Loose Ends

The kestrel flutters away from the lamppost down to the three unmarked white vehicles parked by the curb. It lands on the bed of a truck, standing two meters from the rear window and looking in to see if anybody is inside.

he gives a quick reply
Begin transmission:

thanks sam! not much to go on but better then a jab in the eye with a sharp stick. i do appreciate the work just please next time warn me about the stupid stuff. and if you get a boat ill finally teach you how to bow-fish. take care buddy

End transmission

he stands and logs off his game walks to his fridge pulls out a quick high calorie meal that will settle by the time he does his job later tonight. and decides to take the pathfinder tonight instead of dealing with the stupid lonestar notices on a fragging job. leaves a trail way to easily. walks to the garage and get on flips the keys around his finger deftly grabs the right key and starts his baby up. and heads for the meeting earlier then he planned but hey if you dont scout you dont live.

Kit examines the interior of one of the trucks. Documents are strewn about it, each headed with the same company name.
"'Ellington & Wyatt'?" A silent curse. "The name seems familiar, but my memory fails me."
"rEGreTtinG yOur...sPARtAn ExIsTeNcE?" Smolder's simmering speech.
"Not in the slightest, Smolder. But I may need to ask Preces for some recall nanites next time I see him."

Bruddah manages to reach the apartment almost fourty minutes later; Only an hour left before the meeting. With a quiet grumble under his breath, Bruddah enters the building with the intent of making his way to the roof top access. If there's no challenge to be met, he's going to set himself up, pull out those binoculars, and begin watching. Looking for patterns of movement; Do vehicles leave and return so often in that hour, how busy is the employee entrance, do they get a lot of outside visitors. Things that might be useful to know before getting caught in the middle of the place.

OOC> Willpower + Perception active skill + 1 (High Pain Tolerance) Extended Stakeout (20 Min Intervals)
OOC> First 20 mins, 3 hits
OOC> Second 20 Mins, 3 hits
OOC> Final 20 Mins, 1 hit
OOC> No Glitches

as he approaches from the west he does a quick drive by to just get a feeling for the area and parks a good mile away from the building in an abandoned lot he pulls his case off an begins a replay of his drive by while he walks to the meeting place he looks for nuances to the building that may help him figure his way inside. when he arrives at the meeting place he pulls out his bow and begins piecing it together behind cover and double checks all his gear once again.

Unfortunately for Taylor, the building really is very boring. It is largely featureless except for the windows in the front of the building and the drainage pipes on the side. He can't tell from the distance he drove around them if they are suitable for climbing or not. The only official entrances are the main door in front, the employee door in the back, and the closed garage-type door for the loading dock on the east wall.

Stifled by a door! Bruddah pauses at the apartment complex, working his tusked jaw at the thin thing. Yes, he could bash it down; But that'd pull on attention he doesn't need. He steps back for a moment, turning grey eyes up the long climb; Possible, but attention again. Considering it's more for benefit of just looking, probably best not to pull Lone Star down on top of him for trying to do something stupid.

Finally, the beaten Bounty notices the maglock, and grins slightly arond his cracked tusk. . o O (Hope this thing's worth the nuyen I slapped down for it.) O o . Bruddah reaches into his lined coat, and pulls forth a small Mag Passkey. Illegal, but better than blowing holes in the doors that might lead to questions later. You'd be surprised how many bounties try hiding behind such simple security devices...

OOC> Mag Passkey Rating 3 vs. Door MagLock. Passkey wins, via Durananda's roll.

Thick fingers slide the passkey in, and - for just a moment - Bruddah is afraid it's going to fail. Then the tiny thing chimes its acceptance. With a snort, Bruddah opens the door and sidles on inside..

. o O (Now to find the roof.) O o .

His movement up is interrupted, one last time, at the roof itself - by yet another maglock door. Without hesitation, Bruddah places the Passkey against the maglock's sensor..

OOC> Mag Passkey Rating 3 Vs. Door. Passkey wins, via Duranadna's roll.

... and it chirps its acceptance too. With the calm consideration most wouldn't think an ork of his 'persuasion' capable of, Bruddah slips a foot out of one of his boots. And uses it to prop the door open while he moves out onto the roof. Sure, he'll have one bare foot, but - on the other hand - he doesn't run the risk of getting locked out.

. o O (Any security designed worth their nuyen thinks 'bout potential roof top entries. Just stupid not too.) O o .

The vantage point from on top of the roof offers Bruddah the perfect vantage point of the back of the warehouse. He can see the van and the truck in the space between the buildings, and the employee entrance very well, and the binoculars make the job a breeze. On the other hand, it's a boring job only possible through determination on Bruddah's part. He maintains a vigilant watch, though, and takes careful note of the truck, a Toyota Gopher, that pulls off the road after fifteen minute of waiting. It zooms into the alley at a rather unsafe rate of speed, swerving to park at an angle and jerking to a halt. The dwarf who gets out of the cab is equally sloppy in his movements, grabbing a toolbox from the bed of the truck and shuffling over to the door with wavering steps. It's hard to tell if his mannerisms are just his personal quirks or if he is drunk.

Ten minutes later the dwarf and another man head out the back entrance, talking casually. The dwarf appears much more sure in his steps this time, and after some close examination Bruddah can tell that the other man is none other than the group's contact, Cane. They chat for a bit near the truck as the dwarf roots through the mess in the cabin to get some papers before they both head back inside.

Nothing happens for another five minutes, until Bruddah hears a voice call out behind him. "Hey! What are you doing up here? You- you shouldn't be here. Don't move, I'm not afraid to shoot." The person talking sounds more confused than angry or threatening, but his warning comes steadily; it's obvious he means it. He's still out of sight though, standing right behind Bruddah.

. o O (Damn.) O o .

Bruddah catches a whiff of the man just as he finishes talking, but doesn't lower the binoculars from his eyes just yet. Instead, he straightens up, and turns about slowly. Holding up a single hand to keep the confused guard from getting all jumpy, before he flips a thumb over his shoulder. "Watchin' folk." He answers, honestly, before he places the binoculars on the rooftop lip.

"Got an Ex down dere screwin' some half-pint's head off fo' a hand full o' nuyen. Tink dat count fo' gettin' dem kids out from unner de fraget's grip?" Now that, of course, is a lie. Bruddah easing his way sideways, and gesturing for the binoculars. "Take a peek yo'self. Got all de proof I need."

Hopefully, thats all the guard'll need.

OOC> CHA roll to attempt to lie. 0 Hits, No Glitch

The security guard doesn't buy it. Bruddah is faced with an aging human, probably in his forties, wearing a blue shirt and black slacks. In his hands he aims a dark blue ceramic device of some sort at the trespasser, holding it like a pistol. It's pretty obvious it's a taser.

"Doesn't matter, you're not supposed to be up here. There are signs on the door... you can't even get up here with a passkey! How'd you get up here? Which unit do you live in?" Then he shook his head, holding up a hand to delay any more excuses. "No, let me see some ID. Transmit your SIN so I can get to the bottom of this. And no sudden movements" He stares at the ork expectantly, watching him for any sign of a weapon-shaped object.

Bruddah rolls his shoulders a moment, loosening them up. Always did hate the beginning of a spat like this. "Got me a frien' ovah in twenny two." He grunts, before working his tusked jaw again. "A'ight, fellar. But mah comm's on mah wrist. Gunna hafta reach down an' transmit.." He holds said arm out to the side, displaying the wrist-comm..

And trying to take the guard's eyes off him for a split second

And then he's suddenly moving forward, lined coat flapping behind him - not to kill but to subdue. Can't explain away dead bodies. But you sure as hell can threaten living ones.

OOC> Init roll 11. 2 Passes. 4 Hits.
OOC> Charge to Melee range, Subdual combat.

As the watcher reenters the building, Kit flits onto the roof. A few moments, waiting for the spirit to exit the building once more, before he steps out. His spirit sinks into the roof, submerging himself into it and exposing only his eye to observe the building's interior.

"Hmm...four auras counted. Two are either irritated or annoyed. Considering how displeased this affair seems to make people, I imagine one of them must be our man." Kit sighs inwardly. "I wish I had greater means by which to discern physical features, but that would require excessive exposure."

"i am the earth. it speaks to me. nothing is beyond my sight." A voice slithers like running sand.

A triumphant chuckle. "Of course! Why did I not think of that? My thanks, Sand. You are, as always, a bedrock of sense." Kit focuses on the memory of Cane's face, sharing the knowledge with the spirit. "Oh, and Sand? Please keep yourself hidden from that watcher. Our presence here must remain unnoticed."

Running through the ground, a faint shiver of intent. The floor pulses with astral activity, unnoticed to all but those who have eyes to see. It stops in front of each of the auras to focus its attention upon the source before moving on. Then the walls shudder as the spirit gathers back at its master above.

"your man walks the grounds here, on legs of flesh and metal."

---

In his younger years, Gordon Lockhart may have been taken by surprise when a suspect became belligerent. But that jumpiness had long since left him, replaced only with the certainty of maturity. Aiming quick, he lined up the ork, and... fired all four darts at once. The darts sailed dangerously close to Bruddah's body, crackling with electricity. But the shot still missed, and it left Gordon with no course of action but to be tackled bodily by his assailant, knocking him over and leaving him far closer than he ever wanted to be to this very angry ork.

Four darts. Bruddah can -hear- them as they whizz past his head, expending their crackling energy to the wind as he closes with the smaller monkey, moving with frightening speed. But there is no roar of rage, no howl of victory, none of the usual things a trog would do on the tri-vid. No, Bruddah is quiet, save for the soft snort of air that escapes his broken nose as he tangles the guard up. One arm looping about the neck, the tusked teeth bumping the guard's forehead.

"Ya'll don' quit dat, I'mma break yo damn neck."

He grunts, trying to get a hold of the man's weapon arm as well. Bruddah is wired up with his nuero jobs, and a lot stronger than the human, but this smoother monkey is wiggley. Hard to get a good grip on, when he's thrashing all about. And so the two continue to wrastle, up on top of the complex...

Fights don't come every day in the life of a security guard, but Gordon hadn't always been assigned to patrolling an apartment complex. In his younger years he might have stood a chance in a one on one tussle with an enraged ork, but now he found the arm around his neck an iron-like vice from which he couldn't escape. His years of training proved useless as he tried to lever his arm against the crook of the ork's elbow. In his wild struggling he felt something give in his back, a muscle he hadn't used in years, and the grip only tightened around his neck. Gordon tried to blink away the black spots threatening to obscure his view, but they spread, forming a tunnel of darkness that left him floating away from his body and the cares of the physical world. Slowly his struggling ceased, his head nodding downward until his full weight was slumped against Bruddah, leaving him alone once more on the roof with only the unconscious body of the security guard to keep him company.

The old monkey was a lot more to handle than Bruddah initially thought - but the end result was inevitable. Bruddah keeps the pressure around the old man's neck, practiced enough to keep from -cracking- bone. Wrestling, fighting, these aren't new things to the beaten up old Bounty, with his life time written on his body in pale scars and missing flesh. When he feels the man go limp, Bruddah finally relaxes his bicep, letting air seep back into the fellow's lungs - and quietly taps off a message to the other team. Commlink says 6:05 PM - he's already late.

>>> To: Fellows
>>> From: B
>>>

Ran into trouble. Going to be a bit late. Maybe twenty.

>>> Transmission Sent
>>> Comm Status - Silent

Bruddah then pulls a couple pairs of restraints from his back pocket...

Five minutes later, that guard is trussed up like a pig, and tucked away in a corner of the roof. Bruddah had patted down his pockets, and pulled out a commlink - and quickly flipped it to hidden. He then took the stun baton off the man's belt, a utility knife, the passkey and the taser gun - plus two reloads. He even spent a few moments feeling down the man's shirt and pant legs, to make sure he didn't have any heaters that could be used to burn through the plasteel restraints. And then he squats down, pulling that big ol' fineblade from its under-sheath on his side. And pats the guard roughly on the cheek with the cold metal.

"Wake de frek up, smoother." He grunts. Taking a moment to pull his old, beaten hat back on, and down low.

All the rushing Bruddah went through to secure his defeated opponent resulted in an irritatingly slow wait as the guard swam back to consciousness. His eyes opened one at a time, and remained humorously cross-eyed until they focused on Bruddah, at which point the man strained against his constraints, halting when he realized how much pain the attempt caused him. It was only then that he stopped to take stock of his situation, and turned to glare up at his captor. "Wha-" he wheezed, coughing as his aching throat clamped down on the word. "What... do you th- think... you're accomplishing... here? If you're going... to kill me... just get it over with." His eyes gleamed as he stared Bruddah down from the floor, still filled with fight despite the defeat he just suffered at the ork's hands. Apparently the wounds inflicted hadn't affected his dignity any, nor had being trussed up and left defenseless.

Bruddah grunted to himself once the man woke up, and sat back on his haunches. Working his tusked jaw for a moment as he scratches an itch on his cheek with the point of the razor-sharp cougar fineblade. He doesn't answer the man at first, letting him get all his defiance out in the open for the Big Bad Bounty. And then, in his rumbling baritone, he began to talk. Slowly. Deliberately.

"Reckon ya'll know how dis part s'pose to go. Ya'll s'sposed t' has ya'll throat slit, an' yo boots s'posed t' be on some damn burn head feet right 'bout now from de second hand shop." Bruddah lets that hang for a moment, before pulling out the Guards commlink, and quietly turning it in one of his calloused hands. Grey eyes never wavering; Hard. Mean.

"Now, whut I is and whut I is doin' ain't none ya'll bidness. Wouldna been neither, 'cept ya'll choose de wrong damn place an' de wrong damn time. Ain't go no innerest in ya'll complex here, save fo' de view." He grunts, and bounces the commlink in his hand. "Now, usually, I do jes' dat; Slit yer throat and toss ye to dem corpse eatin' fuglies in de sewer. But dis part'cular Boss I be workin' fer, he don wan' no reports commin' out dis area for de next week er' so. Less wise, not 'bout today. Dead body sho' 'nuff make reports, an' dat mean I be losin' half my pay."

The bouncing commlink stops, and Bruddah leans forward a bit. The cougar fine-blade's point dug into the crement right beside the old cop's nose. "SO here whut we gun do. Ya'll gun hang nice an' tight, right heah, 'till I gits back t' let ya'll loose. And den ya'lls gonna keep yo mouth shut 'bout dis lil' incident. If you ain't, an' I lose half my fraggin' pay?" The commlink clatters against the ground briefly.

"I'mma find yo where ya'll live. I'mma git me de utter half out ya'll flesh. And ya'll better pray to yo smoother monkie god ya'll ain't got no relations tied up to ya'll SIN, 'cause when I dun wit' yo, I'mma git de rest outta dem. Pound fer pound, I carve every less nuyen from 'em, and sell dat purty fat flesh t' dem chop shops fer' spare parts." The commlink is plucked back up, and tucked into Bruddah's belt before he begins walking by - quietly pulling the Guard's own magkey pass out of his pocket. And opening the stairwell door.

"See ya'll t'night."

OOC> Intimidation roll, +5 modifier. 4 Hits

The threat drew no frenzied terror in Gordon, but his face hardened into a look of grim understanding. He nodded, recognizing this as a business deal, and appreciating his bargaining position. "I won't say anything. But you're going to have a hard time regardless, and I don't want you taking it out on my family." He spat with a snarl, clearing the dust from his mouth before continuing speaking to the ork's back. "You want to do something somewhere else, that's fine by me. But you made a big mistake when you brought it to my building. Do you not know how security works? You think the people who pay me trust me further than they can throw me?" He nodded downward, looking at his chest due to his inability to point with his arms tied behind him. "The second you knocked me out, everyone in this building found out about it. I didn't come up here without anyone knowing. Suddenly investigating a jammed door becomes security guard unconscious, and while the maglock might be an anomaly, people don't just pass out for no reason."

He paused to listen, but the rooftop was silent, perhaps suspiciously so. "You want to get out of here, no reports? Fine, go. Leave fast, and maybe you can get out of here before Knight Errant shows up. I'll tell them I slipped, bumped my head. But you're going to have to get me out of these," he shook his arms, wincing at the pain in his back the movement caused, "first, or there's nothing I can do to cover for you, and you better believe I won't let you near my family to punish them for your stupidity."

A satisfied nod. A soul returns. Rust red wings stretch and flap, carried away on the East Wind.

"Time to meet with the Wandering Thespian."
Smolder give a crackling growl. "yOu ARe gOInG tO deSTRoY yOurSeLF ThiS WAY soMe DAy."
A little smile. "Perhaps, Smolder. But it will not be today."

Fifteen miles away, in Flik's restaurant, a red-winged kestrel flutters onto the sill and taps the glass. Flik grunts and opens it. "I am getting entirely too used to this," he muttered to himself as he went to grab two saucers, milk, some canned fish, and the bottle of baijiu.

The bird glides to the floor. A moment later, a wildcat leaps onto the front counter, golden eyes scanning the patrons for a certain Wayward Thespian.

Bruddah pauses, the door opened once again, and considers; But, like anything in life involving his own survival, he thinks real quick. With a grunt, he pulls out the taser gun - and tosses it on the other side of the roof to clatter. Empty of ammo, of course. And then moves towards the stricken and bound guard, not saying a single word as he pulls out the hand-melter used to seal the plasteel restraints in the first place. He does the guard's legs first - no need for the fellow to get ideas. And then he presses the point of the fine-blade against the man's spine, a silent warning as he melts off the wrist restraints.

Finally, Bruddah stands up and - without further ado - moves back for the door. Using the guard's pass to open it, and then fipping the pass over his shoulder as he departs. In a hurry, but remembering to sheath that big ol' knife. No need to upset more of those damn monkies, especially if the law was heading this way...

And, if all else fails, he's still got the man's commlink, stun baton, and utility knife.

the comlink rang like a bell before his eyes... "gah... i need to remember to shut that program off when i go on runs..." reads the message from bruddah and sighs and trys to open up a verbal channel to him "is this going to be a good 20 mins late and or a bad 20 mins late?" he waits for a response and the rest of the group to show up. he also attaches a couple of the stick and shock heads to the arrows to be ready for an accident that may happen on the job.

As the 'link on Bruddah's wrist lights up with a message from Colton, the other commlink in his possession also shows signs of life. Just as Bruddah starts going down the stairs, a muffled voice squawks quietly from the guard's commlink, picking up on a transmission. "Lockhart, you there? Biomonitor says you were out cold, but you alright now? I sent Rodriguez over there to help you, he's almost to the second floor now. You better answer, man, I don't want to have to call those Knight pricks to stomp all over our building."

The sounds of someone climbing up stairs reaches Bruddah as he heads down. There are three stories to the building before the rooftop access, so if the voice on the comm can be trusted, this 'Rodriguez' person must be close.

. o O (Damn. Getting lazy. Gonna have to get sharper than this.) O o .

Reaching the third floor from the roof access, Bruddah hears the commlink sqwak its muffled message, and he hears the clatter of boots comming up. First floor to second floor; Only enough time to one thing. Bruddah slips the Mag Passkey from his pocket, and taps it against the third floor lock; It chirps once, almost immediatly, as it 'recognizes' the passkey as valid. With a surprising amount of dexterity for someone so thick and nasty looking, Bruddah quietly cracks the door and slips inside - easing it shut. He then shoves a hand in his pocket to thumb that 'borrowed' commlink down to mute.

Grey eyes sweep briefly across the hallway, and Bruddah grunts softly. . o O (Gonna be a bad day.) O o . He then eases away from the door, and and then starts heading towards the intersection at a hard walk. . o O (Don't run. That'll get attention sure as guttin' some daisy eater in broad daylight. Just the sound of it make folk curious.) O o . Bruddah casting glances over his shoulder, trying to judge when the man's blurred outline crosses the door's 'textured' glass.

If he makes it, before the guard reaches the third floor? He's gonna ease up and out of the way, poking out just enough to watch for an outline. See if the guard's gonna stop and check, or head for the roof.