerolling max with rolls of 3.  Awareness/Notice (Int).

This was precisely the sort of dump that Lady Koi had been steadily moving away from her whole life, and coming to this part of the Zone was a bad memory for her.  Nonetheless, she moved into the place and through it like the native she was, eyes and all other senses alert for their quarry and trouble.

---

18:09, Today: Lady Koi rolled 21 using 1d10+13, rerolling max with rolls of 8.  Awareness.

The Salaryman found a spot opposite Phoenix outside.  Lady Koi seemed to be the best equipped to actually blend into the clientele.  She reasoned that, as much as she did not believe it was the best course of action to completely split up, she herself would draw too much of the wrong sort of attention, which would only elevate the risk of an already risky situation.

Therefore she decided to put her eyes on the place as best she could before taking them off of it briefly to open up The Menu and run a LOCATE REMOTE command.

The SalaryMan rolled 34.  Awareness

The sound of gunfire is heard off in the distance, the smell of the acid rain mixing with what ever contents of someone's stomach fills your nostrils, its the usual in the Combat Zone.... Nothing looks really out of the ordinary...

---

What shall you do?

The Salaryman continued for the results of her matrix scan to be returned to her.

As she waited she sent out a short message to the others.  Our recent moves in the marketplace appear to have generated interest amongst potential speculators.  She sent cryptically, perhaps wary of eavesdropping.  "There may be a trend developing of utilizing visibly upmarket assets to stake positions in market venues that are typically exploited through low value resources.  This will create the benefit of potentially minimizing brand confusion by making such assets stand out in the physical marketplace."

So, waves have been made, Phoenix muses.  And it is possible that more publicly visible surfers might be able to use the smaller waves for competitions that are usually left to the lesser well-known competitors.

The Salaryman worked through what Phoenix said, then sent a reply.  A fellow surfer has arrived, black board in hand.  Should someone extend hospitality?

Extending hospitality is always a good thing, Phoenix replies.  Until it isn't.  Be cautious, we are ready to lend assistance if needed.

Having been apparently volunteered, the Salaryman began attempting to make her way towards a woman on a black motorcycle as naturally and subtlely as she could.  It was a task she was not adequately equipped for, but she hoped by walking down a bit and then crossing, and making her way back it might not alert the surfer to her intentions.

As you move inside a wave of nausea overcomes you. The Garbage Pail is aptly named. Basically a long room with a bar at one side. You see that the floor, if there is one, is covered in mounds of trash. Rumor has it that raw flesh has been found here in the past.

The music emanates from behind a bulletproof barrier located at the end of the room and the band, although loud, can hardly be seen behind the variety of substances plastered across the inches-deep plastic.

OOC:I require a Stun Save Vs Light wound. Failure means you add to the room the contents of your last meal....

---

The roar of the bike can be heard as it's kicked into gear as you approach and with a squeal of the tires the bike turns and heads down the street...

Lady Koi retches this afternoon's kibble onto the floor, the smell really beyond anything she ever wanted to deal with.  Even as she is retching she pulls her phone and calls Phoenix.  "He's here... blargh.  Or was *cough*.  Arab looking guy just blew his head off *cough*.  Gonna need back up," she says between coughing and spitting out bile.

She then moves towards the Arab-looking guy and what's left of Fargo drawing her weapon but keeping it low and pointed down.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:37, Thu 25 May 2023.

It is so loud in here, for those without cyberears with noise cancellation communication is impossible even through your phone. Just the blare of music is heard over bits and pieces of the conversation.


Moving through the crowd is no easy task but you make out the Arab popping back up and moving through the crowd some what towards you as he seeks to make his exit.

---

OOC: I edited your "phone conversation" striking out some of the random words. So unless you have noice cancellation (sound editing + dampener) you don't pick up the full conversation.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:41, Thu 25 May 2023.

Phoenix knew there was a reason he invested in the Level Damper for his Cyber Audio.  Times like this would be it.  He gets up and heads for the doorway leading into the bar.
When he walks in, the smell and view hit him like a sledgehammer.  But, this would not be the first time ge has been hit with a metaphorical, or even a physical, sledgehammer.  The hold man manages to keep the contents of his stomach right where they belong, despite the rankness of the place.  He does immediately regret that Lady Koi had been the one to enter first.
Realizing that, with her appearance, the target's suspicions would be the last thing aroused, she had been the logical choice for first contact.  The target's now headless corpse, however, had completely ruined that angle of approach.
Now, it seems he must find Fargo, or an Arab.  Maybe ge should just find Lady Koi, then go from there.  He moves in further in to see if he can spot an Arab or Fargo, and intercept the one he sees first.

16:00, Today: Phoenix rolled 18 using 1d10+10, rerolling max with rolls of 8. A Brawling-Bump Into Arab or Fargo.

15:59, Today: Phoenix rolled 15 using 1d10+11, rerolling max with rolls of 4.  Awareness/Notice.  Spot Lady Koi, Fargo, or an Arab.

This message was last edited by the player at 21:34, Fri 26 May 2023.

The Salaryman rushed a bit as the motorcycle began to take off.  She had no designs on actually stopping the thing, but wanted to get as close of a look as she could before it got away, hoping to notice any details or other clues that might reveal more about the rider.


Once the bike was gone she paused to look around where it had been.  She didn't expect much, some sort of cameras would have been ideal but she didn't really expect such things in the CZ.

The SalaryMan rolled 23.  Awareness

Lady Koi hopes the others heard enough to come in and assist.  She also knows she cannot take on the Arab by herself.  So she moves to intercept him in a way that looks like she is heading somewhere else, like the bar, and in the corwd will bump/press up against him and pick his pocket.

Unfortunately, it seems she grabbed something else...

---

17:54, Today: Lady Koi rolled 12 using 1d10+11, rerolling max with rolls of 1.  Pick Pocket.

The crowded room makes it hard for Phoenix to pick out Lady Koi, but you do spot her trying to head through the crowd. She seems intent on something but you can't make out who it is...

Lady Koi bumps into a couple of people as she moves through the crowd. Lady Koi slides her hands into a gentleman's pocket pulling out a wad of gum and an angry look at the man pulls a gun on her to fire point blank...

---

OOC: Roll on behalf of Koi to see if she truly fumbled:

16:44, Today: Mister Green, on behalf of Lady Koi, rolled 8 using 1d10, rerolling max with rolls of 8.  Is it a fumble...

Wow did you ever blow it...

Lady Koi I'll need an Init roll from you.

Seeing the guy pull a gun and ready to shoot her Lady Koi decides to do unto others before they can do it to you.  She moves into him getting as close as she can, right up against his body as though the crowd were pushing them together.  Unfortunately, she moved too hastily, and the gun goes off before it was in position...

---

The dice roller is trying to kill her.  At least a "2" on the fumble is nothing bad.  But an 8 will miss even at PB range, unless he can be considered "immobile."
17:18, Today: Lady Koi rolled 2 using 1d10 with rolls of 2.  Fumble die.
17:18, Today: Lady Koi rolled 8 using 1d10+7, rerolling max with rolls of 1.  Handgun Skill.

With apparently no clues left behind, and no other information to go on, the Salaryman turns back towards their original objective.

Not seeing Phoenix where he'd last been, she sent him and Lady Koi a message.

Fellow surfer got away.  Have you gone inside Phoenix?  If you have, I will wait near the front door unless needed.

While waiting for a response the Salaryman headed closer to the bar itself to continue to keep a lookout and render what assistance she could if requested.

Music's pumping, crowd's surging, and no one is noticing the gun fire. Lady Koi's shot fires into what ever mess is at everyone's feet, as the Arab pushing her to the side, firing two shots into Lady Koi, the first landing center torso, the next shot grazing her head as he continues to move through the crowd...

---

OOC:
Shot 1: Hit 20, for 9 Damage to Torso
Shot 2: Hit 18, for 8 Damage to the head. So lucky I rolled near minimal damage as head shots double the damage.


15:01, Today: Secret Roll: Mister Green rolled 3,1 using d10,d10 with rolls of 3,1.  Location, Location.

15:00, Today: Secret Roll: Mister Green rolled 9,4 using 3d6,3d6 with rolls of 3,1,5,1,1,2.  Arab Damage.

14:59, Today: Secret Roll: Mister Green rolled 18 using 1d10+12, rerolling max with rolls of 6.

14:59, Today: Secret Roll: Mister Green rolled 20 using 1d10+12, rerolling max with rolls of 8.  Arab shoots.

---

Phoenix you definitely see this happen. And can roll init. But he's moving towards the door fast. And getting a shot off in the crowd aint easy.

As noted prior voice communication in and out of the club is all but impossible unless you got 2 pieces of cyberaudio going in your favor.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:08, Fri 02 June 2023.

Though the armor she is wearing saves her from the torso hit, the bullet grazing her head however knocks her out.  She slumps against a pillar/column/support structure.

---

19:32, Today: Lady Koi rolled 10 using 1d10 with rolls of 10.  Stun save -1.
Needed to roll less than 3, an east feat just a minute ago...

Phoenix, without hesitation, draws his Militech Avenger light pistol and proceeds to attempt a double-tap as he sees Lady Koi fall from the Arab's pistol shots.

23:18, Today: Phoenix rolled 6,5 using 2d6+1,2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 4,1,1,3.  Light pistol damages.

23:17, Today: Phoenix rolled 14,16 using 1d10+12,1d10+12, rerolling max with rolls of 2,4.  Double-tap with handgun.

23:14, Today: Phoenix rolled 13 using 1d10+8, rerolling max with rolls of 5.  Initiative.

The Arab moved through the crowd quickly towards the exit as Phoennix's shots rang out inside, though nothing could be heard over the loud music. Someone stumbled back into the crowd, blood pooling on their clothes...

---

Outside the smell of the Pail wafts from its doors as people come and go. One large Arab man seems to be on a mission as he exits the Pail, his gaze focused across the street.

Phoenix moves towards Lady Koi, calling over his implanted radio.  Koi is down.  Track the Arab leaving the Pail.
If and when he gets to Lady Koi's side, he attempts to perform First Aid.

16:29, Today: Phoenix rolled 10 using 1d10+5, rerolling max with rolls of 5.  Tech-First Aid.

Through the haze of the smoke and rain you can see the Arab's destination, a pickup truck with pair of Arab standing outside of it. Once they notice their friend leaving the club, they begin to move to get into the vehicle...

---

Feel free to drop inits and jump in.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:15, Thu 22 June 2023.

The Salaryman looked to see if there were any other vehicles parked or stopped in the area.

At the same time she put her hand in her jacket pocket, ready to draw her pistol if needed.


The SalaryMan rolled 14.  initiative

The Arab moves directly across the street to his companions, shouting in Arab "

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Got it, but others were here looking for it.

---

"

---

Lady Koi feel free to make another stun save to see if you recover...


Actions everyone?

Init Order:

• Salaryman -- 14
• Phoenix -- 13
• Lady Koi -- 13
• Arab -- 12
• Anyone else -- 10

The Salaryman moved closer to the truck, though still within the crowd milling about outside the club.

She mentally interfaced with her computer and noted all the information she could about the truck and the three men while occasionally glancing back towards the door of the club for signs of Phoenix or Lady Koi.

Lady Koi comes to and nearly wretches again.  Between the pain from the bullet wounds, the nausea from the smell in this place, and the dangerous noise level, it was going to be a very bad night.  She looked around, thankful that nobody had tried to take advantage of her or rob her yet, trying to find a familiar face or something she could use to steady herself, preparing to stand up and get out.

Luckily, Phoenix arrives as she come to.  Without a word, he tries to inspect the extent of her injuries.  He helps her up, noting that her staggering from injury and pain will make it appear that she is drunk, unless someone notices her injuries.  He helps her to get outside as quickly as they can.

Once outside Lady Koi looks for the Arab man and points at them.  "Don't let them get away, our only lead," she says through the pain and still feeling somewhat deaf from the insane volume of the music in the horrible place.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:15, Wed 20 Dec 2023.

Not able to lift anything off the men, The Salaryman spotted Phoenix and Lady Koi emerging just before things began kicking off.

Keeping low she ran over to where the pair were just outside the bar.

Seeing that Lady Koi was wounded, and seeing as she herself did not have much in the way of medical knowledge she therefore asked, "Do you need immediate treatment, or will you be ok in the immediate term?"

We need to get you medical help, he says to Lady Koi.  With just the three of us, we are out of our league for now.

"You are not wrong, but that is our only lead," Lady Koi replies leaning heavily on Phoenix.  "And I have no money to pay for medical treatment, or really for anything, to be honest," she adds with a wan smile.

We also do not have a vehicle to follow them, he responds sadly.  I have a bit of money.

"We have invested much in this venture, but we are unlikely to see an adequate return if we continue to expend our resources."  The Salaryman offered.

"I believe it is prudent to halt our current losses and reevaluate our current objectives to determine if they might still be achieved within the scope of this project."

Sprays of gun fire criss cross the street as others are trying to find some cover. One of the Arabs takes a shot in the shoulder but his partner takes aim and drops a booster with a quick three round burst.


ooc:

INIT:
Salaryman -- 14
Phoenix -- 13
Lady Koi -- 13
Arab -- 12
Anyone else -- 10

Squatting down to get as much of anything between herself and any potentially stray bullets, the Salaryman also tried to to put her armored jacket covered self between said bullets and Lady Koi, while using her right arm to shield her own head as she kept it ducked down.

"Is this venue safe inside?"  She asked, wondering if they could go back inside the bar, as even the thing protection offered by the ramshackle walls of a CZ dive would be better than nothing.

Lady Koi sits on the ground with her back to something solid*, pulls her knees up and hugs them to make herself as small as possible.  "I will not willing go back in there; the smell is wretched and the noise painful," she says about the bar.

The Salaryman gave Lady Koi a blank look.  "I do not think your valuations of the two actionable propositions before us are utilizing sound principles of verification."

"I don't understand; perhaps my English is insufficient*.  I think it best to let these groups bust each other up and then mop up the remainder," Lady Koi says in reply, wincing as she draws her weapon again, back up against something solid, sitting ont he floor with her knees up and together.

---

* she in fact has a base +9 in English, it is chipped in.  She has a bit better in Streetspeak.

"Our risk of loss of human capital is currently very high."  The Salaryman replied.

"I do not believe the environmental considerations mentioned which will have to be overcome if we relocate our operations temporarily within the confines of this adjacent business, will result in a net risk increase with regards to achieving our short term program objectives."

As long as we remain behind cover, and don't draw attention to ourselves, we should be fine, the older man suggests.  Of course, I could sneak over and help things come to an outcome more agreeable to us.

The Salaryman waived a hand in submission, acknowledging she had been outvoted.

She then did her best to make herself as small a target as possible and put as much trash and her own armor between herself and any stay bullet that might come her way.