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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 27, 2018 9:32:17 GMT
"You could have picked a less public space," Alister growled. He handed the brown paper-wrapped package in his hands to the youth who stood across from him, who looked about ready to wet himself (or something worse) from excitement. Alister was far less enthused - a street corner across from a small park in the middle of the Portugese Quarter was a terrible place to make an exchange, but he really needed the money and the kid was paying well. "If a rozzer spots us-" "It's fine, it's fine!" the youth - kid more like, Alister pegged him as a High School washout who thought he could make it big more easily than he could learn Algebra (not that Alister had) - assured him, clutching gleefully at the package. Inside were three 9mm pistols, serial numbers filed off, and some ammunition. "Dad's a cop, they never bother to come 'round here unless somebody calls them."
Alister grunted. Just as well he'd given the kid a fake name - Stan Seymour - since in about a week he'd get arrested for robbing a newsagent and try to blab about him to Daddy to lighten his sentence.
"Fine," he said, and held out a hand. The kid stared at it for a moment, then realised Alister wanted his payment and slapped a roll of libra into his hand. He turned to go.
"Wait one goddamn second," Alister said sharply, and the kid froze. Yep, definitely going to get arrested. Quickly, Alister counted the money - it was all there, his next month's rent plus the second-half of the gun payment Alister had had to pay himself. "Now you can go."
The kid scampered off, and Alister dropped the roll of libra into an inside pocket of his jacket. Maybe he'd finally have a little extra for something to fight off the shakes he was feeling - the forecast said it was form but fuck he felt chilly today. The shakes had been pretty bad too - luckily he knew how to act the tough guy to a scared kid and hide how shit he was today.
He knew he stood out, but he still tried to look nonchalant and strolled off in the direction of the metro station.
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Post by Frederica Sanchéz-Davis on Apr 27, 2018 17:56:35 GMT
It's around 7 at night, and Fredi walks past the metro station carrying some books. Earbuds are in, but not playing anything. She's humming to herself. Hands in pockets.
She initially walks past Alister, then turns around and takes out an earbud.
"Hey, you. You look like you could use a meal. I'm a reporter for TIME, wanna come to my house and eat and chat for a bit? I'm cooking pasta." She fluffs her hair a bit. "I'm looking for stories here, and I'd love just a quick chat for a story, and you look like you've got a few."
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Post by Alister Rockwell on Apr 28, 2018 1:50:18 GMT
"A reporter?" Alister scoffed. He stopped and turned around. "Yeah, I've got a great story for you, it starts with go f-"
As he spoke he felt his throat close up, and the last word turned into a pained wheeze before he broke into a raucous coughing fit. Alister doubled over as he tried not to hack his lungs out, grabbing a nearby fence for support as his coughing turned to violent sputtering and heaving. With his eyes closed, he didn't notice the roll of libra dislodge itself from his inner pocket and drop to the ground, rolling away.
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Post by Frederica Sanchéz-Davis on May 1, 2018 0:58:23 GMT
Frederica sprints off to retrieve the object and steps on it to stop its motion. "All right. So I'm not a fucking reporter. I'm a PI. But I think you could be of use to my investigation, and I think you could use a meal. So stop being such a piece of shit and accept."
She glares at him with that last line.
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Post by Alister Rockwell on May 1, 2018 1:12:16 GMT
The coughing fit finally stopped, and Alister slumped as his muscles loosened. He spent a few seconds just breathing heavily and feeling another headache sneak into his skull. Great. Private dick. But that means cash...
"Make it a beer," he wheezed. "And you've got a deal."
He finally straightened and felt his back crick, then he noticed the wad of cash under the woman's foot, patted his pocket to feel his pay's absence, and bent down to snatch it up, saying "Give me that."
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Post by Frederica Sanchéz-Davis on May 1, 2018 15:52:18 GMT
A smirk. "A beer it is, then. My house is just up ahead."
'Her house' is a small one bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchen, with no furniture in the main room aside from a folding table with two chairs. "Well, come in then. I have some questions."
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Post by Alister Rockwell on May 2, 2018 1:09:12 GMT
Alister took one look around the room. "New in town, then?" he asked. He scanned the room quickly, then went to her fridge to pull out...Ugh, Heineken. He almost put it back, but something was better than nothing. Popping the cap off of the bottle and then went to one of the metal chairs, positioning it so that he could see the main entrance as well as one of the side doors.
"Alright, one beer gets you three questions," he said, fulling intending to lie out of his ass to anything he was asked. "Make them count, Miss...?"
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Post by Frederica Sanchéz-Davis on May 2, 2018 18:21:19 GMT
"Davis is fine. Or you could call me Fredi." She leaned back in her chair. He has no intent to be truthful, so I should be thinking carefully about these questions. Hmmmm... She took a sip of her beer, and held back a wince. Heineken's just as gross as I was warned. She then took out a pen and notepad from her backpack.
"That money you have. Is the person who gave you that money part of some criminal org that you know about?" She stared intently, and waited for the answer.
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Post by Alister Rockwell on May 3, 2018 0:18:22 GMT
Alister tried not to laugh. Who did this chick think she was? "Nah, I sold him my old guitar on Docklands," he lied, referring to the Isles' local equivalent to the Yankee Craigslist. He wondered if she knew that. He took a swig of the beer, remarked on how it resembled the taste of stale piss, and forced himself to swallow it anyway. Alister's Manipulation + Subterfuge = 1+1 = MvB31Ez6
Think that's 2 successes? · |
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Post by Frederica Sanchéz-Davis on May 3, 2018 0:28:46 GMT
Fredi's Perception + Streetwise = 4 + 3 = EkbCV73k
0 successes Fredi paused. She thought back to her earlier conversation with Liam, about Docklands and the activity there. Plausible. I can't press this one, really. "Question two: The right wing party that controls the government right now has implemented some pretty severe austerity measures. Judging from your cough, I imagine they took you off of medical support, and judging from your clothes, you might know who's been supporting, bankrolling them. Am I correct?" Fredi's Manipulation + Investigation = 4 + 4 =
6 successes
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Post by Alister Rockwell on May 3, 2018 1:14:54 GMT
|bd2Bi44...Yeah I don't even need to see what that roll is to know Frederica succeeds! "Austerity? What?" Alister asked, thoroughly confused and caught off-guard. "What? No, no the Isles has always had piss-poor medical care if you're not rich, I could never afford my blood tablets. What the fuck's 'austerity'? Why are you talking shit about my jacket? I'm wearing it because I'm fucking cold you daft woman." · |
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Post by Frederica Sanchéz-Davis on May 3, 2018 2:12:14 GMT
Frederica stares coldly at him, and then takes a gun out of her jacket pocket and puts it on the table. "I'm not talking shit about your jacket. If I were talking shit about your jacket, I'd point out that it has cocaine stains on the sleeves, and judging by your face it's been a while since you've got high, so the jacket hasn't been washed in a while. If I were talking shit about your jacket, I'd say that it's got rips on the exact places that an inexperienced attacker would go for a stab because they saw it in a movie. So I'm not talking shit about your jacket, and I'M. NOT. STUPID. What I was saying was, you don't have a lot of money, and are more likely rolling with the kind of people who might know what these politicians are afraid of more likely than with the people themselves. But I do believe you don't know anything, so I'm not gonna push that any harder. I'll ask just one more question, as per our three-to-a-beer agreement."
She takes another sip of her beer. "Tastes like garbage. Mm, do you know of a guy called Warthog?"
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Post by Alister Rockwell on May 3, 2018 4:27:57 GMT
The second Davis pulled a gun from her jacket and placed it on the table, the situation changed. The woman stopped being a PI trying to sniff out the local underground and became a tangible, immediate threat to Alister's life. This could go South, really fast, and Alister didn't make a habit of trusting people pointing guns at him not to pull the trigger. The instant Davis raised her beer to her lips and took a seat, Alister dropped his beer with a smash and shot to his feet. With both hands he seized and lifted the table, flipping it over and into Davis and sending the gun flying. Alister's Initiative = Dex + Wits + d10 = 6 + jQRVMm7P.
Alister's strength (3) roll to flip the table at difficulty 6 =
Fredi can roll Initiative too. If she exceeds Alister's roll she can make an opposed strength check to keep the table in place. ··· |
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Post by Frederica Sanchéz-Davis on May 3, 2018 5:05:49 GMT
After seeing the panic in Alister's eyes as he flipped the folding table, Frederica made a dive for the gun, and tried to disregard the rest. Grabbing the gun, she's going to turn it on Alister. "LET'S CALM THIS DOWN." Fredi's initiative = Dex + Wits + 1d10 = 6 + xIMjwu1E
Fredi's attempt to grab the gun at difficulty 6 is Dex 3 = ··· |
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Post by Alister Rockwell on May 3, 2018 5:14:14 GMT
The cheap plastic table flipped easily, sending the gun flying. Alister saw Davis go for the gun - Like fucking hell I'll let you!Twisting around, he snatched up the metal folding chair and swung it with both hands at Davis, hard. Alister's attack roll with the folding chair: Dexterity + Melee Weapons (Improvised Weapons speciality) = 3 + 4 = QyRcDB6Z. Strigus said to treat it at a Disarm roll of difficulty 7 - that's two successes (due to Improvised Weapon speciality) so it succeeds against Fredi's Strength of 2 but does no damage. ······ |
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