Chasing the Signal
Michael
Mitch had successfully begun to track the strength of the signal when we left off last night; in the back of the surveillance van, he will need to balance that fine-tuning of finding out where the signal is strongest with giving instructions to the van driver (the same driver as Mitch's trip down to Los Angeles, Arn Matthews) to creep along the streets of Watts as he does so. So that will be a couple of rolls, Mitch can use his new Teaching-15 to convey to Arn the information all while using his Shadowing-15 techniques to keep an eye out the porthole of the van for other agents, weird happenings out on the streets of Watts, other surveillance rigs/vehicles/personnel, etc. etc. Arn's also got some decent Driving, Shadowing, Stealth, Observation etc. so I'll roll those separately.
Jeff
Teaching.
>> SUCCESS by 4
Shadowing.
>> SUCCESS BY 3
Michael
(For the record, there are still Project commando units within striking distance of the social club at the Mafundi Building, this is just the surveillance van.)
Mitch puts away the laser mic and tunes in fully on the radio receiver, feeling the signal interference get stronger as Arn drives the surveillance van east on East 103rd Street. Arn slows to a crawl past a laundromat, a corner store, and Mitch gets maximum signal interference across the street from the nearby 102nd Street Early Education Center.
The school grounds take up an entire block bounded by 102nd and 103rd on the north and south, and Wilmington and Grape on the west and east respectively. The entire school is behind a tall steel picket fence, with manicured shrubs providing cover to the faculty parking lot on the west end of the block. Driving east down 103rd, Arn and Mitch are faced with the fence and then the facade of the modernist building; Mitch senses the strongest signal coming roughly from the middle of the block.
Mitch has Arn do a loop around the school to peek at things from the 102nd Street side of the building (the parking lot and student pickup areas are more visible through the steel fence here) and Mitch can see there are a few vehicles in the lot late on this Saturday night: two older model cars (a late-'60s Impala and a mid-'60s Buick), a white work van (with ladder on roof, etc.) and a group of four short yellow school buses parked together, marked LA UNIFIED SCHOOL DISTRICT. All seven are parked lights/engines not on, with no one apparent in the driver's or passenger's seat. All look street legal with California plates. There is writing on the back door on the white van, a contractor name: "South Coast Shingle," out of Long Beach. The gate to get into the drop-off area is locked; there doesn't appear to be a night watchman or similar security hanging around the parking lot as Arn and Mitch cruise by.
(Purple circle indicates the likely zone of origination for the signal.)
Jeff
Step one, eyeball the buses and vans thoroughly. Is there anything worth rolling Observation for?
Michael
(I'll make that roll secretly.)
The back windows of the work van are small and darkly shaded, but Mitch doesn't see anyone visible moving around back there. The van doesn't have any strange add-ons, ports, or suspicious antennae that would indicate a broadcasting rig. Neither is Mitch able to see anyone inside the passenger portion of any of the small school buses, and the bus bodies all seem standard issue from here as well. Inside the school feels right now like a better bet for the location of a broadcasting rig. The radio data stream is still going strong, as Arn slows down to a crawl turning left from Wilmington back onto E 103rd on his second loop around the block.
Jeff
"Pull over, a ways back, but where you can keep eyes on the school parking lot pull-out." Mitch will then hop out and try a Detect from on foot, maybe we get lucky. If not he'll get back in the van, close his eyes, and project his sight and hearing into the school. In ten minutes the signal may be over but the transmitter and its operator will still be around.
Michael
Okay, so Detect (History B), then? Give me your rolls whenever you're ready.
Jeff
If the transmitter and/or its operator are not still around, presumably we'll see them drive out.
>> ACTIVATE … SUCCESS by 8
>> DETECT … SUCCESS by 5
>> ANALYZE … SUCCESS by 7
Michael
Mitch immediately gets a hit on two fairly steady and potent sources of History B energy. To Mitch's Detect, they have the general vibe of glyphs. But when Mitch sounds out the distance to them, he finds they are not on the school grounds. These sources feel like they're another 50 yards past the school building to the west, on 103rd street. If Mitch had to guess at distance from his analysis, they're inside the "all-nite washeteria" (sic) on the south side of E 103rd, near the corner with Wilmington. Mitch senses nothing History B-related inside the school grounds, either inside the main building or in the vehicles that lie inside the radio transmission zone.
(revised map)
Jeff
"Aw, jeez, Matt," Mitch whines (very quietly, to himself). He closes his eyes and spins around like a child on the playground, then starts jogging the direction he finds himself facing when he finishes.
This could be one or both uses of Serendipity, as you see fit.
About three seconds of twirling
Michael
This could be one or both uses of Serendipity, as you see fit.
Feels like a one to me. Mitch finds himself facing west towards the washeteria once he finishes spinning 'round. He jogs at a brisk clip towards the brightly fluorescent-lit, big-windowed laundromat.
The clientele is who you might expect to be in here at around 10:30 on a Saturday night: about a half-dozen weirdos and night owls watching their clothes tumble and an attendant. All the patrons and the attendant are Black; Mitch stands out fairly considerably.
HOWEVER, the two glyph-energy signatures are clear here. Mitch sees two people who Of Course Absolutely Belong Here, but he can tell there's something up with them, thanks to the use of Detect. That should aid your Will roll against these two SANGUSH glyphs, so Mitch can roll Will-22 and I'll reveal what the men really look like (and what their glyphs look like) if you beat their Symbol Drawing skill roll.
The two Black? men sitting facing the window each have a Styrofoam cup of tea in front of them. One of the men is taller and thinner; his gaunt face is turned up at the television mounted up in the corner of the room, its signal thoroughly warped from the local radio interference. The laundromat attendant is up on a stepladder trying to fix the rabbit ears; the gaunt glyph-wearer scowls and taps out a menthol cigarette from his pack as Mitch walks in.
The other glyph-wearer, stouter and more apple-cheeked, is peering out at East 103rd street through the big laundromat windows over the top of a weird-looking newspaper. As Mitch's eyes adjust to the brightly-lit interior of the laundromat, he tries to make some sense of the text on the front page of the newspaper but the text just looks like this:
Jeff
>> SUCCESS by 8
Also, uncontrollable pyro on 15+.
>> SUCCESS BY 2
(Realized it was a good time for that check)
(Maybe should have rolled it back when he detected glyphs)
Michael
The two men aren't, in fact, Black. They're both apparently late middle-aged white men. Well, the stouter man is a little swarthy, with a medium tan; he also looks a little younger (late 40s as opposed to the mid 50s of his gaunt, paler companion, who is balding and has a serious pair of eyebrows.) If you were to consider the visual impact of, say, Clemenza and Tessio from The Godfather standing next to each other here, you would not be too far off.
The SANGUSH glyphs pinned to the two men's lapels are inscribed on old, yellowed paper in what looks like deep ebony-black India ink. The edges of the glyph's terminals and limbs are delicately filigreed curlicues, baroque things drawn with great care with an old-fashioned pen, just about the opposite of the metal CAD glyphs Mitch has gotten used to using. The glyphs kind of look like the weird alphabet on the newspaper that Stout has now put down on the countertop as he sees Mitch enter the laundromat.
"ընկեր Mitchell!" Stout says ebulliently as Gaunt grimly smokes his Kool standing behind him. "You are back! And not a moment too soon." He ushers Mitch over to the seats he and Gaunt were occupying and pulls up a chair. "Come, get under the 'umbrella' here and out of the rain," Stout says as he takes his glyph off and props it up against his cup of tea to give the three men some modicum of ignoreability with the mundane patrons of the laundromat. His accent is hard to place but definitely foreign.
Both the men's auras are tightly walled off; not invisible and not impossible to perceive, but actively being cloaked. Stout is genuinely happy to see Mitch; there's a low golden glow to his mood that can't help but break through the internal aura-cloaking training evident here. Gaunt, however, feels to Mitch like a stone killer; his aura is very nearly dead under all those wraps, and Mitch can tell it's because he is a man dedicated to doing Violence for a living who has been doing it a long, long time.
Other than their tightly-wound auras, both are baseline humans with no active possessions, memetic infections, or other History B effects on them, other than the two hand-crafted SANGUSHes.
Jeff
"Կներեք, բայց ես հայերեն չեմ խոսում," Mitch says as he sits.
Then he makes a disgusted face. "Sorry, I mean, uh..."
He then falls silent, and looks at Stout expectantly.
Michael
Stout pats Mitch's hand. "It's all right. I realize... this is bound to be a little strange for you. But I wager you know already what we," he gestures to Gaunt, "are here for. Cleaning up the mess of a few years ago." Stout whispers, his face suddenly serious. "The ISOCLINE business. Christmas, 1970. Nasty business." Stout tsks to himself like a dentist who is saddened that he feels obligated to take his patient to task for not flossing.
"What are you doing with the Hearst girl," Gaunt suddenly says in English, his accent thick and mannerisms like every KGB heavy Mitch has seen in the movies. Stout says to Gaunt, "Тихий. Ты напугаешь его."
"Pardon my friend's rudeness, ընկեր. He has very little... operational vision. He comes from Central Office, էհ? He has his own objectives here. Me, I want to make sure you've been doing all right. We lost you! We wanted very badly to speak with you after that terrible business a few years back."
Gaunt looks back at the TV, which is still on the fritz despite the proprietor's best efforts to bring back The Carol Burnett Show.
Jeff
"Okay, that sounds...plausible."
"I'm not doing anything with her. What are you doing with the Hearst girl?"
Michael
Stout looks at Gaunt with jollity and not a little bit of irony, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why, she seems a perfectly doctrinaire Marxist, does she not? A daughter of one of the most infamous feudal clans of the American bourgeoisie come to realize the sins of her fathers against the international working class." Stout winks at Mitch. "We naturally wish to aid all sincere revolutionaries across the First and Third Worlds." Stout holds his hands over his heart in mock seriousness and chuckles.
"Of course, I am joking. We can read the tea leaves just as well as your lot. She's to be at the center of a great ցնցում, one of her own making. So we have come to observe, to intercede if necessary. The real question is, why have you lot not simply killed her and her little misfit army already, made an example of them?"
Jeff
Mitch squints at him. "So you...sorry, I'm having trouble wrapping my brain around this. You picked her up with your commie-detecting detectors back in Tbilisi, you flew all the way out here, and then you're surprised she isn't already dead when you get here?"
Michael
"Mitchell, I live here." Stout laughs. "I have done since the Event in 1970. I have been the 'watchman on the walls' here, as your poor President Kennedy was going to say before your lot shot him."
"You don't remember me at all, do you?" He exchanges a somewhat worried, concerned look with Gaunt before turning back to Mitch with the same expression, underlaid with tenderness. Mitch can feel Stout's aura opening up the more they talk, and the tenderness is reflected there. "It must be an effect of the 1970 ցնցում. Or perhaps they did something to your memories."
Jeff
Stout's aura is inconsistent with him lying, right? You indicated as much but I never rolled analysis
>> FAILURE by 1
Michael
Well, I will make a secret Detect Lies-14 roll because even without the +3 from the Aura analysis Mitch can still, you know, look him in the eye and check body language, etc. Do all the mundane stuff us ordinary mortals have to do when sussing out someone's sincerity.
To Mitch's un-aided eye, Stout's demeanor does seem to betray some sympathy towards Mitch, maybe edging into pity: Stout has honestly been treating Mitch a lot like a lost dog which, you know, typical among these intelligence operators with a prized taisher I guess. But it is at least sincere. At least to Stout's mind, memories, and personal timeline, he and Mitch were at least once acquainted. Whether Stout is laying on a little extra sauce on just how good a pair of friends the two of them were, Mitch is not quite sure from his mere mundane ability to detect people fibbing.
Jeff
God, falling back on my actual skills
Like I'm Jocasta or something
Unlike Jocasta Mitch doesn't have the slightest idea what he's doing
Guy can't even speak Armenian
"All right, then, walk me through it. How did we meet? My name's Mitch, I rarely go by Mitchell, unless I'm in trouble."
Michael
"All right, Mitch," Stout pats Mitch avuncularly on the shoulder, "I would be more than happy to do this thing, but you must understand, we are not here, er, entirely for you." Gaunt moves in a little closer, and Stout continues, "Your people... they are transmitting instructions to the 'Field Marshal' right now, yes?" Stout nods at the school across the street, acknowledging as well the interference on the TV. "This is what we are primarily here to observe."
"But yes, first things first, introductions. Re-introductions. You used to call me 'Mickey,' so that is the name you should use for me. My friend here is less likely to be forthcoming, but for the sake of ease we can call him 'Donald' because we like a good laugh, yes?" Gaunt doesn't get the reference or the joke and continues glaring partially at Mitch, partially out at the school across the street, and partially at the TV which is still dealing with some serious horizontal hold issues.
Jeff
"He's got the sweetest disposition, huh?" Mitch glances at Donald. "Mickey, this is a right-hand, left-hand situation, is what it is. Maybe the same rogues behind 1970, but that's just my speculation."
Michael
"The ground is soft here, still," Mickey says. "Not here in South Central Los Angeles perhaps," Mickey pronounces the city's name with the hard g, "but back where we used to live, near the canyon. Bad, bad ghosts remain there. A man last year, he killed many girls in the canyon. He had a harem, a cult. No one can find him, and he left the ground unsettled." Mickey looks rather grave for the first time during this encounter.
"When you say 'right-hand, left-hand,' you must enlighten me. Do you mean the American idiom of the one hand not knowing what the other is doing? Or are you meaning tantra, the opposing systems of magick of мадам Блаватская?"
Jeff
"Is that where that's from? Huh. Shouldn't be surprised, everything goes back to her..." Mitch struggles to stay on task. "Uh, yeah, no. My team...these guys, they're fractured." He shakes his head, remembering. "Speaking of, I got to do a thing, before I forget."
Still in his seat Mitch scoots around so that he can see the school across the street. Then he picks a spot that he guesses is in the general vicinity of where he imagines the transmitter might be, and he starts to cook it.
His goal to is start a fire that will drive any human operators out of the building and interrupt their work, and if the whole thing is automatic, interfere with its function on account of it being inside a burning building.
>> ACTIVATE … SUCCESS by 7
>> PYROKINESIS … SUCCESS by 4
I think this situation is elevated/stressful enough to permit Mitch to access the full seven levels of pyrokinesis but if not it will still happen, it'll just take longer.
Michael
I feel like a combination of the weirdness of (re-)meeting Mickey, the confluence of many balls in the air regarding the chip-transmitters, Roger and Cinque, and being back in LA definitely warrants Pyro 7, yeah. Let me reacquaint myself with the rules for Pyro and burning this morning and calculate what'll happen in the first few rounds.
Also, did we leave Arn sort of slowly circling the school block while Mitch went off to check on his Detect (History B) hit, or is he perched somewhere on 103rd where he can see both the social club and the laundromat?
Jeff
He's parked specifically where he can see the school lot, which is where I imagined the operator(s) fleeing to
Looking at the map he probably doesn't have eyes on the laundromat
Michael
(Gonna just wait to see how Roger's Acting roll goes and then we'll pick up here. If the fire which Mitch can sense was successfully lit inside the school affects the broadcast interference, it will be after Roger has had a chance to use the portable radio as a prop to demonstrate that the pigs have an inside man.)
Still in his seat Mitch scoots around so that he can see the school across the street. Then he picks a spot that he guesses is in the general vicinity of where he imagines the transmitter might be, and he starts to cook it.
(Jeff, I know Mitch has to concentrate on the Pyrokinesis for a little bit but I figure while waiting to see for the "smoke" that precedes fire, we can pick up Mickey and Mitch's conversation on "How did we meet?" while the three of you watch the school.)
Mickey gives Mitch the space to "do a thing" as he mentioned, and then says, "So. You asked how we met. I was given your file by Blue Star Central in... eh, it must have been April of 1970, after the Nichols Canyon Fire. Blue Star had studied you at the facility in Laos. You were there quite a long time, Mitch. They had some idea of what your abilities meant, of course. Not the psychokinesis but... the other, more inchoate abilities. The dossier stated that you were a model patient, and then an enthusiastic instructor for other American assets. The file said you even took to Marxism-Leninism, like many of your countrymen who came from proletarian backgrounds, or were otherwise feeling victimized by being, er, psychic 'guinea pigs' for the Pentagon."
"But I could not be sure, after ISOCLINE had snatched you back from us, if you would even remember your 11 months in Laos or your wholehearted embrace of dialectical materialism. Eh, perhaps you were only pretending in order to please the Blue Star officials. I can understand why you might." Mickey looks thoughtful as he sips his tea. "Serendipitously, you ended up in my very neighborhood after Nichols Canyon. I chanced upon you in a cafe; you had developed a taste for the local սուրճ. I don't blame you; it is quite good; perhaps we can get a cup together again when things are calmer. You were suspicious initially, but then I think something about me triggered your, eh, 'instincts' and we developed a rapport."
At the moment Mickey says "rapport," The Carol Burnett Show finally breaks through the visual swirling on the laundromat TV. Donald straightens up, adjusts his belt (Mitch can sense from a conspicuous bulge that Donald has got a pistol in his jacket) and asks Mickey in Russian, "мы сейчас переедем?" Mickey says, "нет. позвольте мне закончить свой рассказ." (Coming back from the commercial break, Mitch sees on the TV a sketch where Carol, playing the Charwoman, is watching a silent movie where special guest Gloria Swanson plays Charlie Chaplin and then climbs into the movie to interact with her/him.
(time code 36:50 for the Chaplin sketch)
Jeff
5 sec, 10 sec max I think
Michael
(It would take the length of Mickey's spiel for the signal to return/the transmitter to stop broadcasting, so about 90 seconds after Mitch lights something in the school on fire.)
(I'm not going to go into combat rounds quite yet, but Carol Burnett returning would be right around the time Roger would be shoving Wolfe out of the driver's seat of the SLA car, stuffing Cinque in the back like Roger is a Secret Service agent, and getting ready to peel out of there.)
Jeff
Anyway, once he's confident that he's done his firestarting, Mitch will decide that it's Arn's job to pay attention to the school at this point and turn back to Mickey and Donald. "I was instructing other American assets? That doesn't sound like me. Well, no, I tell a lie, that does sound more or less like me. Crazy time. I don't remember anything that makes sense, unless I actually did visit the south of France with Audrey Hepburn."
Michael
Mickey nods, yet again gravely. "Even four years ago, you were uncertain about your own story. You told me over coffee once that in Vietnam you helped a unit called 'Delta Green' fight a 'lloigor.' And then there was that long story you told me about trying to find a decent cup of coffee on assignment in London. Frankly, you didn't strike me back then as a James Bond, world-traveled type." On that timely cue, Roger peels rubber out of the Mafundi Building parking lot with Willie Wolfe and Cinque in tow. Donald moves assertively towards the door of the laundromat.
Two long van honks, Arn's signal for "targets spotted," ring out across the schoolyard from 102nd Street loud enough to be heard inside the laundromat (thanks mostly to Donald propping open the front door to observe the street).
From Mitch's vantagepoint, he can see two men—one white, one Black—exiting the back door of the school—not hustling, but moving let's say intently—towards the work van parked close to the back door. They are both in maintenance clothing—coveralls and caps, standard CIA black bag garb for a civilian building—and the Black agent is carrying a bulky black duffel bag. It looks heavy. Neither of them look particularly scorched.
Donald is looking like a hungry dog champing at someone teasing him behind the safety of a fence. He says in English to Mickey, "They are out, товарищ. We must pursue." (I'm done, sorry.)
(And Jeff, feel free to interrupt anywhere in there if you want. It all happened fast but not by any means too fast for Mitch to get actions in.)
Jeff
Mitch chuckles nervously at Mickey's reminiscences.
"Hold on a sec," he says, addressing Mickey and Donald both.
My sense of spatial relationships is confused, if Mitch can see the two operatives leaving can he also see at least one of the tires of the work van? If so he wants to burn it, hopefully cause a blowout, and if he can he'll do it in two tires.
Michael
Mitch absolutely can see the van as it makes its way to the back gate! They gotta unlock the gate so they're going to be a bit of a sitting duck for a bit.
Jeff
Great, pop a tire.
Michael
See what happens when you don't take shortcuts like the Watergate burglars?
You get your tire popped. Go for it.
Jeff
>> ACTIVATE … FAILURE by 1
Augh. Mitch spent some amount of FP using his full pyro on the school, he has to spend another one and try it again
>> ACTIVATE … SUCCESS by 1
>> PYROKINESIS … SUCCESS by 2
Michael
All right. I'll do an HT roll first to resist, HT-11.
>> SUCCESS by 0
The tire heats up and softens but does not blow.
At this, Mickey finally stands up and takes notice of the mission that he and Donald are here to do. He sees the tire visibly smolder and soften and looks back at Mitch. "Վայյյյյյ!!" Mickey exclaims, and he excitedly hugs Mitch from the side; Mitch has about six inches on Mickey, so it looks faintly ridiculous. "You have learned control!" He holds his hands up to his temples in shock. Donald looks dubiously at this celebration. "This is incredible!"
Jeff
During the next second I will continue to focus.
>> SUCCESS by 1
>> SUCCESS by 4
That might do it
Michael
HT-10.
>> FAILURE by 2
14 HP of damage there as the tire superheats and pops. Sounds like a single gunshot. When the tire goes, the driver slams on the brakes, puts the van in park, and both the doors of the van open. (The driver is the white agent, the guy riding shotgun with the heavy duffel the passenger.) If I move into combat rounds here, the state of play is both van front doors open, arm of the driver visible on the driver's side as the two men prepare to get out of the vehicle. Went to Google Maps and estimated that the driver is about 80 yards away and under some cover thanks to the iron fence. Donald is moving out onto the street this round while Mickey says, "nyet" to him again.
(It's apparent to Mitch that Mickey does not have a good handle on Donald.)
Jeff
Mitch remains in his seat for a few seconds at least.
Michael
Mickey holds up his hand to Mitch. "Mitch, I do not want, er, Donald to take lethal sanction on these men of yours; it would cause us more problems than it would solve. But you see, his primary objective is to return SANDMAN technology to Central and in that black bag, you see..." Mickey shrugs and goes outside to stop Donald. "Никакого оружия, пожалуйста!" Mickey says to Donald as the two men scramble out of the van and make their way on foot to try and hop the E 102nd Street fence. The Black agent indeed has the bulky duffel in hand.
Donald ignores Mickey's plea and begins to draw his weapon.
Mitch sighs heavily, even theatrically. "Gonna be swarming with pigs in a few."
He focuses his attention on Donald's piece, once it's getting drawn. Might have to get up for it.
Jeff
>> SUCCESS by 1
How did we handle Mitch trying to melt Comte's crown? Anyway let's see how long it takes to ignite a handgun. The gun is Flammability Class 3 but the bullets will be FC 0.
>> 3d6 … 9
Michael
HT-10.
>> SUCCESS by 3
Donald feels the gun starting to get hot and decides to hold onto it anyway. It's a fat .44 Magnum—speaking of Soviet agents going native—and he's Aiming this round, square for the agent with the duffel bag, who is currently trying to leg it to the fence. Which means Mitch has another chance this coming round to get past the gun's HT.
Jeff
>> 3d6 … 8
Michael
HT-10.
>> SUCCESS by 3
Firearms-15.
>> SUCCESS by 4
That's two .44 slugs the Black agent has to dodge.
Michael
>> SUCCESS by 1
Okay, so here's what happens. The sound of three booming .44 gunshots ring out on East 103rd, firing into the school grounds. The Black agent ducks down before getting to the fence, instinctively dropping his duffel bag to flatten himself on the pavement. The white agent...
>> FAILURE by 4
...can't get over the fence during that round: nerves from being under fire, probably. Mitch, who is now standing right near the door of the laundromat a few yards from Donald, can hear in the distance out on the streets, vehicles speeding to this location. No sirens, yet. The patrons of the laundromat have all decided to either duck down behind heavy laundry equipment or hightail it for the back exit. Donald tersely says to Mickey, "принести машину." He puts away his revolver; he's lost his chance to get the SANDMAN tech and he's calculated a retreat. Mickey says to Mitch, "We're going. Are you coming with us?" as he pockets the SANGUSH glyphs off the laundromat table.
Jeff
"Nah, I should find my guy. Good to see you though. I'm sure we'll bump into one another again."
Michael
Mickey pats Mitch on the shoulder, and Donald and he run the same way as the laundromat patrons out the back door to the parking lot. Mitch can see across the street in the schoolyard, the two agents dusting themselves off and trying yet again to get over the fence.
And down the street to the west, of course, there's a big brouhaha breaking out of the social club in the Mafundi Building, spilling into the parking lot. The sound of gunshots has the crowd a little unsettled.
Jeff
Ok I have a thing I want to evaluate the practicality of
Michael
Please.
Jeff
Nah it's a bad idea. Instead Mitch will try to dehydrate the white guy from the safety of "just outside the laundromat"
Here's hoping they don't have some exotic psi detection
>> ACTIVATE … SUCCESS by 8
>> 3d6 … 8
>> 3d6 … 11
Michael
Resist with Will, eh
Will-12.
>> FAILURE by 1
That's seven Fatigue Points drained, plus I need to see how many other FP he's lost from activity/combat
Lightly encumbered, that's 2 FP lost per combat, so 9 FP which puts him at 25% of max: the white agent now has halved Move, Dodge, and ST (round up). Eesh.
He's definitely not getting over the fence this round. The Black Agent might though. You know what, actually he will just toss the duffel over the fence at this point to make his climbing easier; whatever gadgetry is in there is clearly already toasted. That's his round action. Oh, and these guys' auras! Apart from the fatigue on white Agent, they both seem normal and healthy baseline humans, no astral parasites, no memetic infections, no active psi powers, no implants or chips. Auras are understandably unsettled and reactive considering they were just being shot at.
Jeff
Tempting to saunter over and steal the duffel but they might have guns
Instead my plan is, I'll maintain until the first guy is out, then switch to the second, then get Arn to help me abduct them
>> 3d6 … 10
Michael
Will-12.
>> SUCCESS by 3
That time he managed to resist. Let me see how they both do with the climbing this round.
>> SUCCESS by 3
Agent Black, Climbing-12.
>> FAILURE by 1
So they're both almost over the wall this round, since the white agent is moving more slowly.
That brings Mitch up with heatstroke one more time if he wants.
(Should mention that Arn has an ikoter pistol in the van with him if one or both of these guys make it onto 102nd Street.)
Jeff
>> 3d6 … 4
Michael
A critical success waives any FP cost, even for a psi technique, extra effort, etc.; the GM should also offer a small bonus – information abilities reveal more than the usual, abilities with a duration last longer than normally possible, etc. Note, however, that even a critical success does not waive the subject’s resistance roll!
Jeff
Maybe he'll get a 3
Michael
>> SUCCESS by 1
Jeff
He did not get a 3
Michael
Will-10 to jump down off the fence without falling unconscious.
>> FAILURE by 7
White topples from the perch of the fence and falls to the ground below, unconscious.
On the 102nd Street side of the fence, mind you.
The Black agent is still climbing …
>> SUCCESS by 3
The Black agent, however, lands on his feet and takes a round to pick up the duffel. If Mitch wants to heatstroke again, this time on the Black agent, feel free. Arn will also get in on the fun this round with an ikoter shot.
>> 3d6 … 12
Michael
Will-12.
>> SUCCESS by 1
Okay, he's fine if a bit overheated, but now Arn gets to try to zap him with Beam Weapons-15.
>> SUCCESS by 3
Black agent’s Will-10.
>> FAILURE by 3
The Black agent is dazed. The SANDMAN commandos in their LAPD, LASD, and FBI covers, tipped off by Roger from the payphone six blocks away, swoop in on the block. They don't seem to have been able to catch Mickey and Donald, but the two mysterious agents and their payload are now in URIEL custody.
Mitch is, of course, with his new SANDMAN Rank, the ranking Sandman here.
The SANDMAN commandos will probably not hang about for too long in their LE disguises for fear of the real cops showing up once the rowdyness down the street at Mafundi gets called in. Arn and Mitch can take their two captives whereever they choose. It would make sense to me that our "Barn" equivalent in Los Angeles would be good old Lookout Mountain, locus of interminable real-world occult/parapolitical conspiracy theories and, luckily, in 1974 vacant after being the Pentagon's secret film-making unit (especially around atom bomb tests) and of course LA SANDMAN (Operation MORNINGSTAR)'s headquarters until they were all wiped out in December of 1970.
Jeff
My main fear really is that when we get there the desk clerk will be like oh Steve and Larry got back great wait oh no what happened to them
Michael
Well I can tell you that except for the keys to the work van, these two guys have no ID or possessions of any kind on them. Except of course for the bag.
On the radio as Mickey and Donald drive back to East Hollywood, Mickey singing along boisterously, Donald reloading his Magnum and muttering to himself in Russian while scanning the streets for imperialist lackey police plays Steely Dan’s “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number.”
Ես քաղաքում ընկեր ունեմ:
Նա լսել է քո անունը:
Մենք կարող ենք դուրս գալ և քշել Slow Hand Row:
Մենք կարող էինք մնալ ներսում և խաղեր խաղալ, չգիտեմ:
Եվ դուք կարող եք ապաշխարել: