O'Borg

Jonny's eyes flick discretely to her hands for signs of wedding or engagement rings.

Jonny is a little taken aback that nobody knows him. On reflection, he realises he probably looks quite a lot different in a suit and minus his guitar.

"Jonny Tyso. I'm a musician, you might have heard of me." (you might, he has a small rep around town). "My silent friend here is Vincent, he looks mean for money."

Nick can probably tell that Jonny has a small SMG hanging on a sling under his long coat. He hasnt gone to great pains to conceal it.

Jonny looks around the elevator at the others.

"If anyones gonna fart, they'd better do it in tune."

After a few moments Jonny realises that although he's arrived in style befitting a star of his (imagined) status, he'll have to open his own damn door this time.

Exiting the Bently, he casts one last regretfull look over it and nods to the driver.

"Thanks for the ride, ma man."

Then he struts towards the elevator in Vince's wake.

Jonny hesitates for a second before deciding not to run back to his apartment for a guitar.

He slides into the rear of the car.

He is a handsome looking man of around six feet tall and muscled in the way of a keep-fit fanatic rather than a bodybuilder or manual worker. He's dressed in a stylish casual business suit underneath a lightly armoured grey longcoat.

Tonight his skin is lightly tanned, his hair is in a shoulder length blond ponytail and his eyes are as grey as a shark's hide.

"Hi, Jonny Tyso." he says breifly to Vincent, considering himself well known enough to need little introduction as he offers his right hand.

Jonny (Who to the best of my OOC knowledge is unarmed and unarmoured, having lost his armour in the ambush), sits quietly on his horse and follows the others lead.

He manages to pick out the occasional word of Russian, but by and large has no real idea what they're saying.

Taking one last, quick check of his gear beneath his coat, Jonny exits his apartment and skids to a halt next to the car.

"Whoa! A Bentley!" he pauses to admire its sleek lines. "Now this is going to be one classy gig!"

He knocks on the front window (OOC : This a left or right-hand drive Bentley?) and calls through to the driver.

"Hey, you want me to bring my axe just incase the entertainment dont show?"

Sorry to see you go Syris

Given the high dropout rate on this game, perhaps we should all call it a day?

Jonny is already dressed and ready when he spots the car pulling up outside. He listens hard, engaging his cyberaudio units to pick-up on any snatches of conversation from the vicinity of the car.

Jonny stands at the window of his apartment overlooking the road, alternating between looking out for his lift and staring at his own reflection in the glass, changing the colors of his optics randomly.

"Where is he?" he mutters, glancing at his watch. "He should have been here twenty minutes ago."

He considers calling Mr O'Donnely back to ask where his ride is, but discounts it quickly. He doesnt want to seem too eager to be employed as a security guard.

Once more he stares out the window into the gathering gloom, his eyes exploding into supernovas of neon pink and mauve in the reflection.

OOC -

I'm assuming you're not holding all these conversations in the medical tent where Jason is currently laid up?

Or is Jason up and clunking around yet?

OOC - Sorry if this is long, got a lot of catching up to do.

IC -

Jason gradually wakes up.

"The ditch..." he croaks groggily. "Out of danger? Glad to know my sacrifice wasnt in vain."

As full lucidity returns, he surmises he isnt in a SovOil prison cell somewhere and starts to take stock of his surroundings.

The first thing he notices is that he's no longer in metalgear. The second is that his legs feel funny. At first he assumes this to be the effects of painkillers, until he looks down...

"F***ing hellfire! What happened to my legs!" He screams at the top of his voice.

"Those arent cyberlegs!" he screeches upon being told of the enforced attachments. "They're discarded props from a f***ing Robocop movie! I look like part-man part-fork-lift-cargoloader!! I cant go around like this, I'll have kids chasing me down the street asking me where the carnival is! Where are my old legs? Put 'em back on!"

When eventually calmed down / sedated, he'll grudgingly accept the fact he's stuck with the Soviet monstrosities until he can get back to civilisation and either get a pair of decent legs or better still, some vat-grown replacements.

"So Cutter and his team deserted us? Ha! So much for 'We dont surrender and we dont leave men in the field! And as for that b*****d Nikolai, as soon as we get out of here I'm going to hunt the sonofabitch down and shove this Soviet Prosthetic up his ass sideways."

To the rest of the team (when alone) :

Assuming the others bring him up to date on what else is going on, Jason will agree that they should work with the locals. "I was going to suggest something back in America," he says "But Nikolai wanted foreigners and I wasnt about to jerpordise my paycheque. Speaking of which, how far can we trust these guys who employed Nikolai? I mean, how do we know they're actually going to pay us when this is all over? And no offence, but these ragheads opened fire on US as well as the SovOil grunts. We should watch our backs here, especially as we aint Muslims. Hey, you think our employers still have all our gear that was shipped over in a safehouse somewhere? We ought to get ahold of it if they have. Apart from our personal stuff theres gotta be enough armament from Cutters Dolphins to give this local mob something to smile about."

To Fawcett :

"Jason Creedy, erstwhile of the BCF Customs and Excise regiment." he replied accepting the drink. "So what brings you to this tech-starved corner of the world?"

I'm back.

RAIDing my system and reinstalling had more hitches than I expected, but went faster than I expected too.

So, is Jason alive yet?

Guys

I might be offline for the weekend. I need to rebuild my main system and if it goes wrong I could be out for a day or two.

If needs be, Jason can bleed under control of the GM

Tubercolosis.

Its a wonderfull little disease, that not only is contagious, it takes a couple of years constant treatment with anti-biotics to cure. (I did a little research for another project recently)

A major plague of TB (or similar) would probably overwhelm the capabilities of the countries health services and cause significant loss of life.

Being thick here - you say 65 points for skills, is that 40 for career skills and 25 for pickups, ignoring the usual REF+INT method for pickup skills?

Oh, and as I need to roll about 14 D6's to determine Humanity losses (assuming you give me the cash to fit him out with the cyber) do you trust me to roll them or shall I use something like Irony Games Webdice?

Doesnt matter to me, I shouldnt really know whats happening when Jason is out cold anyway.

Just send me a PM when he wakes up.

Sorry, I meant to post this under the Strategy Thread. Must've pressed the wrong button.

Okay, so Nikolai and the Doc have bugged out on us. Has Erasers team gone South for the winter or have they just gone NPC on us?

And can you let me know when Jason can do anything more than bleed?

Does that mean Jason is dead? Not that I expect him to be much else after taking 6 rounds of Ak80 at close range.

OOC :

Good recovery Thumper  

I was starting to wonder if everyone else had given up too.

But my character cant do much at the moment on account of being 99% dead as a can of spam.

In other words Syrus, chances are the welding gear is far too big& heavy for you to sling across your back and sprint across the ground to the BMP with.

More like a gentle stroll across no-mans land towards the enemy machine guns.

Eraser, that does not exactly inspire Jason's cooling corpse with a lot of confidence, you know.

I forgot this bit of the forum existed.

But should we really be discussing tactics OOCly in the middle of an IC Battle? I'd slap my players silly if they tried that sort of thing on me.

BTW, the BMP2's rear doors are actually hollow and used as fuel tanks.

But then again, a BMP2 is supposed to have a crew of 3 + 7 soldiers. We've already seen 10 soldiers bail out the back, so dont take that as verbatim.

Anyway, I'm dead. What do I know?

Thanks. That was kind of the idea.