Robber Transcript, Session Three

a Cyberpunk Game

compiled by Amy Luther (mockery@cox.net)

GM is Amy Luther
PR is Gary Astleford, playing Salvatore Scagnetti.

[Mockery's Note:  This is actually Session Four of the Robber Game, 
but technical difficulties prevented us recording it.]

GM - The continuing saga of Salvatore Scagnetti, part the fourth.  You 
     remember what was going on before?
PR - Uh . . . kind of.
GM - Let me refresh your memory.  In episode one, you killed the Chinese guy 
     and his grandfather.
PR - Yeah.
GM - Episode two, you picked up the guy and you took him to the warehouse, 
     where he got whacked.  Then you dropped off the body.
PR - Yeah.
GM - Episode three, you went to the wrong house.  That was the funeral, too, 
     and that was the one we didn't tape.  di Castro got shot, and he's now 
     in the hospital, getting his kidney replaced.  That was Monday night.  
     You got him to the hospital at around five o'clock.  How long did you 
     hang out at Celine's house?
PR - An hour or two.
GM - Then you were there till around eight.  What are you grinning about?
PR - I was just remembering, I was threatening him.  I said if he died, I'd 
     have to console his girlfriend sexually.  [laughs]  He got pissed off at 
     me.
GM - What do you do when you get home?
PR - I don't know.  Clean the gun.  Go to bed.
GM - You don't have a telephone . . . [laughs]
PR - [laughs] No.
GM - So, at nine o'clock the next morning . . . Are you up?
PR - I get up around eight.
GM - At nine o'clock the next morning, there is a knock on your door.
PR - I'm walking around in a tank top and my underwear.
GM - [laughs]  You wear boxers, or jockeys?
PR - Boxers.  Real Italians wear boxers.
GM - Why?  Equipment's too big?
PR - [laughs]
GM - Making yourself breakfast?  Already eaten?
PR - Getting ready to make myself breakfast.  
GM - Showered?
PR - Yep.  I'll pull on a pair of pants before I answer the door.
GM - [knocking loudly on wall]
PR - I'm coming!  Just a minute, Jesus.
GM - You going to look through the peephole, or just open the door up?
PR - I'll look through the peephole.
GM - Connolly is standing out there, resplendent in suit, tie, and jacket.
PR - I remember.  I'll answer the door.
GM - He coughs uncomfortably as you open the door.  Sal.
PR - Bob.  Hi.
GM - May I come in?
PR - Sure.
GM - Ah . . . sorry to bother you this early in the morning.  
PR - That's okay.
GM - He comes in, casting a doubtful glance around your apartment.
PR - I close the door.
GM - Mind if I have a seat?  He sits down on the sofa.
PR - Feel free.
GM - You don't have coffee on, by any chance?
PR - No.
GM - [waits]
PR - I didn't buy any.
GM - Ah.  What a shame.
PR - I didn't even buy a pot.
GM - We'll have to remedy that.  [coughs]  He reaches into his suit jacket, 
     pulls out an oblong plastic object, and sets it on your coffee table.  
PR - What's that for?
GM - This is so that I don't have to drive over here every morning.
PR - What is it?
GM - A cell phone.  Folded up.
PR - All right.  I don't touch it.  I just leave it there.
GM - We would prefer that you carry it on you.  We'll have to . . . no, you 
     can get yourself an apartment phone.  [laughs]  You should have the funds.
PR - I'll just use that one right now.
GM - [coughs]  In any case . . . I would prefer someone else for this, 
     especially after what happened yesterday.  With Michael in the hospital, 
     and the situation pertaining to you as it does . . . I think that you 
     would be the best person for this endeavor.  Go ahead and make breakfast, 
     if you like.
PR - Sure.  You want anything?
GM - Thank you, no.  You get up and bustle around.  What are you making?
PR - Couple a'eggs.  Sausage.
GM - He unbuttons his suit jacket and settles down in the sofa.  Well . . . 
     ah, we have a slight problem.  You may recall that when you went to pick 
     up the Galvano boy, with Michael, when you left the apartment . . . 
     Michael told me that there was a woman.
PR - Yeah, a little old lady.
GM - Who had seen you.  Remember?  We have reason to believe that she may have 
     been in contact with the police.
PR - Shit.  You mean people in this city actually talk to the cops?
GM - Yes, amazing as that may sound.
PR - Want me to go put the fear of God into her?
GM - It's a bit more complicated than that.  We believe she spoke to the 
     police, but is not in cooperation with them at this point, and is 
     intending to leave the city.  However, we would like to know what she 
     said to them, if anything.  She is currently holed up in a Pacifica hotel 
     with a gentleman whom we believe to be her bodyguard.
PR - Cop bodyguard, or just a bodyguard bodyguard?
GM - No, ah . . . it's not a police officer.  And, since you may be the one 
     compromised by this, we would like you to take care of it.
PR - Well, who's the bodyguard?
GM - We don't know.
PR - Can you find out?
GM - Not between now and the time I would like you to have this completed . . . 
     I can give you a description and a rough estimate of his abilities.
PR - Asian gentleman? [laughs]
GM - Afraid not.  Caucasian gentleman, about twenty-two.  Brown hair, glasses, 
     wears a sport jacket, dress shirt, tie, jeans, hightop sneakers.  Ah . . . 
     boosted, but no other obvious cyberware.  Carries a gun in a shoulder 
     rig.  From what we can tell, strictly an amateur at the bodyguarding 
     business.  He and the woman removed themselves to the Pacifica Hilton 
     Sunday night and have been there all day Monday.  I would appreciate it 
     if you could go down and . . . ah . . . speak to her, if possible.  And,
     depending on what she tells you, either remove her, or . . . well, I'll 
     leave that up to you.  I imagine you'd prefer the former option.  We can 
     give you a car.
PR - I got one.
GM - But you may not want to use it.
PR - So, I'm supposed to go in by myself on this one?
GM - I'm afraid so, yes.
PR - Don't you have anybody on the force?  Somebody who could tell you what 
     she told them?
GM - It's a little more complicated than that.
PR - [laughs]  All right, fine.
GM - I'd like this done today.
PR - Sure you would.
GM - What are you frowning about?  You've got this, "They're setting me up," 
     face on.
PR - [laughs]  It's bullshit.
GM - What he's telling you?
PR - Yeah.
GM - That's as may be.
PR - You know her name?
GM - Colette.  Colette Durand.  I can give you a photo.  He rummages around 
     in his pocket and hands one over.  It's a slim woman, about twenty, with 
     short dark hair.  I can also give you details of her medical condition, 
     which is why I suspect they haven't moved from the hotel room.  I 
     understand she's from orbit.
PR - From orbit?  What was she doing in that rat-trap we got Galvano out of?
GM - I don't know.  She has a severe respiratory problem.  She's on oxygen and 
     is prone to attacks of respiratory collapse, which would require her to 
     be immediately hospitalized.  She has some cyberware and is proficient 
     in a number of the combat arts, but I understand that her physical 
     condition is such that she'll be unable to use them.
PR - Anything else?
GM - What I've told you is all we know.  We don't know where she picked the 
     bodyguard up.  We don't know how much she's paying him, or where she got 
     the money.  All we know is that he has a weapon and he is boosted.  I 
     don't suppose that I need to remind you it is a hotel, so accidents of 
     the sort that happened yesterday would be unfortunate.
PR - Which accident are you referring to?  Finding the wrong person, or 
     getting shot?  [laughs] I guess if I get shot, I'm screwed.
GM - If you shoot the wrong person, that would be worse.  If you raise too 
     much of a commotion within the hotel, hotel security will arrive, along 
     with the Pacifica PD.
PR - Can you give me a clean weapon?  With a silencer?  Something I can dump?
GM - I can arrange that.  Any preferences?
PR - Ten or eleven millimeter.
GM - All right.  Ten, I think.  The room number is 1222.
PR - Okay.
GM - That's all I have to tell you.  You can pick the weapon up at Gino's in 
     about an hour.  Do you want a car?
PR - Sure.
GM - Get that at Gino's, too.
PR - And a silencer, remember.  Know where I can get some ammo around here?
GM - Locally?
PR - Yeah, somewhere where they're not going to ask me for my gun license.
GM - [laughs]  There is a sporting goods store about a quarter of a mile past 
     Gino's, on the same side of the street . . . if you tell them that Mr. 
     Connolly advised you to purchase ammo there, they'll provide you some 
     without any questions.  
PR - Okay.
GM - He stands up, brushes his hands off, brushes the seat of his pants off, 
     buttons his jacket up again, looks around your house, and lets himself 
     out, closing the door behind him.  You hear him shuffling up the stairs 
     outside, and then you hear a car start up and drive away.
PR - I'll eat.  Put my suit on.  Pistol in its holster.  Then I'll go down to--
GM - Gino's?
PR - That sporting goods store.
GM - It's pretty nippy and overcast outside, so you can get away with wearing 
     your trenchcoat.
PR - Cool.  Put on my gloves, too.  And my sunglasses.
GM - It feels like fall now.  You go into the sporting goods store.  Guns and 
     ammo and shit, along with a big selection of camping and survival gear, 
     all rather shabby.  Behind the counter is a middle-aged Vietnamese guy 
     with a pot-belly.  He has liver spots all over him.  He looks you up and 
     down and sighs.  Morning.
PR - Hi.
GM - What can I get you?
PR - Mr. Connolly said that I might be able to buy some ammunition here.
GM - [sighs] He was right.  What can I get you?
PR - Oh, you got anything in the 10mm range, dual-purpose or Kendachi 
     Fragmentation Flechettes?
GM - [pause]  We don't have Kendachi Frags.  [pause]  I'm sorry.  I can get 
     you dual-purpose.
PR - That'll do fine.
GM - How many?
PR - Fifty.
GM - He goes around behind the counter, goes in the back, and you hear things 
     jingling around back there.
PR - Remember, 10mm!  [laughs]
GM - I hear you!  He comes back around with a beaten, stained, crunched-up 
     ammo carton.  It looks like it's been sitting back there for a while.  
     He puts it on the counter.  You stare at each other for a second, and he 
     pops the top off and pushes it across the counter.  They're a bit greasy, 
     but otherwise look fine.
PR - Close the box and pay for it.
GM - Cash, right?
PR - Yeah.
GM - He looks at you sourly and gets a cashbox out from under the cash 
     register.   It comes to sixty-four something, with tax.
PR - I give him eighty and tell him to keep the change.
GM - Thanks a lot, considering it goes right back into your pocket.
PR - What, they're extorting his ass?  [laughs]
GM - He takes the money and puts his box away.  All done?
PR - Yeah.
GM - You leave the shop.  Going to Gino's now?
PR - Yep.
GM - Remember what the place looks like?
PR - Mmm-hmm.  With the carlot?
GM - Yup.
PR - Um, actually, I'm going to go home and pick up my sub.  Slap it together, 
     throw it in that little storage space they rigged for me in my car.
GM - Okay.
PR - Put my 10mm DP rounds in there with it, and close it up.
GM - You get in your car and go to Gino's.  You pull into the lot, and there's 
     a portly guy in a mechanics coverall who tells you where to park.  He 
     comes up to you and says, Hey, what d'you need?
PR - Gino here?
GM - In the back.  Why?
PR - Because I'm supposed to pick up my car here, that's why.
GM - Oh, yeah, yeah.  Hang on a minute.  He looks you up and down and goes 
     into the garage.  Couple minutes later, Gino comes out from behind the 
     building, and you hear the screen door slam behind him.  He stumps up to 
     you.  Arright.  Here's ya keys.  He gives them to you, along with a heavy, 
     greasy paper bag.
PR - Lunch, right?  [laughs]
GM - [Gino] Yah.  Don't litter.
PR - I'm a real popular guy lately.
GM - [Gino] Yah, whatever.  Gimme your keys.
PR - My own keys?
GM - [Gino] For your car, yah.  
PR - Why?
GM - [Gino] So if somebody shoots you, they don't find your keys and get a 
     make on this piece a'shit.
PR - [says nothing]
GM - [Gino] 'Case I gotta move it, that's why.  Gimme the keys.
PR - I gotta get some shit outta it first.
GM - [Gino] Get ya shit, then.
PR - [laughs]  Go over to my car, get into the secret spot.
GM - He watches you do this and takes your keys when you're done.
PR - Don't scratch it.
GM - [Gino] If I scratch it, we do ya fuckin' bodywork for free.
PR - Hey, hey!  I'm just jumpin' with you, Gino.
GM - [Gino]  Whatever.  Green one.  He points.
PR - All right.
GM - The car he indicates is a small sedan.  It's used, but not beat up, and 
     it's a deep, money-colored green.
PR - I'll get in, put the submachine gun under the passenger seat.  Open up 
     the bag.
GM - There's a Colt Alpha-Omega in there.  The grip is plastic and kind of 
     warped.
PR - Take out the clip.  Is it loaded?
GM - No.
PR - Open the ammo box and load it.
GM - The feel of the gun is kind of slimy, and it might actually be a cheap 
     Taiwanese knockoff of an Alpha-Omega, but it seems okay.
PR - Pump a round in, uncock the hammer, then pull the clip out and put 
     another round in.
GM - Just in case.  [laughs]
PR - Put the clip back in.
GM - The last one's for you, right?
PR - Yep.
GM - [laughs]  You mean that?
PR - Yeah. [laughs]  Put it in the bag and wrap the bag around it, like it's 
     a bottle.  Stuff it under the seat with the sub.  Start the car.
GM - You got your shoulder rig on?
PR - No, not yet.
GM - Start the car.  It starts hard, but then it goes.  You back outta the 
     lot.
PR - And go to an ATM.
GM - Your brand-new bank account card.
PR - Get about a grand out, for expenses.
GM - Do you have a plan of action?  What are you writing down?
PR - My money.
GM - I see.
PR - I'm gonna do a drive-by of this place.
GM - It's in Pacifica, so it'll take you a while.  As you recall, it takes 
     about an hour to get there.
PR - I don't speed.
GM - Nice people don't.
PR - Nice people don't work for the Mob.  Nice people don't knock off ladies 
     who have respiratory problems, either.
GM - [laughs]  You get on the freeway, and it is congested with morning 
     traffic.  You see a couple highway patrol cruisers on the way down, but 
     they don't bother you.  You're heading to downtown Pacifica, the tourist 
     area where the hotel strips are, the Hilton and the Mariott and the 
     Holiday Inn.  The hotel you're going to is on the right-hand side of a 
     long street that runs toward the beach and then makes a T to run parallel 
     to it.
PR - Is it a big hotel, or a run-down shit hotel?
GM - It's a big hotel, but it's on the lower end of the hotel spectrum.  It's 
     an economy vacation spot, with about thirty floors.  There's a lobby 
     entrance on the main street, and a parking garage entry with another 
     lobby entrance in there.
PR - I'll go into the parking garage.
GM - You can pull partway inside, and there's a very small parking/check-in 
     area with six spaces in it.  Four of these are filled.  To go further on 
     into the parking garage, you have to go past a toll gate, and punch for 
     a ticket.  The curb is painted, "Fifteen Minute Limit for Check-In."
     Parked alongside the lobby are green Hilton complimentary carpool vans.  
     There are fifteen or twenty people doing various things.
PR - Hmmm.   Bad idea.  I'll park, then pull back outside.  Go a couple blocks 
     down.
GM - There are several public parking structures scattered all around the 
     hotel area.  They have great big signs on them that say, "Liability not 
     accepted for any damage done to any vehicles parked on these premises."
PR - It's not my car.
GM - You'll have to walk a bit to get to the hotel.
PR - Pick one that's not too close, but not too far away.
GM - That'll be down a block and to the right.  It has a kiosk with a guy 
     inside, but no toll.  He's probably just there to make sure nobody 
     loiters, or tries to come in to park and get drunk.
PR - That's all right.
GM - So, you pull in.  The guy in the kiosk is a skinny, wrinkly oldster with 
     funky looking, clear bug-eyed goggles on.   He smiles at you and tips his 
     hat as you go in.
PR - I smile at him.
GM - What level you going to park on?
PR - I'll stay on the first.  Many people here?
GM - It's about three-quarters full with cars, but there aren't any people in 
     here.  You can hear the echoes of someone talking off in the structure 
     somewhere, though.
PR - I'll back into a space and get out of the car.  Take off the coat.  Sling 
     the submachinegun.  Any cameras around?
GM - Make an Awareness roll.
PR - [rolls] Fourteen.
GM - You don't see any.
PR - Keep working, then.  Put the gun in the bag in my inside coat pocket.  
     Lock the car and walk to the hotel.
GM - You walk to the hotel through a brisk wind and a little bit of fresh fall 
     drizzle.  There is no doorman at the hotel.
PR - Push my sunglasses up and my hat down.
GM - It's a nice, plush lobby. Check-in directly to your left, elevators 
     straight ahead to the right and left.  Maybe three people in here, at the 
     desk.  To the right is the lounge area.
PR - Where's the stairs?
GM - There's a sign that directs you to go down past the elevators and to the 
     left.
PR - Head for it.
GM - Allrighty.  You walk down the hallway to the end, and there's a big dark 
     green door marked "Stairs" at the corner.  Typical hotel noises all 
     around you--muffled conversations, elevators binging, a vacuum running, 
     kitchen noises.  Going in?
PR - No, I'm going to stand and wait a minute, to see if anybody comes.
GM - You see a maid walk by, pushing a cart full of dirty dishes, but that's 
     it.
PR - Hmmm . . . [pause] I was just thinking about grabbing one of the maids, 
     and offering her five hundred dollars for the room key.
GM - You could do that.
PR - Yeah, I could.  [long pause]
GM - You could also grab a maid, kill her, take the room key, and then go on 
     up.
PR - Nah, too messy.
GM - [laughing] You could take a cart down the hall.  Not all the maids are 
     female.  [laughs]  You could be a housekeeping guy.
PR - No.
GM - [laughs]
PR - I'm going up the stairs.
GM - You open the stairwell door and a draft of cold air hits you in the face.  
     The stairs are carpeted with that high-tread wear-resistant stuff, also 
     green, and there's very soft Muzak playing in the air.  There are cheap 
     decorative framed photos of ocean scenes, and half-tables with artificial 
     flowers on them.  You hear a couple of kids screaming from somewhere up 
     the stairwell.
PR - This sucks.  I'm going up to . . . I guess it's twelve.
GM - Yep.  Twelfth floor.
PR - I'm going to take my time.  Take a break every three flights.
GM - [laughs]  Doing anything special on your way up?
PR - Nope.
GM - On the sixth floor, you pass the pair of screaming kids you heard earlier.  
     Two little boys, five and six respectively, buzz haircuts, probably 
     brothers, both decked out in death chromer T-shirts.
PR - [laughs]  Yeah, yeah, yeah.
GM - At the eighth floor you hear someone coming down the stairs above you.
PR - I step out.
GM - You open the door to the eighth floor, and a maid is walking by.  She 
     has frizzy blonde hair and is rather plump.  She's pushing a laundry cart 
     and has a bunch of cleaning bottles slung on her waist.  She sees you and 
     smiles, tiredly.
PR - I smile.  Rough night?
GM - Isn't it always?
PR - Is there a coke machine on this floor?
GM - Right around the corner, near the elevators.  She keeps pushing her cart.
PR - Go around the corner.
GM - Cokes are two euro each.
PR - Oh, Jesus.
GM - Synthcola.
PR - [laughs]  Shut up.
GM - [laughs]
PR - Stick two bucks in.
GM - Ka-chunk!  A can comes out.  It's got holographic lettering on it.  
     "Drink Fizzy Pop!"
PR - Shit.
GM - [laughs]
PR - I stick it in my pocket and go back to the stairs.  Listen first.
GM - You can't hear anything beyond the door.  For all you know, there could 
     be an armored borg on the other side, waiting to chase you down the 
     stairs.
PR - [laughs]  Shut up, you.  Open the door.
GM - Nobody is there.
PR - Go up.
GM - Ninth floor, tenth floor, eleventh floor, twelfth floor.  You come out 
     onto a hallway.  You've got to go around the hallway, either right or 
     left, and come out in the central elevator area, because 1222 is right 
     near to the elevators.
PR - I'll do a quick circuit around, see if there's any maids.
GM - All the room doors are closed.  Some have "Do Not Disturb" signs on them, 
     others have shoes and laundry out in front, a couple have ravaged room 
     service trays by the door.  You find one maid doing housekeeping about 
     four rooms down from the room you're looking for.  You don't know which 
     direction she's going.
PR - Reach in, get my bag out, undo it, get the gun out, put the gun back.
GM - Sure.
PR - Hold it down close to my side, so no one can see it.
GM - Under your coat?
PR - No, just along my side.  Are there any cameras here?
GM - Yes.  There are three, one opposite each elevator, but as you watch them, 
     you can see one of them has become aware of you and is tracking you.  
     The other two can't get you in their field of vision.
PR - Just being cautious.  That one's tracking me?
GM - Yep.  Eeeeeep.  
PR - Now, here's the door . . . 
GM - Right.
PR - Where's the camera?
GM - Behind you.
PR - It can't see my face?
GM - Right.  It's pointed at your back.
PR - Bang on the door.
GM - Gonna say anything?
PR - Nope.
GM - You hear some movement inside, and two voices talking.
PR - The door opens in, right?
GM - Right.  You hear a woman's voice, from inside the room, say, Yes?  She 
     has a very slight, vaguely French accent.
PR - [pauses]
GM - [laughs]  What do you do?
PR - What time of the day is it?
GM - Around eleven.
PR - Complimentary brunch, ma'am.
GM - Just a minute.  The door handle turns, and the door begins to open.
PR - I'm going to stick the gun into whoever's face it is.  I figure it's 
     gotta be the bodyguard.
GM - Make an Intitiative roll.
PR - That's cool.  [rolls]
GM - What'd you get?
PR - Sixteen.
GM - [rolls]  Oh, my God.  Like to see?
PR - Is it a ten?
GM - Lookie here.
PR - I lose, then.
GM - You are bringing your hand up, and the door swings wide open, fast and 
     hard.  There is a man standing there, about twenty-two, brown hair, 
     glasses, clean-shaven, face bruised and one eye almost swollen shut, 
     wearing a sport-coat with dress shirt and tie, jeans, high-tops, standing 
     in a classic braced position about four feet back from the door, holding 
     an automatic pointed in your face.  Do you have Human Perception?
PR - [laughs]  I've got Intimidation . . . 
GM - Roll Empathy plus a d10.
PR - [rolls]  Eight.  I got such a shit Empathy.
GM - Recognition passes over his face.
PR - He's not shooting?
GM - Nope.
PR - [laughs]
GM - You can see that it was the woman who opened the door.
PR - Is he holding his shot?
GM - Yep.
PR - I'll take my shot.  
GM - A snapshot?
PR - Yes.  Two shots.
GM - Roll for it.  Take your negatives.
PR - [rolls]  Nineteen . . . and nineteen.
GM - Close range.  Roll your damage and hit locales.
PR - [rolls] Left arm . . . and left arm.
GM - Blood explodes out of his forearm and bicep, and since he's left-handed, 
     his gun goes flying.  Roll your damage.
PR - [rolls]  Eleven for the first shot . . . twelve for the second.
GM - What's your total damage?
PR - If he doesn't have any armor on . . .
GM - As far as you can tell, he's just wearing a sportcoat.
PR - 1.5 times normal, since it's dual-purpose.
GM - Damn.
PR - Does he drop his gun?
GM - Well, you shot his gun arm, so I'd say . . . Yes.
PR - [laughs]  Sorry.
GM - And he gets to make . . . [counting] a Death Save!  What a concept!  
     [rolls]  He falls backwards, grunting under the impact of the bullets, 
     and starts a slow slide down the mirrored closet to his right.  He is 
     neither dead nor unconscious, but he is going down, and more blood sprays 
     everywhere.  The woman's immediate reaction is to slam the door shut onto 
     you.
PR - I'm walking in.  I'll try to sandwich her between the door 
GM - Initiative.
PR - [rolls]  Nineteen.
GM - [rolls]  You walk in the room.  The guy is lying on the floor, curling up 
     into a fetal ball.
PR - Glance at her.  Is she wearing anything?
GM - Yes.  She has jeans and a tank top on.
PR - Is she armed?
GM - She's not holding a weapon.  What do you do?
PR - Walk in and grab her by the throat.
GM - She's backing off.  Wanna roll?
PR - No.
GM - Initiative again.
PR - Is she going for me?
GM - She's not just gonna stand there.  [rolls]
PR - [rolls]  Sixteen.
GM - You win.
PR - Keep the gun trained on him.  Look at her, and do one of my Intimidation 
     stares.
GM - She looks at you.
PR - On your face.
GM - Intimidation roll.
PR - [laughs] I put points in the damn skill.
GM - I know you did.
PR - [rolls] Seventeen.
GM - She looks very frightened and freezes.  She's not moving.
PR - If she's not moving, I'll pump two more rounds into the guy on the floor.
GM - He's not going anywhere, so as long as you don't fumble . . . 
PR - I'm not particular about where I hit him.  [rolls]
GM - Roll your location.
PR - Nine, which is a leg, and six, which is his arm again.  [laughs]
GM - [laughs, surprised]  You've about blown his arm off.  He makes a short, 
     strangled grunt with each shot.  Roll your damage.
PR - Nine, and another nine.
GM - Gee, he might actually have a chance.  [rolls]  No.  He twitches and lies 
     still.
PR - How is this room situated?
GM - You walk in the door.  Immediately to your left is a mirrored closet, 
     which the guy is lying in front of.  Just past that is a little alcove 
     with a mirror, and past the mirror is a bathroom.  The wall of the suite 
     runs to your right; first comes the connecting door to the next room, 
     then a bureau and mirror, then the TV.  A pair of beds are past the 
     bathroom on the left, and at the far end of the room are a pair of chairs, 
     a low table, and a window.
PR - Close the door behind me.
GM - Just kick it shut?
PR - Nudge it shut.
GM - The woman is backing up.
PR - [laughs]  Point the gun at her.
GM - She stops.
PR - Stop.  [laughs]  Put your hands up.   Know who I am?
GM - She nods.
PR - Yeah.  You been a lot of trouble, lady.
GM - Her hands start to go down.
PR - Ah-ah!  Get them up.  Okay.  Now I'm here for one purpose, and it's not 
     to kill Lover Boy, either [indicating with the gun].  What'd you tell 
     the cops?
GM - I didn't tell them anything.
PR - All righty.  What's the deal?  You wanna sit down, have a drink?
GM - [shakes her head]
PR - Is she looking at any particular place in the room?
GM - Roll Awareness.
PR - [rolls]  Twenty-one.
GM - The gun on the floor, and at you.
PR - [laughs]  I look at the gun, and at her.  You want that?  That gun?  
     Should I get it?
GM - No.
PR - I didn't think so.
GM - Can I sit down on this bed?
PR - Sure.  Just keep your hands on your lap.
GM - She sits down.

[a long silence]

PR - Shit.
GM - [laughs]  You just wanna kill her and be done with it.
PR - Yeah.
GM - Where are you at this point?
PR - Where I was.  Bathroom door open?  Anybody in it?
GM - Gonna duck your head in and see?
PR - Just glance.
GM - You don't see anyone in there.
PR - Walk over to the guy, keeping my eyes on her the whole time.  Pick his 
     gun up and pull the clip on it.
GM - It's a Mustang Arms Mark II.  11mm.
PR - Throw the clip.
GM - Somewhere?
PR - Anywhere.  Pop the round out, if there is one.  Throw the gun back on top 
     of the guy.
GM - He blows blood bubbles.
PR - Now, we can make this easy, or we can make it hard.  I just want to know 
     what you told the cops.  Complete story, from first to last.
GM - Intimidation roll.
PR - Okay.  [rolls]  Hey, I get a bonus, 'cause I got a gun on her!  [laughs]
GM - [laughs]  Yep.  And you killed Lover Boy, as you keep stressing.
PR - [laughs] Twenty-one, plus bonuses.
GM - She looks at her hands in her lap, and she says I told them I wouldn't 
     cooperate.  They took me to the hospital, and they said, "We had your 
     phone call, and we looked at the transcripts, and we know that you saw 
     them, and we want to know what you saw."  And I told them that I wouldn't 
     talk.  She looks worried.
PR - [laughing]  Take a step towards her.  You ain't lying, are you?
GM - [says nothing]
PR - [laughing]  Is she gonna cry?
GM - [laughs]  You don't know.  She says, Now you are going to kill me, and I 
     didn't even tell them anything.  [sighs]  But I think they'll find you, 
     because . . . 
PR - Because why?
GM - He is a police officer.
PR - He's a cop?  [laughs]  Oh, God.  This is lovely.  Do you know anything 
     about his equipment?
GM - What do you mean?
PR - Has he got equipment?
GM - Like what?
PR - Eyes, ears, things like that.
GM - I don't know.

[long pause]

PR - [laughing]  You really fucked my weekend.
GM - You could leave . . . ?
PR - Oh, yeah.  What are you gonna do?  You gonna tell them the help came by 
     and shot his ass?
GM - No.  I'm going to leave.  I don't want to be here anymore.  He was taking 
     me out!  He said he was going to call back and tell them I had left, and 
     then no one would know about it any more.
PR - Uh-huh.  He was playin' nice cop.  He have a partner?
GM - [nods]
PR - Where's he?  Is he somewhere in the building?
GM - No.  He hasn't been here.
PR - Hmmph.
GM - She looks away from you.  You look stymied.
PR - Take my phone out.  [pretends to punch buttons]
GM - Who you calling?
PR - Is there a scrambler on this, or what?
GM - You don't know.  It was Connolly's, so you figure that something was done 
     to it.
PR - Okay.  I'm calling him.
GM - The phone rings.  A female voice answers.  Hello?
PR - Connolly there?
GM - Just a moment, please.  May I ask who's calling?
PR - Sal.
GM - Oh.  Hold on a moment.  Muzak plays.  Click.  Connolly's voice says, Sal.
PR - Is this a secure phone?
GM - [Connolly]  Yes.  Why?
PR - He's a cop.
GM - [Connolly]  Who is?
PR - The bodyguard, you son of a bitch.  He's a cop.
GM - [Connolly]  How unfortunate for you.  Did you take care of him?
PR - Oh, yeah, he's taken care of, all right.
GM - [Connolly]  Good.  Where are you now?
PR - I'm in the hotel room.
GM - [Connolly]  . . . Is there a problem?
PR - Well, according to her, she hasn't told them anything.   I direct a glare 
     at her.
GM - She nods.
PR - [laughs]  But now, since I killed Mr. Stallone, she says they're gonna 
     be coming after me.  So, like I'm saying, should I just get rid of her?
GM - [Connolly]  That would be expedient.
PR - That's what I thought.  But it never hurts to be careful, you know?
GM - [Connolly]  No, it doesn't.
PR - I wouldn't wanna have to whack her, and then feel bad about it the rest 
     of my life 'cause I didn't have to.
GM - [Connolly]  Do you have a problem with this?
PR - Oh, no.  [sarcastically]  I don't have any problems at all.
GM - [Connolly] Well, then, ah . . . will you take care of things?
PR - Sure.  Thanks a lot, Bob.
GM - [Connolly]  You're quite welcome.  He hangs up.
PR - I put the phone away.
GM - She looks at you.
PR - It looks like you're in luck.
GM - Why?
PR - They say I ain't gotta shoot ya.
GM - All right.
PR - You got medical problems, right?
GM - Yes.
PR - Like what?
GM - I have trouble breathing.  I can't run, or . . . anything.  She nods at 
     a portable oxygen cannister propped up next to the bed. 
PR - So, ah, if you didn't get to use that thing, what would happen?
GM - As long as I didn't run, or . . . anything, I would be all right.  She 
     looks even more worried.
PR - [laughs]  Sorry.  This is bad.
GM - You have some evil, nasty Sal plan?
PR - Nah.
GM - You could tell them you killed me, and then I could leave . . . ?
PR - That's true.
GM - I have some money.
PR - How much?
GM - Two thousand dollars?
PR - My.  Where is it?
GM - She points to a bag by the bed.
PR - If she went to get it out of the bag, would she have her back to me?
GM - If she bent over to do it, yes.  But she's been staring straight at you 
     the whole time.
PR - Why'nt you get it for me?  No funny moves.
GM - All right.  She scoots sideways across the bed, keeping her eyes on you, 
     and hooks it up in front of her.  She reaches in and fiddles around, 
     still watching you, and pulls out a wad of euro.
PR - Put it on the bed.
GM - She puts it on the bed.
PR - Put the bag back down.
GM - She pushes it off the bed.
PR - Go over to Mr. Cop over there and get his handcuffs.
GM - She gets up, watching you tensely, and backs toward him.
PR - Oh, stop it!  What am I gonna do, shoot you?
GM - Yes.
PR - I don't shoot nobody in the back.  
GM - She kneels down next to him and bends over his belt.
PR - She still watching me?
GM - No.  She gets her hand in the blood and pulls his handcuffs off.
PR - Eww.  Ain't that gross?  Now get up.
GM - She gets up.
PR - Turn around. 
GM - She turns around.  [laughs, knocks on the wall]  Housekeeping!
PR - [clears his throat]  No thanks, not right now!
GM - [Housekeeping]  All right.
PR - I'll wait.
GM - The creak of the cart goes down the hall.  [laughing]  You realize, if 
     you shoot her and miss her, it'll go right through the hotel wall?  
     That'll be cool for the hotel maid.
PR - This is screwed.  I gotta kill her anyways.
GM - What are you gonna do?
PR - Inch closer, raise the gun so it's maybe six inches from the back of her 
     head--
GM - Initiative roll.
PR - Initiative?  [rolls]  Fifteen.
GM - [rolls]  Wanna see?
PR - I don't wanna see.  Is that a ten?
GM - Look for yourself.
PR - Shit.
GM - Wow.  [rolls]  As you step forward and raise the gun to her head, you 
     hear a distinct snickt! as she comes around at you.  Her fist is clenched 
     around the handcuffs, and two wide blades are extended from the back of 
     her hand.  Looks like modified wolvers.
PR - Wolvers?  Fuck!
GM - Melee, so it's an opposed roll.  Make your save.  If you parry with 
     Brawling, you'll have to catch her blades on your arm, which will hurt.
PR - I'll try anyway.  I could always stop her on her forearm.
GM - Go for it.  [rolls]
PR - [rolls]
GM - You got a one?
PR - Yep. [rolls]
GM - Did you fumble?
PR - Yes.  You jinxed my dice.  [laughs]
GM - Let's see where she spears you.  [rolls]  Right in the gut.  You have 
     armor?  Your trench is closed, of course?
PR - It's always closed when I'm on business.
GM - This is AP, remember.  [rolls]  I shall slay you with this.  Twelve 
     points.
PR - Armor is halved, so eighteen halved is nine, so I take three.   My BTM is 
     -3.
GM - So you take one point from her last-ditch attempt at preserving her life.  
     What do you do?
PR - Punch her!
GM - I think you lose all your attacks for this round, since you fumbled on 
     your parry.
PR - I can live with that.
GM - Roll new Intitiative.  [rolls]
PR - [rolls]  Sixteen.
GM - You go first.  Go ahead.
PR - [sighs]  There's me wanting to shoot her, and then there's me wanting to 
     exact some kind of physical revenge.
GM - You have Bad Temper?
PR - Yeah, I do.
GM - Make a save vs. Cool.
PR - [rolls]  I made it.
GM - You can choose how your Bad Temper manifests, then.  Totally up to you 
     at this point.
PR - Pop her.  Fuck it.  Better safe than sorry.  At least now I don't feel 
     so bad about wasting her.
GM - Why?  Did you feel bad about it before?  [laughs]
PR - [laughing]  Yeah. 
GM - You're at point-blank range.
PR - [rolls]  Twenty-three, and eighteen.
GM - Two solid hits.  Damage?
PR - Torso and leg.  Damage is . . . ah, full, since it's point blank, so 
     fifteen each, times 1.5.
GM - [rolls] She falls down, face first, on the ground.  Her wolvers are still 
     extended.
PR - Rip the clip into her.
GM - [laughs]  Okay.  Pop, pop, pop, click.  Gonna kick the body around a few 
     times, too?
PR - [laughs]  No, I don't want to get blood on my shoes.
GM - You're bleeding, down inside your trenchcoat.  You think you may have 
     gotten some on the floor.
PR - Put the gun on the mattress and go into the bathroom.  Get one of the 
     hotel towels and shove it in my shirt.
GM - You have a line of blood down your leg, and you're tracking blood--mostly 
     theirs--all over the place.  
PR - Get another hotel and go back to the bed, watching where I step, and 
     wipe the fucking shoes off.
GM - As you step over her body, her wolvers slowly retract back into her hand.
PR - Fuck.
GM - [laughs]
PR - Did I bleed a lot?  I mean, did I get any on the rug?
GM - You think so.  About two drops.
PR - Yeah, but that's enough for fuckin' DNA.
GM - "Jesus, he ruined the carpet!"  You're standing there in silence, with 
     the blood slowly cooling around you.
PR - I thought sure I had a switchblade, but I don't.
GM - No.  You were gonna get one when you saw di Castro's, but you didn't.
PR - Go check the cop real quick.  Make sure I don't get anything on me.  He 
     have a knife?
GM - No.  He has his badge, wallet, and ID.
PR - [sighs] 
GM - And he has his shoulder holster, and a little address book deal, and a 
     little detective's notepad.
PR - Pick the notepad up, and look through it.
GM - You wanna see what it says?
PR - Yeah.  Does it have blood and stuff on it?
GM - A little tiny bit, because it was in his sport jacket.
PR - Um . . . I'm gonna grab her, by her hair, and pull her over on top of 
     where I was standing, so her blood will mix with mine.
GM - You going to read the notebook here?
PR - No, I'll read it at home.  He have any of those little evidence baggies?
GM - Yep.  In his pocket.
PR - I'll stick it in there.
GM - You taking his ID and stuff, too?
PR - No.  But I'll take note of his name.
GM - Detective Christopher Nichols, NCPD Homicide.  With a little picture of 
     him, smiling happily into the camera.
PR - Homicide?  That's weird.  How many rounds did I put into him?
GM - Four.  You had eleven in the gun.  You used seven for her and four for 
     him.  What a mess.
PR - Doctor myself up as best I can.  Put the gun in another one of the 
     baggies.  Go to the door.
GM - Listen?
PR - Yeah.
GM - You don't hear anything.
PR - Hat down, sunglasses up, open the door, look out.
GM - There's a white-haired man in a suit waiting for the elevator.  He's 
     munching on a bag full of peanuts.
PR - Are the stairs by the elevator?
GM - No.  You have to make either a right or left turn to get to the stairs.
PR - I'll go around to the stairs.
GM - You pass the maid, two doors down.
PR - I'll keep my head down and walk like I'm depressed.
GM - Go down the stairs?
PR - Uh-huh.
GM - The same two kids are still playing on the stairs at the sixth floor.  
     This time they stop and stare at you.
PR - I look at them.
GM - [laughs]  You gonna use your Intimidate glare on them, too?
PR - [laughing]  No.  Just go down the stairs.
GM - You continue on down.  An elderly man passes you on the way up.  Going 
     to step out?
PR - No.  Keep going.
GM - He's got a lemon-yellow shirt on and blue pastel pants.  He doesn't look 
     at you.
PR - Is there a fire exit on the ground floor?
GM - No.
PR - Go through the lobby, I guess.  Is there a back door?
GM - There's probably one behind the front desk.  Want to look for it?
PR - No.  The lobby crowded right now?
GM - There's a gaggle of ladies, the kind who look forty but dress twenty, 
     chattering and smoking on the hotel couches, and there's one world-weary 
     traveling guy checking baggage in.
PR - I walk straight on out the door.  I'm going to take the long way to the 
     parking garage.
GM - How long will you walk?  Your cut stings pretty bad.
PR - I know.  [pause]  About an hour.  On the way there, I'm going to find a 
     nice dumpster to toss the gun in.
GM - You ditch it in a dumpster.  It's about twelve-thirty now.  The garage 
     is busy as you walk up.
PR - Get to the car and get in.
GM - Putting your stuff under the seat again?
PR - No.  On top.  Can I get to Night City without using the freeway?
GM - You will probably get lost.  You need to either stop and get a map, or 
     make an Area Knowledge roll, and since you don't have Area Knowledge . . . 
PR - Fuck it.  Take the freeway.
GM - You drive back to Night City.
PR - I promise to look up Area Knowledge when I get home.
GM - You get stuck behind a four-car pile-up, so it's about two o'clock when 
     you pull in to Gino's.  When you enter the lot, Gino comes out and gives 
     you your keys.  He's chewing on a toothpick.
PR - Hey, Gino.
GM - What?
PR - You know anybody who does tailor work around here?
GM - What, for clothes?
PR - Well, yeah, that too.  I got a hole in my jacket.  It just so happens 
     that the hole goes all the way through me.
GM - You need a doctor?
PR - No, somebody who can sew.
GM - Sew up you, or sew up ya coat?
PR - Sew up me.  The coat would be nice later on.
GM - Fuck, I dunno. 
PR - Wait a minute.   Fuck, never mind.  I get in my car.
GM - Arright, arright.
PR - I'm going to see that guy we took di Castro too.
GM - Nicholas Corsini, the junkie ripperdoc.  You pull up to his bungalow.  
     There's a beat-up gray pickup in the driveway, but no signs of life 
     outside.
PR - Bang on the door.
GM - You hear shuffling from inside, and he comes to the screen door, blinking 
     at you.  He's shirtless, and his arms are livid with airhypo bruises.  
     He's got a pair of khaki pants on, and one black dress sock.
PR - Hi.  I got a cut.  I think I need a stitch.  Some stitches?
GM - [Corsini]  Hokay.  Come on.
PR - How much you want?
GM - [Corsini]  Don' worry about it.  I'll bill somebody.
PR - [laughs]  You better be steady with them hands.  Don't go sewing my arms 
     together.
GM - He takes you back where he took di Castro.  Up onna table.
PR - I get up.
GM - [Corsini]  Take your shirt off.
PR - I take my shirt off.
GM - [Corsini]  Wanna local?
PR - [laughs]  It could't hurt worse than it already does, okay?  Just . . . 
     sew.
GM - [Corsini]  Hokay.  Hold still.  He hums tunelessly under his breath as 
     he stitches you up.  He smells rank and unwashed.
PR - I grit my teeth.
GM - He pulls the knot tight and bites the thread off.  There.
PR - What, I don't get a Band-Aid?  [laughs]  I don't wanna get any blood on 
     my shirt.
GM - [Corsini]  It's not gonna bleed.  He roots through a door and throws a 
     gauze pad at you.
PR - [laughing]  I put my shirt back on, and then my jacket.  My coat.  My 
     gun.  Leave.
GM - [Corsini]  It'll dissolve in about a week, week and a half.
PR - [laughing]  Thanks.  Thanks a bunch.  You play here often?
GM - [Corsini]  All the time.  Try the buffet.
PR - Leave.  Drive home.  Take off all my clothes.  Put the gun away, take a 
     shower, put some clean clothes on.  I'm going to bundle up all the bloody 
     clothes, including the coat.
GM - You're going to throw your beloved trench away?
PR - No!  Is there a dry cleaner around here?
GM - Yeah.  There's one down the street.  
PR - I'll walk to the dry cleaners.  Hi.
GM - There's a chirpy, skinny black woman behind the counter.  Her hair is 
     bright orange.
PR - You guys do alterations here?
GM - Yeah, why?
PR - Okay.  The shirt's got a hole in it.  Can you stitch that?  And the 
     jacket's got a hole in it, so stitch it too--
GM - Wait a second.  She gets a receipt out and starts scribbling on it.
PR - Hurry up.  They're bloodstains, and I don't want them to set.
GM - She looks at you.  We don't do armor replacement here.  We can send it 
     out, but it won't be back for a week.
PR - Then don't worry about it.  Just sew up the hole.
GM - She gives you your ticket and takes the shit.  Guestimate the charges.
PR - I'm throwing the bloody socks away when I get home.
GM - Then what?
PR - I'm going to call Connolly again.
GM - Ring, ring, ring.  A male voice answers.  Janus Associates.  Where can I 
     route you?
PR - I'd like to talk to Connolly, please?
GM - Who is this, please?
PR - Sal.
GM - Uh . . . wait a moment.  Dead silence on the line.
PR - This isn't normal.  I hang up.
GM - [pause]  Okay.  Paranoia!
PR - You got it.
GM - About thirty seconds after you hang up, the phone rings again.
PR - Hello?
GM - Sal?
PR - Yeah.
GM - How did things go?
PR - Fine.
GM - Is there an actual problem now, or are you just calling for my timely 
     advice again?
PR - Well, you told me I didn't have to kill her except under certain 
     circumstances.
GM - You have the gist of it.
PR - Jesus Christ.  I'm not from around here.  I didn't expect it to be a pig.
GM - I suppose you didn't.
PR - Did you?
GM - . . . There was a possibility.
PR - Mmm-hmm.  You didn't bother mentioning this to me, did you?
GM - It wasn't a very high possibility.  Did you get a look at his 
     identification?
PR - Yeah, I got a name.
GM - Give it to me.
PR - Now?
GM - Yes.
PR - Christopher Nichols.  Detective.  Night City Homicide.
GM - Good.  He sounds satisifed.
PR - What do you mean, good?
GM - . . . Well, we can always use one less police officer on the force, 
     can't we? 
PR - [says nothing]
GM - He waits.  Was there anything else, Sal?
PR - No.  Is this the last I'm going to hear of this matter?
GM - I would say so, yes.
PR - Good.
GM - Oh, by the way . . . You'll be happy to know that Michael's doing fine.  
     He'll be in hospital for about five days.
PR - What's a kidney?  We all lose them.
GM - We'll see about getting the pair of you back together.  He hangs up.  
     What are you going to do?
PR - Look in that notebook.
GM - It has notes on his last few cases.  What catches your eye, and I'll 
     make you a write-up on this later, are some scribblings about his being 
     called to the site of a homicide that matches Galvano's address.  It has 
     names of the superintendant there, his partner--
PR - [laughs] What's his partner's name?  I might have to whack this guy, too.
GM - Detective Sergeant David Nobel.  His phone number is in here.  There are 
     notes on a Lisa Stansfield, her address, her autopsy reports--you figure 
     this is the lady di Castro bagged--autopsy reports on Galvano, and some 
     scribblings about "3D imaging tapes, interview Stansfield's co-workers, 
     phone number Galvano J.N., Stansfield's roommates, OG mob shots compare."
PR - OG?  What would that be?
GM - You don't know.  Farther down it says, "Galvano's phone off," and the 
     dates.  Later on it has an address for a bar, and a 10 pm call, and 
     later on little scribbling sketches that says, "Mirror eyes."  And then 
     it has info about this hotel.  And we'll break now, I think.

[end session four]