Chicago by Night

Critic's Choice

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Sometime I don’t know if I am to laugh or cry at the pathetic freaks out there. Anyway. I am getting ahead of myself in the tellin’.

We got a new fixer. Some greasy character called Sid that manages fights at the Vault and is trying to style himself as some kind of hot shot. He got our commcode from Quantum Princess , says she vouched for us. Bloody nice of her.

On the way to the Vault we run into a bunch of Fleshmongers buysing themselves with the grissly buisness of kidnapping living humans for ghoul town. We pull over and make short work of them, although they are backed both by a pair of ghouls and a mage. Angel gets knocked over by a stunbolt, but they go down harder.

We meet up with Sid and his elven fighting champion Matt (that Angel instantly developed a teenage crush on. Troll teenage crush. Ugh). He got a job he says. Then he dust off and gets himself preoccupied. So, we have to wander over to the nearby clinic and meet our Johnson ourselves. One bloody professional fixar that is. At least Matt shows us the way. He also tips us off that Becky 99, who runs the all-female street gang Desolation Angels might have additional work for us. Sweet. Two birds in one stroke.

On the way to the clinic Angel gets herself into a pit fight against a brutish orc named The Hector (what kind of moronic name is that anyway?). She gets a solid pounding. So now we REALLY need to get to the clinic, Johnson or not.

We meet up the the Johnson at the clinic. A doctor Tate. He wants us to retrieve the certificate of ownership for a run-down building further into the zone. He is looking to expand his operation he says. And the certificate is cheaper than buying the land. No shit genius. He pays well tho. And he patched up Angel as well. Not bad. I guess it is not a terrible thing to be on the good side of the local street clinic either.

On the way out we seek out Becky 99 and get the rest of the story. The target is an old studio where they shot the very first episode of Niel the Orc Barbarian. She offers good cash for any bootlegs of the eraly tapes we can find there. Apparently such things are worth hard cash if you know the right buyers. Jeez. Some people really have to much money for their own good.

We follow the trail deeper into the CZ. After narrowly avoiding a clinch with the Skull-cleavers we find the target; an abandoned trid-recording studio now in ruins. Inside we run afoul of some proper wierdos. A bunch of retards have formed some sort of freakish Niel-cult in the old recording studio. They are armed with like halberds and bows! Anyway, their leader turns out to be bloody dangerous with his magical claymore. And they got a midget shaman as well that causes some chaos. But they go down, we grab the loot and get the freak out. Epic fraggin’ retards.

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Chasing the Wind

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It sounded like a simple mission. Then again it always does, doesn’t it? Move into the CZ, place two shadow grid nodes, get out again. How hard can it be right?

Well, halfway in we got counter-orders. A new Johnson was on the field. A better paying one. To extract some “research results” he said. Get payment he said. Well, he didn’t say shit about the armored chopper and the corporate crack squad that came in right after us and turned the place into an inferno of flying lead. He didn’t say shit about the “research results” being a freaking living human clone either.

We managed to shake the freakin chopper and got out of the CZ. And thats where the fun really began. We had to backtrack this freakin mission. A girl named Sam had some bloody connection with it. And her father had dropped her a message in a safe house. A safe house with a biometric lock. And the bleedin’ girl was in Seattle. Fuckin’ useless.

So, we had to make a hit on a high security gated community to get a DNA sample. Off course the place was camped by corporate security. Well, its their loss, we made short work of them. Off to the safe house. Well. That “safe” part was a freakin’ joke. The place was guarded by undead spirits. Good thing we had a ruddin’ shaman with us. Not to mention some military grade automatics.

Turns out the freakin’ clone is a copy of Sam’s dad, and he has left some steamy-eyed message for her. Yeah, and a freakin’ persona encoding so he could be duped into his clone. Sounds like a bad trid? Yeah, that’s pretty much what I thought.

But, naturally it couldn’t just end there. We had to take the freakin’ kid and the encoding to some associate of his. A David White chap. Can you smell the backstab? Yeah. We were backstabbed. Ambushed by a full corporate strike team with military armor and automatic weapons. Some-freakin-how we managed to survive. David went all helpful after we took out the security team. So he went ahead and put daddy back in his body.

Once daddy got on his feet he grabbed Sam waved goodbye and popped physically into the matrix like it was the most normal and natural thing anyone could do. Bloody freak. Well. At least he had the common decency to knock out the approaching attack choppers along with every piece of electronics in Chicago as he went. That gave us the opportunity we needed to get out alive.

I think I will remeber this night. I dont think I will talk about it much tho.

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