There was much more shuffling around in the darkness this time around. Everyone wanted to do something with the gauntlet, whether it was to take it or destroy it.
Some minutes passed and a sudden crack of electricity sounded. Something had happened to the gauntlet. A few people sighed, then things went quiet again.
More minutes passed, and Quentin kept himself busy by thinking of his baby. She was a 2025 Harley Davidson: a classic. She had black and pink flames on the chassis and chrome everywhere else. He loved that girl with all his heart. She was gone now. Killed by the system. He used this thought to steel himself and pointed his chrono-shield at his target.
Quentin felt the knife pierce his lung from behind. He coughed, dropped his chrono-shield, and fell to the ground. He managed a wheeze before the darkness finally took him. It almost sounded like “Jessica.”
The lights turned on a minute later. The crew saw Quentin’s body lying there, blood pooling around it. They also saw the burnt-out gauntlet in the case.
As Zenon bent to plug her commlink into Quentin’s neck, she saw the Chrono-shield. She picked it up and tried using it. It would seem that the short fall had cracked a vital piece of the fragile device. It was useless now.
A few minutes passed.
A few more minutes passed.
“Selina here, seems Quentin was clean. Sorry it took so long, Gh0st has… written you guys off as a lost cause and is working on some kind of backup plan, so I had to crack the memory myself.”
Qweef Latina/Quentin Larson is dead. He was a Chronologist [Jailkeeper].
“The doors should be unlocked now. The next car should be a dinner car. They’ve probably mostly evacuated, but there’s a chance that there are civis there. Be careful to disarm them, but try not to kill any unless necessary.”
Taylor Vid opened the door. It led to a long hallway. The team went down the hallway to a door. They heard a few people moving about and what sounded like… jazz music?
As the second door opened, a strange scene presented itself. A very high-class restaurant filled with people. Guests talked delightedly, the waiters and waitresses served lobsters and pastas and neoflambes.
“Ahem, Good Evening sirs and madams. How many for your table?” a well-dressed host asked them, ushering them to the front.
Awkwardly, the team followed his lead. “Eleven for this evening,” said B, who was the first to find her composure.
“And do you have a reservation?”
“Alas, no. I do hope we could get a table, though. We are so excited to review your establishment,” B said, taking a page from Jimmy Witcher’s book. “It will make a fine article, wouldn’t you say, Ms. Halioptrix?”
“I couldn’t agree more, Ms. Isolde,” Holstead replied. She remembered her manners. Even if the only people dressed for the occasion were Beatrix and Roombina’s hologram (which was now wearing a very risque, yet classy cocktail dress), they should get some pull if they acted like they belonged.
The drop of the Halioptrix and Isolde names was enough to get the host moving, leaving with a bow and “I’ll see what I can do.”
Two minutes later, two tables were pushed together, covered with a large tablecloth, and set with silverware and appetiser plates.
The Strike Team sat down and began discussing their situation in much quieter tones.
Players:
Indy – Indigo Murphy – Old Man Robocop
Creeper – Jimmy Witcher – Deception Master
snugs – Doctor Roombina – Vacuum Cleaner
Video – Taylor Vid – Hard-bitten Dataminer
Lindsay – Zenon Kar – Girl of the 21st Century
Mac – Crocubot – Crocodile Cyborg
Hap – H4PP – Vending Machine
Mello – Jack Freedom – Robot Assassin
Zecko – Samantha Zecko – Explosion-happy Mechanic
Owen – Crushinator – Rural Moon Robut
McNeal – Holstead Haliptrix – Highborn Punchmaster
Thoughts – Leah Lemma – Mech-obsessed Engineer
Flaxon – Beatrix Isolde – Well-dressed Spymaster
Qweef – Quentin Larson – Weird Biker Dude
TCRM – Konrad – Taoist Assassin
Smapti – SM4PT1 – World-class Hacker
Dr. Nick – Nick Valentine – Cop Turned Cyborg Private Eye
Ralph – R4LPH – Underground Wrestler
Jake – Jake Doe – Female Amnesiac
Sub – Subaru Sahara – Future Sexy Robot Murderer
Roles:
3 System Agents (Mafia Goons)
1 System NeuroHacker (Mafia Roleblocker)
11 3 Freedom Fighters (Vanilla Townies)
1 Tragic Fan (One-sided lover Townie*)
1 Analyst (Cop)
1 MedTec (Doctor)
1 Chronologist (Jailkeeper)
1 Vindictive Killer (Serial Killer**, Immune to Investigation)
*Tragic Fan has one townie with whom they share a one-sided bond. If that person dies, they kill themselves.
**Vindictive Killer was hunting a specific player. Their mark was killed before they killed them, they have become a standard Serial Killer.
Remember NO EDITING POSTS. If you edit a post, you will likely be modkilled, which is bad for your entire team. Attack arguments, not people. Feel free to get into character, but votes and game-based decisions don’t necessarily have to be thoroughly character-based. Remember, this is a game. Have fun with it!
The day ends when there is a majority of votes or on Sat at 7PM PT. Countdown Timer
[Car 1] [Car 2] [Car 3] [Car 4] • [Car 6] [Car 7] [System HQ]
