Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 2, 2018 22:01:48 GMT
For most people the words "sleep" and "rest" are at least partially synonymous. Certainly, one can rest without sleeping, but for the vast majority of the world one cannot sleep without resting. Sleep itself is a particular type of rest, the deepest and most refreshing.
Alister Rockwell had not been part of that large, happy majority for some time now. For him, sleep was anything but restful. When awake he could drink, screw, fight, walk, anything to keep his mind at least somewhat distracted from the constant pain that wracked his body. In sleep there was no such luxury. When he'd first fall asleep, there would be a brief tease of relief in the form of the dreamless, thoughtless state that defines the early stages of unconsciousness. But oblivion by definition cannot be savored, and in what felt like an instant the dream-state would commence; its every image twisted by the agony Alister's mind was too vulnerable to shut out. Inevitably this would force him into wakefulness prematurely to flee the pain, resulting in only a few hours sleep each night. This period of restless slumber grew shorter and shorter by the week as his mental reflexes became conditioned to awaken as soon as possible after dreaming began.
The clock read 05:22 as Alister greeted yet another all-too-early morning full of excruciation. His early mornings had become regular in a way that had eluded him prior to his current state. First he'd spend roughly twenty minutes sitting up in bed, drinking from the booze bottle on his nightstand, trying to fight through the pain enough to get up. Then he, and his bottle, would take a very cold shower (one of the few things apart from drink that seemed to ease the pain). Next he'd have coffee, or at least a drink that was one part coffee and two parts hard liquor. Then he'd have another cup.
It was towards the bottom of today's second cup that Alister heard a loud knocking at his door.
"Hey, Ali, it's me, open up!" came the unmistakable, Scottish accented voice belonging to Jim Bean. Jim had been helping Alister look for some kind of medication (not for free of course, Jim was too much of a cheap bastard for that) but it was still a lot more than any other of Alister's supposed friends had done.
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 3, 2018 8:04:19 GMT
"Give me a sec, I'm getting dressed!" Alister hollered back. Some help from his other friend Jack and the rest of his coffee was topped off and then finished off, and he tossed the empty cup to clatter beside the growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink. He stepped into a dirty briefs-sweatpants pair and pulled them up, then grabbed last night's shirt from where he'd thrown it and and managed to pull it on - inside-out, though he didn't notice. Outside the unit's grimy windows, streaks of pale pink were beginning to claw at the sky above the Roeststadt district and the factories of Van Buren behind it.
Inside, Alister flicked on the main light and cursed as the bare bulb stabbed at his eyes. He went to the door, checked through the peephold that Jim was the only one outside, double checked the cricket bat was still stashed by the hinges, then undid the latch, bolt, chain, and lifted the bar to open it up.
"Tell me you've got something," he said as a pained greeting. The Scotsman was bleeding him about dry, but Alister was closer to medicine than he'd ever been.
Which wasn't exactly a noteworthy statement. Alister still didn't know what was eating him away inside, only that it was most likely something in his blood.
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Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 3, 2018 18:50:58 GMT
A quick smile from Jim, and then he said, "I've got something, mate. Found a guy, bit of a weirdo but he deals in all kinds of hard-to-get medication. If there's anyone outside the system that can get you what you need it'll be him. His prices are normally pretty steep, but he's looking for someone to do a job for him tonight and ol' Jim lined you up to get paid for doin' that job in medicine."
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 4, 2018 3:36:08 GMT
"Oh thank Christ." Alister breathed a sigh of relief. "I needed some good news. Who, where, what time, and what gear?"
He gestured to a chair in case Jim wanted to sit, then found a clean mug, held it up, and shook it to ask 'want anything'?
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Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 4, 2018 18:45:14 GMT
Jim reached out a hand but, rather than take the cup, laid his palm flat and gestured with his fingers, "Seventy-five librae, mate." At first Alister was a bit confused as he though Jim was responding to his unspoken question about coffee but, then, quickly realized that Jim's request for cash was in response to the verbal request for information.
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 5, 2018 2:32:40 GMT
"You're a damn pirate," Alister growled. Not that he was really upset - money wasn't worth anything to a dead man - but he could be less overt about it, or at least wipe that damned friendly smile off his face. Grabbing his wallet, he threw a twenty libra note on the table; then he went to his bed, lifted the mattress, and fished out two more twenties and twelve-librae-sixty in coinage - a fairly substantial portion of his net worth. He threw it all into a heap in front of Jim. "You'll get the rest when there's no blood in my piss. Now give me some details."
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Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 5, 2018 23:41:50 GMT
"Alright, alright; never let it be said that old Jim Bean let a man die over two librae-fourty-pence," Jim removed a piece of scrap paper from his pocket and handed it to Alister, "You're gonna be knocking some place over so bring a gun, mask and gloves. He'll give you all the details when you meet him." On the paper, in Jim's handwriting, was a name, Eddy Finn, an address in Bright Shore and a time, 9:00 PM. Alister vaguely remembered hearing some things about Eddy Finn on the street but specifics eluded him at the moment. Intelligence 2 + Streetwise 2
vKCNMW_0 ···
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 6, 2018 4:12:31 GMT
Alister had done blind jobs before - with a myriad of outcomes that averaged out when he compared the most that went well to the few that landed him in jail for a few weeks - so he wasn't too worried, but it was still a relief to have a recognisable name. Even though he only knew the name, he vastly preferred working for somebody he'd barely heard of than somebody he'd never heard of; usually the latter was some punk with daddy's money trying to prove he was hard that ended with an overdose or a gunfight.
"Alright, cheers Jim," Alister said as he pocketed the paper. "I appreciate your services."
I owe ya one was not something Alister usually said in his line of business, especially not with people like Jim. As he showed the man out, he ran through options in his head; a ski-mask, gloves, and a 9mm would do the trick for equipment, though he'd leave a shotgun in the boot just in case. 8:50 would be a prompt time to show up at the door - by that time he'd have spent a few minutes scoping the place out.
As for the rest of the day, well, he hadn't planned on much except a few hours of pained nausea and a booze run. Maybe while he was out he could ask around to learn a bit more about Eddy, but he wasn't too worried if that didn't pan out - he knew how to handle a job that went south.
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Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 10, 2018 21:41:34 GMT
While hardly safe during the day, walking the neighborhoods of east Old Town after dark is a perilous task. Alister, however, had little fear as he traveled to Bright Shore. He knew these streets, and just because he had the means to live in the comparatively more hospitable Roestadt doesn't mean he couldn't handle himself. Looking, as he always did, like too much trouble to rob and not enough trouble to get in a fight with just for bragging rights, his journey was uneventful.
Arriving at quarter-to-nine, he had the time he wanted to scope the place out. This wasn't the easiest thing to do though. Like many Bright Shore homes, it was on elevated ground relative to the street level. From Alister's vantage he could make out that the white-sided, black-roofed house was quite long from front-to-back, longer than he could make out from here. It seemed to have two floors and, on the second floor facing the street, was a good-sized balcony, but his current angle prevented him from seeing if there was anyone on it. The yard was surrounded by a chain-link fence that had no visible gate but did not block the approach to the front porch and door. Parallel the concrete stairs leading up to the house was a driveway similarly leading to the attached garage.
His extra five minutes spent, Alister ascended the stairs and knocked on the door at 8:50 PM as he'd planned. The stand-offish, densely built man who answered didn't bother saying anything to Alister, presumably knowing why he was there, and gestured at him to follow. Within the house, which was indeed much larger than could be appreciated from the ground due to its depth, there were many occupants. They did not seem to assembled for any particular reason, and it was not hard for someone with Alister's experience to peg the skinny, desperate-looking, twitchy ones as Eddy's customers and the brutish, intimidating-looking, semi-stoic ones as his crew. The crew member who had answered the door led Alister upstairs. As they ascended the case, Alister happened to look rightwards into a door on the first floor that briefly opened before closing. In the room on other side he had seen a weapons case containing assault rifles.
It was ultimately on the balcony seen from below that he met Eddy Finn. Eddy was a strange little man in his thirties or fourties, with bulging eyes and wild hair, and was seated on a wicker rocking chair. Around him were more of his gang, all of whom stood. When Eddy spoke it was in an accent that Alister had a hard time placing. Was it some kind of Irish? Italian? American? Dutch? East European? He couldn't quite tell.
"You must be Mr. Bean's friend," Eddy greeted Alister with a toothsome, too-wide, too-friendly smile, "I appreciate it when people show up on time like you have tonight. Our mutual business associate tells me that you wish to enter my curious employ but that you have an equally curious price for your contract."
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 11, 2018 0:51:53 GMT
"Yeah, medicine," Alister replied. "Antibiotics and immunoboosters, specifically, in lieu of cash payment - Jim told you can set me up."
Alister's current read on Eddy was 'self-styled mafioso', but he kept that to himself. The situation was the most uncomfortably tense of all - everyone was an unknown party - but Alister kept his cool; he'd been in these situations before. Just be polite enough, don't offer too much information on yourself, hands away from the waist band, don't ask too many pointed questions, and have an escape plan.
Bottle over the closest one's head, shove him into the rest, vault the balcony, use it for cover, over the fence, down the alley.
"Jim said you wanted guys to roll some place - you tell me where, I can help you with that."
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Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 11, 2018 2:30:12 GMT
"I am having a dispute with the owner of a corner store in Bamford Village," Eddy explained, "And I want his place hit to apply some pressure. The job will be simply to get the cash in the till; the filth will think it's just an average robbery but the gentlemen I'm having the dispute with will understand my subtle message. Should you accept my offer, it will be your job to keep the customers from causing trouble. Meanwhile Ricky here will get the money and Lucien there will be your driver." Eddy motioned to the respective individuals as he named them.
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 11, 2018 3:10:57 GMT
'Filth.' Definitely a wannabe mafioso.
"I'm in," Alister confirmed. It had been a while since he'd done a Downtown job, it'd be nice to get out of the local districts. "The job's tonight, then?"
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Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 20, 2018 22:52:10 GMT
"Not only is it tonight, but it's right now," Eddy explained, "Ricky, Lucien, go with our new friend to the car and get to work." Soon Alister was indeed with the pair and departing the Bright Shore gang house in a slightly rusted, black SUV. Lucien, the dark-haired driver, kept his gaze and focus on the road while Ricky, with fair hair in the passenger seat, blathered on and on. The dangerous slums of Old Town gave way to the more genteel decay of the area's western districts before falling away into the lights of downtown. As the car moved into position, and Ricky donned his mask, Alister did likewise knowing the time was now. Ricky and Alister dashed from the car and into the corner store. "This is a robbery; everyone on the floor!" Ricky commanded the crowd before running up to the register and bellowing at the clerk, "Put all the money from the till into a plastic bag. Let's go!" Alister, gun in hands, kept a look out on the crowd while Ricky dealt with the money. He noted the various individuals crouching in fear amid the corner store's chest-height aisles, and could also see part of the employee assigned to the deli stand hiding behind his post. What he did not notice, however, was the middle aged man with more guts than brains who had managed to sneak behind him among the aisles. The gray-haired man body-slammed into Alister, knocking the wind out of him, but his element of surprise only did so much to alleviate the difference in ability between the two combatants and, while Alister managed to keep his footing, the man fell prone to the ground. Alister Perception 3 + Alertness 1 hVPj99At Foolishly brave bystander Dexterity 2 + Stealth 1 Foolishly brave bystander uses tackle Strength 2 + Brawl 1 at +1 difficulty Rolls 2 successes + 2 Strength + 1 for bashing damage Alister rolls 4 Stamina to soak Alister takes 1 damage, currently has no wound penalties Alister rolls Dexterity 3 + Athletics 2 at difficulty 7 to avoid knockdown Bystander rolls Dexterity 2 at difficulty 7 to avoid knockdown
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 21, 2018 2:02:10 GMT
Alister grabbed hold of a shelf to steady himself and sent an avalanche of chips tumbling to the floor. Growling, he planted his foot between the would-be hero's ribs, then pointed his handgun at his head and cocked the hammer back for the intimidation factor.
"Hey fuckwit, you really want to die over a deli?" he snarled (a little wheezily), then kicked him again for good measure. He looked around again, bringing the gun back up to where everyone could see it and catching his breath. He flicked a glance back to the till to check Ricky's progress, and went back to scanning the store, doubly cautious now.
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Xaos
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Post by Xaos on Apr 22, 2018 16:52:23 GMT
*BANG*
This noise, which might have sounded unified to some present, was in fact two separate instances of violent percussion. The comparatively softer of the pair came from the display stand that was knocked to the ground in Alister's scuffle with the dangerously brave customer. Second in order but first in volume, was Ricky's gun firing into the wall. The gunman had been caught off-guard by the crash behind him and lost his trigger discipline. In response to the bullet flying less than a meter away from their head, the cashier leapt beneath the counter before Ricky had even recovered himself.
"Get back up here, God damn it!" Ricky bellowed at the hidden cashier and, when this produced no effect, he fired a shot into the floor behind the counter. Amazingly, the cashier was not calmed by the discharge of a second live round within their arm's reach, and did not reemerge. Swearing copiously, Ricky began shoveling the librae into the shopping bag himself but, in his rush, accidentally knocked the till's tray out onto the floor. Ricky's cursing intensified as he tried to reach for the lost cash but soon the honking of the getaway car could be heard and the pair of robbers hustled for their escape
"What the hell happened in there?!" Lucien demanded of Ricky while driving at breakneck speeds once all were aboard.
"It was the new guy!" Ricky objected from the front passenger's seat, "He couldn't keep those assholes under control."
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