2084/07/20 13:16:21
To: That Frisian Drekface
We need to talk - Grutte Bente
2084/07/20 13:22:48
From: That Frisian Drekface
I heard. Meet me at the show at 2
2084/07/20 13:59 - Amsterdam-West, abandoned theater
Bente entered through the backdoor, the only door of the building big enough to let her through without her having to fold her body through the frame. The guards nodded her through, then looked straight at the door again, treating her like air. She knew the way, moving through a few corridors to arrive at the old stage. Despite being early, there already were a handful of others, runners like her. Streetsams like her. Sharp minds, sharper bodies. She knew every one of them and their reputations. Having them all together like this? That's when security and cops start sweating.
Jackdaw, looking at her with an impish grin. Rook, almost as tall as Bente, with horns to match and a frown stuck to his face. Slender Shade, playing with his knives. The elf was pretending not to care and utterly failing at it. Lastly Trigger, sitting next to a pillar and quiet enough that she almost wasn't noticeable. The dwarf was without her rifles, but the shape of her clothing revealed she still had several guns hidden on her body. A varied group of razors, ready to cut through anything in their way.
She could have walked over and chatted, but it would have just been to waste time and calm her nerves. There was no point to that. So she stood still, waiting out the clock for the Frisian to arrive. He arrived mere seconds before the hour, two guards by his side and a shotgun on his back. He looked Bente in the eye with a nod, then the others, before speaking up.
"Okay, let's cut to the chase 'cause we all have an inkling of what's going on. Magic is dying, and I'm told the corps are panicking. Not just the local boys, the big dogs too. So this is no drill, no hoax, it's coming and we can't do shit about it. Now, we don't know how this will end, whether it will fully disappear and whether it will return. But we do know magic will fail us. That provides our enemies with an opportunity, and us with the same."
He paused for a short bit and they all nodded, a quick backchannel to show they all were in the loop, before he spoke up again. "Alright, so. Popular Will knows. They're already gathering guns and horses, preparing for a massive strike. If we scatter about, we're vulnerable, they'll hunt us down. So we're preparing a bunker, a hideout where we can all fight back and take them out. And while the mages hide with security by their side, I want you lot to go out and do a job for me. I'll provide deckers, riggers, anti-magic gear just in case, but no magic support whatsoever. No details until you come back and agree. Clear?"
2084/07/23 10:08:41
From: Silver-tongued Devil
C, I fear you are on a popular list, so my safehouses will not suffice. I recommend contacting the Penose, they are making arrangements. This one time, they care not for allegiances. Full neutrality, no matter what.
2084/07/23 21:00 - Amsterdam-West, safehouse complex
"Alright, welcome everyone, let me give your batch the introduction speech." The Penose soldier's voice boomed through the hall, interrupting people throwing suspicious glares at each other. "This place will be your home for the next month or so. First rule of fight club, there will be no fragging fighting! We do try to keep you away from your mortal enemies, and split things up in factions as well, but within these walls, you're all allies and will behave as such!"
Begrudging stares and frowns as the soldier paused to let that sink in. "Alright, so. You got either private coffins or rooms with a few mates, but if you want to change arrangements, let us know. We're providing guns for those that need them, but if you go out and use them on your nemesis, we're putting your head on a pole as a warning for the rest. No killing unless it's an invader, clear? You've got communication gear and a briefing file on how to act during an attack. We're running a drill tomorrow, so make sure you do your homework. Now git!"
2084/07/26 #^&#!
To: Th3 Fr%0#@n
I'm tapped out. Some places remain, but most stuff is g&#@$ data unrecoverable
2084/07/28 15:06 - Amsterdam, unknown location
The Frisian unnerved Rook. The guy carried his height with pure intimidation, an attitude that Rook normally tried to avoid. An above-average troll playing tough guy was a good way to get harassed by the police, so he made sure to play it nice and quiet. The Frisian had no such qualms, fully expecting people to move aside. If they didn't, well, that's where his violent reputation came in. So the fact the Frisian was meeting them today? Rook wasn't very happy about that. Made worse by the man being late.
Everyone else was already here, spread out over various corners of the room. Five razors, four riggers, three deckers, all state of the art. The total value of their gear and implants was closing in on an eight digit number, and all of that was gathered here for a single job. All that was missing was the actual job. And with every ticking second, most people in the room visibly grew more nervous.
Rook noted Bente was holding herself together quite well, looking stern as always. Then he picked up faint footsteps and saw her close her eyes and release a breath he hadn't realised she was holding. Everyone got ready to dive for cover and draw their weapons, in paranoia warranted but unneeded as the Frisian walked in, blood on his sleeves. Four of his soldiers followed, all spare one with bandaged injuries. Without giving anyone a chance to respond, he threw a micro-projector onto the central table and dove straight into his explanation.
2084/07/28 18:23:14
To: Worrywart
All clear still. Do you really need to keep wasting our time with this? If you insist on these constant check-ins, just get your arse over here and join us on patrol, instead of micromanaging. Frag it, you're worse than a washed-up corpslave.
2084/07/28 18:27:20
From: Worrywart
Spin it and do your damn job. And check in on schedule next time, or I'm bombing the place instead. Anyone touches the vault, the boss will kill us all, so I'd rather get a headstart for when you glitch us up.
2084/07/28 18:28:09
To: Worrywart
Alright alright. Sheesh, you got a worse temper than a crooked pawn on a fraggin' bender.
2084/07/28 20:15 - Amsterdam, alleys near Penose base
Trigger had lost track of how often she had checked her guns, but still did a final check, a gun at a time while she had another at hand in case they got attacked. She noticed Rook rolling his eyes at Jackdaw over it, meanwhile Shade was checking his own knives one by one. She had never realised just how many weapons that elf had on his body, both lethal and 'less-lethal'.
Grutte Bente was on the line with the deckers, leaning on a riot shield while she did her impromptu leader work. Nobody had hesitated when she got chosen as head of operations for this run by unanimous vote. She was nodding in response to whatever convo she was quietly having, before switching to a full-team channel. "Okay, security checked in, waiting for counter trash talk... There it is... And... security just responded with a dumb retort. Alright, let's go before they realise they're now being jammed."
2084/07/28 20:21 - Amsterdam, Penose base
"Frag, frag, frag! Move your hoops, keep up the cover fire! Don't let them ge-" A taser dart hit an exposed forehead and zapped the noisy guy into a sweet sleep. Two men turned and ran, only to groan as rubber bullets smashed into them. This massive featureless corridor, usually perfect for transporting carts full of money or drugs, was nothing but a hazard for them now. The attacking trolls kept advancing, one holding a massive shield and the other using her as cover, his shotgun taking the guards out one by one.
It only took a dozen more seconds before they all had been downed. One guard was barely clinging on when he saw them walk by him, the shotgunner switching to a breaching rifle and shooting a few holes into the vault door. The other troll then took off her belt, which transformed into a sword as large as she was. A good thing she hadn't used that in the fight, the guard thought as he saw her cut straight through the door, just before he faded into unconsciousness.
2084/07/29 05:02:38
From: Management
Shelter in place, shelter in place. This is not a drill. Popular Will currently attempting to breach. Repeat, shelter in place, shelter in place. Popular Will is invading.
2084/07/29 05:09 - Amsterdam-West, safehouse complex
Intermittent bursts of gunfire were occasionally accompanied by fanatical screams, usually cut short very quickly. For the rest, the complex was eerily quiet, both its defenders and besiegers communicating through either subvocals or sign language. Most of the dumb raiders had served their goal as a distraction, their corpses littered about as a display of where security was the nastiest. What was left was Popular Will's cream of the crop, armed to the teeth and equipped with full body armour.
One of the mess halls had turned into a warzone, several runners softly groaning behind cover while allies treated their injuries. On the other side of the hall, a hand came from behind a wall, holding a grenade. Before the owner could finish the throw, multiple shots rang out and the grenade was knocked out of the now-severed hand. Mere seconds later, a loud explosion claimed multiple raider lives.
A few buildings away, a troll opened his room's door as quietly as he could. He held a knife in his off-hand, while his main was ready to draw if he spotted anyone on his way to his target. As he moved into the hallway, out of nowhere a hand shot up towards his face, then slammed his head towards the wall. The last sound he heard was the crack of his own skull.
The Frisian looked down on the body, pure contempt in his eyes, before his eyes shot towards one of his guards. "Problem solved. Get the hacksaw." Not even awaiting the acknowledging nod, he and the rest of his camouflaged troops moved on towards their next target, their footsteps soft but their grip hard.
2084/07/29 05:56:48
From: Management
Enemies deterred. Proceed with caution. I repeat, enemies deterred, but proceed with caution. Injured can report for medical care. Keep clear of uncleared bodies, and please ignore the new furniture.
2084/07/31 03:36 - Amsterdam-South, flat, penthouse floor
"You. Are not. Hearing me! The Frisian stole your stuff! He broke into MY vaults, purely to rob YOU! So you need to get your act together, and take. Him. Out!"
The man on the other side of the table rolled his eyes. "Pete. I heard you the first time. But we already tried exactly that, and it cost us a small fortune in gear and men. He's holed up in his safehouse and he has half the Dutch underworld in there with him, all armed to the teeth and waiting for us to try again. We even had people in there, and they didn't do us any good. Zero survivors. Zilch. Nada. And you expect us to try again?"
Pete gnashed his teeth. "Yes, because this is your fault! Because you were so busy preparing to attack him, you didn't do your part on my end and they got into my vaults! Look, I'll sweeten the pot, okay? I have multiple clients in there. Any that don't make it out, you get their account. That could easily triple yours!"
The other man sighed heavily. "The thing is, we now lack the manpower to get in there. Fortunately for us, we do still have some people with a significant amount of explosives at hand. They were earmarked for another project, but that no longer is an option. After all," and he paused for a moment as he nodded to his men standing by behind Pete, "there no longer is a vault for them to break into."
Before Pete could process that remark, an iron wire slipped over his head and started putting pressure on his throat. As he struggled for his life, his past ally rose to his feet. "Nothing personal, Pete, but you did do business with mages. Both for your security and as customers. And we can't have that, letting collaborators get away with it. So we wanted to take out the Frisian first, and you second. Now we're simply reversing the order."
Ignoring the choking sounds, the man walked towards the blinded window. He made a small gap to look through, letting him look in the direction of the Penose's safe haven. Just a small gap. It sufficed. Within the second, a sniper round pierced the bullet-resistant window and his less-resistant skull.
2084/07/31 12:06 - Amsterdam-West, safehouse complex
The Frisian and his bodyguards were sitting at a table in the mess hall, trays full with food in front of them. Only two of them were eating, the other two waiting for their opportunity. An older man in a three-piece suit walked up to them, doing his best to ignore the heads on a pole nearby as he spoke up in a polite tone. "Uhm, Frisian, I'm glad with the hospitality and all, but I need to bother you with a question. I hear you robbed Sleazy Pete. I had a bunch of silver coin buckets stored there, and I was wondering..."
The Frisian wiped his mouth with a napkin before responding, his tone gruff but still fairly polite. "Montella. You needn't worry. The new manager should be in contact once the dust settles. All I did was aid in a hostile takeover, so your coins are safe. I never needed physical pieces of silver. Virtual ones got the job done just fine."
