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[DVFP] Fangirling? not rly (J 2.6)

RichRich
in aw2e-dvfp
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June,
We pick up on the open road with you in the passenger seat, Beckett behind the wheel of her Hackmobile, pushing seventy. Something up beat, maybe even bubbly is on the radio right now. What is it? Rothschild isn't here, did you even ask her?

It's an hour before the Big Scorch and you're looking for DJ Gnarly. Becks knows the general area where his signal's strongest, but that's a pretty wide swath of land, and he's mobile. How do you plan to find him?

Comments

  • RichRich
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    "tisn't for me to say," Beckett begins before saying something she isn't supposed to say, "But I think you do Roth good. She's a helluva Scrounger, but not much on direction. Or permanence." Beckett reaches up to tap the Hula dancer she's bolted onto the dashboard to make her dance with the music.
  • halcyhalcy
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    I did ask Rothschild if she wanted to come - I knew she wouldn't, her fear of leaving the walls of Depot is clear. But I want her to feel involved. I told her what I was up to - carefully, between minds. She's a grown woman and not my pet.

    "Hm?" I prompt when Beckett prefaces something she shouldn't say. "Well, we'll see how she does with direction and permanence. I like havin' her around. If she wants to become someone new, I'll help her."

    My plan here is that I took a few readings on DJ Gnarly down at the bar in High Rent before leaving to get an idea of the signal strength delivered to Depot. With Beckett's radio, that's another point of reference..not triangulation, since I don't have the resources, but not nothin'. Internally I'm coordinating, pushin' formulas and readin' the feed idly.

    Externally, I've discussed with Beckett what kind of road we expect to see Gnarly on, whether we think he's got a slow base or a fast one.

    On the radio? This delightful old piece.

  • RichRich
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    Beckett is car grooving to the jam, a smirky grin on her face, "You help lotsa folks, Junebug. S'why I like ya." She reaches over to pat your arm, then reaches up to shift gears.


    Why don't you open yourself to the feed to find Gnarly? Take +1 Forward with the prep and slightly narrowed area.
  • halcyhalcy
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    "Well, don't spread it around, I don't want to ruin my bad reputation." I smirk back.



    Rolling Weird to Find Gnarly via the Feed; (Rolled: 2d6+4. Rolls: 3, 3. Total: 10)

    Marking XP; (1)
  • RichRich
    edited December 2016
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    "Alright, cats and kitties! That was a long-distance dedication, and the only song request I'll play this hour, so I hope you fuggin' like it!" DJ Gnarly blares in at the end. "Hank Rollio is next on the tip. He knows the word. And remember, Anger's west with Frontie south. Weather's same, but the heat is on. Fips encroaching to Iron, stay clear. give 'em the stinky middle phalanges and AND ROCK OUT!"


    Beckett looks over at you, "The Irons has FPS? Shite. I hope Cinch slows her roll. I'd hate to see her get hurt." Beckett tightens her grip on the wheel with her left, she taps the gauges on her nitros, and aux tanks
    The Feed gives you a reading on a sand-colored panel van with some kickass tank treads rumbling along the dunes with a fat antenna.
  • halcyhalcy
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    I frown. FPS at Irons.. "I'd hate it, too. She's clever and fast, though. From here all we can do is hope."

    Somehow with Fippers on the move, my concentration remains solid. "Out on the dunes, in a sand-colored panel van." I go into more detail with Beckett on where the Feed is telling me he's at.

    "Once we get to him, how do we get him to stop? You call him on CB?"
  • RichRich
    edited December 2016
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    "Yuppers," Beckett agrees, reaching under the panel to grab a small mic with cord, detaches it and hands it to you without taking her eyes off the sand, "He takes requests, so we might be on air. Do you mind gabbing at him? He's not a fan of me. I'm too nice, he says. He thinks I'm some rat fink who must roll all over to not be dead." She looks over at you, showing that she doesn't love that rumor, "Gnarly has strong opinions."

    After ten minutes of following your lead, the Hackmobile comes upon the van you saw on the feed, tank treads, a huge antenna, moving around the dunes slowly. This is playing on the radio:
  • halcyhalcy
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    "He says that, and then he goes and snitches on illegal music? Balance in all humpin' things, I guess." I take the mic from Beckett and let her focus on drivin'.

    The setup's pretty simple, so I tap into the line and speak to the microphone. "Hey, DJ Gnarly. Whatchu got for TPO on that big ol' rig o'yours? One thousand watts? Maybe two?"
  • RichRich
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    You hear his response over the radio, "Double it and then some, Pale Rider!" DJ Gnarly bellows back. "What the fug are you doing on my feed?" He sounds offended. "If you've got a song request, spew it. Otherwise... blow."
  • halcyhalcy
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    Oh he's mad is he? I love it when they get mad.

    "You ain't got the guts to play my song request you hollerin' poser. So I'll give you an out! You can play California Uber Alles, or you can talk to me about whoever stomped on your frequency last night. I know it happened. Here's a tip; wasn't me."
  • RichRich
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    The song cues up in a few seconds

    Over the opening guitar strums, Gnarly bellows, "How's about I do both, you chalk-white skank? Get your busted ass over here and we shall rap on the truth of things, and what you think you know and see where they meet!"


    As Hackmobile comes closer, the van's side door slides open and a chubby Gnarly peers out into the sun, then waves for you two to get inside.

    What do you do?
  • halcyhalcy
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    "Sounds like he's jealous of my hot, hot legs." I say with the mic disengaged.

    I negotiate with Beckett via a series of 'comin' or goin'?' faces as to whether she's comin' or stayin' with Hackmobile. Truth be told, if Gnarly is rockin' an 8-10KW TPO outfit - which is doubtful with the battery output he can store in that can - then I'm free to suspect him.

    Hurryin' to the van as best I can manage in this hot sun, on this hot sand, I greet him. "Gnarly! I worry sometimes that nobody notices how much I resemble some movie vampire. But nothin' gets past a real artist." I grin toothily at him.

    Reminds me of all the maneuvering I had to do to get a sponsorship. A whole lot of 'How is your health, Miss Weaver?' and a whole lot of 'Oh, bless your heart for askin'.'
  • RichRich
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    Beckett pulls over, then reaches across you to open her glove compartment, gets out a sleek Magnum, then checks the clip, slides it in the back of her pants before getting out. She gives you a look like "you doubted I was your backup, partner?"

    As you cross the sand, crutches sliding in spots, he grumps, "It's fuggin hot, alabaster. Why don't you ride on Goggles' back there? hah" Just before you get in the van, he laughs again, "How the hell don't you tan? Bet you got synthskin. Only way."
    Inside his van is a junkyard's delight of electronic gadgets, readouts, machines that go ping, all threaded together with spit, duct tape, bailing wire and elbow grease. There are some antiques among the wonders and it all seems to "work". He has his own kind of line on The Feed, June. If he wasn't such a bastard, he'd be a damn fine peer.
  • halcyhalcy
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    I just smile at Beckett. It's good to have a partner.

    "It's called bein' indoors, you should try it. You get a lotta synthskin up in DVFP?" I find someplace to sit in the van, stoopin' low inside the confines of his whole collection of workin' gear.

    I glance around at all the technology-festooned surfaces, toys, bits and baubles, lookin' for familiar things. "This is one hell of a setup, Gnarly, I'm impressed." I do wonder how he pays for it all.
  • RichRich
    edited December 2016
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    Beckett sits on some remnant piece of shag carper that was hot glues to the floor, she seems not at all comfortable with it, but she's all in on this.
    "It is the best rig in all of DVFP that isn't on the The Fat Man's dole. I doubt you could make half of this. And there's shite I can do that would blow your eyes out of that greasy skull of yours, Vinegar." He scoots over to his microphone, which looks scrounged from some grocery store, cracked and taped back together. "This song won't last that long, being a punk song, so I'll talk quick. What are you offering for info and why the fug do you care?"

  • halcyhalcy
    edited December 2016
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    I light up while he blathers, suck in smoke and drop a wad of Depot Dollars on the cleanest horizontal surface in my reach, between us. I raise a brow and watch him as I drop another with a satisfying thud you can hear over Jello Biafra's angelic voice.

    I want to shake him up and see how he reacts to heavy cash on the barrelhead. Then..

    "How 'bout you tell me how long you've been doing attack broadcasts for Saint Anger you vainglorious pud?"

    It's the mooniest of moon shots. But the way he reacts is going to tell me my money's worth. I blow a lungful of smoke out of my nostrils.
  • RichRich
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    Beckett smirks when you call DJ Gnarly out like that, and she's pretending to be scratching her back, which puts her hand near her gun, just in case.
    Gnarly's eyes widen at dollar one, even more at the second one. He ignores the insult for that amount of jingle. "Hey... I gotta keep the lights on, chalk. Saint Anger offered to pay rather than wipe me off the sand. He's been planning something big for a few months now. Taking over the Ratcatchers and the Amazons gangs was only part of it. He's found water. Enough to make a big play."
  • halcyhalcy
    edited December 2016
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    So cooperative - fug, but I love bein' loaded. I did not expect that guess to land. Well, after a confession like that I gotta weigh a few things in the balance.

    On one side, Gnarly let me into his home, and took an exchange I made with him like a good businessman. His station makes a lot of people happy.

    On the other, there's not a damn thing stoppin' Gnarly from doin' what he did again, for S.A. or U.F. or just to give himself a little chubby. Betrayin' his fans, many o' whom are weaker than Beckett. Abusin' technology that certainly, officially, doesn't belong here. Abusin' the sort of thing I've made into my life's work, using it to make people hate.

    I whistle low. "That sounds like some serious blaze, Gnarly. Thank you for the talk. Now, if you'll be so kind as to give me whatever device you have rigged for limbic resonance, I'll be on my way."

    "Or I'll paint the inside'a this van with you." I make him feel the pressure, in his brain, up and down his spine.
  • RichRich
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    Oh shite! I think you're Going Aggro here, June. Let's see it!
  • halcyhalcy
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    Going Aggro via Direct Brain-Whisper; (Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 5, 1. Total: 9)

    Marking XP: (2)
  • RichRich
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    Gnarly's eyes harden. He watches you for a moment, and it feels like there might be something of it. You hear Beckett shift in her seat, but then Gnarly holds up his hands, palms to you, "Fine, fine. You won't have the juice to run it. It's a augury device." He turns to pull what looks like a stereo component with some extra knobs out of a cabinet, then hands it to you.
    It looks pretty interesting, and not that heavy. But yeah, no power to it, it feed off the van. What do you do?
  • halcyhalcy
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    I stare him down, waiting to see which way he hops, the pudgy toad. In the end he makes the choice that saves his life. "Smart man. Pleasure doin' business with you." I haul up and bring the device with me, steppin' out of the van. I leave the dollars behind.

    "Oh, and Gnarly. Snitches get stitches." I wink at him, showin' teeth.
  • RichRich
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    End Scene
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