[Snowpocalypse] Bigger than a Baby's Arm (D 1.2, R 1.9)

Rich

To Dice:

You, Dubstep, the twins and Terrorcore ride out. You tell them about the fan blade / windmill parts and there's chatter back and forth about where it might be. Skwee suggests the Dump, but Dubstep mocks him for liking Marmot. Terrorcore mentions Soldier's Field and the old Aquarium, lots of stuff there.

When you head out in search of a lost treasure, roll +Sharp. On a 10+, you find it! On a 7–9, you find something pretty close, unless what you’re looking for is hi-tech, in which case no dice.

On a miss, someone else has it instead, and they don't wanna give it up.

Leftahead

We spend a few tics gearing up and locking and loading and then light out. We're headed for the Aquarium, Dice fucking loves that place, and the Sk8ers that hang out there are philosophically compatible with the Skegs, up to a point. Let's go see if there's anything over there that fits the bill.

(Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 4, 4. Total: 8)

Rich

The Sk8ers are pretty lax about shit like security. But they've got enough guns and shit to let some things go through shrinkage or whatever.

You and the gang... is this everyone or just the few from Lemma's shop? Anyways, you come into the Aquarium, and this is the first time for the twins. They actually wanted to see this...




Walking in, and seeing all of the exhibits intact, crystal clear, with the animals all frozen in place almost like they were still alive

What do you do?

Leftahead

It's the same crew that went to Lemma's, five of us on four sleds, the rest are not back from the run yet.

Well, first things first, I go and say hello to the sk8ers who spend most of their time doing tricks in the big empty 2-story shark tank. The curved walls and observation glass are awesome for rollerblades and boarding, and most of them are pretty fuckin' rad, because this basically what they spend most of their time doing.

They have some kind of complicated perpetual system of skate-offs to see who's in charge this week, so I never really know, and just sort of address the group.

"Wassup, ya rats, I'm on a mission for Lemma. I need to scrounge the back, what's the toll this week?"

Rich

To Dice:

When you call up to the Sk8ers, you see old Zeach up on the lip. Down "in the bowl" getting some wicked speed is Bloody Dracula, BD to her mates. She's catching some serious air and the Sk8ers are oohing and aahing.

This is Zeach:

This is Bloody Dracula:


Zeach walks around on the lip to stand over you and yours. "Allo, Dice. Allo Skegs. Looking short." He chuckles at his joke, but it might be due to your number or maybe due to the fact he's fifteen feet above you. Who knows?

He jogs over to slide down a ladder and walks up to give you an overly complicated greeting consisting of fist bumps, explosion sounds and a handshake-shoulder bump. Is this something you know, or do you fake it?

Zeach looks at the twins, "You brought the kids? Aw, how sweet, Dice! Hi guys! Isn't it nicer inside of doors?"

"Fuck you," Skwee says, with pearly white teeth showing.

Zeach grins. "Seeing as how I'm in charge, three weeks in a row, mind you, a fucking trend I might add. I'll let you guys take a peek, no probs. If its worth a barter, we can trade out. I got somethin needs doin. Out of doors shit. Amenable?"

Leftahead

The running gag is that I know the last version of the shakedown, and we always crack up at the end when he throws me a curve and I slap when I'm supposed to snap or whatever.

"Five by motherfucking five," Dice responds, and we head out of the pool and around the back to the physical plant.

Rich

To Dice:

Zeach nods, then clambers back up the ladder as the other Sk8ers are laughing at Bloody Dracula's head-crack on the ice.

Morrow comes out of the restroom and sees all of you. This is little Morrow:


She titters laughter, coming up to hug-tackle you (she calls it "glomping" for some reason). "Diiiice! You come to see me?!?"

Dubstep barks a laugh, "He aint here for you! He's here for your shit! hahaha" Skwee and Bleep chuckle with him, but not Terrorcore. He's not laughing at all.

What do you do?

Leftahead

I hoist her over my shoulder and laugh.

"We're going on a treasure hunt. You can come along if you wear your mittens, ginger snap."

I have no interest in this kid because kid, and what the fuck like 90 pounds, right?

But I also don't particularly give a fuck about Terrorcore's girlfriendzoning her, so as long as she behaves, she can do what she wants.

We head out and down the hall, presumably with Morrow nattering at me about whatever new trick she just learned like she does.

Rich

To Dice:

Morrow snickers, "Dicey spicey, you're the only one who calls me that!" She walks ahead of you, twirls, on a heel, lets you pass, then catches up. It's like a game of yo-yo. "I've been working on a twist jump that has some serious air. Takes me five swoops to build up for it, but man, Dice, you should see it. I'm loop-dee-loopin and switch ollie grabbin, and wow. Fuckin A, yeah?"

Dubstep snickers at this display, but Terrorcore is still all pissy. The Twins? Just happy to be here.

What's the physical plant like? Huge space? Tight with lots of broken down areas and shit?

Leftahead

It's a couple of pretty sizable buildings attached to the back of the Aquarium, 2-3 stories high. They used to need to move a shitload of water around, filter it and clean it and send it back so the fish could shit in it some more. Big enough the twins won't have a problem but with plenty of crawlspaces and weird stainless steel nooks and polymer crannies.

There's all kinds of shit back there that doesn't get used any more, a lot of it of course frozen solid as rock, but there's all sort of tools and parts and shiny bits if you know where to look and are careful not to piss off the penguins.

The place is filled with this sort of crap, complete with the catwalks:


I am certain we can bust one of these things up for the propellers or fan blades or whatever inside, and bring them back to Lemma for her windmill.

Rich

To Dice:

The Twins and Terrorcore get to work finding big metal boxes that should have fans in it, then prying them apart with crowbars and the like. Dubstep heads up to the catwalks to check out another sector, while Morrow keeps chatting at you.

Morrow's done with her trick parade, and asks, "What're you after, Dicey Spicey? I mean, fan blades, like for what? Gonna bolt them onto your rides? Slice off the heads of some mother truckers? OFF WITH THEIR HEAD!!!" She does a chopping motion like a spindly samurai.

Then, Morrow stands back up, slips an arm into yours while you're standing there, drops her voice a little, "Hey man, I heard Stink Bug talkin some major shit about the Skegs, you heard that, right? I told him to watch his mouth or you'd shoot it off. You know, with a gun... Mac Ten!" She pats your machine pistol and giggles.

Rich

To Dice:

After a few minutes, Dubstep comes back into this part of the factory. She's got some dude in scarves and shit, and Jester the music-man.

To Ross:

Dubstep takes the catwalk into another section of the building. You can hear lots of banging and some loud conversation down that way, casual stuff, not a fight or anything. When you walk through a section of the wall to the other side, you see down on the floor is Dice, with Morrow the Sk8er. Also, the Skegs called Terrorcore, Bleep and Skwee.

What do you do?

Leftahead

Dice rolls his eyes and smirks.

"You leave Stink Bug to me, gingernsap. And I keep telling you, it's not a Mac, Macs are made out of sheet metal and couldn't hit a bus if you were standing inside. This is a Heckler & Koch MP5d, lovingly restored and carefully maintained with parts from Lemma's garage which, coincidence! Is why we're here right now. She needs a windmill, and we're trying to find her something for the ... fan? the mill?"

Dice hollers to the twins:

"What the fuck do you actually call what we're looking for right now?

Leftahead

Dice cocks his head and take a protective step in front of Morrow.

"Well, isn't this a a mixed fucking blessing? Ross, what's a credentialed crazy fucker like yourself doing with this fucking loser? Looking for somewhere quiet to shove his fucking ukulele up his ass, I hope?"

I don't really like Jester.

Adam

See? I knew Jester was probably an exaggerating. Nobody is liked by everybody — not that you should want to be liked by everybody... Just the people that count. I stroll casually up to Dice and smirk quietly to myself when he asks about shoving something up Jester's ass...

I shrug, "I don't need a quiet place to shove a ukulele up someone's ass, Dice..." I look around, "So what are the Skegs up to in a shithole like this? You guys busy?"

Leftahead

Dice laughs and give a 'no accounting for taste' shake of the head.

"Poking around for Lemma. If you know where we could find a... fucking... thing for her windmill, we'd be done with the busy. What's up? Jester need help locating his fan club?"

Dice studies the douchebag for a reaction. Is he totally (cluelessly) confident in Ross' presence, or does he get that this is a tense situation? And is the little turd eyeing up Morrow?

[Read a person: (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 4, 5. Total: 9)]

Rich

To Dice:

Jester has NO IDEA you don't like him. He thinks you're TOTALLY KIDDING. He grins and laughs, especially at the ukulele bit.

Sure, he's smirking at Morrow. I mean, you know... right?

Adam

Wow... He really doesn't like Jester... I mean, sure he's a little green but what the fuck did Jester do to deserve that kind of hate? I shake my head, "I need to get out to the Pier. Jester needs to make an introduction for me. If you guys are up for a little quid-pro-quo, I was going to ask you for a ride."

Leftahead

To Jester:

"Dude, you should totally go do an impromptu show for the sk8ers. They love that mumblecore shit."

[Using my 1-Hold: How can I get him to fuck off for a bit so we can chat with Ross without him here?]

Leftahead

Dice raises an eyebrow.

"Quid pro WHAT now? Once we find our... fucking... windmill thing, we'll run you over there just to see if you can hold on."

(Jester is a total fucking weasel, but he's good at it. I'm curious about a situation that requires Jester to help Ross out and not the other way round.)

Rich

To Dice:

If you get him to play for Morrow, he'd be out of your hair, right off.

Leftahead

"Hey, gingersnap, you wanna hear a song? I bet he knows some of that reggae crap you guys like."

Dice gives them the 'beat it' head snap and tries to suss out Ross' body language as the scrawny pussyhound scrambles after Morrow. Pissed? Resigned? Whatevs?

[Read a Person on Ross, (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 2, 1. Total: 3)]

Rich

Hey Ross, why don't you ask three Read Person questions of Dice.

Dice, answer honestly.

Adam

I look over to Jester, then back to Dice. I whisper, "remind me not to do whatever the hell he did to piss you off." I don't like the way he's treating Jester... I won't comment on it, of course, but I can't help but wonder what all this is about.

OOC: Dice, what are you really feeling right now?

Rich

To Ross and Dice:

Jester shrugs to you, Ross, "It's fine, he's just bluster, Samaritan. Hey Morrow, you wanna hear some harmonica?" The two of them head on.

Leftahead

Dice watches them leave, then turns back to Ross.

"OK, so with the grown-ups in charge now, what's important enough that you need to get out there sled-speed?"

[He's feeling conflicted, because he really can't stand Jester, but he respects Ross, and isn't sure why she doesn't realize he's obviously a creeper.]

Adam

I've got a throbbing headache, and I feel like I just went toe-to-toe with a train, and now I've got to explain why I've got to get there fast. Great. It doesn't help that the truth makes me look weak... I can hear it now — "Oh, you got shot? Fucking deal!"

"It's not the speed that matters," I answer plainly, "but the fact that I don't feel like walking."

OOC: How can I get Dice to not pry into my reasons for going?

Leftahead

Tell him, point blank, that she can't pull whatever this is off this without his help, whether she really means it or not.

Adam

That may actually be worse... But given that Dice spends all of his time riding the drifts, and has learned the ins and outs of the routes out here, getting there safely may be something we can only pull off with him...

"Jester plays the flute," I offer, calmly, "and considering how I found him, I'm pretty sure he'd run us right into a fucking trench or something... I figure you probably know that route like the back of your hand by now – so at the moment, I'd say you're the only way I'm getting there safe without losing a limb or something."

Leftahead

Dice cocks his head and smirks.

"I think you'd make it fine, you and your fucking shotgun, but yeah, I'm your only way of getting there safe today."

He calls out to the Skegs.

"Will someone please tell me we found a ... fucking... windmill-blade-fan fucking thing we can use?"

Rich

To Dice:

"Fuckin A!" Skwee calls out from the wreckage of what was once a functioning industrial-sized air conditioning unit. I mean really, who needs to stay cool nowadays anyhow. Skwee holds up a long, thin metal blade. Actually, he has an entire fan-worth of them on the floor.

Adam

I shrug off his complement. He does have a point... I look over my shoulder and watch the Skegs search for this... thing... Seems like they found it. "Well, I guess that solves that."

Rich

--END SCENE--