File: 1416064030920.jpg (50 KB, 600x600)

50 KB JPG

>>1612022
“So it's not a total scumbag we're gonna have to meet,” you sigh, “but still only a bit less intolerable than your average thug. Anything else?”

“Well, Crespo's a consigliere,” Cima reminds you. “If that means what it usually means, he's not 'made'. He's not a killer, he's an adviser... one whose advice just happens to end with people getting killed some of the time. And to be an adviser for the mafia it means he's going to be cunning and absolutely without scruples even by the standards set by businessmen these days.”

“He also went out of his way to specify the time and place, meaning the restaurant he picked is either really good, or it's Sandino home turf.”

“You think he might be setting up to jump us?” you ask warily.

Cima shakes her head. “I doubt it. More that they're likely prepared for you to make an aggressive play.”

Eventually, the time comes for you to head to the restaurant in question: a little place called Amaro's on the second level of the city.

>Leave in plain clothes, unarmed.
>Leave in plain clothes, concealed weapon.
>Leave in battle dress, open carried weapon.
>Other?

>>1612025
Is the battle dress the full armor ensemble? I'm assuming so judging from an open carried weapon as an option.

>>Leave in plain clothes, concealed weapon.
>>Other?
Maybe something to match the power suit/tie that they'll probably be sporting.

And yay, pastebin updates.

>>1612025
>Leave in plain clothes, concealed weapon.
I kinda imagine that its bad form to show up to one of these meetings unarmed. Like forgetting to wear a tie.

>will give it a few more minutes for people to trickle in

>>1612025
There's a fairly standard expected ensemble for situations like this, when an officer in your position has to go ashore and make an impression. Black pants and shoes, a dark shirt and black tie, with a black vest. The latter is ballistic rated for small arms, though it's probably not going to be enough if things get too intense. Lightweight black gloves and a modern-cut black coat round out the outfit, nothing flashy or ostentatious at all but every piece is bespoke.

Just for safety purposes, you select a handgun as well: an old-fashioned Glock 36, a venerable .45 ACP design that's been in production for the civilian market for hundreds of years. With a slightly slimmer frame and slide than other pistols in that caliber it's the heaviest weapon that will comfortably fit in the little bit of relief left under your suit coat's sleeves.

Are you sure this is a good idea?

“I'll be fine,” you nod as you head down the boarding ramp. Once out in the terminal you fit an earpiece onto your left side. “Worst happens they make me fork it over at the door, but I'm not getting caught out unarmed.”

“Hey Rossweisse, you hear me?”

“I hear you, yes,” you hear in your earpiece. “Head downstairs, follow the signs for the spaceport loop.”

With Rossweisse's guidance you board a train that will take you down into the second level of Von Braun: a whole layer below the street levels above. The light down here is entirely artificial, however most of the important business of the city happens under those lights. City infrastructure, the entire service industry, power generation, water purification... the upper level may have all the greenspaces and fancy offices, but this is the beating heart of the city.

Amaro's is a small restaurant, unremarkable from the street front. But the people on the sidewalk passing you by seem absolutely undisturbed by the presence of a woman in a dark suit with an eyepatch, which is actually pretty significant.

>You're right on time, head in for the meeting.
>It may make you a bit late, but case the exterior.
>Other?

File: 2df12b684105382e8c8157aa0(...).jpg (18 KB, 236x338)

18 KB JPG

>>1612118
Ate my pic.

>>1612118
>You're right on time, head in for the meeting.
Punctual seems more like the norm for our group.

On the other hand, 'fashionable' lateness might have a chance to dictate the meeting in our favor by virtue of being... ballsy, I guess? Maybe it's what passes for normal among the mafia for all I know.

>>1612123
Pretty good clothing selection there.

>writing

>>1612181
You take a deep breath and step inside.

The inside of the restaurant is no more impressive, except for one fact: it's hard to find someone who doesn't seem like they work for the mafia. The lighting's not too bright, the table settings have the stereotypical red and white checker patterns the booths are dark varnished wood with faded red cushions, and in the back of the room there's a four-person table with a single occupant.

He's an older guy, dressed about as well as you are though his tie is a little more flashy than your plain black. His hair is cropped short on the sides and a little longer on top, with grey around his temples, and his eyes are framed by frameless spectacles.

Two men rise from nearby tables and flank you. You don't blink.

“I'm carrying,” you admit in a stern voice, your good eye fixed on the well-dressed man in the back. “I'm going to remove my jacket.”

“Not before we frisk you,” one of the men grumbles.

“Touch me and I break your fingers,” you snap, turning to glare at him sidelong. Then you remove your jacket, hanging it on the coat rack by the door before holding your arms out at your sides. The man retrieves your weapon from its slimline holster.

Taking a few steps forward, you tug off your gloves and address the man. “So you would be Mr. Crespo.”

“And you would be Captain Marseille,” he replies calmly. “Please forgive the heavy-handed security measures, but you must admit you're a fairly dangerous customer.”

“Have a seat.”

There's only one other seat at the table, directly across from Crespo's.

“Well then, how do meetings like this usually work?” you muse. “Do I start talking, do you start talking...”

“Usually meetings like these start with appetizers,” Crespo sighs. “Tell me, have you ever had caponata?”

“Italian wasn't common where I grew up,” you admit, “and out in space we eat what we can get.”

“Well then you're in luck,” Crespo replies warmly as a pair of small plates arrive covered in slightly mushy eggplant, bell peppers, pine nuts, and capers in a sauce of some kind. “This is an especially good place for it.”

“Will you also have wine?

>No. I'm on duty.
>One glass.
>It would be sociable, wouldn't it?

>>1612203
>>One glass.
Just let out a bit of that inner Cima.

whoops, forgot this was running...

>writing

And caught up, sorry boss, totally slipped my mind that this was running.

>>1612203
“One glass,” you reply carefully. “And I'll have to trust your recommendation.”

“Waiter,” Crespo declares, leaning and calling out over his shoulder so the kitchen can hear his voice. “Two glasses of the barolo, and water for the lady.”

“Now then,” he abruptly changes topics, “I suppose you'd like to get on with the business at hand.”

“You're not wrong,” you nod, “but I'll admit I'm surprised at how relaxed you are. Even if you've had my weapon confiscated.”

“And you're right to be surprised,” Crespo admits. “Normally we wouldn't even set up a meeting like this on such short notice, but when one of your Capos vouches for someone like that it's a bit hard to ignore, you know?”

“Actually no,” you shake your head. “I don't know. What're you talking about?”

“A guy who works for us, leads a bunch of the boys, was out on Mars visiting his family,” the consigliere admits between bites of vegetable. “First there was an attack on a train, where he saw your skill firsthand. Then you stopped a nuclear strike, if the rumors are true. Might have been accidental, but you saved my guy and his entire family.”

“So he vouched for you. Said you were one serious broad, and if you weren't comin' for our scalps with a hatchet in hand and a goddamn smile on your face then we better listen. Cause that might be what comes next if we don't.”

“A little extreme,” you sigh, “but not completely unfair. I'll be honest with you, I'm not exactly what you call a cop. I'm anti-piracy and anti-terror, so anything else you're up to isn't my concern.”

“Then you should know by now that's not our racket,” Crespo frowns, “we may not be law-abiding but we're still businessmen. Overthrowing civilization as we know it's not good for business. Makes it damn hard to operate.”

>We're basically all on the same side here, so can I trust you to help me out?
>And when people hold out on me it makes my job hard. Just a friendly warning.
>I don't care about your 'business'. I need to know if you've dealt with Senator Hawke.
>Other?

>>1612309
>>We're basically all on the same side here, so can I trust you to help me out?

>>1612309
>>We're basically all on the same side here, so can I trust you to help me out?

>>1612309
>>We're basically all on the same side here, so can I trust you to help me out?

>gimme a 3d10, best of three
>dc 17, crit 20

Rolled 4, 1, 3 = 8 (3d10)

>>1612406

Rolled 5, 9, 8 = 22 (3d10)

>>1612406

Rolled 10, 5, 8 = 23 (3d10)

>>1612406

>>1612412
>>1612419
Homerwoohoo.wav

File: Vonbraun.jpg (105 KB, 720x480)

105 KB JPG

“Look, the way I see it we're all on the same side here,” you insist. “If you really want to do the right thing you'll help me out here, even if it means selling someone out.”

“I'm not sure that I can justify that,” Crespo admits as the first plates are whisked away and two generous glasses of garnet-red wine arrive at the table. “Out discretion's what keeps us in business. We even tell the civilians who make use of our services that they need to hold themselves to the same standards. We can't just break the Commandments like that.”

“And what would you do if you found that someone was using your protection to ship in sex workers?” you counter. “Or if one of your Capos started peddling meth to the overworked, undersexed businessmen upstairs? Would you stand by and let that happen?”

“We're looking into the financials,” you declare. “If your family's gotten tied up in that, then you're financing a fucking interplanetary terrorist organization. You're contributing to that. It's no different than if you turned a blind eye to anything else happening on your watch with your resources.”

Two bowls of soup arrive next in the intervening silence, what looks like fava beans are the main component.

“This is an old recipe,” Crespo sighs, stirring his soup. “It's peasant food. I like ordering it when it's available, it reminds us of where we came from. When we had nothing.”

“So it's Jewish,” you joke, raising your eyebrow.

“Yes, I am,” he nods.

“Mazel tov.”

“Thank you,” he nods again. “I guess I was thinking about it a little, about why we have the rules we've got. Specifically why we don't traffic in sex and drugs. Because those things are poisonous to a community. They may be good business, we'd make a killing off that racket if we wanted.”

“And...” you muse, taking a sip of what's admittedly very good wine. Dry, kind of spicy, with flavors of dark red berries and stone fruits.

“And you're right,” he nods. “If we overlooked that sort of thing in our own ranks, it'd be no better than pimping them out or selling the coke ourselves.”

“So I'll do what I can.”

PICK ONE:
>There was a man who was poking into Senator Hawke's finances... did you do a hit on him?
>I need to know if you've had dealings with or for Senator Hawke, and what they were.
>What do you know about the Strategic Naval Research Institute and Anaheim Electronics?
>Other?

>>1612483
>>What do you know about the Strategic Naval Research Institute and Anaheim Electronics?

>>1612483
>>I need to know if you've had dealings with or for Senator Hawke, and what they were.

>>1612483
>>I need to know if you've had dealings with or for Senator Hawke, and what they were.

Probably the riskiest yet most straightforward option, since Cima already mentioned that selling out on clients is just bad for their business.

>writing

>>1612558
>3d10, best of three, DC reduced to 15 Crit 19

Rolled 7, 6, 3 = 16 (3d10)

>>1612572

Rolled 9, 7, 4 = 20 (3d10)

>>1612572

Rolled 1, 8, 6 = 15 (3d10)

>>1612572

>>1612581
muahaha.crit.

>>1612572
“I need to know whether you've had any dealings with Senator Hawke,” you tell Crespo as your soup bowls are also taken away to the kitchen. “And if so, I need to know what you did for him. He's the guy we're investigating right now.”

“You're the second person to ask about that,” Crespo sighs, swirling his wine absent-mindedly. “The last guy didn't make as good an argument for himself though. Didn't tell him shit.”

So... thing is I don't think he's lying.

If that's so, then it also seems unlikely that the mafia were responsible for offing Artesia's contact.

“Then I'm going to have to ask you to tell me what you know,” you reply calmly.

“Well, we bought a bunch of votes for him on his reelection bid,” Crespo admits hesitantly. “We also did some money laundering for him. No idea what he used any of that for though.”

“Are you sure that's all?”

Crespo nods, briefly thanking the waiter who brings out two plates of pasta with tomatoes, eggplant, and some sort of fish over top of it. “Positive. I'd remember otherwise... the man's a creep. Talks out both sides of his mouth at the same time and manages to lie out both sides, any man who lies that easily has somethin' wrong with them.”

You quickly finish the pasta, mulling over what you've just heard...

>3d10, DC 18, Crit 20, best of four

Rolled 3, 4, 5 = 12 (3d10)

>>1612641

Rolled 7, 3, 1 = 11 (3d10)

>>1612641

Rolled 10, 6, 8 = 24 (3d10)

>>1612641

Rolled 7, 3, 4 = 14 (3d10)

>>1612641

>>1612659
Heh, wow.

>>1612659
Well done, anon.

Wonder if it would be out of nowhere to ask if Crespo encountered anyone of Bulgarian descent in dealing with Hawke?

Probably quite a stretch though.

File: 11378257_1040117669345593(...).jpg (34 KB, 480x480)

34 KB JPG

And then you shout.

“Hit the deck!”

>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reVfQMeo-14

You reach under the table with both hands and flip it, catching Nicky Crespo in the jaw and sending him to the ground. Wine and noodles splash all over the floor even as the front of the shop explodes in a shower of glass and lead and thunderous automatic weapons fire. Most of the rounds are harmless, hitting the walls and zinging over your head, but one of the guys the mafia brought in for muscle gets hit and goes down. The wooden booths and tables splinter, cushions and tablecloths tear and shred in the air.

“Throw me my piece!” you roar over the din, and to your surprise the guy who took your Glock decides to comply. He slides it across the tile floor where it bumps and clatters off glass and debris before reaching you.

The fire slacks, and you make your way low and quick along the floor, dodging between tables to keep out of sight. So when one of the gunmen kicks in what's left of the door and leads in with his rifle you're ready for it.

“What the...” he begins as you grab the barrel and push it up towards the ceiling. Before he can react you put a round through his arm at point-blank range, letting you rip the weapon from his grasp as he howls in pain. Then you crack him across the jaw with it, before using its two-point sling to wrap around his neck and shoulder.

“Thanks for the assist!” you tell him, standing behind the thoroughly bamboozled and off-balance attacker.

Loud cracks tell you that the other shooters are still unloading, and your unwilling assistant howls in pain again as their bullets strike his heavy ballistic plates.

“Come on!” he pleads. “Not like this, man!”

Sufficiently protected you put your right arm over his shoulder, lean your own pistol to the left so your good eye can line up the sights, and draw a bead on your first victim...

>dice+3d10, DC 17, Crit 22, best of four

Rolled 7, 4, 6 = 17 (3d10)

>>1612722
Man we have the craziest luck with bullets.

Rolled 3, 7, 8 = 18 (3d10)

>>1612722

Rolled 8, 7, 8 = 23 (3d10)

>>1612722

Rolled 1, 9, 6 = 16 (3d10)

>>1612722

>>1612736
Ahaha, nice. Another crit.

>>1612731
See >>1612736
The Devil's own luck, some might say.

Like the Devil, Carrina makes her own luck.

One... two... three shots. All three strike your intended target, but he too seems to be wearing armor. That leaves you just three rounds... shit.

Of the next two you only score one hit, but it's a shot that shatters one of the gunmen's jaw and rips open his jugular from the amount of blood the hit produces. So that's one down, and you only see two more: one firing over the hood of their car and the other slowly advancing with some sort of submachine gun leveled at you.

Your shield has stopped screaming, probably due to blood loss, so you drop him to his knees and loosen the rifle from around his neck. The side lies flat against your shoulder and the action rests atop your shield's shoulder, with the carry handle digging into the base of his neck. Then you return fire, using a groove down the middle of the weapons right-side accessory rail as an impromptu sight.

It works, with rounds catching the approaching gunman in the neck and hip. He falls to the pavement, and you put one more round into the side of his skull to be sure.

Then you turn your attention to the one in cover, who foolishly hangs out of his cover for a moment to load a fresh magazine. Your shot hits him in the knee and he falls to the ground with a shout.

>No chances. These guys will kill you in cold blood with half a chance.
>Leave one alive, you want information even if it involves a risk.
>Leave them both alive. The mafia will want one of their own.
>Other?

>>1612798
>Leave one alive, you want information even if it involves a risk.

>>1612798
Note: the Glock 36 has a capacity of 6+1 rounds, meaning the one in the chamber is the last you have to hand. The man you've used as a shield is running low on ammo for his rifle, Carya doesn't know how many rounds he's got left at the moment. He also has a sidearm: again, no idea how much is in it or whether it's even loaded.

>>1612798
>>Leave one alive, you want information even if it involves a risk.

>>1612798
>>Leave one alive, you want information even if it involves a risk.

>>1612798
>Leave one alive, you want information even if it involves a risk.

Well then.
>3d10, DC 18, no crit, best of three

Rolled 6, 10, 6 = 22 (3d10)

>>1612846

Rolled 5, 2, 3 = 10 (3d10)

>>1612846

>>1612862
Kek.

Rolled 5, 7, 1 = 13 (3d10)

>>1612846

File: Carrina_concept_codec_view.png (377 KB, 637x634)

377 KB PNG

The man you've just used as a shield is already dead. Even if he's still breathing he's taken too many shots to the torso, there's no way he could possibly survive more than a few minutes longer. Even if an ambulance was on its way you can tell he won't last long enough to see it. So it's actually an act of mercy when you brush his hand away from his sidearm, draw it and rack the slide against his belt, press the muzzle to the back of his skull, and pull the trigger.

Then you rush over towards the last man, shooting his weapon hand and causing him to drop his pistol before delivering a savage kick to the side of his head.

“Ugh,” you grunt, grabbing him by the tab on the back of his plate carrier and dragging him back into the restaurant, “you weigh a fucking ton...”

“You goddamn Jovian cocksucker!” one of the mafioso shouts as you drag your victim past, kicking him in the ribs even as he racks the slide of his own handgun. “I'll fucking kill you myself!”

“Hold the phone,” you frown, grunting from the exertion as you sling the man's limp body into a shattered booth. “What did you just say?”

“I said I'll fucking end him!”

“The other thing,” you shake your head. “You called him a Jovian. Explain.”

“He's talking about Jovian refugees,” Crespo sighs, dusting himself off. “What a waste... I haven't seen so much spaghetti spilled since high school.”

Fucking nice.

“Don't start,” you grumble.

“What?” Crespo asks in confusion.

“I asked when Jovian refugees became an issue,” you lie, not wanting to get into an explanation of your unusual 'familial situation'.

“Well, it was after you guys basically put the Jupiter Fleet out of business,” Crespo explains with a shrug. “Loads of people lost their livelihood, a lot of them came here. They had their own gangs, which kept together when they came here. Prey on our people, their own... and they're damn hungry. They take shots at us in their spare time.”

>So... main course? We have some time before this guy wakes up.
>I need to call in support, secure the situation.
>We... should probably go.
>Other?

>>1612930
>We... should probably go.
We were here for our own business, not start a gang war.

>>1612930
>>So... main course? We have some time before this guy wakes up.

>>1612930
>So... main course? We have some time before this guy wakes up.

>>1612930
>So... main course? We have some time before this guy wakes up.
Fucking mobile devices...

>writing

>>1612995
“Well then,” you sigh, retrieving your earpiece from your suit's pocket. Somehow the garment has come out of the whole fiasco with no worse than some dust. You put the earpiece in place and tap the button to call Rossweisse.

“What happened?” she demands. “You have several squad cars converging on your location. Too quick for us to get an exfiltration team there in time.”

“Then don't worry about it,” you sigh, “I'll deal with the cops when they get here. The situation's under control.”

You then proceed to flip the table back over, then take your seat facing the busted-down door.

“Have a seat, Crespo,” you tell him. He knows that it's not a request.

The consigliere takes a seat. “Damn. I didn't believe my guy when he talked about you... with a goddamn smile...”

“Tell me everything you know about the Jovian mob,” you demand as one of the cooks pops his head in from the kitchen.

“Is it over?” he asks nervously.

You nod to him. “It is. Was anyone back there hurt?”

“Thankfully no...”

“Then bring out the main,” you instruct. “Mr. Crespo and I still have a fair bit of talking to do.”

“How the fuck can you just go back to eating?” the remaining guard demands. “For fuck's sake, did you even feel anything when you wasted those guys?”

“Recoil,” you bluff, hoping to nip this nasty conversation in the bud with a tough one-liner and a sharp glare. In truth it's worse now for you than it was before Newtype empathy was a thing, at least once the combat high wears off.

Thankfully, it works.

PICK ONE:
>How active are the Jovians around here?
>That attack that was on the news... was that the Jovians?
>Who typically hires the Jovians?

>>1613054
>>How active are the Jovians around here?

>>1613054
>>How active are the Jovians around here?
On a new device yet again!

>>1613054
>That attack that was on the news... was that the Jovians?

>>1613054
>How active are the Jovians around here?

>writing
>last update of the evening

>>1613160
“So how active are the Jovians around here?” you ask as a plate of fish over couscous comes out of the kitchens with fresh glasses of wine. You carefully pour out most of your glass into Crespo's until it's at about what you had left in yours before you flipped the table.

The food's actually pretty great, though you have to admit it's a little awkward eating now after what's just happened.

“Increasingly,” Crespo informs you. “They always seem to be able to get work, but more importantly they recently started fielding better equipment. Those guns you saw them using, much better and newer models than they used to carry.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Crespo sighs, setting down his fork and knife. “My guess is they found themselves a backer.”

Senator Hawke?

“It's possible that Hawke might've done that,” you admit.

“He better not have,” Crespo grumbles. “Use our services, abuse our partnership, then send a hi squad after me?”

From a nearby booth, the last surviving gunman chuckles at you. “Not you, dumbass. Who would wanna bump you off, man? You're like a thousand years past your prime.”

“No, we were sent here for her,” he says, pointing at you as the sound of sirens grows closer. “Boss knows she's been snooping around, wants her out of the picture, you see.”

“Ah,” you nod, finishing off your wine. “I actually kinda figured as much, but it's good to finally confirm.”

“Freeze!” you hear a shout from the door as a man in blue steps into the restaurant.

You set aside your own fork. “Took you guys long enough.”

>>1613228
And that's where we leave off for now. Archive is up, hope you guys had a good time, and thanks for playing!

Next week: VBPD You.

>>1613245
Damnit, I missed another action packed segment just when my head hit the pillow. The spirit is willing yada yada.

I kinda wonder if one of the police investigators from the previous thread was tailing us. Could explain why the response is fast enough not to leave us an exit window, yet late enough to not lend any help to the situation.