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[Snowpocalypse] Where is Oakley? (H 2.6)
Hadden,
You're at Palmer's Farm. Oakley left a message on Misty's board for you to meet him there. What code did he leave for that?
There's Oakley:
He's standing in his slicks, by a pool brimming with shrimpers. Palmer is talking at him, but he's been waiting for you.
Is Handplant with you? K2?
Want to roll me some Moonlighting and tell me what you've been up to lately?
You're at Palmer's Farm. Oakley left a message on Misty's board for you to meet him there. What code did he leave for that?
There's Oakley:
He's standing in his slicks, by a pool brimming with shrimpers. Palmer is talking at him, but he's been waiting for you.
Is Handplant with you? K2?
Want to roll me some Moonlighting and tell me what you've been up to lately?
Comments
Oakley's got a simple doodle-and-word code he's used since he was a kid doing scraper runs. If he mentions family in two different sentences, it means to ignore the words and there's a doodle with the real message hidden. And there, in green chalk on the side of the job-board is a mark that means Palmer's Shrimp Farm between us.
Since I haven't seen Oakley in donkey's years, I would've had Handplant run a different gig and see if she wanted to have K2 along to see how biz rolls. We're still settling into new dynamics, not bad, just different. I was really relieved to see them both okay, but Handplant wouldn't give up another one of her bolt holes. She's clever, that one.
The farm is huge and the shrimps are too. I nod at Palmer and Oakley both, greet Oakley strong, it's been a while. Looking forward to dude problems over lady problems.
Oh yeah, there's a polar bear baiting show this evening! That'll be fun.
Gigs chosen:
Deliveries (1-barter/bushwacked)
Fucking (2-barter/entangled)
Obligation gig: Maintaining your honor (you keep your word and your name / you cross a line)
Obligation gig: Keeping K2 happy (you keep her happy / you fucking blow it)
That "follow-up appointment" with Nini, it didn't go so well. You mentioned, casually, Squirrel, and she laughed in your face. Alot. It started a fight. She ended up kicking you out, and didn't pay. And crying, there was a shitload of it. At least on her side.
Oakley takes your hand, pulls you into a bro-hug, back pat thing. When he steps back, he sizes you up, "Hey mon, been a crazy few days, yeah? I 'ear Mol been busy makin folks crazy in yo home, and he done killed Carnation, yeah? An dem Soldja Boys been all up inna tizzy over dere gennie been took, you do dat, mon?" He's looking around, like always. Always ready to bolt if there's trouble. That's Oakley.
Yeah, Nini. Gotta work on that. It don't do to beat myself up on that, but I'm going to pay for that one, and hard.
"Oakley, my man, it's been cray cray. Lots of dangers, and what the hell with Molotov's moves. It's fucking great to see you still together." I give him another pound on the back, I was starting to get worried. But he can book pretty much from anything. " I heard you were looking for them Soulja Boys gennie, any leads?"
But I don't wanna dis Palmer, "How's by your mama 'n'nem? Them scrimps doing good?" And I'm doing a bit of a voice so's he knows it's all good, pulling his leg. Those shrimp are fucking mag when they're fresh, too.
Wait a sec, are any of the Skegs here? I got a funny feeling between my shoulderblades.
Hardbag, Micro and Terrorcore are here. They're hanging out near the entrance to the showers. They saw you come in.
Oakley answers, "Mon, I'm always togeddah. They don' gonna touch me. Sheet." He looks around, "Dey's a sheetbag name o' Seatbel, e's puttin out feelah's, tinkin' he get some beeg offahs for somethin somethin. Ah'm tinkin', he got da gennie."
Palmer shakes his head, "Not so much with the good, Hadden. Dice's puttin the squeeze on me for triple for a while."
I kind of give a once-over the Skegs, a nod of what's up I see you, and kind of make sure they don't look like they're getting choppy.
To Oakley, "Seatbelt, huh? What're the Souldja Boys offering reward for their gennie?" I'mma be down some jingle after stepping in it with Nini, might need to diversify my portfolio, as the man says. "You in need of anything, Oakley? I don't wanna leave you loose."
Glance at the Skegs, but back to Palmer, "Triple? Shitburgers, why why? The fuck happened?"
The Skegs note you, noting them.
Oakley gives a sort of indefinite shrug-like gesture, waggles his head a couple times, "You ask da Cees, dey say you live longah. Ask da right Soldja Boy, like da Gen-rul, den I hear you get five. Five bartah. Or... pick o da arm'ry." He smiles big at that. Because that's the real haul.
Palmer whines, "I thought I'd check Stink Bug's rates... you know? Just checkin to see if Dice'd lower mine. Dis place was founded on fucken free enterprise! But now, I'm threeways hosed."
My eyes are wide at that, "No shit? A run at the armory?" DAMN. That gets me real interested.
Palmer is not usually this whiny. I wonder if that's the whole story, or maybe just something is going on with Dice and the Skegs getting choppy. I turn towards Oakley and slide my eyes quick back towards Palmer and quirk an eyebrow, like is this dude for real? What else is up, Oakley?
Back to Palmer, "The Skegs are true fast, and these scrimps are fucking mag when fresh. I don't want to taste dog when I want scrimps, savvy? Because Stink Bug. But if you've learned your lesson, I could tell Dice that for you." I rest a hand on one of the whirlpool things, kinda drum my fingers, look down at the shrimp, then look at the warm water on my empty hand, which is weird enough to be interesting.
"Fa sho, mon." Oakley says quick and sly. He gives you a look like not here, flicks a glance to the Skegs, then he's done, looking away.
Palmer throws up his hands, "They're fast, no lie. But Stink Bug is cheap, man. Now... shit now I'm triple fucked. I mean, if you can put a word in gratis, then much love, man. But I'm too strapped to foot a go between, savvy?"
The shrimp, fugly things that they are, look healthy and plump. Palmer is no businessman, but he can grow some shrimp. Of course, before Poke died, people thought having skills meant a kind of protection. Like "don't kill that mofo, we won't have any more widgets!" Now? Not so much.
"Fua Sho! I'll get a tank and you'll get a laser. Maybe a light saber, if they got one." Like where the fuck can you park a tank in Chi-Town! And I laugh, invitingly. And I give him a half-wink, like Starwars shit, amirite? and roll with it.
"Word, Palmer. Much love. Things are tough all over- If I see him, I'll say what, but not too."I get him, but there's gratis and there's gratis. I look hopeful. "I can have two shrimp kebabs, maybe for the road?" I won't push it if he says no, but it's a thing to walk and eat and talk with Oakley.
Having a run of bad luck, I guess. But with Poke.. half dead? maybe I'm not as needed as I think I am. I keep the feelings off my face.
Palmer looks to you, then Oakley. Back to glance at the Skegs. He waves his hand over the water, "Two. Only two. For the words to Dice. Don't know how I'm gonna pay him triple."
You take your kebabs and heads on, walking in the short underground passages outside of Palmer's before surfacing. Oakley looks at you, "You wan run to da Freight Tunnels, mon? Or walk above an chat, yeah?"
Man looks like I kicked his baby. I don't take the biggest kebabs. I don't want to fuck him over, but talking's hungry work. I'll offer him one of Stalefish's peppers so the Skegs can see. Wouldn't do to have him beat so's he can't farm.
I hear what he's saying. "Naw, Oakley, I got here in the tunnels. Let's go topside, get some sun. 'Sides the fact, I could stand to check in with Lemma on the way." I look for the bright spraypaint marking the ladder up, and we make with the climbing.
Once the manhole cover is replaced and there's nobody obviously close in the streets, I look up at him and say in a lower voice, "Speaking of ways, by the way, where we actually headed?"
Oakley follows you topside, pulling his heavier coat on. He hates being cold, you know leaving the shrimp farm was tough for him. But work's work. You ask Oakley where you're headed, and he shrugs, "Dunno, mon. T'ought you 'ad a plan. What you be needin from me?"
Stings a little, but I don't let it show. "Backside Misty told me you were looking for me, so I wanna know there's nothing like, outstanding. I would love to make a run for that armory. Think they'd let us take a look at how it was stolen?"
The kebab is good, and I keep the skewer to return later. "But here's what the real what. You heard about the Collapse, about Molotov? I don't think the buck stops with him. I think he's being made a patsy." I give him a rough one-arm hug as we're walking. "Fuck, man, I am so fucking glad to see you're in one piece. I think Merrell's making a move and I don't know who else he's going after."
I keep an eye out to make sure we have relative privacy. "I have Lemma scouting the Collapse to see what else is down there, Fuckwit is onto something. You should have seen his smug-ass face." A quick flash of anger takes a few more steps than I'd like to cool off.
"Handplant and K2 are in the loop on this, and I aim to need someone good with a gun in case I have a longer conversation with Molotov." I stop a sec. Speaking of conversations, maybe I could to talk to Roxy and get the real skinny. Keep walking.
Oakley gives you a curious look, "Aftah all dis time, wot makes you tink Merrel comin aftah you, mon? 'E say sometin? You 'ear it onna vines?"
On the gennie, Oakley shakes his head, "No clues onna gennie. Seatbelt's usin da Skegs to run 'is messages back and to. I don' wanna mess wif dem." He pauses, looks at you, "You wanna 'ire a gon mon? Mebbe 'ire Rome?"
Who's Rome, and why is Rome freelancing? What is so damn dangerous about that merc, anyhow?
I look worried. "The whole thing doesn't smell right- Why would Molotov murder that many civilians? He doesn't usually do explosions. Plus Merrell... he's way too smug about it. He was talking something about a new find in Underlake." I have my hands deep in my pockets, hat over my ears, watching my breath.
"Oakley, man, keep this on the dee ell. Fuo sho. If Merrell's willing to have forty-two folk dead as a.. as a.. afterthought, man, I don't want him to even think at my peeps." I look to the building tops, the clouds, the street. I wonder if Arbor ever makes it dirtside?
"Yeah, I hear the Skegs are getting hatchety. Be wise." I wonder if other people getting dissatisfied with their work, like Palmer?
Rome... Those Comiskeys wouldn't take him after the Wrigleys banished him over some infraction. I don't know their religion, so I don't grok the specifics. Made sense to them, I just don't get in the middle of their jihad. So two gangs gotta price on his head... alive, not dead. He's got a temper and carries a chainsaw along with a SMG of some kind. He might be good to bring into Grease Park because assault, but I roll with too many types to trust him to be cool. My mouth quirks, thinking of Rome trying to face down 'tude from Rossi and Silica and K2 and Handplant all without blowing his top. Then I think about what would happen and it's less funny.
I tell Oakley about the latest delivery gig, some running to one of the shops down by Jester's moms. It's a first date, and Oakley would know to roll proper.
Oakley listens up to the gig, and heads on out to get to it. "Meet choo back at Misty's tonight, mon." He picks up into a trot and is gone quick. Like always.
Then, it's just you out here, in the ice and snow. What do you do?
I watch Oakley zip off into the snow, soon he's out of sight. That motherfucker is fast, fast.
I'm right here, and I don't want to walk to Lemma's quite just yet to find out what she's found out, so I'll head over to those old Canucks' place to catch the polar bear baiting show. Maybe I'll gamble a little, could use some extra jingle. Might be some good info or leads on work, too. And if one of the Skegs are there, maybe I can hook up with Seatbelt or Dice, to found out what the what.
Maybe I'm trying to avoid thinking about what needs must by watching the animals. I don't know for sure. Because uncertainty.
I crunch my way down the block. Why am I thinking about auroras? You don't usually see them during the day.
So you're sitting at the polar bear baiting show. The place used to be a pizzeria called Giordano's pre-Freeze. You know this because even though the middle of the restaurant is now open to the ice and a lake, the walls still have pictures of pizzas and the name Giordano's all over the place. The ice pit is dug down, that's where the polar bear, or bears on special occasions, are. Folks line around and look down. Sometimes, just sometimes, idiots get pushed down and in.
There are people betting on the polar bears here. Because there are lots of polar bears in this place.
It's doing good business, although you pick up quick that most folks are hiding out while the Soldja Boys are out causing trouble. You've been there maybe half an hour, greasing palms, keeping an ear out, betting a little, maybe.
K2 comes in, looking around. You spot her first, but she was looking for someone. When she sees you, you get the feeling it was you. She flashes you a quick smile and heads over. "Hey, hot stuff. Been a few days. You mag?" She slips up to give you a hug.
Never bet more than you can afford to lose, as the man says. I know some folk go nuts for this kind of action and get sucked in, addicted. Collections can be messy business, and I'll only be on one end of that stick. In flusher times, you leave some at home. In leaner times, you move your barter around into two pockets and only play out of one, keep one safe for room-and-board-and. After the fuckup with Nini and nogo for Backside Misty and then Palmer too, this is a slow couple weeks. I watch the bears go at it for a moment. Maybe if Lady Luck is with me...
And enter K2.
I got a slow, real smile for her. "Hey there yourself, K2. You mag? " Of course I hug her close, she is warm. Natch, over her shoulder so's she can't see, I quick check the room to find out who else is watching her... us. "Did you make the hike out here solo, or do I have to share you?" It's a little playful-flirty, a little real assessment of her skill to move about.
"I'm all by my lonesome," K2 responds, her right hand scratching along your side as she stands near you. "Flippy ratted you out, and I rode out here to see if I could catch up with you." She gives you a peck on your cheek, lingers a bit so you catch a whiff of her perfume. What does it smell like, and why is it so alluring to you?
"That Flippy. Next time I'll have to tell better secrets." I angle my head into the kiss, slide an arm around her waist. Comfortable. Whatever she has on hits me, something purple and spicy, almost burnt. It makes me think of those old movies where everything's alive and wonderful and green and full of motion. Doesn't matter the movie. Thoughts of bears and Molotov and stuff to do and even Handplant fall right out my brain. I press a kiss into her neck by her collarbone, breathe deep, murmur, "Well, you caught me. What are you going to do with me?" I pull away to see her expression.
K2 leans into you, making a soft sound of pleasure as you kiss her. She melts into you then, turning to face you, press against you. She looks up into your eyes. Her expression is sultry, eager.
With a whispery voice, she answers, "I want to steal you away, Hadden. I've got jingle... I'll pay." She swallows, her voice becoming weaker, "Please?"
My eyes change when she brings up payment. Is that how it is? I pull back a couple centimeters, assessing. It's not a rejection. Gotta know her what the what.
Teasing but serious, "You wanna steal or pay? K2, do you want this to be business?" If that's the way she wants to roll, then I could have her work for fucking- not exactly barter she can pass along directly. I don't know if she realizes what she's asking, 'specially if she's thinking with her lady parts. I move my hand, tracing part of her with a finger to feel the small muscles in her back. I swallow also, already starting to sift and sort my emotions and my thoughts. I'm watching her eyes catching the light.
The question lingers in the air, and K2 thinks through her options like this might be a trick question. "I... I know you work, Hadden. I know you and Nini are on the outs. I've got some jingle. If you want it, then it's yours. I just." She licks her lips, not really as a plot to seem cute, just a nervous tick, "I want to be with you again. Like before. If... if that's business for you. Then. It's business."
I lean my forehead against hers, touching. "Don't have to be business. Can just be fun." There's desire in my words. I kiss the corner of her mouth, playfully, break the spell a little. "You had me at 'steal you away,' K2. The savvy businesswoman should not pay when all she has to do is ask." A wink and a smile and a kiss is hers.
I'll settle up with the house and close out deals, shake a few hands, make introductions and such before we go. But I keep K2 close, my hand in her pocket, a little possessive and a little protective. What does she think of the bears?
"So's you know, I do need to check in with Lemma soon on a research project she's doing for me. But where shall you steal me away to until then?" K2 is fun, and I hope Handplant is going to give her an earful this time instead of me.
K2 relaxes when you agree to "fun", like she was nervous about having to pay. Serious about doing it, though. She was committed.
"I'll make a note about, uhm, asking." She says, her smile returning. She follows you around, happy to be part of your work as you settle things. Like I said before, not so much business going on now, lots of folks taking it off the streets until the Soldja Boys blow over.
On the subject of where to go, K2 smirks, her confidence bubbling to the surface. "I got a BM pass. We can ride back there. It's right by Lemma's, too! That way we can... you know, linger a bit?"
Do you walk above down 94 to BM's, or try to wind a way to the Tunnels below?
Not expecting business now, just gotta maintain connections... Also helps K2 learn. And hey, you never know when you're going to be in the right place at the right time. As the man says, if'n you don't ask, the answer is always no.
It's about a half hour straight walk from here if we stay aboveground. Plus, if I see the Soulja Boys, I can ask them about their gennie theft, get the real story.
Well hey, if you're looking for Soulja Boys, that's easy enough!
Let's say you're taking the long gentle curve of the exit ramp off 94, walking slow to avoid slipping and sliding down it, when at the bottom, a couple Soulja Boys step out. They were standing off to the side, and heard you coming, of course.
Both male, wearing fatigues. One has a red beret, taller. The other is squat, muscle and a bit of a gut. They're both carrying hand weapons, bats probably stolen from a local sporting goods store. The one with the beret has a rifle over his shoulder. The chunky one has an semi-auto pistol in his jacket, the grip sticking out of a pocket.
Beret guy, his name's Crail, he calls up, "Hey, you two. We need to talk at ya. Don't make no trouble."
What do you do?
Walking topside lets me see the sky. On the 94, it's pretty much a clear view up. I see whispers of auroras that I didn't see before, or maybe I didn't used to see. Are they stronger when I hold K2's hand? Weird, they are. I'm taken in while we walk. I get a feeling like if I watch long enough, maybe I'll see words, but that's wild, right? Once or twice, I try to reach out, but my hands obey and nothing odd happens. I kind of don't let K2 see, maybe let K2 think my head's in the clouds. Hers probably is.
I'm not exactly startled by those two, but I'm real glad I wasn't aiming for to avoid them. I'll wave down, shout, "Hey Crail, it's Hadden. Gimme a sec so's I don't fall on my ass."
I'll make like to help K2 step around some iced-over crap and say to her, low, "Be cool."
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 3, 3. Total: 9)
The hand-holding, well yeah, her head's in the clouds, too. You know she's really into you. You know Handplant is not a fan of this, but well, she's an adult, right? She giggles when you reach for the sky, even mimics the action like maybe it's worth the effort.
Then you run into those two Soulja Boys and call down to Crail. K2 looks ready to bolt, but she trusts in you, so she hangs tight.
They let you make your way down, and Crail moves up a bit while his partner slides over to the side, just in case. "Hey... Hadden. Yeah, man, c'mon down. You're just the guy we wanna rap with." He waves you down, waits for you to get close.
"Some fools stole our big generator." He says it like he's said it a hundred times, and it still tastes sour in his mouth. "Genral's pissed, and offering eight large for it's safe return." He eyes K2, like she just showed up and caught his attention, but he's still chatting with you. "Know anything? A tip leading to recover, I'll give ya one large. Just for words, man. Just words."
I nod at Crail's partner, take a half step forward and match his strafe a bit, nothing extreme, just aware of everyone's positioning. I tap my jacket where I've got my pistol, then rub my hands, blow into them, and thrust my hands into my pockets. I'm not trying anything. I'm armed but cold, so don't misread. I stretch a little bit, roll my neck, a casual look-see if there's a third member of their team.
When I hear eight jingle, I let out a long whistle. "Dazamn, eight?. One two three four five six seven eight? Funny thing is, I was gonna ask you guys the same thing. I heard about the reward, but nothing about how they stole it. Can't exactly stuff something that big in a backpack. How'd it go down?"
"Yeah, Hadden. Eight large." Crail answers straight up. "The fuckers came in the sewer ways, snatched it out from under us, then blew the damn tunnel."
Fireplug over there, standing near K2, real interested in her, not you, adds, "Smart fuckers, them. But then, what ya gonna do with a gennie that big? They're fucked, is what."
More explosions? "I will def keep my ears open. Crail, Fireplug," I make sure he looks at me instead of K2's tits before I finish, "You want I should tell you guys directly when I hear what the what, or talk to General direct?" I really wonder if all this is related. Lots of shit going boom, seems like.
"Fireplug, who you think did it? Some gang want to ramp up their own hold?" And I'm thinking Molotov and the Sparekeys or even the Lostkeys, but I don't know the current sitch there. I'll shift a little bit, closer to K2, loop my elbow round hers. "Fuckin' wind."
Fireplug looks away from K2 to you, "Molotov been makin big moves. Killy Carnation, took over Sparekeys n Grease Park. I bet it's 'im."
Crail clears his throat, "That's your boy, aint it, Hadden?"
I get a real dark look on my face. Voice matches. "I haven't seen Molotov in almost three weeks. I need to have words with that home slug, find out what the motherfucking what. He's been doing some big shit lately and I know couple people want his head." I look back and forth between the Soulja Boys, breathing to calm, to think. "Yall hooking up with the Lostkeys yet?"
Crail raises an eyebrow. "Damn, Hadden. That was onna Dee El. Yeah, they're wif us."
Fireplug adds, "You oughta get wif us, too, Haddy."
K2 steps away from him and moves closer to you, "Guys, we work better outside of your camp. Get you all you need without being in bed with ya."
That makes Crail chuckle.
I nod with Crail, grinning a little. "I doan know whatchoo talking bout, Willis. But who's on top, in case they want to set up a meet?" Spinning, spinning, always spinning.
Sounds like K2 may be learning something. "Fireplug, the businesswoman here spake truth. I can open doors the Soulja Boys can't. Because Hadden. I'm Switzerland." I point with a thumb. "We gotta get with the feet, I'll tell you lot if I hear anything solid about your gennie. Let me know if'n you have other gigs, too."
Crail answers, "Genral. Send Oak or maybe cutie pie here for him, we'll do you right."
Fireplug waves you on, but he says as you go, "We mightily pissed, Hadden. Gonna squeeze Chi-Town till this gennie shows up. Gonna get real ugly soon. An stay way from Grease Park."
"Word, Fireplug. Someone knows something. I just hope they don't get dead before it turns up. I could use me some eight jingle."
I'll fistbump the pair as we make our goodbyes. Say some nonsense shit to K2 about the fucking weather or dinner or something as we walk.
Once we're out of earshot, pulse a little slower, I'll say to K2 sidelong, "Learn anything?"
K2 chews on her bottom lip for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "Well... I know Fireplug's been hooking up with MJ, and she's a Lostkey. So I think he's all in on pinning this on Molly. Crail acts like he's motivated to get credit and jingle for this, which is weird, since he is a Soulja Boy. So either the Genral is paying anybody for the gennie, or he's full of shit."
She shrugs, "I don't think this is all about the generator, Hadden. Or more like, they wanna get it to save face, you know?" She cocks a brow, and adds, "Or maybe they want to get it back before somebody bigger gets it? But... who's bigger than the Soulja Boys? Kemper?"
She is totally Handplant's daughter. I give her a nod like, good intel. Reality check, though. "I think Fireplug wanted your charms, MJ or no. Watch your ass lest someone takes it." I'm no fool. If he wanted her bad enough, it would've happened, no matter my opinion on the matter. But right now, it seems I'm still too useful to be dead. I really need to get some target practice in, like yesterday. Not a solution, but there it is. "Seems like a lot of people are aiming to pin things on Molotov."
"I know it's about saving face. Probably territory, too. Frontside Grip's turf is masterless because death. Haven't heard a peep out of the Amp Heads for time and time."
Bigger than the Soulja Boys? Kemper? Merrell? A new player? I gotta talk to this Seatbelt character. I don't want to take just one jingle when eight's on the line. Delivering and collecting are two different things.
K2 nods at the mention of Fireplug wanting her. She seems aware of that, not afraid of it. She listens to you list out the suspects, she doesn't have anything to add.
The rest of the walk is quiet, she's grinning and walking close, just enjoying your company, excited about what's to come. You find a place to climb down to the Freight Tunnels, and she takes you to the room she's secured. It's probably not far from where Handplant is staying.
"Hadden," K2 says as she opens the rolling gate upwards to reveal a small room, complete with some candles, a pile of worn furs for a bed and a short table. "You ever... fall for one of your, uhm, clients?" She steps in to light the candles, gestures for you to close the gate.
I step in quick, close the rolling door. There's a little insulation, helps trap the body heat, but it's a big door. I pull my boots off into the little grated box so the slush doesn't get everwhere. Go-bag on the floor by the table. I drape my jacket down, pull out my pistol and check it before it goes out on the table. I'm on edge. Soulja Boys got me more out of sorts than I thunk.
I sit, able to relax just one second, then she asks me. I rub my eyes. "I've been entangles and twitterpated, yeah. Both ways. It's part and parcel." And I think about Nini and K2, about Never Summer and Roxy, about Trespass and Smithsmith, Mo-Fi and... I stop my brain. "But fuck me, do I not come? Cuddle me, do I not love? Hell hath no fury like a person scorned, you know." A deep sigh comes out, surprises me how melancholy.
I lay back on the furs, feeling, spread out a little, looking at the candlelight flickers. "K2, you holding any?" A little weed might be nice about now, and for after, and I don't travel with unless.
K2 smirks and rolls her eyes, "C'mon, Hadden. You know mom won't let me do any of that." She reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, all quick and nervous, like not that sexy, but hey, eager. She's wearing a cute little bra, must be new. Or newish.
She looks down at you for a long moment before she says, "What, uhm... what do you want me to do?" She starts unbuttoning her pants, more slowly, but still watching to make sure you approve.
"Oh, really? And you always do every single last little thing your mom says?" A little playful. That's weird. I know Handplant isn't above a little pharm now and again. But she must know what she's doing, right?
Oh, I approve. I totally have a approving look on my face, I know she's still uncertain of her moves and everything.
"K2, I want you to do whatcha wanna. I'm the innocent victim here." A little of a smirk, teasing. Totally still laying in furs, chillaxing in the flickering candlelight. She probably doesn't even know what she wants, but I want her to at least be aware of her own desires. I have a sort of questioning look in my eye, like how does she want me to be?
"You're totally not innocent, Hadden." K2 says with a laugh. It relaxes her a bit. "It's why I'm into you." Then she slips off the rest of her clothes, a bit steadier, still quick and eager, but not nearly as frantic.
She slips into the furs, going straight for an open-mouth kiss. When she comes up for air, she's got a hand on your stomach, like she enjoys the feel of it.
Her perfume is hitting me again, and I kiss her back, holding her head in two hands. I'll get naked, or she can get me naked if she wants.
"You're right. If I was innocent, I wouldn't know how to do this," and I demonstrate. I can't talk, but she could make as much noise as she likes.
She works off your clothes, in a way akin to worship. And yes, she makes much noise. Joyful noise this time, like your confidence relaxes her and she trusts you. Really trusts you.
Go ahead and fire your Sex Move.
How long do you linger? She seems content to relax and kiss and cuddle the day away with you.
Her trust is a thing, strong, real. I kiss her on her head, right by a little scar where her hair doesn't grow. I close my eyes and there's still lights, greener than the candlelight, bright, moving like the ocean does in old movies, or like a wall tapestry. I'm looking for words in the curtain, the smell of sweat and sex and K2's perfume and burnt wax all somehow sharper and edged. I think I can even taste a bit of cordite from my pistol. I feel my pupils are wide wide behind my lids, my heartbeat steady, and I swear I can hear hers too, beating out a different rhythm. My thoughts are a swirl, and I have the weirdest thought about a brightly colored metal thing with a flashing light... floating? ...on water? Must've seen it in a movie, I don't even know what it's called.
How long do we linger? Not as long as we could. Needs must when the devil drives.
Time slipped away from you, or perhaps she stole it. You're thinking, for the fourth time, that you should get up, get back to the grind. No clocks, no way to know when it is. You've eaten, at one point you recall. Stale nuts that K2 had in a pack, washed down by some water from a plastic bottle in your stuff.
It's probably early evening when you hear a very loud explosion. Like, the entire place rattles for a bit.
K2 is up, moving quick to get dressed, throwing on clothes fast and heading for the door like her momma taught her. "What the hell?"
Fuckballs. Wide open, half-standing, faces flash through possibilites- Soulja Boys? Molotov? Merrell? Kemper? New Player?
Handplant's rubbed off on me, too- I'm right behind her, shit grabbed, jacket open in case I need to reach, but nothing that big would care about my shots. Leave nothing behind. Head out with K2. "Let's go, go!" We're following others outside, or up to the roof to see what the what.
I don't think the building is going to fall down. Hope not.
You head up topside, past screaming kids and people running the other way. When you get to the surface, to the frozen streets, you see the smoke in the night sky, lit by fires. You can see it from the vantage spot you picked.
It's Grease Park. It's... gone.
K2 says quietly, hands over her mouth, "Oh.... oh no."
I blink, I can't. Molotov?
"Whoa..." Even as I watch the fires burn, burn, I'm running down what I know. Never Summer is still down there. The Soulja Boys want their gennie. The Collapse. Molotov and the Sparekeys.
Lemma's place is right here, but I want to go to the fire. It must be so warm, right next to it. It's the biggest fire I've ever seen in my life. I don't know if it would last long enough for us to get there- it's like a two-hour walk. On the Danryan it'd be faster.
"Let's go, Hadden." K2 takes your hand. She's heading that way, eager to see.
That tears it. "K2, grab us quick road-food. We might need the energy." I'll leave a quick note for Oakley on the job-board {Check with Lemma for me. Gone to Grease Park. Back later.}, grab any packages what need delivering down that way, and fire up the minitruck.
We're ready to hit the Danryan in ten.
K2 heads off to get some food while you head out to get the truck. On your way to Misty's and the job-board, you run into Handplant. She sees you, looks you up and down, "You alright? I heard it's up top. Some kind of war going on!"
There's so much going on. We walk and talk. "We're good. How's by you? Your woman? Grease Park went boom. The whole place is on fire. Could be the Soulja Boys, yeah." Gotta bring Handplant up to speed, but there's way too many people around to let loose with too many details. Plus, you know, Grease Park is on fucking fire.
"Listen, I'm sending Oakley to check in on the Lemma gig- I've got to know what the what. It's cool if you want to back him up." If she does, I'll slip her an oddment for them for expenses or bribes or whatnot. "Like it or not, I need to see to Grease Park and find Molotov. Shit's gone on for too long. K2 wants to see the fire -it is a spectacular- and we're taking the truck on the Danryan. It's cool if you want to back me up." Something in her eye makes me smile, but I get a little serious while it's just us. I give her a look like, trust and respect. "Handplant, you..." I swallow and the words fail. We fistbump and fall into a rough hug.
"Let's make shit happen."
Handplant answers back quick, "She's fine." talking about her woman. Then she listens in to your info, taking it in. She returns the fist bump, the hug, too. Then, as you're heading out to the truck, to meet up with K2, Handplant asks, "Wait... K2? She's with you?" You're heading up a set of ladders to the surface as she asks.
Lots of people are hiding, others calling out for each other, still sounds of tumult and worry.
That's a little too quick. Maybe she's just worried about her, or focused on the now. I'll ask later when shit's not exploded.
I wonder if Handplant's seen Seatbelt lately? Or maybe she has something else for me, or just checking in. "Yes, K2's grabbing some food for the trip." I look down at her, kind of one-handed on the ladder. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, Handplant. She's learned a lot from you."
You reach the surface, there's a bitter wind cutting through the air when you come up. Handplant reaches a hand to help you up to the surface. "She hasn't learned everything I tried to teach her. She has awful taste in men." The tone is sarcastic, not an accusation.
K2 is huddling by the truck, waiting for you to unlock it, let her in.
Where do you park your truck anyways, Hadden?
I take her hand readily. "We can't all have perfect taste like you. That reminds me, know anyone who'd hook up with Squirrel? I owe him and, well... you heard about Nini."
I throw the keys to K2, go around to the engine to mess with the little gizmo to keep it from getting stolen. I mean, I keep it padlocked in a hollowed-out old storefront with a rolling overhead door like a garage almost, but it's still a sweet ride. Besides, if anyone stole it, everyone knows it's my minitruck and it'd be impossible to hide since you're driving it around...
Huh. There's not that many places you could move that gennie once you got it. I need to look at a map. I slam the hood and get in, get the heater going. I really should see if Squirrel has an extra tape deck.
K2 catches the keys, fumbles with them a bit, giggles about it, then hops in and starts up the truck after you give her the thumbs up. Handplant is sitting in the middle when you come around to sit.
As K2 drives off at a healthy clip, Handplant turns on the radio. She turns the dial to pick up Quiksilver. He's evidently unaware of the fire, because he's telling a story about a pair of best friends, guys, who have weird jobs where they come up with things called ads, that make folks want to spend jingle on their shit. But really, it's other people's shit. So they just sit around and make up stuff called ads for other people shit, and that's how they make jingle. But then, and here's where it gets weird, they live in this place, kinda like Backside Misty's, but above ground. And only women are allowed to live. Evidently there were problems with gangs or something. Like out west. As Quiksilver tells it, these two buddies, they end up dressing like girls to live in their place.
You reach the glow of the fire well before you hit 47th. Handplant turns down the volume, "We gotta keep alert here." K2 slows down the truck and you come rolling slowly up to Grease Park.
The whole thing is burning. All the tires, the fuel tanks, the cars even. And bodies, pieces of bodies, strewn about. Some blown apart in the blast. Some look like they were cut down, or shot.
It's a massacre.
What do you do?
Quiksilver is always worth hearing. But sometimes his stuff is really really weird. These ad things, I get. You can still see some of them around the city, hawking things that don't exist. Except for Coca-Cola. Plenty of that around. But I don't get the deal with their flat. Why are they passing as women if they're not selling it?
We pull up, and the light is so golden and red, it's worth watching. But we get closer and it's different. Fire is just how it is, beautiful but a killer.
I want K2 to keep the truck running in case shit goes down, keep her from seeing the carnage. I'll ask Handplant with my eyes, but I'll tell K2 the deal.
I have glowsticks so we can keep track of each other. Not sure if it'll work in the firelight.
I don't think this is accident. But I want to know what happened, get a lead on Molotov if he's alive or... dead.
Handplant seems to agree with you, but there's no fight. K2 stays in the truck, watching the fire without exposing herself so much to the smell of burning flesh or the sight of many corpses.
You two head in, scarves over faces, moving careful. The towers of cars seem to teeter, their tires scorching and the heat here... it is unreal.
"Something exploded out." Handplant says loud enough for you to hear. "Looters'll be along soon, Hadden. We after anything?"
So much gone...
The heat is almost beyond imagining. Even when I breathe, the heat fills you completely, is amazing. It's everywhere, and I nearly leave my jacket off, can you dig it? And the water! Liquid water, splashing and dripping, off cars and nearby buildings... like a dream of rain. There's a little icicle, lit from within by flames, dripping steadily, it's almost gone... Silica would hate this.
Rossi, now... She might enjoy some badassery.
Some of the smells hit me through the scarf. I keep it together, but the scale is a little much. No qualms Handplant can hack it. Oakley would be rocking this temperature, maybe not this this many dead...
"Be careful. These cars liable to topple." I point out a sketchy-looking section.
"Information first, jingle if we can't ignore." Is Molotov dead? If not, who is? I can't ignore shiny that's quick to pick up, but we're not equipped for serious salvage work this night.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 2, 6. Total: 9)
A quick scan shows that the dead bodies are almost all Cs. The gang is decimated. Most of the good quick-grab scrap is not here. Some lost in the fire, but most of it gone. The explosion came from inside, pushing outwards.
You should be on the move ASAP. Grease Park goes down, with Soulja Boys already irritated, they'll come running.
We're not spending much time at all, no. Satisfied, I leave the heat. And it's weird to want to leave this much heat. But the cold will be better. And that's weird.
"Okay Handplant, let's make like a baby and head out. Supper's on you this time."
Molotov's still alive. I'm glad he's not dead, which I wasn't sure for sure how I'd feel.
Didn't see Never Summer's body either, that motherfucker.
Handplant rolls her eyes about that supper comment. She's not joshing, though, keeping her eyes on the surroundings and moving quick back to the truck. As you get in, K2 is already pulling out. You catch some figures moving down 47th, coming your way.
That's when the tires make a real loud whizzing type noise. You're not getting traction, Hadden. K2 starts cursing up a storm and laying on the gas and Handplant is telling her to take it down a notch, "Kay, you're wasting gas, we need to get something under the tire."
"We don't have fucken time for that, Mom! Look!"
Five of them, Hadden. Look like Soulja Boys in their fatigues, coming your way.
What do you do?
Those Soulja Boys are on foot. This may work out. "Happens all the time. K2, be cool. Handplant, take the wheel this time. Leave me and get clear if it comes to it." I nod back at the Boys because outnumbered.
I hop out the minitruck and casually smash a window on a nearby car with the butt of my pistol. Windows means floor mats. Floor mats mean traction. I'll put 'em under the problem wheel, wedge 'em good - I gotta teach K2 some action driving some time - and give Handplant the high sign.
Well, first I step clear of the slush rooster trail and then give Handplant the high sign.
Handplant pulls K2 out from behind the wheel and takes her place. K2's embarrassed and angry, but she doesn't fight it, too worried about the five guys jogging your way.
You break the glass of some poor Volvo and reach in for floormats.
Why don't you give me an Act Under Fire to pull this off, Hadden?
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 2, 1. Total: 6)
You slap the floormat down, and Handplant eases on the gas. It almost takes hold, then spins a bit. No good.
"Hey! Who da fuck izzat?" one of the Soulja Boys yells at you. But you're dedicated to getting these girls gone, right? You grab a couple more floormats, a seat cushion, whatever the hell you can get, throw it down under the wheel, behind it this time.
Handplant pushes on the gas in reverse, and the car finally, finally pulls back. But those Soulja Boys are right up on you. One jumps on the hood of the car, another tries to run around to the driver door, probably to yank Handplant out. She whips the damn truck back, and the guy on the hood slides back, about to fall.
She uses the force from the reverse to pull the truck around in a one eighty, sending both guys flying, and she takes off. You hear the truck going, getting to safety like you said.
And then you hear a click as a guy pulls the hammer back on his .45 automatic. It's Lootenant. "Hadden. Youse didn't get away, didja?" He's in his tattered dress blues, a parka on top, and he hasn't shot you yet. Might be a formality.
What do you do?
I check the minitruck's taillights, see them gone.Good. I know how Genral feels about women in the field.
Playing it straight. "I'm still here, Lootenant. Came here to find out if Molotov bought it. He owes for Underlake. You heard anything?"
I nod my head back, like look at all the dead and the fire. "What are you boys here for?"
I got more to say, but he has his pistol out.
Lootenant, who looks like this:
He comes up to you, shoves you down to the slush that Handplant just created. He shouts, "Yore boy jus killed a buncha my buddies, fuckwit! Blew them to Hell! And I don't give a good two shits about those fucken miners! Yer BOY stole our gennie, and he works for YOU! So get the FUCK up!" The guys behind him flank and aim guns at you.
What do you do?
Fuckballs.
I get up, real slow, hands open. "This is Sparekeys shit, not mine. I haven't seen Molotov for over two weeks."
Five guns versus one me. "You know Molotov doesn't have your gennie, right? I heard who does. I wanna return it. Can't if I'm fucked up."
Let's see you Manipulate Lootenant into listening to you instead of beating the hell out of you for the info.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 4, 6. Total: 13)
"Whose got it?" Lootenant barks. "Save yer own ass and tell me now." He doesn't finish the threat, but you know what he means.
You're able to stand, but he's still right in your face.
What do you do?
I like living more than I want eight large. You also can't revenge when dead.
"I hear Seatbelt is looking for buyers. I want to bring it to Genral. Genral happy, Soulja Boys happy, Hadden happy."
Lootenant leans down into your face. His breath smells like cinnamon. "Where's Seatbelt? Yer the man WITH the fucken plan. Where da fuck is he?"
Fuck, I miss Molotov. Be nice to have him out there with a sniper rifle.
"Doan matter where he is. What matters is I'm the one who can return your generator. You guys go in there, guns blazing, that gennie gets shot to pieces. I ain't telling Genral I got the gennie shot up and broke." I look back at the others, like, hey there. "If I go in a meet all fucked up and leaking blood, my plan goes to hell because he's going to know yall worked me over and poof, goom-bye gennie, some other fuckwit gets their mitts on your property and you gotta chase that shit down. Again. I ain't telling Genral no power for another week 'cause I fucked up." Getting a little loud, counting off points, but not angry. As the man says, these are the facts.
"I'm sorry about your buddies. You're pissed. 'Syour right. But you know I got nothing to do with the Greasefire back there." Still can feel some of that heat on my neck. "I give you my word, the no-shit word of Hadden on that." That still carries weight, even to these guys. He can see it in my eyes, maybe the eyes of his squad.
I lean forward a bit, dialed up two notches, sharp little smile. Lower my voice just a hair. "Imma bring in that gennie. I'll go do my thing, you guys can do your thing, and we can both plot revenge."
That's some good speechifying. Let's see you Manipulate Lootenant and his thugs to your plan.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 10)
Lootenant looks at you for a long moment, like he could break you. But you're resolute. You're badass like that. He asks in a harsh tone, "How long, Hadden? How long you need to do your thang?"
A couple of the Soulja Boys ease up, sensing the battle is over.
"Two days max, unless fuckwit hid it in the yoopie. Then it's just drive time." A small smile there to show it's a joke and all is cool. Kinda throw it over my shoulder at one of the others to share.
"Two then. We KNOW where to find ya. Don't skip. OR yer onna list." He looks to his thugs, makes a couple hand gestures and they take off to comb through the wreckage of Grease Park.
What do you do?
I brush some of the slush off my ass, frown a little. Not bad, not bad. Okay, gotta find Lemma and finagle her cousin Seatbelt for the gennie. Gotta find Molotov, aim the Sparekeys against the Soulja Boys. Gotta find out what Merrell's up to and either pin the Collapse on him or deliver Molotov to my mom for execution. And that's just the big ones at the top.
I set my go-bag and zip up against the wind, one last glance at that blaze of light and fire and heat and death. I pull down my goggles and follow the minitruck's tire marks while they are still fresh. I have McEgg's little tune in my head and I start humming something about a coal mine. I kick a rock or two down the street, feeling fine as paint. You know, I need to sleep, chill and put together a real plan. Maybe have a real good fuck.
Roxy's is on the way to Lemma's, and I haven't had a hot bubble bath in positively weeks.
Please go here.