RAM_Wilhelm T.He frowns.
Those rocks are a couple hundred thousand kilometres all the way over there. He stabs a finger at one of the screens displaying the ring of asteroids orbiting Hachae, then crosses his arms and continues glowering.
That would mean us getting close, which would also mean us getting blown to shit. Got any other bright ideas Wilhelm? If not, I guess I'll just try and get in range with the peashooter before they acquire a firing solution with that autocannon of theirs and fill us full of holes. We might as well just space ourselves right now.Harry Baldman_Churchill W.The man splutters and shakes.
SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW! You remember how the unstable the man could be. All those weeks of surveillance mean that you know everything about this man. More than you'd care to really, but you can't say that it hasn't come in handy. Everything he's done, every action and reaction, all according to plan. You grant yourself a cold smile, allowing your facade to melt away. He goes red in the face and starts yelling again.
What the hell do you think you're smiling about? Huh?! I'll fucking kill you right now! I've done it before, with this exact same kni- He stops, staring at the blade clutched in his hand.
You mean that knife? He continues staring at it, the heat field still buzzing while you slip your own knife out of your sleeve. No energy assistance on this one, unfortunately, and you spend a few minutes sawing at the belt on your right arm. After a bit of work it comes loose with a satisfying snap. You do the same with the opposite one and then slip your knife back into its proper sheathe inside your boot. The man is huddled in the corner now, his clothes stained with nervous sweat, his hands trembling and still desperately clutching the knife. No doubt he's wondering to himself right now:
Why can't I do it? Why can't I kill him?! You take a pack and a match from your pocket, lighting a cigarette and crossing the room to stand over the shivering mess that was once a man. He looks up slowly and you press the barrel of your pistol to his head.
Its simple. You explain, pulling the trigger and blowing his brains onto the wall and floor.
I'm in your head. You take the cigarette in your gun hand and blow a puff of smoke at the twitching corpse, grabbing your trench coat off the chair where the dead man tossed it when he dragged you inside an hour earlier and pulling it on as you walk back out through the door of the apartment. You slip your pistol into your coat pocket and pull a card out with a number on it. You dial it into your IN-COM and listen to the tone while you make your way down the flights of stairs. A deep male voice that only you can hear echoes in your ears.
Is it done? Yes. Yoko Plaza. You cut the line before he has a chance to and push through the glass door leading to the street. Its raining, and you pull your collar a bit closer to you as you walk to your car. You climb into the faded grey 5050 Fuzuka Vexer and key the ignition. The door slams closed on its own and a series of digital displays wink to life as the car powers up and the old familiar feeling of antigravity washes over you. You hit the accelerator, rocketing down the street at a cool 140 miles an hour.
kingfisher1112_Simmons S.You sigh, fishing in your pocket for a moment before lighting yourself a cigarette. You flick your lighter closed and shove it back into your coat, then pop the latches on the case and push it open. You take the cigarette out of your mouth and stare at the contents of the case for a moment, one hand still on the lid. You nod definitively, blowing smoke out of each nostril and putting the cigarette back between your lips.
A fucking flechette gun. You remove the body and rest it on your hip, handle facing down, then take the barrel and slide it into the breach. You drop a small metal fastening ring with grooves on the interior over the barrel and screw it into place, then grab the electronic scope and slide it onto the rail mount along the top of the carrying handle, completing the weapon. You flick a few switches and make not a few adjustments, then examine the ammunition.
Ho.. Ho-ho-ho! You hoot excitedly, like a demented Santa Claus, a wide grin on your face.
Explosive rounds! Fucking explosive rounds! You grab the two small boxes of ammunition and the cutter from the case and lean the rifle against a wall, then walk over to the window. You take the cutter from your belt and turn it on, slice a wobbly circle of glass out of the window and push it out, letting it fall fifty floors onto the street below. You can hear the screams of pedestrians even through the howling wind, and estimate that you've got about 30 minutes while security goes room to room to figure out who made a mess on the sidewalk.
Plenty of time. You set a timer on your HUD anyways and drag a desk and a chair over to the hole, grabbing your rifle and setting the open boxes of ammo onto the desk. You sit down in the chair and aim your rifle at the building across the street, activating the optics. The blank, smooth wall of opaque glass turns into a web of white lines against a light blue background, with black, humanoid shapes milling about. You activate your IN-COM and dial in.
In position.Zako_Markowitz R.You listen to the sound of ice tinkling in your glass, and scroll through the names slowly.
Lyle is a professional hit man, a personal friend. He's quite popular, and its often that he finds himself in possession of a few simple jobs that he's willing to cut you in on for a piece of the profit. You haven't seen him in a while though, and he's not the kind of guy that hands out favours. Usually he's the one to come to you, and you're not sure how he'll feel about you asking him for a job. You suspect that, based on past experience, even if he does give you the job, the payout will be minimal.
Jonathan is a heist guy. You've worked with him before, and he's really good, one of the best. He's the most honest person you know, and despite knowing nothing of him on a personal level, you'd trust him with your life in a heartbeat. Being a professional thief, he's nearly always off-world and thus fairly hard to get a hold of. If you're lucky enough to catch him in a transitionary phase, between dodging the authorities and robbing people blind, you're confident you could get in on a top-class job. You're guaranteed massive profits, but chances are the job will demand a bit of travel and thus, time, and thats the one thing you've got a lot of.
Continue looking, or make a call?
gman8181_Friendly J.You sensed them even before the doors opened and your SubEn Repeater is already in your hands as they reach for their own weapons, calls of alarm rising in the backs of their throats. The gun belches once and a string of Liquid Metal™ rounds stitch across their bodies. One is killed instantly as the already dissolving bullet enters his skull and cooks it from the inside out. His right hand drifts towards the smoking hole in his forehead before something important finally burns out and he crumples to the ground. The other isn't so lucky, and a pair of rounds enter his chest cavity, punching through either of his lungs. He falls to the ground a few seconds after the other guard, clutching at his throat as he tries to breathe through burning copper.
You step over the bodies of the fallen guards and look around. You're in a long hall with card locked doors lining either side of it, likely leading to maintenance rooms and janitor closets. The door at the end of the hall opposite you is the only one that isn't locked. You can see from here that the sign marking it reads
Reception. Your IN-COM pulls up a silent alert on your HUD.
INCOMING CALL - NO IDENT. You allow the connection and a deep, familiar voice echoes against your eardrums.
In position.Xantolos_Harker D.Greetings. Due to the delays during the certification process, we don't have much for you right now Mr. Harker. Do not leave the city for now while we search for an assignment to give you. Have a pleasant evening.You imagine yourself sneering at the message displayed across your vision, but in reality you simply flex your cheeks and narrow your eyes in an expression of mild distaste. You sigh mentally, leaning back against the plastic bench you're sitting in. It groans with effort and you gaze up at the blank sky looming over the park.
Evening. You repeat the word in your mind. There hasn't been any sunlight on Earth for more than a thousand years. All the strip mines and assemblies made sure of that, and it sure didn't help when all the plants started dying from the poisons in the air. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, steaming the cold winter air. Of course there was no such thing as seasons anymore either. Humanity invented methods of influencing the weather via convection and certain kinds of radiation around the time space travel was mastered. Everyone could live normally, just as before, safe in the knowledge that it would be hot during the "day" and cold during the "night", windy during "autumn" and balmy when "spring" rolled around, as it always inevitably did. But they could never figure out a way to recreate the light. You rub your hands together and press them against your face, then stick them back in your pockets.
I wonder what it was like..Jembot_Frace A.You wait until he rounds a corner, then sprint across to his side of the street, narrowly dodging several cars as they zip by. You reach the corner he disappeared behind and turn it. You can see him about twenty feet ahead, still shouldering past people. You make better time by simply walking with the crowd, and even though he glances behind himself fearfully on occasion, you sense that he still hasn't noticed you. As you come up behind him, you reach out, feeling the sensation of the case in his hand. You, for lack of a better word, "loop" that sensation in his consciousness, then pry the briefcase from his hand and turn back in the direction you came from towards your car. So long as he's busy looking behind and ahead of himself and never down at the case that
should be in his right hand, it should be a while until he realises that its gone. You climb into your white Gattsus Lunar sedan and speed on down the street, towards Kalpum Park to deliver the case.
Aseaheru_B0b C.One pile of paperwork later and you're finally through the door. You walk beside the businessman, glancing around the massive hall. Its a security chief's nightmare. Dozens of corners, doorways, windows and worst of all, people. God there's so many people. You practically grind your teeth in frustration as you remember the hours combing through the blueprints of this place, reinforcing the flimsy defences it had before. The most you could do was rearrange guard positions and camera programming into more efficient configurations and make it harder for people to get through the many entrances, but you do remember one satisfying victory over all the miserable failures and tangles of red tape, and you actually smile at the thought of it. They let you hire cyborgs. You nod as you pass by one of the robotic officers under your command, a towering mess of wires and tubing, covered in armour plating and supported by four massive legs on each corner of his chassis, his mechanical arms almost sagging with the amount of firepower strapped to either of them, and topped with the head of a former German body builder. The blonde officer, Dietrich you think his name is, flashes you a winning smile as he stomps towards his station at one end of the hall. You give him a friendly wave, and you sense the exec shudder as the borg passes by. You laugh internally, knowing the exec's utter revulsion of human-machine fusions. You continue walking towards the main elevators with the exec, your heart sufficiently lightened after seeing your charge suffer so deliciously for all the stress and anger he's caused you.
Ysgra Employee KIN Cert.Name: Tobias Wilhelm
Gender: Male
Appearance: Large, muscular, and overweight. Black hair, black eyes, black skin, black leather suit. Minor modifications to life in space.
Background: Pilot.
Bio: Born on a ship, which was lost, along with parents, during teen years. Have been getting work with any crew that will have me since.
Association: Ysgra Corporation
Psychic Potential: Kinesis
Goals: I want to get my own ship, customise it until everything is just right, and then build up enough resources to be free to spend the rest of my days exploring the great beyond.
Name: William Churchill, commonly called Little Billy Churchill or worse, Little Charlie Hopkins
Gender: Male
Appearance: a young man, about 22 years old, 1 meter and 80 centimeters tall, slightly chubby. Age hasn't been kind to him - though he most certainly may have looked rather endearing as a child, now he just looks weird and slightly unusual. He has a very prominent stubble, and he usually wears a red baseball cap and the uniform of whatever place he happens to be working at on any given week. Currently, the honor of being Billy's employer belongs to Yang's Bakery and boy, does Billy look quite sour in its characteristic white delivery boy's outfit.
Background: currently working at a bakery as a cake delivery boy, formerly a successful child actor.
Bio: born in a small family on the less pleasant side of town, Billy always knew he would grow up to do something great, something special. As it turns out, he didn't quite have to grow up. Being an uncharacteristically handsome child with an uncharacteristically pleasant voice, he discovered his love for theater at the age of six, and at the age of eight he was already an established member of the junior troupe. A decent actor, not a bad singer and a rather good dancer, he became one of the more popular character actors among his peers. He was only nine when he appeared in his first commercial, one for Terricorp Instant Oodles of Noodles, aired on the interconnected and integrated multimedia network. This was followed by several more, and then by a few bit parts in several shows as an endearing, cynical tyke that the public couldn't help but love. And then, at the tender age of ten, a few executives came up with an amazing idea - the Little Charlie Hopkins Show, the show that would finally grant little Billy his much-needed time in the spotlight. With his disturbingly unchildlike behavior and fondness for black humor, little Billy became extremely famous, and soon rather rich as well. However, times went by and Billy grew - by the age of 15, he was already a rather tall, hairy teenager, and the routine just didn't cut it anymore. So, after about two more years of desperately clinging onto brutal violence and other cliche, uninspired gimmicks, the Not-So-Little Charlie Hopkins Show died a quiet, overdue death, abandoning its time slot, never to return. And with the show died Billy's career, such as it was. He couldn't get work, not having the acting chops or the requisite respect to get into movies, and his wellspring of comedy had dried up completely. So he got into producing and investing, which he was also terrible at. By the age of 19, he had lost all of the money he had earned in his ventures, so he had to sell his downtown apartment to pay off any lingering debts, then get a cheaper one in the lower quarters. Also, he had to get an actual job, something which caused him no end of grief. Luckily, the world will always need cake delivery boys.
And just when Little Billy thought his life had settled into a nice groove, he was struck by a surprise in his regular physical and mental checkup mandated by his health service provider, Pan. After sticking him in various devices and sticking him with various devices, not to mention asking him several questions, the doctor said that he had something called psychic potential. That was the first time anyone said he had potential since he was twelve years old. Curious, Billy asked what that meant. The doctor told him that he'd contact him soon with details. That, or one of his representatives. And he did! He made Billy a job offer! Real clandestine-like, they said he could manipulate minds and stuff. Eager to get the most out of his newfound, heretofore unknown talent, he signed right up. Hey, beats subsisting on cake delivery.
Association: Pan Corporation
Psychic Potential: Delving
Goals: any jobs and activities will do, but hardcore psychic shit preferred (though go a little easy on him first, so he can get used to being a hardcore psychic). Both as a short-term and long-term goal. Because it sounds awesome!
Name: Scott Simmons
Gender:Male
Appearance: His face is rounded, but hard, and also a bit tanned. It's obvious he's lived a while, the crows feet, wrinkles and other such indications all around. He is usually seen with a synthcig between his lips, while his eyes dart around the room. The rest of him also indicates his personality, he walks with a limp, and is upright and alert. His hair is grey and short, and his eyes are a dull green. Finally, a very noir trenchcoat adorns his body and on special occasions, a fedora.
Background: Private Security. ( Bodyguard, investigator...)
Bio: Born on the Moon to mercenary parents, he quickly got into violence at a young age. Scraps with other kids, bigger kids, and running away from adults were all favourites. He entered a complete rebel phase where he very nearly got killed by a gang, and now stays well away from crime. He took up smoking after that, and moved to Earth and the urban jungle. Got into retail for a while, tried the police, but eventually ended up as a security director for a small time company. He split off after the manager died of disease and the company was liquidated, spending his funds on a nice apartment and saved up. However, the bank is running dry. It's time for work.
Association: Hokoto Arms International
Psychic Potential: Delving (affecting people's minds)
Goals: What kinds of jobs or activities to you want to be involved in?
Investigation, and espionage. Deep cover missions, potential break ins, assassination.
Name: Rebecca Markowitz (Codename: Widow)
Gender: Female
Appearance: Exactly 1.7 meters tall with lightly coloured skin, plain dark brown hair that's been cut at mid neck height and of uncertain age, though she LOOKS like she's about 18 to 22 years old. She's not well endowed, but she's lithe, graceful and has just the right curves in the right places to come off as attractive despite this. She is wiry, athletic and moves with a practiced balance and grace in her every step.
Background: Freelance Espionage Agent
Bio: Born on a planet on the outskirts of the Milky Way, Rebecca had a somewhat rough upbringing under a government under the control of a tyrannical dictator, being forced with most of the other citizens to live in slums with her family. When she was 15, her family was taken and executed on suspicion of being traitors and spies, despite them not having done such a thing, and she was spared by luck when the guards had missed her when she was hiding in a storage compartment in the basement.
She found a Star League official after she stowed away off world and told her story after managing to gather enough proof of her families demise at the hands of her original corrupt government, and was taken in by governmental espionage services for training. After succeeding at her training, she was a key part in the downfall (and eventually death) of the old tyrant she lived under and decided to leave the service for her own desires. She's been working as a freelance agent since then.
Association: Kavatar Incorporated
Psychic Potential: Kinesis
Goals: Espionage, Investigation and, for the right price, some assassination, theft and counter-espionage.
Name: Jim Friendly
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6ft tall, somewhat thin, light skin, dark brown piercing eyes and hair which is cut somewhat short. The oddest thing about Jim is his almost ageless appearance, seeming neither young nor old but somehow timeless. He never tells anyone his age either and some people question why he keeps it such a secret.
Background: Jim's job is in genetic engineering. He originally worked for the Pan Corporation as one of their brightest employees, creating cures and solutions for all sorts of different diseases and illnesses. His primary assignment was helping the richest people live unnaturally long lives. Eventually he became sick and envious of the wealthy continuously buying on additional years of life while he felt he was making little progress in his own. Luckily for him, the Hokoto Arms International came to him some time later with a job offer. If Jim would use his advanced knowledge in genetics to create biological weapons instead of cures, they would give him as much money and power as he could dream of. First, he need only prove his worth and his loyalty.
Bio: Jim had long wondered about the secret potential of genetics which he saw as one of the greatest possible ways to longevity and power. For that reason, he found himself employed by the Pan Corporation using his knowledge of genetics to make cures and extend the life of the rich. His ambition was not sated there though, and he grew envious of the many clients he saw going through with their money, power and their ability to simply buy long life. Later on, he was offered a contract from Hokoto Arms International to make biological weapons. Here he hoped to gain more power and prestige than he previously has been given at the Pan Corporation.
Association: Hokoto Arms International
Psychic Potential: Delving
Goals: To take over the Hokoto Arms International and use that power to carve out an empire for himself while using his knowledge in genetics to attain longevity as well as to create dangerous biological weapons
Name: Dale Harker
Gender: Male
Appearance: A bland individual, Dale has flat brown hair, brown eyes, a dull expression on his dull face, and is altogether rather unnoticable.
Background: Dale works as a psi coach at Pan Corp, helping company agents hone their skills. He somehow does this even while talking in a monotone.
Bio: Dale was born to a rather bad family. An abusive mother, absent father, and downright dickish siblings combined to make his then-emotional behavior rather turbulent and moody. He got into trouble early on, picking fights with most anybody, defacing buildings, the lot. And as he got older, the abuse from his mother and siblings only got more intense. This didn't end well in Dale's teens when his kinesis manifested. It was when the oldst brother, drunk, was beating on him that it was unleashed.
Pan Corp heard about the unfortunate deaths and decided to cover up the crimes the teen had commited. They cleaned up what was left of the bodies, gave Dale a job and a house, and left him.
Now he never shows any emotion.
Tightly controlled.
Almost bland, even.
Corp: Pan Corporation
Goals: Dale wishes to find the control gene for psychic ability and manipulate it to his advantage, though he welcomes the occasional assassination to flex his psychic muscles and basically any psychic mission.
Psychic Potential: Kinesis
Name: Angus Frace
Gender: Male
Appearance: Fairly nondescript, tallish, about 6 foot 4, dark skin. His fingers are the first thing that most people notice about him, they are long and elegant, the fingers of someone who is very good with his hands.
Background: 'Fingersmith'/Pickpocket, stole to survive.
Bio: Angus was born in the slums, and destined for an average life if it wasn't for his one unusual feature. As most people living in poverty are forced to, he has stolen to feed himself since he was young. However, he was naturally more skilled with it than others. The thing with Angus was, he never got caught. He could take your false teeth out of your mouth and you'd be none the wiser. He called himself a fingersmith, because a pickpocket was somebody who got caught. He had mastered the art of stealing, or so he thought. what he didn't know was that he didn't have any actual pickpocketing ability, he simply had very powerful latent delving abilities. This allowed him to manipulate the person so they didn't sense him stealing their stuff.
One day, he tried to steal the wallet of the director of Kavatar Incorporated. However, while he managed to steal his wallet, the directors bodyguards noticed him stealing it, as his power wasn't strong enough to affect more than 1 person yet. the director was himself a Delver, and amazed that Angus could Delve into him without him noticing. He was apprehended and taken into custody by Kavatar, where due to his potential to be a real asset if he utilized his full psychic potential, he was told of his real abilities and given a simple choice: work with them or be thrown into prison. He chose the former option.
Association: Kavatar Incorporated
Psychic Potential: Delving
Goals: To make money doing whatever dirty jobs need to be done, preferably not killing but he will kill if the price is right, he would much prefer corporate espionage however.
Name: Charles Bob
Gender: Male
Appearance: He is tall, with relatively small but well defined muscles. Despite this, he still has enough extra mass that most people dont look twice at him. His long dark hair and beard cover most of his face, and his eyes always appear half shut. He dislikes dealing with people, but when he must deal with them he is surprisingly polite and courteous. His normally gruff voice can slip into almost any accent and "class", allowing him to once get almost any job for his last employers, a small salvage group.
Background: EVA specialist. Mostly works on space construction/deconstruction.
Bio: His early life is a mystery, even to himself. The start of his life, to him anyways, was getting out of the military. More recently he has worked with a small company called Stone Recycling, a scavenge company devoted to dissembling "hulks".
Association: Kavatar Incorporated (robotics developer, interested in cybernetics and androids)
Psychic Potential: Kinesis (affecting physical matter or energies)
Goals: Things in space. He one day wishes to own a scavenge vessel and live relatively invisibly, just one more hunk of metal in a universe of them.
Author
Topic: Scald (RPG) - You're a Corporate Spy 3,000 Years in the Future (Read 16136 times)