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Post by Lunapocalypse on Mar 18, 2010 5:27:48 GMT -5
The Shop is a quiet little car workshop focused on sorting out individual commisions on creating vehicles using CAD (Computer Aided-Design) and fixing busted car parts. Most of the time the team work on making tuner models for people, yet muscle and vans are also on the list. It's situated in a moderately bustling neighborhood, kind of a no mans land for police as it is mainly run by some of the local gangs.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jun 9, 2010 8:53:38 GMT -5
Episode 2 Viva Las Vegas [/b][/size][/center] "Ladies ern Gentlemen, we will be arrivin' in Las Vegas shortleh; if yew look out the window to yer right yew will see dezzerrt, look out the left and yew'll see more dezzerrt. Please secure yer head between yer legs and kiss yer balls ta Bethlehem. AAAAAHAHAHA-" the sadistic laugh scraped through the Galaxy's PA followed by volley of screaming mettel, which suited the situation quite well actually until the random fiddly piano took place at which point it felt like the descent to hell. Ash had done her standard 'Strap Tha F*ck Down' procedure in the cargo bay involving wrapping her arms and legs in netting, taught and hanging from the ceiling more or less, meanwhile watching Thomas' skeleton claw its way out of his skin. Dry heat rippled through the air as the C-5 dropped to the bone yard below, a spec quickly starting to form a distinguishable object; the husks of past airplanes littering the place contradicting the gravity of the situation. Looking top-down, there was no way in hell the strip had been made for giant cargo jet landings; from wing to wing the entirety of the plane would be 2/3rds wider than the dirt road it was supplied to land on. Screaming jets. Mortifying shudder. Sadistic laughter. Thomas swearing. GENTLEMEN METTEL. The cackling had found its way out of Ashleigh's mouth feeling engulfed by pure insanity as the world around her crumbled, she hung like a bondaged torture victim having reality turned upside down on them. wWWHAMMmThe jet touched down, a lack of chemistry available between the wheels and the dirt and rocks while the wings cut/smashed/annihilated dead planes covering either side of the runway. The Galaxy had trouble powering down seemingly driving its way into the control tower at the end begging to be thrown into a fireball of death. From hidden secure locations four pistons fired up and launched out rope wire stabbing into the belly of the jet and pulling back on it. Mechanics could be heard whirring as the motors furiously worked against the friction; one pulling loose, a second snapping from the tension, the last two threatened to give way as smoke rose up and a fire started out. . .. ... .... ..... TapAsh had to wonder whether she'd gone deaf, looking about the cargo hold. She clicked her fingers to test her ear when a roar of laughter bellowed from the cockpit and Rhys bounced down the narrow stairs into the hold, "One fuggin' eench from the gahd damn tower controls! WEW! I could'a prolly reached in and paged myself!" there was a jostle as Ash freed herself from her bindings and hit the button for the bay door release, "Man, zum day, everythang's just gunna go wrong. That's the day I die," he smiled stepping out onto the lowering ramp and jumping off. The Gunslinger got to work on undoing Metal Wave's bindings as Thomas' was still clinging to the steering wheel; Ash patted his door to let him know it was good to go, she'd just let him recover in his own time. An old Jeep Cherokee pulled round the tower, jacked up suspension as it absorbed all of the garbage and rocks about the place, "I swear you put more obstacles in the way that time," Ash commented once he wound the window down, "I counted about four wings... maybe three fuselage gouges that time. You gotta cut that out, the money you spend on the Galaxy would be better put towards widening the strip,"The Aviator merely beamed, "Don'tcha worry, I get enough dosh to level it; but I'd rather the fun over the safe-teh," Rhys opened the door for Ash, the handle being broken for longer than she could recall, "Hoppon in, figures yew'd wanna get back ta Geen as sewn as possible,"The serenity of the landscape was nearly unpleasant after the rollercoaster. Ash had taken a position resting her head on her arms on the frame of the window and letting the wind kick her hair; the sun was too bright so she left her eyes closed. It wasn't long until the dirt had turned to bitumen and the smells of the city lingered in the air. This much Ashleigh opened her eyes to. The place was silent, too silent to be her suburb. The gangs must have really kicked it out, either delving further into The Strip or diving out into the desert and any ghost towns on offer. The random individual here and there looked up at the two car convey, MW making a considerable amount of noise on that behalf; it wasn't unnatural, the people of the suburb were likely roused of the time when nothing but loud cars burned the asphalt below their tires. The Shop. Hidden among warehouses and an apartment block. It had a fairly decent view to the wasteland of the Mojave desert. Ash spotted the upper rods of a stage out back in their sunken yard, just catching a slender, lithe figure drop from a platform. Nothing else could be seen past the four metre high fence though but it was obvious who'd performed the stunt. The Jeep stopped, "I aint comin' in. Prolly best I fix the mess before night rears its head again. Let yer friend know I'm sorry for the scare... it's always's funny as sh*t though," he chuckled. Ashleigh got out "Thanks for the help Rhys. I'll catch ya later," with that, the Aviator-in-a-car drove off as the IROC slowly rolled on in. Ash walked with her up to the four huge garage doors, "We'll keep her in here for now Thomas. Total body repairs are done around back, but we'll leave that for later this arvo," Ash procured a set of keys from her cargo pocket and rattled the shutter, lifting it up and waving the Native and his Chevy on inside. Breathing in the metal and chemicals, stretching, "Hooooome... my f*ckin' clutch," Ash took a seat at the work bench and snapped up a pile of envelopes Gen had kindly left for her. All work related of course, "Make yourself at home, man," Ash noted to Thomas while tearing a request open and going over the necessities and requirements, "Go through, ah---" she waved her finger around eventually resting in the general direction of a door, "There. Kitchen's down the hall, toilet branches off to the left somewhere and the main lounge is one of the doors on the right,"Moving from the garage to the living area was like a real, in-movie, juxtaposition as the feeling changed from work ethics to a holiday home capped with modern style, furnishings and tech, "If Genevieve's done the shopping recently there should be plenty to eat in the fridge..." Ash paused, noting the other occupant of The Shop, "Eh-ah'I'll introduce you two later. It's probably better you didn't interrupt her daily stunt work out," she spoke the rest of the sentence under her breath, "Drives her crazy,"
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Jun 9, 2010 20:56:25 GMT -5
/./Clutch in, neutral. Start sequence. Like so many times in the past few days, Metal Wave woke from the flight, both refreshed and injured. Her soothing V8 symphony had pulled Thomas back to Earth before a full turn. Nothing overcomes anxiety and panic like starting up that Camaro. There was little need to step out for a stretch; Thomas was far more than comfortable here. Gaea allowing, he would take up courier jobs whenever he could from his brother's firm, sometimes driving clear across Colorado and into the adjacent states, just to drive as much as possible. Were it possible, he would simply stay in Metal Wave until the dawn of time. Today would be no exception to his dream, although it would all be wrenchtime. Bodywork could wait. Judging by her considerable decibel increase on the passenger side, he figures he crushed her passenger header collector. And after unhitching her tires from the floor of the Galaxy, physical damage could be seen on her passenger-side once more, in the form of her front-passenger tire's camber. It was facing ever so slightly up, but it was noticeable. Driving like this would burn through the tire quickly, causing Thomas to question Ash as to the distance of her shop from the airstrip. Good news was returned; it was less than a hundred miles. It was all Thomas needed to hear. Within a few minutes, they were off of the airstrip././
"Holy s*** babe, that camber's really off, isn't it?"
/./He patted Metal Wave's dash as they rolled down the streets, hoping she could limp without her tie-rods falling out. He could see it in his mind's eye; if that Jeep escapes sight, Thomas would compensate by puttin' the hammer down, bolting forward. The steering would give out for a moment, followed by the passenger front-end dipping into the tarmac below, while a single numbers-matching IROC-Z rim wrapped in a $600 Falken Radial roll down the street in pursuit of the Jeep. This thought was shunned as much as possible. In following the Jeep, survivors must have seen the convoy as an oddity. The Jeep, typically a heavier vehicle, should be the one all banged up and bruised from head-ons with Zacks, not the pretty blue thing behind it. Back a few months ago, seeing a vehicle covered in dents and blood would strike controversy and panic among citizens. Nowadays, they just seem to wonder how many corpses it left behind. More to the point, the "barter" survivors would ask where the vehicle was found, who they killed to get the keys, and other crap like that. Then again, who doesn't want a Camaro?
Thomas' curiosity piqued with the arrival at the Shop. It was tucked far away from the public eye, hidden among warehouses. The kinda place the Mob goes to whack people in the middle of the night. And yet, it felt welcoming. A sense of dedication and admiration of motor vehicle racing, legal or otherwise, was in the air. It was only an issue, his selection of vehicle. Would Ash's comrades shun the Native for his choice in Muscle? Or did a few of them decide on American Steel as well? Thomas flew through the thoughts like he does, not paying attention when Ash signaled for him to pull Metal Wave into a bay. when he realized she welcomed his IROC in, and not asked him to leave her outside, all doubt was rested. He gently set her in the middle of the bay, right on top of an empty hydraulic lift. As usual, when not in extreme danger or after crashing into a flying cargo lifter, Metal Wave's steering wheel was kissed, and sent to bed.
For the first time in a while, he pulled her key from the ignition, and physically attached it to his wallet chain, stuffing the bulky item into his pocket. He popped her hood, trunk, door, all of it. He even took her T-top covers off. She needed work, and she needed it sooner rather than later. And nothing could be accomplished with all of his inventory blocking his way. He started up by removing the larger items from her trunk, just as Ash noted the location of the kitchen. Thomas grabbed a wrapped stack of canned goods from his trunk, accompanied by a raging tummy. It struck him: he hadn't eaten since the fire station. And mercy, he was famished. He hadn't even gotten started on Metal Wave... But he needed maintenance too. He tore apart one of the packs of cans, grabbing a few cans of Cambell's Chunky soup: specifically, Chicken & dumplings, and Steakhouse Burger & Chili././
"A word of warning: if you don't like mixing food, don't follow me into the kitchen."
/./One can in each hand, he turned to leave the bays, stopping only feet from the door. His eyes wandered the treated concrete floor for a moment, before he spoke again././
"Oh, and uh... Thanks for this."
/./He left before Ash could say anything back, trotting to the kitchen. Running on fumes was good for no soul././
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jun 9, 2010 23:06:54 GMT -5
Massive glass doors adorned the Northwest corner of the kitchen and dining room looking out into the even more massive back yard. There wasn't a lot of concern for decor or plant life, looking more like an obstacle course with the support walks everywhere. At the top of the highest point stood a girl, doing nothing in particular; it begged the question as to whether she was either broken in the head or downright senile. Moments later she flinched as two burst of blood exploded from her lower back, small sprays fizzing from her stomach in the corresponding area from bullet wounds. She toppled off the top of the flimsy tower falling to the brown dirt below.
It turned out 7 of the 12 requests had been canceled, a follow up letter sent out of courtesy with the client apologizing for their hasty withdraw and how they had chosen to go with a different company which didn't take so long to create their cars. Ash yawned at this, 'Jokes on them. It's not like I need the money,' the massive stash of cash underneath the garage spoke for itself. The Gunslinger counted under her breath and slapped each letter down from worst to best in which she'd work on first.
The kitchen looked as freakishly clean as it usually did, Ash pressed the old bottle of V between her lips and took a swig upon entrance, "I've got some pretty hefty work ahead of me, so we'll be here for a couple of days if you don't mind the 'Hermit Weekend' option," she clasped her hands, "'Course... if they Fuzz come around some time we could be here for a while. After an entry like that though I doubt it's a good idea to move around at all; there's likely one person who's been waiting to report something like that for a MiB to latch onto. Just don't panic," if anything was worthy noting ahead of time then this was it. Ash planted herself on one of the bar stools and peeled open the LV paper, "I'll be looking for a new car though. Might do that tomorrow, so you'll be stuck here with Gen-" a pause "-Worse things could happen,"
A 'whump' of a body hitting tarp resounded from the backyard. Without particularly looking Ash stood and went to open one of the sliding glass doors. There was the stunt-girl, pulling herself out of the indent she'd made in the ground padding. The Muse put her thumb and index between her lips and pierced a whistle grabbing the stunt-girl's attention. A moment shared for registry, then she screamed; Ash closed the double-paned door to cut the noise off, "Don't let her hyperactivity fool you. She's normal," she made commentary while sitting back down on her bar stool.
Pounding feet smacked against the back patio wood floor, probably enough to generate an earthquake at least, and the stark face of the stunt-girl popped into view at the window. Genevieve grabbed the handle of the door with some sort of hidden vigor, as if it was planned for a cliffhanger, making a habit of taking the smallest things and turning them epic. All it needed was Requiem for a Dream.
Almost coming off its hinges, the sliding door rattled open; Gen stood there panting in a tank top, track pants and bare feet, her hair was messed and muddied "What the hell took you so long!" her expression was a mixture of 'happy and mad to see you'. The girl growled, looking like she was going to froth at the mouth.
Ash stood up, walking over with her arms out wide; she went to embrace the enraged little imp; if it hadn't been for the sudden resistance from her it likely would have been a warm and welcome one too, "Did you just parry my hug?" the Muse raised her eye brow.
The girl refused to make eye contact, "You know I can't keep the shop going all by myself. After Zero and Ronin split... I..." she finally completed the hug Ash had set out to perform, the Muse patted the stunt-girl's back. Mixed emotions had been unearthed from Ashleigh's endeavors; Gen probably blamed herself when the fault was supposed to be on Ash, but it was clear she wanted to pass it over. The Shop wasn't just a specialist garage in the City of Sin, it was a way of life; it had generated a society where everyone knew each other, accepted individuals, and shunned the police force in their belief of what was going on in this suburb was wrong. It certainly was an automotive, street-racing, noise making society; but it was proven not to have hurt anyone. Now it was gone.
Gen poked her head over Ashleigh's shoulder, her emotion seemingly changing with the wind, observing the almost black clad Native, "The soul survivor of a metal concert followed you home," she commented, approaching the bench and looking at Thomas curiously.
"Almost," Ash joined her, "Thomas, meet Genevieve. Gen, Thom. He's helping me find Nic,"
Gen glared at the Technomonger, burning into him with eyes of pure hatred. A 'Ping' emitted from the heated up tinned food of Thomas' in the microwave, and in that same sound Gen's expression turned from hostile to hyper-happy, "Please ta meetcha!" she squeaked, extended her hand for a shake, wiggled it once and withdrew it before the human ICEbreaker had the benefit of returning the friendly gesture, "Just call me Gen, or Char, short of Charlotte. Don't mix the two though 'cause Chen is a Japanese family name which isn't very accurate, and Jar sounds what it sounds like," she paused to grin, the light of heaven spewing from her pearly whites from the once in the blue moon occasion where she has to suppress a sudden burst of hyper-activity; her eyes went wide to cap the freaky expression before normality was restored, "In before Ash tells you everything aboot me. I are stunt-girl and do stunts and stuff for movies in Las Vegas; I'm also a weapons specialist and do some time when the military rock up helping out with my exteee-" the vowel was dragged on, no particular reason involved, "-ensive knowledge on firearms," she pouted, although the grimace seemed unrelated to the subject topic, "I also like fishing!" Ash shook her head in embarrassment and turned away, not from her friend's hobby but her completely crap sense of humor, "JOKEZ, lol, sif I'd go fishing, who'd want to do something like that," and usually didn't hold the concept that the pass time could potentially be a common one among any of the residents of the room at the time.
Gen waltzed around the bar beaming with her squinty-eye-thing; a wonder she could see where she was going. She did spot something a little overly shocking though, stopping on the spot and sizing up Thomas now that he was completely in view. The stunt-girl turned to Ash, "I take it you're the reason he's still alive after all this time?" she negatively commented, looking back to Thomas' apparel and doing a funny sway on the spot, "Seriously, you should be a zombie cloths line by now. Just let me check there aren't any still dragging behind you," the girl prided herself on her survival percentage, and one of her main rules coined 'Grabbability' spoke for itself; half the reason her hair was short. She snickered, "Next you're gonna tell me he uses a spear or something to fight zombies," she laughed opening the fridge and snatching a can of Lift.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Jun 10, 2010 0:20:21 GMT -5
/./The introduction and playful-yet-serious taunting onslaught from Gen was... Interesting to say the least. She certainly was cheerful. But it seemed to melt away at a moments notice, then return to coat the last mood change effortlessly. Thomas was at a loss as to describe the girl, or really get a word off edge-wise. A bing rung out from the over-stove micro-nuker, by way of Thomas' second can of Cambell's announcing it's artificially heated perfection. As much as he loved technology, mechanics, and appreciated the finer points in science, it was safe to say he hated microwaving any form of food. It wasn't a radiation fear, as he knew microwave's properties. It wasn't a heat issue, as Ash's Shop's nuker was modern and did it's job. It was a preference. Stove-top cooked is the best, in his eyes. But today was the exception. This needed to be eaten. It was teasing him. Taunting. "You've had me all this time," it often chortled from the trunk, "But you haven't eaten a single can yet. How's that 'survival food' thing going? HARHAR" In a ceremonial Native American practice, Thomas proved the tin of food wrong by peeling it's skull back, and ate the damn thing's insides. f**ker deserves it././
"...?"
/./He popped the microwave open, grabbing the somewhat hot can. This was placed next to it's different flavored cousin, sitting for a moment. A second or two of digging in his tasset's pocket revealed a roll of duct tape. He shook it playfully in Gen././ "Utility. It's not just for good looks." /./He ripped a small strip from the roll of pink tape, teething it in anticipation. The tape was set beside the cans, which found themselves in Thomas' possession again. A pivot and few steps lead him to the sink, to which he slapped the Steak & Chili can on top of the Chicken & Dumplings can, open end to open end. With a bit of skill, he gripped both cans with one hand, holding them together at the wounds, removed the tape strip from his teeth, and proceeded to tape the cans together. Over the sink, of course, he shook the two together, as if making some expensive, girly alcoholic drink.
"And let's say, hypothetically, that I did have a spear dismantled in my IROC's backseat."
/./He shook through the sentence, before ripping the cans apart. The mix was perfect. The duct tape ripped perfectly in half. Not a drop of broth wasted. At the bottom of each can, the chunkier parts of the soup stayed, but the floating bits mixed well, leaving each meal individual yet hybrid. Before asking for, or looking for silverware, he simply took a chunky swig from the Chicken can, chewing through his continued thought././
"And let's just say that I have managed to poke a few kills, namely two of the red running f**kers with the claws."
/./He looked to Ash, a mouthful of the slurry still in cheek. She pointed at a drawer, or at least in the general direction. A spoon was fetched; alternatively, he took bites of each can, not skipping over it's twin. The pink tape remained on the ends of each can././
"Aaaaaaaaaaand let's say I've never fired a gun before. That puts me in a s***ty spot, no?"
/./He recalled the debate with Isaac, figuring the addendum to that argument valid in Nevada as well././
"Also, infinite ammo from blades."
/./Another shovelful of Chickensteakburgerchilidumpling soup found itself in the void of a naturally hypermetabolic Technomancer././
"Unless you got a nice little single-handed repeater I can use, guns are outta the question," /./A slurp of broth from the Chicken and Dumpling can interrupted him,/./ "Plus, it's not like I can go out and find one. Cop falls, some other survivor can pick it up. I have Gungnir. I'm not defenseless."
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jun 10, 2010 9:59:14 GMT -5
A yawn filled the room, Gen tried to politely note that she didn't care whether Thomas carried a spear or not; the 'utility' retort had already established he was trying too hard. The stunt-girl didn't need to counter in the argument, effectively she'd already won, 'Yehah. Pretty sh*tty,' Gen thought while flicking open the can of soft drink and proceeded to down it; when the metal head had noted the infinite ammo of his weapon was when a white mist shot out of her nose; Gen placed the can down and covered her mouth while amidst choking and laughing. She turned away from the two and fell into an uncontrollable cackle, "Oh... that's rich," wiping a tear from her eye. The man appeared to have been drawing to conclusions; Gen hadn't accused the apparel on fashion sense, nor knocked the concept of melee weaponry entirely. It seemed Thomas was victim to the blade/gun argument before and defended his opinion near religiously; the stubborn type.
Although his indirect request grabbed the girl's attention causing her to calm down. She was about to speak when Thomas continued making more excuses, "We are living in a Zombie Apocalypse..." she'd taken several steps forward and leaned in feeling surrounded by ignorance, "Try to at least consider increasing your survival capabilities in any way. Spit in the air and it'll land on some form of firearm," Gen had picked up her drink and was about to take a sip before falling back on the last sentence, "Figuratively speaking," going by Thomas' method of argument he was likely to test Gen's theory just to spite her.
The stunt-girl sculled the can to sear away the anger, growled after, crushing the can and binning it, "Now... I can solve your firearm dilemma," she smiled lightly, curious as to whether Thomas had expected her to take his question literally, "If you'd be so kind as to follow me, please," she knew this would have to change the Native's opinion in some way. It was impossible not to. The ethic behind it made far too much sense, not even excuses could stop it... plus Genevieve was a sucker to showing off her collection.
Gen had taken Thomas out the back of The Shop and across the yard, "The next warehouse over is my studio, I do a bunch of stunt stuff there; it's more like a playground for adults; but the secret underground basement area is the real cake, I store all my weapons down there and installed a firing range. It's my own private collection," she bragged and pulled the back door open moving down the stairwell. Ash was following behind although slowly and a little more interested in an application on her smart phone than anything else; Gen always took her on stupid tours showing off new equipment, nothing could be more grinding.
It almost looked like a vault; the door could probably take a ram from a Sherman tank anyway. Gen unlocked it, "Give me a sec, just gotta get the lights," she disappeared into the jet blackness of the underground armory. Seconds later ceiling fluorescent lights flicked on and bright white wall panels lit the perimetre of the room. All around them sat row upon row of displays starting from side arms and moving all the way down to heavy ballistics and sniper rifles. The quartermaster reappeared further down the back from a row; Gen prided the presentation part quite a bit, "So," she started while walking back down the length of the room, her voice traveled well from the sheer size echoing off every available wall, "I'm guessing you want something more than your typical civilian firearm? Or can I finally get rid of my Ingram doubles cluttering important space?" she asked. Gen grabbed Thom's hand and tugged him down one of the rows, speaking in a German accent, "Quick, we must find you a zuitibal weapon!"
Throat cleared, posture perfect, Gen pointed out, "Browning FNP-9. Chambers with 9 mil so there's no concern on having to find specialist ammo," she picked it off the rack and held it out to show Thomas, then pulled the slide back, "Though the option is still there for .40 caliber with a change of barrels," pistol back on hook, she ushered along.
"SIG Sauer P229. Being built mostly of plastic material makes it as light as a feather," she held it up in her hand to give an indication, "Plus the ability to easily field strip it on the fly without a kit is a bonus," the stunt-girl disassembled it in four fluid movements into five separate parts and held the barrel in plain view which had been locked in the pistol not a second ago; she reassembled it and placed it back on the rack, onto the next.
"Beretta M93R, three round burst capability..." she pointed to the muzzle, "Barrel compensator for that. Foregrip..." flicked the lever at the front down, "It's there if you find you and your spear separated to help with recoil. Plus an extended magazine for longer engagement,"
Mr. Melee was pushed around the corner, Gen upping the fire power a little more, "Now keeping with your concept of dual wielding, you're probably looking for something light but flexible at the same time," she reached for the first Sub-Machine Gun, "Fabrique Nationale P90. It's weighty and complex as hell but the fact it's still used by world military shows it can still hang out with the newer firepower... it's benefits," she started by tapping the box on the top of it, "50 round mag should keep ya going; but the main reason I picked it was because of 100 percent ambidexterity... you'd likely want to change hands more often than once in the heat of a fight," Gen nodded looking Thomas squarely in the eyes in an 'I'm right aren't I' way, then chucked it back on its display, "Moving along,"
"Going a little more modern here, Heckler and Koch MP7 PDW," she pulled the SMG down, "Ammo is a little more specialized; as far as I know a civilian model was never placed into manufacture; but what it lacks in ammo accessibility it makes up in flexibility and accuracy. There's only another 17 ounces holding this down from your average sidearm weight; plus foregrip, triple accessory rail for mods, extended mag, and sneaky stock packed in with it," Gen grabbed onto the tail and pulled it out displaying the well built shoulder support, "A piece of engineering genius,"
"Now," Gen had turned mid stride without indication, trying to be a little melodramatic about the next piece of equipment, "For the Pièce de résistance," she lifted the SMG down, "To begin... you don't tell anyone where you saw this, clear?" there was dread in her voice, dark and woeful; it made her next change in pitch and chirpiness seem unacceptable, "Good! So, the TDI Kriss Super V. Effectively, it was never manufactured, not completely. This and a number of others I have are some of the few which were processed. You could go as far as to call them prototypes; not to brag I mean. Anyway. Chambers with .45 ACP, more readily available ammunition and packs more punch than your standard 9 by 19 millimetre Parabellum. Its weight is in between the MP7 and P90 roughly," Gen pointed out another constant once more, "Top rail for mods. 28 round mag capacity. Foregrip and stock, so you've got the stability there; however the engineering behind the weapon proper is where the single handed benefit lies... in fact it was manufactured with that purpose in mind," Gen smiled, steadying herself to ready her explanation, "The recoil force axis is lined up with the firing hand minimizing muzzle climb; there's also a laterally moving weight with the bolt redirecting recoil forces towards the ground. Accuracy sky rockets and shots are grouped better," Gen placed it back up in its display, confident she'd just sold it.
"Take some time to think on what benefits you the most. Whichever firearm you go for, it's going to be your partner for life; 'There's no other gun like it'..." Gen left the Native to mull on the choices she'd provided and went to find Ash. The Gunslinger had taken the time finally clean the blood from her left Sidewinder, "Hey... I got that Winchester you ordered; retrofitted and everything; reduced stock, sawed off barrel. I noticed the blank spot on your back where your blade used to be; figured it could use a replacement. Got the scabbard and shells as well; just let me know when you'll need it,"
Busy filing away the dry blood in the cylinder Ash gave up half a second to smile for the quartermaster, "Thanks Gen... I may need it sooner than later. How about those new revolvers too?" she blew into each hole, brown specs spilling out.
"Still looking for a sister to duel wield. The first isn't Gun-Kata ready either. Give me a week and you could pair it with one of your Sidewinders, though." Gina replied, "Just thought I should let you know anyways. I'll go see if Thomas Spearman is done making up his mind," she jostled back down the rack of firearms. A brief hum was heard overhead as the ventilation kicked in, warming the room up.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Jun 11, 2010 4:55:58 GMT -5
/./Both cans of soup were long gone before the entourage reached Gen's warehouse. The empty metal carcasses were discarded in a trash can just outside. Considering the circumstances, they may never see a landfill. On the walk, Thomas stewed over Gen's attempt to turn Thomas to firearms. Sure, he needed a gun, but in all honestly, he'd never had the chance to dive into a city and harvest bodies for their goods. Most of this trip, he'd been alone, either by mistake on accident. The only gun he'd been handed was that shotgun, and not only did he lack any ammo to increase his chances of survivability, but proper training and maintenance. Above all, taking a shotgun with six spare shells and no other weapon seemed idiotic to the Native. Gungnir proved a much more efficient killing weapon than the Charles Daly. And the cherry: Thomas had no means of transporting both weapons. The shotgun was served bare, no sling or case, and Gungnir was collapsible, but the same rules applied. Moving both required Metal Wave. He wasn't able to appeal this, or any other properly grounded reasons as to his preference over, and lack of, firearms. But it occurred to Thomas very shortly before they stepped foot in Gen''s stronghold that she meant to keep Thomas alive, not only for Ash's sister's sake, but perhaps for her own benefit as well. To what end this would uncover, however, was beyond Thomas.
A sudden breeze of metal and gunoil-laced air overcame the trio with the doors opening. The darkness pierced with their hyperactive guide flicking on the lights. Between the gigantic "vault" doors did Thomas and Ash follow through. Copper eyes surveyed the massive collection, every now and again a firearm of a peculiar shape or design catching Thomas' gaze. A warm, oddly-pleasant sensation took Technomancer by surprise when he found his hand enveloped by Gen's. He could hear Metal Wave now, revving and screaming in jealousy. He wasn't used to holding a woman's hand, let alone a woman holding his. He was lead into the private collection, each weapon Gen considered for Thomas appealed in it's own way. Instead of cramming unknowing ears with specs of muzzle velocity or "field effectiveness", which truly falls upon user preference and science, the collector seemed more about selling Thomas on a firearm of his choosing. She spoke of each gun's pros and cons, instead of simply handing him the first thing they walked past. Each one looked exactly how he saw it. Gun, gun, fancy gun, P90, which in all honesty was the only one he was familiar with, having used it extensively on Army of TWO. Then the Kriss was displayed. The dramatic introduction wasn't necessary. The word Prototype flew around a few times, new technology, and exclusivity with easily accessible ammunition. It's lightweight meant single-handed firing, which Thomas was hoping for, and the word Mod beforehand sold him entirely. His matte copper hues sparkled with anticipation. So badly did he want to hold this weapon. His sidearm had found it's way to him. He wanted this gun. Well, not particularly this one, as it was in the Army Tan-ish color. Only one sentence came to mind, a la Dark Knight././
"... Does it..." /./He began, hoping an answer provided itself,././ " Uh, come in black?"
/./When Thomas finally let loose his query, he found his question falling upon no ears. Unknowingly, he'd been standing by himself for some time. Only his own words snapped him from his daze. Not knowing if Gen had given him permission to pick up the Kriss, he carefully lifted it from the little hooks suspending it, amazed at it's incredible lightness. He turned ninety degrees, facing the isle of weaponry long-ways. He held the Kriss tightly in his right hand, keeping it steady with ease. He angled his left hand forward, imaging a grip on Gungnir. He mocked movements akin to his improvisational single-handed spearfighting, only using his right hand in the mix to aim and fake-squeeze off rounds. It felt so natural, fluid. It was weighty for a single-hander, but balanced, even with the stock folding up against the side. His damage-per-second suddenly climbed tenfold. His range too. As odd as it was to hold a gun with intent to kill, Thomas felt natural with it. The KRISS Super V 16” CRB/SO .45 ACP would be Thomas' "partner for life"././
"I want this one!" /./Thomas yelled in no particular direction, waving the Kriss around lightly././
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jun 11, 2010 7:16:18 GMT -5
"I want this one!"
The lacy-maisy fru fru slid back into Thomas' field of view from seemingly nowhere and snatched the firearm from his grip, "That'll be five grand then," her checkered bright grey eyes looking up in a mischievous way, "I'm just ploayin' wicha!" she laughed placing the Kriss back in its cradle, "But that's display only. It's never had a shot fired. Follow me into the armoreh and we'll get you your own personal little devil,"
Further down the back of the display room were two doors, one leading to the firing range and the other branching off into the warehouse space. Huge support beams sat idle at strategic locations to stop the world above from caving in on the massive storage space; crates and big black boxes lined either side of the stretch with supermarket-esque signs above each major spot indicating which weapons were located where, "If you're wondering," considering most people did, "As I said, I deal with weapons for the military. I'm one of eleven arms suppliers in Las Vegas. I have all the equipment a gun enthusiast could dream of, plus the bells and whistles to go with them. This is legitimate..." she stopped abruptly and turned to the Technomonger-shortly-to-be-Warmonger, "For this day and age," keeping things clear.
"People don't complain and sic the law onto you now. Instead they just want to take what you've got, usually by force; it's why this place is kept so secret, and why I'd appreciate you didn't mention it to anyone," Genevieve crossed into one of the subsections, "And also... indirectly... why I'm giving you a firearm free of charge," silence was given to let this sink into the Amazon wanabe's head, "An MiB pack walked into town, want to control the place... and they especially want their hands on the armories they've somehow heard so much about," she opened a steely black case, "I'm going to push Ashleigh into it as well, but I think trying to wipe this scourge from Las Vegas' ass is already one of her priorities. I just want someone to have her back this time... not like when she went to Raccoon all on her own,"
Before Gen could let Thomas accept or deny her request she went onto the finer aspects of his firearm, "Okay. Now pay attention. This Kriss is an updated version from the one hanging out front. For starters, it's all black; originally proposed for S.W.A.T., and there's already pre-built mods for it so to speak such as the collapsible stock, plus the side mounts are already connected, " she pulled the Sub-Machine Gun from its case, "It's also a fraction lighter," she pointed to the rectangular gaps in the hard case's foam and then grabbed the magazines to fill them, "4 mags, no more. Or at least you shouldn't need more unless you're completely useless. To add, you do not discard the magazines once they're finished; place them back into their assigned pockets, reload them later to be reused again," this was a common mistake people made thinking once the firearm clicked dry and the mag had run out, they simply let it drop to the ground treating it like candy, "Three boxes of ammo should keep you going for quite a while; trust me when I say it's worth the taken up space, but snatch any .45 rounds you spot out in the wild if you do stumble across them,"
What had gone by completely unnoticed were the fact that the walls could be pulled out, in a manner. There were slots much like vertical draws which all of the modifications for a specific firearm hung, "Accessories for Kriss..." she started pulling them off and placing them in the black case: Sling and pins, speed loader, Foregrip battery storage module, Tac light and kit. Left outside of the case and in their own storage was the cleaning kit and mat, "What I won't do is run you through keeping Kriss mint, as much as I enjoy doing so, it'll waste both our time. Rather, when it comes around, you can teach yourself on the subject. So you'll use this..." Gen rolled out the armorers mat and nearly pressed it into Thomas' face, "SUPER IMPORTANT SCROLL OF WISDOM.... Lose this and you've lost knowledge until it becomes second nature," it was rolled up, banded and placed in a personal tube, "Finally, for added aim," Gen grabbed a HALO reflex sight and connected it to the top rail of the weapon, adding to its front and rear sights, "That'll give you even more accuracy. You will need to replace the battery once in a while, but make sure it's off when you don't need it and you'll be golden. And finally," Two black cylinders were procured, "Suppressors. They deteriorate over time so use them when you know you'll deliberately need to be silent," and fitted them into the case.
The stunt-girl slapped it all together and handed it to the Technomancer, "Ten thousands dollars passed to the palm of your hand. Treat her as you would Gungnir, or your Camaro, and she'll treat you back in kind," Gen slid the vertical draw shut and ushered out of the armory, "Firing range is through there," she noted once back in the display area, "You'll need some practice squeezes, for sure. Wait for me in there while I grab Ash,"
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Jun 13, 2010 4:03:40 GMT -5
/./Thomas nodded to every word Gen threw at him, more or less paying attention. To the more pressing matters, like the location of the storehouse and who he obtained his new baby from, he took seriously. When she noted that Raiders would be after him for holding a piece, especially one of such rarity, power, and compact size,it didn't bother him. He was hauling a stack of supplies anyone would be after: dry foods, nonperishable, fresh water, tech, and a working vehicle. With a weapon as small as the one Gen was about to hand the Technomancer, it would be easy to hide it inconspicuously. He already had an idea of where to stash it, but first, he would have to see the end result.
When Gen mentioned that she was partially giving Thomas the submachine gun to back Ash up in her multiple endeavors, the man was touched. Sure, they'd been through a lot in the past few days, and they trusted one another, but Gen's trust in Thomas over her own option to assist Ashleigh was moving. He wasn't sure what Ash had told her during their small time alone, or if anything was said at all. One would have taken the firearm in discontent, if the interpretation was taken offensively. Instead, Technowarmongermancer would graciously accept this Kriss. And, even in being given this wonderful gift as both reward and promising asset to their survival and endeavors, Thomas was already pacing his mind in ways of repaying Gen.
The black case caught Thomas' copper eyes quite well. It was a wonderful home for the Kriss, to which a name has not been considered yet. Gen began explaining it's details in non-gunslinger terms. Upon setting eyes on it, the Kriss was in matte black, non-reflective. Awesome. She demonstrated how to unlock the folding stock and it's lighter weight, how to unlock the clip, slap it back in, and prime it. On the subject, she noted that the included four magazines are to be kept on person, and not throw away, to which Thomas nodded. An old video game called Extermination taught the importance of limited mags well. In events of reloading, Thomas would pocket the empties for later. Three boxes of ammo, a hundred count each, were thrown at him as well. A slew of fun little add-ons and DLC were added to the mix, half of which Thomas didn't understand the first time around. Lights, sights, a sling apparently, and other goodies.
He was told, through a dramatic unveiling and presentation, that instructions would not be handed down through lessons, but rather a guide. An armorer's mat and kit included in this massive set of weapon extras rounded out the increase in defensive capabilities. He wouldn't have to worry about the thing jamming later down the line due to a gunked barrel. Later on, he would experiment cleaning his new baby in practice, until he was aware of all of her moving parts, just like Metal Wave. This particular weapon was fortunate: while Thomas was not gifted with natural intelligence concerning firearms, he held basic knowledge, as well as a formidable understanding of complex mechanics. She would see battle with appreciation for her science and design, as opposed to a survivor who just uses a weapon until it runs dry. This one would be comfortable next to Thomas, and he to it.
Three final additional content packs were released before Thomas was set loose with his new baby: Gen sent him along with a new sight, the HALO Reflex, and two suppressors. He took note of the deterioration of suppressors, and kept a mental reminder to count his shots with each silencer equipped, rotating them out for effectiveness. It was all packed away, and handed to Thomas. Thankfulness and excitement could not be more obvious in Thomas' expressions and body movement. The first firearm he ever held, fired, and owned... And it's a work of art././
"You'll need some practice squeezes, for sure,"
/./Thomas concurred with a nod and grin. The stuntgirl pointed at her firing gallery, and instructed Thomas to go take a few shots. Gleefully, he followed advisement. He took the case by the handle and trotted off. The already strong air of the scent of unmistakable gunpowder and the thickness of oil grew tenfold upon passing through the large heavy doors of the firing range. Simply walking in caused Thomas to feel closer to his new party member. The experience, expertise, and will to empower one's self with greater marksmanship seemed overwhelming. As if the greatest riflemen in the wold were in the booths as well, prepared to point out to Thomas all of his errors and mistakes, as well as encouraging his well-placed shots and improving grouping. Selecting a booth proved easier than holding courage to do so. In the rush of all things, he had to realize where he stood, and why. Not three days ago, he was driving into Raccoon from an abandoned military outpost, preparing to survive in an urban environment to grinding EXP out of the outskirts. He needed to learn to live in this environment. The Fire Station was supposed to be his base of operations, with the outpost as a home-away-from-home. Things changed so quickly on the way, he never had time to reflect. He'd suddenly become intertwined in something larger than himself. It was a humbling thought before firing off a .45 Mechgun.
The case set in front of him, Thomas undoes the locks, popping the sleek container wide. The first matter: loading all four mags up. It took a few minutes to get the hand of sliding the .45s in , but eventually, a pace was found. He didn't know how to work the speed loader quite yet, and he didn't need to be loaded NOW. Plus, this EXP was useful in the long run, especially if he was separated from his loader for any reason. From example by Gen, he loads the first mag into the Kriss. As a thought, he pulls his pair of Skullcandy earbuds outta his tech waist pocket, plugged into his phone, and pops each one into an ear indiscriminately. He just needs to block the pressure wave. Practicing barrel safety, he takes the sub machine and puts it's sights downrange, testing his dry aim first. To his surprise, each round he put in the target was consistent in grouping. The mechanics behind the Kriss were amazing. Even for a new shooter, it felt smooth, comfortable, and a pleasure to fire. Having it on single-round firing, he threw the first magazine into the paper target, rather pleased that all thirty rounds hit the sheet. Maybe not a bull's eye, but he was certainly a better shot than he anticipated. Now for the fun bit. With the first mag expended, he dropped it from the loading chamber and slapped a new one in. Auto-fire on. Aim. Shred. He squeezed, not pulled, the trigger... And let loose a short, yet satisfying hailstorm of .45 hallowpoints. The grouping could have been better, but the little paper man with the target on his T-Shirt was torn right apart. A smile flew across his face; a name finally picked. He patted her side././
"I'mma call you Yasminkov K."
[Gained inventory]
KRISS Super V 16” CRB/SO .45 ACP - Matte Black [Lightened]
KRISS Super V Custom Hard Case - Black
KRISS Super V Armorer's Mat
KRISS Super V CRB Custom Cleaning Kit .45 ACP
KRISS Super V Surefire E1B Kit
KRISS Super V Surefire Light Adaptor
KRISS Super V Light Receptacle Cover
KRISS Super V Grip AA/AAA Battery Storage Module
KRISS Super V Speed Loader
Side Picatinny Rail
KRISS Super V Tactical Sling/Pin Kit
KRISS Super V Glock 21 MagEx G30+ Extended [4]
Three boxes .45 ACP rounds [Hallowpoint, 100 rounds per box, 300 rounds total]
Detailed instructions on how to clean the KRISS
HALO Reflex Sight [Square]
KRISS .45 ACP Suppressor [2]
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jun 13, 2010 6:54:37 GMT -5
"Irrefutable evidence that the Kriss is engineered a little too well," Ashleigh mumbled to Genevieve as she stepped in and witnessed every round from a first timer hit its target, "I suppose it's an okay choice for a beginner,"
Gen grimaced at this, "Well it helps doesn't it? Beats the hell out of dropping a Kalash into someones hands and watching them wave it everywhere from the recoil,"
The Gunslinger shrugged at this with a smile, "I suppose. Experience beats the sh*t out of that though," she watched as Thomas reloaded and switched to full-auto, "There's a guarantee he'll search for something more challenging when he gets into it more,"
Relevance existed in Ash's claim; Gen even nodded at it. They had both been using firearms long enough to actually become bored from the gunplay, and genuinely sought out difficulties on purpose so that their performance was based on their skill rather than the engineering. Although, being the firearm enthusiast Gen were, she still preferred the concept of engineering being a pinnacle point of winning a fight.
The stunt-girl took a step forwards once Thomas had finished off his second round, "Lean into your shots more and don't leave your shoulder tense," she stood as if holding an imaginary firearm in her hands, "Try to keep both eyes open as well. As much as it may seem ethical to keep one closed," she took a step back, "You're doin' good though; I'll get you on some moving targets later. Don't worry aboot ammo either,"
The Muse was found with her arms crossed, lightly beating the back of her head against the pale concrete wall; it was obvious she was bored. Figuring she could fix this easily, Gen exited to grab her new Winchester. Ash took this to advantage a little differently. Now that the nagging sound of her hyperactive friend had left the room, all that resonated from the walls were the music of gun shots; sending the Gunslinger into her zone.
Quick Draws in the 21st century still existed, but in a slightly different fashion. Ash had been held at gunpoint more than once, to counter this she practiced her quick draw. On the contrary of holding your hands on level with your head once ordered to 'Stick'em Up', Ash kept them at waist level facing outwards; realistically this was more than enough to satisfy the bandit and the Muse was yet to encounter anyone smarter. Then, in a flick of the wrists, the Sidewinders popped out; remaining at waist level. After that it bore down to how well you predicted the shot in hand eye coordination.
Two 'PAP' sounds reported from the booth next to Thomas. Downwind at 40 metres two holes remained at the frontal lobe of the corresponding target. The Sidewinders were holstered, their owner satisfied.
The armory's quartermaster had returned soon after the quick draw; a neatly wrapped package in her arms, "Here's you're new baby," she chimed with an n.n expression and handed the weapon to Ashleigh, "The gun that won the war," pulling the small tarp off of it and revealing the Winchester in its scabbard.
The Gunslinger stood there for a moment, her eyes closed and breathing deep feeling the weight of the death stick. The scabbard tied over her shoulder and around her chest, testing how far Ash had to reach in order to procure it from its envelope. She primed herself, then performed a spur of the moment quick draw at the target down wind and squeezed a shot. A hole bit through the chest; as accurate a representation without the gore.
"Clean. Just like the doctor prescribed," She holstered it, "Don't 'spose you have the GK set prepped?" she turned and asked Gen.
The sugar addict practically sulked at this, "I was saving it for myself come tomorrow morning... but I suppose," she walked down the row of booths stepping into a maintenance box and flicking a few switches.
It was here that the true depth of the firing range was realized. Sure, the display room was f*cking amazing, and the sheer size of the armory was another tourists snap shot point; but how the range branched off into another room to the right of the entrance and went deeper brought funny conclusions as to whether it continued to the centre of the earth or not; another door at the other side of the room vindicated this. From the main firing range were observation windows looking down on the sunken room.
This was different from the booths though; a large white box was the best description. The only thing stopping it from being an oversize straight jacket chamber were the slots all over the floor and red X at the centre of the room. This 'X' Ashleigh occupied.
"No more than 7 targets will pop up at a time, running on how many rounds are in the Winchester," Gen called over the loud speaker, "I'll grant you three spars. You have no idea how hard it is to set those targets up," the stunt-girl groaned before engaging the course. A loud buzzer piercing the air.
Ash took on no particular stance for holding a shotgun in Gun Kata, in comparative to dual wielding sidearms. Rather she simply kept her right hand holding the grip and stood casually. Controlled breathing.
Seven life sized, green glass targets popped up at random locations all around the Gunslinger. Effectively from an observers point of view their attention would have been drawn to these targets and away from Ash; in that same frame of time one of the targets had shattered, the Muse having already drawn and fired once. The Winchester seemed to make revolutions around Ashleigh's body, using the lever action to help gain momentum; shots were fired backwards from her hip, over her shoulder, underarm. Four seconds later, nothing but shattered glass covered the floor.
Note made as to how Ash hadn't utilized the iron sights once; which further directed attention at how the Winchester had little to no sights at all. Only a single notch at the muzzle; the rest was left to prediction.
Without bothering to observe as whether her targets were all downed or not the Gunslinger started feeding slugs into the shotgun. Once the loading was complete she shouted, "Pull!" and another 7 targets popped up.
Gen watched morbidly as the glass targets she'd taken so long to painstakingly set up for herself were destroyed. Not just that, but Ash would probably leave the clean up to her as well, "Such is life," the stunt-girl slurred from her mouth half pressed into her leaning hand.
Ash completed her last spar, sheathing her Winchester, 'Kinda makes me wish I ran into people who trained with this stuff. It'd make fighting a little bit more challenging and a lot more interesting,' she mused as her boots crunched over the glittering shards, "Thanks," she reported to the unhappy girl leaning against the exit, "I needed a grasp on it. It's been a while since I've used anything than my Sidewinders in discipline,"
A cursory glance at the firing range's clock, "Shall we get to el fixing uppo el Metal Wavo?" Ash asked Thomas. She was keen to get a Camaro into the Gyro-CAD and this distraction was welcome enough to pass time, so the recommendation went up.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Jun 13, 2010 21:29:03 GMT -5
/./Skeptical eyes lay upon Thomas, as if the gravity in the room suddenly increased a few planetary masses. It wasn't so much the issue of lack of confidence, but more of a shyness due to highly advanced technology keeping rounds on target. Sure, if he had been handed something older and a little less assisted, he'd be having a hard time staying on target. But this firearm is going to save his life one day, and the assistance was greatly appreciated. Nothin' like modern science to bolster one's life expectancy. He wasn't a terrible shot, but he sure wasn't gonna win a regional sharpshooter contest anytime soon. Each time he squeezed the trigger, his adrenaline spiked, causing his hands and body to shake and sway. The time between shots fired became rapidly shorter, and the distance between the hole he put downrange and the one following grew wider. This story was more exaggerated during full auto, with the hollow-points simply carving through the target with little effort or skill. He was fortunate that almost every round expended hit it's intended target, even if the hole happened to be just off the edge of the target sheet. Six or eight missed entirely.
Range clear. The magazine unlocked, sliding out and away from his new Kriss. This moment of silence was the perfect time for Gen to interact with Thomas, handing down years of experience through a few short sentences. Shoulders less tense. Lean harder into the shot. Those made sense, being physics-related. Leaving both eyes open seemed more... Difficult. It was hard enough keeping either eye open during fire, what with the physical pressure exerted from Yasminkov K still shocked Thomas to force his eyes closed. Not during fire, but certainly a split second after. It was a surprise. He'd expected Ash to chime in with her own two cents, but she seemed to prefer to stay out of it.
With a fresh mag loaded in, replacing the empty from earlier, Thomas threw back to single fire, and popped the whole set into the targets. Trying to take Gen's advice wasn't as easy as he thought, but it certainly helped. The holes he punched through this time around were knitted tighter than before, but at a slower pace. He proceeded his emulation, unclipping the third mag and sliding in the forth. Before he began, Thomas took a small cooldown, allowing the adrenaline to filter itself out of his system at least a small bit before continuing. He set The last mag went in like the ones before it, not necessarily the greatest shooting from a rookie, but it was better than he could have hoped for. With each magazine emptied properly, Thomas went about packing the four mags away, and the Kriss to follow. It wasn't five seconds after he had taken the case by it's handle, stripping his ears of their protection with his other hand, when Ash's familiar voice chirped up behind him. A notion was made concerning his first love, and the repairs she needed. He hadn't forgotten about Metal Wave, but this distraction with the Kriss knocked him off-track. A nod in approval forecame his verbal response././
"Hell yes. That poor girl needs the work."
/./Enough shooting for today. Yasminkov would sleep through the surgery of her older sister. After a small debrief by Gen, emphasizing again the importance of never disclosing the location of this weapons stash, the trio exited the warehouse, Gen following after by a few minutes to properly lock the place down. A trot and small cleanup from lunch later, and Thomas set to work. He began once more cleaning Metal Wave out, front to back, stacked nice and neat off to the side of the bay Metal Wave occupied. The oil-resistant coating over the concrete floor provided excellent grounding, so Thomas didn't mind setting his pilfered electronics from Sisco directly on the floor. Ash, if she didn't already assume, would have quirked a brow to this, as she knew all of that wasn't in his Camaro at the fire station. Did he abscond with it all for personal use, to help find Nicole, or did he simply want it...?
Everything was eventually pulled out, down to the last bit of refuse and paper. Glovebox emptied, even the unused ashtray. She was cleaned out, causing all of her problems to make themselves very apparent, very quickly. A conclusion was drawn unanimously by the trio that when they hit the ramp like they did, the force crushed the passenger-side exhaust against the frame sideways, which caused an ungodly rattle moving. The frame was a risk as well, having taken a direct hit. Without even lifting her off of the ground, Thomas and Ash discussed the issue pertaining to the f**ked tie-rods on the passenger-front tire, and methods to fix it. It was during this time that Thomas took advantage of the lull in work, stripping himself of all of his equipment, only ever keeping on the muscle shirt beneath his hoodie on, and the pants he rode in wearing. He even removed his shoes. He had begun to tie his hair back into a tight braid when Ash and Gen had an exchanging of words shortly after the word "Modify" came into play, the two bickering over the best parts to use. Lots of names flew around the shop: APEX'i, Brembo, AEM, LEDA... To which two manufacturers were finally agreed upon, the pair only consulting Thomas for his opinion. They presented a Tien kit, which would fully overhaul Thomas' suspension front to back. New sway bars, tie rods, adjustable dampeners, strut towers... Everything that touched the IROC's rim would be replaced, right up to the drivetrain. The same was for the second kit, but moreso. They offered their own metalwork, a complete kit of brand new parts, made lovingly by The Shop. The only catch would be that it would be more difficult to install, due to being custom-made to tailor to any vehicle, from a Dodge Neon R/T, all the way up to a 'Cedes Benz SLR. The kit was, upon explanation, able to adjust to any drivetrain: FWD, RWD, or AWD, and anywhere inbetween. This sparked yet another curiosity.
While Ash and Gen began to go over the other problems with Metal Wave, specifically her busted lights, and whether replacements would be cheaper than simply stamping new ones out of sheet steel and glass, Thomas disappeared for a moment, the phrase "All Wheel Drive" circulating in his head. On the oil-resistant treated floor of the shop, Thomas opened his Asus, and began a program he torrented some time ago. It was a 3D imaging program, allowing one to laser-scan or custom-build a pixelated representation of an object, forming it however they pleased. It was on this program Thomas had a dream. With the right mods, and by pulling the entire body out by five inches on each side, it was entirely possible to slam an All-Wheel Drivetrain under the IROC-Z. It was work Thomas was willing to do. If the other two were on board, Thomas' dreams suddenly began to spin. He'd already TT-Readied the 350 TPi, the rear disc brakes could stand to be a lot bigger and stronger, and other smaller mods were flying around in that long-haired head of his. He hocked the ideas to Ash and Gen, hoping that the parts were in stock, or at least able to be fabricated. He had skill with metal stampers and welding. If need be, he could slap everything on by himself. He made his appeal, setting the Eee-PC on the hood for all to see, the 3D imager and the list of parts required and mods, in importance from dire to luxury././
"If , uh, we're going all-out, this is how I want it."
/./He was meek concerning his part selection. These weren't parts selected from a racing game, or the parts shown on Fast And Furious. They were selected for resilience. Defense. Strength over all. Torque came next, followed by handling, then power last. Power, he had. This wasn't up for debate. What was, however, the part list. It followed:
- The Shop suspension kit, including new tie-rods, dampeners, struts, sway bars, and all the goodies to keep Metal Wave on the road. - Brembo front and rear carbon ceramic cross-drilled 370mm disc brakes, six-piston twin-calipers [Silver] - Flowmaster headers & collectors, V8 configuration, high-flow model, 2.6" to 3.5" funnel system, twin rectangular 4" diameter pipes leading all the way back [Unmuffled, untipped, as usual] - Heat-treat and wrap headers, up to the collector - New ceramic motor head gaskets, sealed with silicon, replace all gaskets with same [If possible, motorheads are most important] - Install Optimal Automatic Engine Control Unit, with customizable parameters for altitude [Just the box, Thomas will program the settings] - New timing valves, from The Shop, along with new short-throw camshafts and new ETU [Electronic Timing Unit] - Replace vacuum pumps, alternator, and starter with lightweight aftermarket copies [More powerful of all three would be vunderfal] - Replace coolant pump - Lighten wiper motor, wiper pulley system - Install Singularity reservoir cluster [Hot and Cold fluids, symmetrical] - Address bodywork issues, streamline non-essential gaps, lightened and reinforce firewall - If able, extend body front to back, side-to-side for carbon-fiber Widebody [Optional] - If above is applied, fit AWD system [Plz? ^-^] [Optional] - If above yadda ya, install Symmetrical Drivetrain Electronic Control Unit, update for Drivetrain selection [Optional] -Replace/remove existing body filler, replace with lightweight foam [Where necessary, Optional] - New Radiator, break sidewalls out to fit two new electric fans for cooling side of motor, exhaust [Optional] - Bump air intake, install Cool Air Intake [If possible, TAI [[Twin-Air Intake]], symmetrical air flow distribution unit [Optiona;] - Install new high-flow Intake filters, three-stage woven microfiber [Optional] - Install HKS High-Velocity Intercooler, couple to intake, install cooling jets {Optional] - Install operational cooling vents behind motor, within sidewalls of front body panels [Fanned, if possible, Optional] - Install twin 5,000 watt amps in trunk, two 1,000 watt amps in cockpit [To allow for stronger electrical charges][Optional] - Install new full-function wiring harness, front to back [Optional] - Re-polish motor, install new piston and compression rings, lighten piston heads [Optional] - Hemi out the cylinder heads, modify block and heads to accept quad-porting [Optional] - If above is applied, bore out cylinder another .05" [Optional] - Install new E3 Diamond-Fire spark plugs [Optional] - Rebuild transmission from a five-speed to a seven, including Clutchmasters Cm Pressure Plate, Billet-flywheel [Optional] - Install new Clutchmasters 850 Series “Street and Race” clutch [TD6.5, 1 sprung ceramic disc, and 1 fiber tough rigid disc [Optional] - Apply Squire TT kit [Twin-Turbo] for the TT-ready 350 TPi [TOTALLY OPTIONAL] - Replace all glass for semi-reflective tint Plexiglas [Optional] - Remove power windows, trunk hydraulics, other useless components [Optional] - If all of the above are installed, consider a Sneaky Pete [Zen wet-jet N20 system, 10 .lbs bottle, direct injection]
This list was indeed extensive. But Ash said her shop was all about making the best cars. If Thomas had his way, Metal Wave would be the greatest Muscle-class to ever roll out of The Shop. The 3D imager showed, when scrolled over on the list, the placement of each part on the virtual Metal Wave. Where the wiring would lead, the exact mounting of the intercooler, all of it. It was a project Thomas was working on for years, hoping to find the perfect place, the perfect tools, and the perfect crew to help him put her all together. All of these parameters have been met. But he could only hope the two ladies of The Shop would be willing to help. Or at least cough up some parts. Or advice. Or both././[/i][/b]
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jun 14, 2010 0:29:39 GMT -5
The three headed back out of Genevieve's armory, giving the little hyped up squirrel several minutes to lock the place down and apply the proper numbered codes. The vault was locked, its huge menacing face staring into oblivion; much where it was prepared to go if any intruders broke in. Ashleigh stepped out into the gentle patter of rain; the sky had gone grey, "Mmm... Perfect working weather. I think Murphy might give us a break for once," she looked to Gen who pulled a smile of agreement on briefly. It was an inside joke; typically speaking they both blame Murphey's Law when things went to absolute crap in the middle of a job. Usually capitalizing the hatred by shouting 'F*ck off Murphey!' while wiping the blood and sweat from their brow. Back in the kitchen. Thomas vocalized how he had to get everything out of Metal Wave before the repairs started up; Ash acknowledged this with a simple "Alrighty," while Gen saluted and worked on generating two cups of coffee for the both of them. Ash took the Winchester from its scabbard and rested it on the bench. A fleeting whistle shot down the hall, a readily indicator that the Technomonger was done. Then the discussion commenced. For Gen time usually stood still with this; she didn't harbor as much knowledge or experience with automotive topics as Ash did, although she studied enough just to keep up. Effectively repairs were mostly on the menu until somehow they all began speaking the word 'modification' and the concept of repairing Metal Wave skewed off into an sleep inducing tangent of modifying her to make her better. Faster. Stronger. Ash crossed her arms, 'I do hope you don't mind me working under your skirt while all this goes ahead,' the fear that the hydraulic would just give way on top of her, or that the IROC would simply explode in hatred. Thomas had taken modifications a step further, showing specifically how he wanted Metal Wave to become with a 3D render of the Camaro on his laptop. Genevieve leaned in with a childish grin, "Oh cool!" she started fiddling with the model, flicking through layers and switching textures to wire frame and back. Having a visual representation increased her comprehension on the topic; sort of like unforced conditioning. "Well this helps," Ash stated while looking down on the list, "It's a good thing we ask people to take our shop for granted," she grabbed the Asus and cradled it off to a door at the far end of the garage, "Thankfully they only know the half of it..." her hand rested on the door knob, "Seems like you'll be seeing the full story though. Bring MW round to the warehouse next door, this 3D render'll help out a bunch,"And help out it would. Effectively Thomas had pre-built a running schematic they could work on saving the half hour scan of the Camaro to upload to 'Violet'. Inside the new warehouse showed intense scale; something akin to how it appears small on the outside and ethereally large on the inside. Ashleigh opened the shutter for Thomas to wheel Metal Wave in and went to boot up Violet. Through the booting process made the lights in the warehouse turn on. Huge globes hanging from the slightly inclined roof assassinating any shadow which was considered a potential threat to the continuity of the operation. It was then that the Gyro-CAD was displayed. A huge gyroscope sat in the middle of the room, probably comparable to the Star Gate; yet there were six specific rings, and further on the outside of the main body were mechanical arms all poised at their standby position. Covering the rest of the warehouse were shelves upon shelves of shelves and shelves with all of the stocked parts. Hidden down the back of room were the sheet metal stations, or where the specific pieces of the shell of cars were rammed into shape and then transported on a rail to the gyroscope. A single ramp lead up into the centre of the gyro: this was where the car went. "Proudly presenting, the Gyro-CAD!" Genevieve ruined the moment. Violet had finally booted up; the desktop in clear display. Ash waited for Thom to roll Metal Wave in and kill the power, "Another gem of The Shop. As cool as it looks it's actually outdated by a year, believe it or not," the Asus was sat next to Violet's terminal, from the back a USB cable was pulled out and clicked into the lappy, the 3D renderings and information passing through along with the list of repairs and modifications Thomas had requested, "It's a PC aided design mechanism, that much obvious. The cool thing about it, though, is the ability to repair and modify civvie vehicles," the rendering was exploded onto the terminal's screen, a much higher resolution and anti-aliasing on display; it also seemed touch based, Ash quickly showing this off by rotating the image with her fingers, "We create all of our custom cars here, going on user requests. It's automated in the broader aspects but the ability for manual is there as well, for when you just need to use your fingers," she pointed to the sunken area of the gyroscope were a person could sit snugly while working on the vehicle. Thomas' request list was queued, "You can use Violet..." Ash pointed to the screen, "The program, to aid in precision," she moved out of the way, "Roll MW on up so we can get this started," once the gangway was cleared the ramp was removed leaving the Camaro in the centre of the scope, rubber rods were pushed from the outer circle inside and guarded the IROC top of bottom, going taught, "How much do you think we'll need from the tethers?" Ash asked Gen who had gone to accompany her. The stunt-girl leaned over and adjusted the dial on the screen, "Going on the weight I'd put it about there. Give or take a fraction but it wouldn't affect anything,"Thomas joined them too, Ash guessed he was curious as to how they'd incinerate the Chevy precisely. The Muse pointed to the queued up list, "I'ma put up some Falken ZR 187 Radials," the tire section of the render flashed, "What you've got on MW already can't handle anything over 155 miles per hour," she zoomed in on the extracted model wheels and changed them, "Plus the added thickness'll let them flex while drifting or cornering under speed," she rounded up the wire frame and inserted it back into the full model. The exhausts then flashed once, zooming in, "I spotted the untipped pipe; we'll get Reverse Exhaust Dumpers on that. Should keep the noise down and not pull every walking carrion in our direction while traveling down a highway," the image zoomed out and Ashleigh hit the big, red 'engage' button. The arms to the side began to move, rails running off to grab required components. "Violet is really easy to use," Gen spoke, "In fact the program is very much the same as what's on your Asus, so there shouldn't be a learning curve... auh---" the stunt-girl started herself, "I mean... I'm guessing you'd want to work on your own car," she laughed nervously while scratching the back of her head, knowing well that Ash usually took the reins. The Gunslinger had shown an expression of discontent but lifted her hands from the console and stepped back, "You can pause the process at any time if you want to get on in and do things manually; the arms are loose so you can aid them in movement and such. To cap it all off you can give her a sleek new paint job too," she smiled. The rest had been left up to the Technomotivemancermonger, who probably knew a lot more on what he was doing than Genevieve imagined, "Tool kit's over there as well," Ash pointed off to the side, "This is a working environment so I aim to keep the place clean, you'll find whatever you're looking for in their assigned draws,"Looking back out the shutter of the warehouse showed the rain had picked up a little more. The Gunslinger stepped outside and looked towards the sky, biting her lip. The working weather was gradually turning to worrisome weather, "What do you have planned today," she mumbled under her breath.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Jun 15, 2010 7:24:27 GMT -5
/./Technology is amazing. Simply amazing.
Carting Metal Wave into the warehouse had turned into somewhat of an ordeal. She refused to turn over. Ash and Gen had skipped off to the modhouse too quickly for Thomas to get his Camaro running; he figured it was a breathing issue. Her air filter either was blood-laced and made breathing hard for the old girl, or he had a backpressure issue due to the crushed exhaust. When he welded her breath-out, he welded it right. There was no compromise. No leaks, no spray, no holes. His baby breathed right. And thanks to his selection of circular pipes, the force of the lift crushing the pipe into the frame simply pushed it against itself. Looking back now, Thomas regrets not having wrapped the pipes too, as it may have combated some of the heat generated. The heat killed her, it would seem; when he started her up back on the Galaxy, her pipes got too hot and kinda sealed together. The only solution: shave it off before the seal. It was a sacrifice, but he was getting new pipes as it was. As the situation stands, giving up four feet of dead, bent pipe was worth rolling her the couple hundred feet to the new warehouse. Because they were still somewhat hot, hacking through the pipe with a Sawzall wasn't too much trouble. Eight seconds of BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. And gone.
She started right up after shedding the pipe. Metal Wave thundered out of the soon-to-feel-rather-small modbay, pulling out just in time to see Gen trail in behind Ash to the new warehouse. Five seconds of small bursts in first and seconds quickly got Thomas and his hurting IROC-Z into the still-shiny modstation. And this one was a doozy. Thomas had heard of Gyro-CADs before, but the specs online looked too ludicrous and "space-age-y"to be real. Someone threw these together, apparently, and Ash had one. It was quite the site to behold. More so, the rails surrounding the sphere, mechanical arms hanging all over the place, ever ready to assist a client with their most intimate vehicular desires. One would assume that most people who walk in ask for stereo systems and chrome rims. No need here. Keep it all. Thomas wanted performance. And, apparently, he would get it. Much faster than he had anticipated, at that. He was expecting two weeks of work, maybe more if the TT gave them trouble. But this thing... They would be done before the sun set, at full speed. That was with Thomas half-assing the electronics, and foreseeing issues with part compatibility. Which didn't seem likely.
The gyroscopic lift accepted Metal Wave's full curb weight perfectly. Weight-bearing clamps capped her in crucial areas, keeping her stable throughout movement without impeding work. The design proved useful: if a part, say a sub-frame or body panel needed removing, the arms would simply hold it differently to allow access. It was ingenious. Everything was automatic upon docking. The doors could even be opened for interior service while in motion. This would be advantageous for Thomas, considering his desire of working electrical while in the Gyro. The experience would be amazing, to say the least. Less known about Thomas was his dream of working on cars in a 360° environment. The idea of hanging and moving in suspended space while improving a machine just seemed... Well, it was just something that had to be done. Thomas joined Ash and Gen at the workstation away from the CAD, while they glamored over the "outdated" marvel. The finer points were explained concerning it's technology, it's functions, and it's limitations. The enormous touch-screen display was a fun little tool, considering one would have road-dust and grease on one's hands during maintenance, or should, at least. Seconds after Ash jacked Thomas' ASUS into the desktop, a silenced text hit his phone, vibrating it wildly, and in a certain pulse. For a fraction of a second, with eyes turned away, Thomas slid his phone open, canceled a function, and popped his phone back in his pocket. None were wiser.
Ash made notion of higher-resilience tires, specifically a new set of Radial ZR by Falken. It was surprising that this shop would hold anything with that kind of power, tires like that are usually special order. They would handle the excessive and constant speed of an AWD Titan like this Camaro was about to be. However, the suggestion of the Anti-Thomas-esque Reverse Exhaust Dumpers, more commonly known as Car Chokers, irked Thomas and Metal Wave alike. Yes, every car needed a muffler. Every car, but THAT one. Metal Wave hated being shushed. She was more than infamous for failing or refusing to move when equipped with any form of muffler. She enjoyed breathing free. Speaking aloud. Blowing the lightweight, plastic windows of tuners both domestic and import out. Just the thought of having REDs attached to her nearly made her develop a case of the Tranny s***s. Later, Thomas would comfort his love by vowing to only ever utilize the disgusting dumpers when in dire needs. When stealth was a necessity. A small pick-me-up for the hurting IROC-Z came by in mention by the ever-seething Muse, probably not too happy to see the Camaro up on her finest machine. New paint? Hell yes. Hell yes indeed, precious.
The pair of shop owners continued on about their Violet system, commending it for being able to halt actions mid-command, and/or assist the automated process to a manual extent. Whatever needs. Again, a wonderful system. He was given a general direction to the tools, and set about his merry way. Kid couldn't be happier. The first order of business was simple: with the ASUS still jacked into the desktop terminal, he reorganized the list of items-to-do command listing for each, and timing. A few other modifications to the process were initiated, hopefully to Ash's ignorance. She probably wouldn't have allowed Thomas to screw with the user settings on their side, but Thomas did anyway. [He saved the old settings, of course.] A full diagnostic of Metal Wave was presented, in both Before and After incarnations. Startling Thomas was a fun little option: [Inventory Replacement]. A small overview of this option showed the Technomancer an oddity: The CAD had the ability to, at will, exchange every hex bolt with lighter, more resilient bolts. Even better, these bolts to replace the old ones came in a lovely option: Pentagonal. Delving even further into the settings, Thomas found a Laser Etching option for the bolts. The heads, of course. The price for this option must have been immense. Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut.... Nobody was looking. >.> Thomas uploaded a simple design into the etching department, which automatically starting whipping out all sizes of Pentagonal bolts, all with Pentacles etched right in. Mother of all, Technology is awesome.
More options came into play, but Thomas controlled himself to some kind of extent. He fiddled with options and the like while Metal Wave's bodypanels were stripped away and taken out back, never to be seen again. Ash's shop had new numbers-matching bodypanels for an '87 IROC-Z, T-Top. The widebody replacing it was made of Carbon Fiber, which was endlessly lighter and stronger than the old aluminum plates. The Pentacle bolts were being prepped in time for replacing all of the parts. In the meantime, Thomas pulled a fast one while eyes were again diverted: he ejected a Decoy, a wireless USB transponder from his ASUS, and replaced the cable jacked into his laptop. With that, he swept his sweetie up from the workbench, and mounted his Camaro. Time to go to work.
[Metal Wave work music: Refractor, by Circle Of Dust. Bloodlines, by Dethklok. The Art Of Shredding, by Pantera. And Through The Looking Glass, by Symphony X.]
The mechanical arms already performed a good deal of their duties. They dropped the new wiring harness on Metal Wave's dashboard, the entire car tilting forward more and more with each second. Before the degree became too much, Thomas slid in and buckled up. Everything else continued. The interior was slowly stripped away from the trunk outward, every piece being organized automatically for ease of reassembly. At a later date, Thomas might ask The Shop for matching interior to her ex, For now, it just needed stripping and cleaning. The CAD was amazingly fast at the duties it needed to be, and slow where Thomas wanted it. Specifically, it was hastened for stripping the interior all around him. This new wiring harness was a good fifteen pounds lighter, and compatible with the electrical components Thomas had planned and outlined in the specs. More to the point, the thicker cables bundled tighter than the old ones, leaving less space to be taken up for optional parts. Best of all, this new harness was easily compatible with the new amps coming in. Thomas busied himself while the buzz of industry hummed all around. Usually, this lovely soundtrack would be overridden with some form of Metal, but in this case, Thomas adored the sounds emanating from the CAD. Music to his ears.
Clockwork. The suspension qued up. The entire gyroscopic tilted Metal Wave back, starting from the front back. Parts flew all over, an entirely new suspension system laying under her pretty frame. The machine took it upon itself to install the motor upgrades at the same time, fulfilling the entire que without asking. A bit jumpy for an automated system... Then again, it was supposed to be the most efficient mechanic the world had ever seen. And indeed it was. Thomas qued up a new dashboard assembly, steering column, and steering wheel, only taking a few minutes of his time to do, and before the parts had even arrived, Metal Wave's 350 TPi suddenly became a 32-valve TDOHC Twin-Turbo Bored 350 TPi. How beautiful. It took a great deal of strength not to fire up his love then and there. The machine did more than this. Violet had taken it upon herself once more to replace her fuel rail with a carbon rail, new fuel pump, fuel filter, and lighterweight, higher capacity 35-gallon multiple-stage fuel cell with a full five gallon reserve tank to boot. It was taking liberties, but it was worth it.
Everything else continued on time, at Thomas' speed and approval. As much as he loved the idea of modding the everliving f**k out of his Camaro, he did want her to remain as much of the Camaro as she once was. She still had the beating heart of the 350 TPi up front, her original IROC-Z alloys, and a few other parts. Most everything else was replaced, or touched up in some way. Mid-way through the process, a que beeped Thomas to attention from his electrical work. It was preparing the new lighting system, replacing the rear sectional lights and headlights. An [Options] menu dropped. Progress halted then and there. The menu scrolled out, showing a number of effects. Flashing lights, timed turn signals... But appealing most of all were the colored head and tail-light option. The former was legal in SOME states. The latter, not so much. Especially the idea Thomas had. He had Violet replace the rear brake lights with blue-tinted LED sectionals, square like the original lights were, covered by blue-tinted glass. It looked amazing on screen. He could only imagine the glory of driving behind her and seeing the blue lights going off. As a finale, he had Violet wire the hazards to not flash the turn signals, but the outer-most middle LEDs. He loved racing with his hazards on. Didn't know why, but he did. While this was happening, some kind of hell was bumping Metal Wave underneath. Before he could find a que or diagnose what she was doing, the Gyro-CAD was done, secretly lol'ing away. The hell was that...?
Thomas and Metal Wave were on that thing for only half an hour or so before all of the tilting and rolling of the Gyro started to bring that Chickencheeseburgerdumpling soup up for a second round. He powered through a few more minutes to finish grounding the harness and fixing the power adapter into place under the dash before evacuating. Overlooking the work that had progressed... Metal Wave looked amazing. The carbon fiber bodykit that was pressed just an hour ago gleamed alongside her factory Dark Blue paint. As all aesthetic items were taken off of the list, Thomas had qued Violet, on her own time, to hit Metal Wave with a sand-blast, white metallic primers, and zap her with his favorite color, and dream paint for his beloved: Arctic Blue with High Velocity Silver accents and stripes. He even had her stamp out the IROC-Z decals in Carbon Fiber, making them pop off of the body. It was gonna be sick.
He simply sat from afar, ASUS in hand, watching the wondrous Gyro-CAD multi-task in ways he never imagined. Metal Wave as in good hands././
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jun 15, 2010 11:49:24 GMT -5
Notably enough, Thomas seemed to jump into his own world once Gen had finished explaining the simplicities of Violet; there was little reason for the girls to remain there any longer. Ash returned to the garage while the stunt-girl disappeared among the labyrinth of shelves getting to work on listing requirements all while the music blared through the warehouse; Thomas would have been grateful he hadn't played anything less, but it was obvious to her that the guy wasn't into classical.
Soft hums bounced off the garage walls as Ash keyed in a number to her smart phone. She knew what time it was, and to hold the phone away from her ear as the person on the other end picked up and shouted in a hostile, Asian voice, "WHAT F*CK YOU WANT!? AD SAY NO CALL AFTAR TWELVE FIFTEEEEEN! FAAAAAAAA-!" ironically had anyone else rung there would have been negative assumptions as to whether they'd called the wrong number and contacted a male prostitute society. Ash simply dropped her arm and let the man vent, rubbing her eye.
"Cheng," she spoke once only angry sobs could be heard, "Calm down, it's Ash," votes state that only 11% of people on earth read small text and what times to call a business, etc. After the second outbreak, carriers killed off the last of that 11%. Cheng was a big time dealer back in 1998; effectively he still is, only actively making it more lucrative in slightly unsavory ways. One method in particular revolves around the procurement of cars from deserted showrooms in zombie land; or more so hot off the press which hadn't even been shipped to said show rooms. This was the man Ash looked to when wanting a new tuner.
"Oh," the lack of pure angst in the Asians voice made it sound as if a completely different person had taken the handset, "Well why f*ck you don't say in first place?" the rustling of paper suggested he'd flung documents around during his tantrum, "I didn't know you were back in town. How tha Shop?"
"It's fine. Look. I need a new car--"
"Yoo-a-hot outta luck there," Cheng was quick to respond, "Awl my tunas were jacked a week ago," Ash cringed at this, hand ready to crunch the phone into millions of pieces; she breathed deep, recovered, "Far as I know, all the cars are in Pig Pens, if you feel up to grabbing one. I can sendyoo tha junk leest to look at, know what I had," her phone already pinged to indicated she'd received the image pack.
Feeling as if under a spell of the Rhododendron Ponticum; Ash couldn't particularly complain after the second half of Cheng's explanation. Snatching a car from a confiscation yard was far more bearable than having to listen to that Asian ramble on about utter crap in his accent while trying to decide on what her next partner would be, "Thanks," she mumbled idly before quickly ending the call. The lack of the man meant grabbing her next racer would be free of charge as well... unless she caught a bullet in the process. Anywhere other than the head or sweet spot would make it worth it though.
Three tough raps against the closest shutter of the garage rang out loud. Ash stiffened; they didn't get visitors, not after removing reception and making requests purely come in via mail. The slender Gunslinger looked over to the proper garage entrance. A fact of it not being used sticking out like a sore thumb; she wouldn't be able to see who was knocking through the spy-hole.
Ash turned around as another three raps banged against the metal. She speed dialed Gen, who still clambered about down the back of the warehouse. A quick pickup, "What the hell could you possibly need to call me for in such a short distance?" the girl shouted, music in sync with what penetrated the garages Northern wall could be heard perfectly.
"Open the security detail on one of the monitors, quick,"
Gen huffed down to one of the CAM computers down the back minimizing the work in progress and loading up the security cameras poised around The Shop, "There's a police cruiser out front and a couple'a cops... I got nothing else," she slapped the phone shut knowing well what this could possibly be.
Hair on the back of Ashleigh's neck stood up. They'd enter by force if they had to wait any longer. The Muse backed off and opened the shutter remotely, shiny boots glared first followed by starched out uniforms, King shades and clean cut hair; topping it off, one of the officers were even chewing gum. The outfit stank of inconsistency, "Can I help you with anything?" Ash spoke sharp and brief, calm even though every nerve in her body wanted to reach for the revolvers which were currently absent from her hips.
"You'll have to excuse the intrusion ma'am. We've simply been called in by a 'noise making' request from one of the locals in the neighborhood. Something about a blue car hooning around the area. Folks pointed us in the direction of your garage," he wanted to be as sincere as a cop would; two facts didn't add up well to that unfortunately.
"We also have reason to believe a group of individuals are housing illegal firearms and counterfeit bills in this district," spoke the second officer; how they achieved this information was beyond Ash, "We'd like to conduct a search of your shop for any potential evidence. We've already picked up a Suburb warrant, so there ain't much you can disagree to,"
Tension increased, "Sure, go ahead-d" Ashleigh's voice wobbled. In summary, they wouldn't find Gen's armory; the money they had stashed was a different story, and if either of the officers discovered it then they could easily bend words to make it seem like it was counterfeit. Their recklessness had already spoken enough, though. They'd acted too quickly on a 'noise making' call in a near uninhabited neighborhood, which didn't mind the constant noise of hooners anyway; Thomas hadn't been hooning in the first place, nor did he seem likely too; and they appeared a little too eager to find the 'illegal firearms'. Once they found the 'counterfeit bills' they'd have enough reason to put them all under arrest and perform a more thorough investigation to find the armory.
'Couldn't be anyone else but the MiB crowd Rhys spoke of,' they'd acted quick after she'd returned to Las Vegas, probably noting that Ash had been a target ever since the organization had rocked into the City of Sin and kept and eye out for the street racer. If they had chosen to leave her alone, then she wouldn't have had the incentive to act against the group who wanted to control the city. Now? Things get personal.
The first cop moved down the hall towards the kitchen; a distraction; the second probably had a decent idea of where they kept the stash. Ash had to admit she was guilty on that behalf hiding it under one of the old hydraulic lifts; the hollow floor was perfect, and neither her or Gen ever used it. A sour memory brought back; it was where Faith rested to hide the utility, if she were here then maybe Ash wouldn't have to do what she would next.
Predictably the officer went through operating all of the lifts, raising them up a fraction enough to see underneath. All the way up to the last near the doorway to the warehouse, out of sight from the open garage door, 'Perfect,'
Once the money was visible the cop went ahead and raised the lift entirely, probably beaming from the find. He shut it off and knelt down to grab a wad of cash. Ashleigh made another calculation, estimating whether the other officer would be out of ear shot and figured she'd give the one with the money the benefit of the doubt, "Hey Garry! Che--!" Ash grabbed an industrial monkey wrench and slammed it against the pressure pipe beside a support rod of the lift, snapping it and letting all of the air spew out. The huge metal plate flew down from the release, grabbed onto the cops head, and severed it from his neck upon hitting the floor. The open neck curled inwards, blood popping out from the still beating heart and watering the lift, "Never thought the red paint would be such a good choice," Ash commented, the cops head now resting among many million dollars.
The garage door was closed and locked; the second officer now officially trapped in a psycho's home. Ash marched off towards main hall, whether she'd meet victim No.2 on the way would be left to whether he'd heard the slam of the lift after the departure of his undercover buddy.
White walls and silence seemed to make things disorienting for the Muse as she stood watching the door at the other end. Ash couldn't hear a thing. Had the cop gone upstairs? Or was he waiting in ambush? Seeking mode, the Gunslinger slowly stepped down the marble road; her finger twitched at the holster still waiting to house her absent Sidewinder. The entire right side of Ashleigh's body shivered, bringing up her arm to push the Glock out of the way just as the cop jumped out from his spot in the lounge room. Her ear rang as the discharge pounded the drum, .40 S&W round passing close behind her head and digging into the plaster of the wall to her left.
However the resistance from her parry vanished nearly as soon as it had occurred, in the process of defense Ash turned her head to spot the muzzle pointing at her once more leaving milliseconds to respond. Her hand jabbed upwards while her head ducked downwards capitalizing on the action and speed up the rate of degree inclination; in other words, not giving the bullet opportunity to hit her.
Satisfied that she wasn't killing legitimate police officers, the final piece of evidence stood out. This guy knew Gun Kata, that wasn't something taught casually at the Academy; whoever sent them knew what they'd be up against, and knew what caliber of badassery they'd need to pack in order to achieve their goal. It was probable the other fellow was schooled in the art too... precisely how much would be decided on the outcome of this spar.
Only problem was Ash didn't have a gun. Easy enough, a disarmament was in order. The cop would be trying to get the muzzle near her head; Ash would merely be working to get it out of his hand and keep the man alive. Her right hand grabbed his wrist aiming the Glock, left palm slapping onto the top of the weapon preparing to flip it out of his hand. The Gunslinger hadn't been ready for him to consider firing it though; the slide pinging back, a hot shell burning the palm of her hand. At the same time the cop countered Ash's grab by returning the favor, snatching her gripping arm and twisting her around on the spot via forcing pain. The free weapon hand would be pointing directly at the back of her head.
Her weight was in his hand, more or less; Ash used this to lean forwards further and lift her left foot pushing the Glock up and away just before the second close encounter for the afternoon. Ashleigh's airborne foot snapped to boot the cop in the face; grunting, his grip loosened giving her enough incentive to wriggle free. Ash pivoted, her balance would be lost in a moment; what stability she had left she used to nail the guy in the diaphragm. He gasped, hurting for air, but it didn't stop the muzzle training over the Muse on the floor, 'Just one more,' she braced and crescent moon kicked (more or less, on the floor and sweeping her foot vertically in the air) connecting with the Glock and sending it across the room.
Absolute vulnerability. From here, Ash could do whatever the f*ck she liked. The cop was leaning forwards to oppose his hemorrhaging diaphragm; the Gunslinger pulled herself torwards him and grabbed onto his lolling head with her legs crashing the side of his temple into the resident coffee table. Now near incapacitated, Ash took this as an opportunity to grab the cop and tug him off to the 'interrogation room'.
Upstairs bathroom that being. The only one with an actual bath compared to its smaller cousin downstairs; the shower not quite suitable for the required job. The officer was flung into the fiberglass tub; he recoiled near instantly to escape but didn't miss his face colliding with Ashleigh's fist propelling him back into the wight wash dip, "What the f*ck are you here for!?" Ash barked, menace and instability riding a pale horse from her mouth.
"Phw... Mn.. F---" there wasn't a lot that could be spoken normally after having your nose caved in; the guy probably had a pretty bad headache, "Get f*cked! Mn... Phw... G-get f*cked!" in the process of searching for a second abrading word he simply doubled back on his last retort in lack of being able to think clearly, "I ain't tel' you nothin'," he spat soon after this, saliva and blood spattering Ash's pants.
The Muse lifted one leg into the tub, her other following but utilizing the mans crotch as a stepping stone, "Once more," she applied pressure, "Why are you here?" she screamed; the officer failed to to respond amid gasping for his sack to be released from hell; Ash simply pushed harder, "Who sent you? Is it the new group who settled in El-Vee?" still no response, further pressure, "Answer me!"
"Ash!" a voice called up from the staircase, "Ash what the hell is going on? There's a headless body down in the 'rage and-!" Gen entered the bathroom and spotted the toss up, "Oh..."
"Gen. Grab the Winchester," Ash spoke reasonably for the first time in what felt like hours; the officer flinched at this looking between the Gunslinger and the Stunt-girl furiously trying to find a different excuse for why the psycho would want a firearm. Ash simply looked back down at him, a spiteful glare through near letterbox eyes.
Quickly Genevieve disappeared and returned with the shotgun handing it to Ash and helping to pin the officer to the inside the tub. Ash pressed the sawed barrel into his left eye socket twisting it briefly, "Let's try this again... Why the f*ck are you here?" all audible noises from the mans mouth were cries and broken curses, "Flip him over," Ash ordered, Gen aiding in turning the cop so all he could see was the dark hole of the drain. Ash took the reins nodding for Gen to let go, the Muse's elbow pressed into the mans neck while the barrel of the Winchester stabbed into the back of his head, "You got one more chance for redemption... Who the f*ck sent you, and what for," the feeling of skull crushing against brain resonated through the officers nerves.
"FF ALRIGh- f*CK... f*ckin', we're here to find the f*ckin' armory we know you got, f-" the barrel pressed harder, "And-and-and shut you f*CKS down... Brass doesn't want complications-"
There was a crack as Ash jabbed her fist into the back of the cops neck, "What is 'Brass'?" she barked, trying to gather elaboration.
"Urkk....... Br-rass is Okelahoma!" he chewed his own words, not wanting another impact, "Derrick Oke! F*cker in charge of Velocity!" Ash looked to Gen who nodded, "God... effing want to live... f-"
Breaking the wish, "Where can I find this Derrick?"
"How the f*ck should I know!? I'm told to do sh*t! Got no f*cking idea where Brass'd be! Let me the f*ck go I've told you F*CKing everyTHING," resistance, his morale returning.
"Like hell. Shut the f*ck up,"
"Let me go! Let me-!"
"The F*ck up! F*ck...! Up...!" "Ash, Just hand him to the authorities-"
"Get f*cked! HELP!" "Shut-!"
"HEL-!!" "SHUT THE F*CK-" BLAM
... Red stained the pearly white tub. Very little remained of the inside of the ex-Police officers head as he lay limp and stoic. The barrel of the Winchester still pointed at where organic matter had been, shaking, the Muse's old friend Hypertension swinging around again along with the pure adrenalin swimming through her body.
Eventually Ash stepped out of the tub. She pulled the shower curtain shut on the corpse and holstered the Winchester in her scabbard. Little expression on her face, she proceeded to wash the spattered blood from her hands, arms, and features in the sink. Gen took the silence as a reason to leave the room.
"Once they don't report in they'll come looking..." Gen broke the silence. Approximately a quarter of an hour had passed since the aftermath; the owners of The Shop helping each other discard the topless body... Gen went ahead and let Ash take care of binning the head, the stained cash with it. Carrion No.2 could stay in the tub for a little longer, "You know this,"
The Muse nodded, "Yeah... yeah..." just minutes before the lull of everyone relaxing in the warehouse, Metal Wave sitting complete in the silent Gyro-CAD, Ash had explained what the cop had said in the tub alongside the sudden severity of the situation, "Which is why we'll have to go looking for them first," she scratched the back of her neck in irritation, "Again I'm gonna have to save the backside of Vegas," mumbling under her breath, 'You make one little act of charity, and everyone expects the world of you...'
Standing up. Ashleigh had to pace, the sudden halt of movement was uncomfortable, "If they want to be so direct about it, then there's no harm in returning the technique," she looked to Thomas, "I don't suppose there's any odd chance you could search for 'Derrick Oke', find out where he is?" she recalled, "The guy seemed scared of the name almost... he also used the nickname 'Brass',"
"Yeah..." Gen spoke up now, "He's the guy who's been spouting rubbish about Las Vegas needing to clean its act up. He only ever broadcasts his face on the TV though... it's not really a case of where but which casino the guy decided to hole himself up in," she crossed her arms and legs, "Then you just need to deal with his private army... Velocity is supposedly a PMC which had its contracted dropped after gross misconduct, now no one wants to hire them,"
A feeling of being small... very small, was shared mutually among the three, "Then we use deception. Get as close as possible until we need to use force and ping the sucker," another cursory glance and accusing finger pointing towards the Technomancer, "Do you think you could screw about with them...? Technologically, I mean. Keep them occupied and directed away from the centre of attention?" more and more the Native could prove himself infinitely useful. It'd be like a professional sting, although lacking 3 or 4 more members.
Heck, Ash and Thom knew they only needed 2 to achieve anything.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Jun 16, 2010 1:41:00 GMT -5
/./Ash had taken to the luck of Las Vegas, in considering her warehouse selection for the Gyro-CAD. With the warehouse out back, as opposed to the front, Thomas ran no risk of going toe-to-toe with any fake coppers. Especially unarmed. He had been sitting on his ass for only a few minutes, checking his seeds for any leeches... Which didn't seem likely, considering nobody would NEED to torrent any smash-hit game titles, movies, or music during a Zack Attack.... But it was reaction. Most people power up their machine and start up Windows Internet Explorer. Thomas started fourteen programs at once. And the first piece to check: seeding. Zero DL, zero leeching since the attack. Bummer. He had considered farting around the net when a wireless ping activated. In the rush to escape Raccoon, Thomas had forgotten entirely to click off his wireless sensing program. Automatically, his phone transmitted the received signal, radiowaves, to his laptop, the two just inches apart, as the ASUS sat on his lap, the Chocolate2 in his pocket. It didn't seem odd, considering maybe Ash had called Gen or something. But the audio following the ping sounded... Un-Ashleigh-like. An enraged man of oriental descent, or at least accent, began tearing into the signal. An audio skullf*ck. Very unpleasant././
"... Aaaaaaaaaaaand volume down..."
/./Thomas, crippled by the horrible screeching, held the function key and Page Dn. Nice and reasonable here. He listened in on the conversation, not as a fly on the wall, but for the lulz. This segment, not needing recording, was halted upon auto-rec, file deleted. Audio continued. Ash and the other party conversed, sort of, about the location of a new tuner. Unexciting. Not worth much. Instinctively, Thomas lowered his left hand to the floor, searching for a wireless mouse of some kind, to scroll around. No luck. His eyes turned to the treated concrete, finding no peripheral. A huff and sigh followed. He fingered and prodded at his touchkey's pad, scrolling up to his taskbar to close away... When a second signal right after the first picked up. The audio was still on, so it began just before Thomas scrolled the Main System. Ash had requested Gen to pull up security monitors. A striking request, to Thomas' amazement, when he too saw the Five-Oh. cops were, by law, required to call into the lockbox for an update to their arrival, or proceeding with objectives. They did no such thing. He didn't know right off the bat that they were feigning authority, but they sure seemed like it. They stood wrong. They talked wrong. And worse, they carried no manner of police-typical systems or computers. No typical radios. One had a smartphone, and the other used a Motorola RAZR. This required more digging. The auto-pinlocks were easy enough to get. Audio frequencies were even moreso.
Thomas attached a Dentist to each "officer's" phone, carving out a little space for Thomas to work with. This is how Hats start out, breaking phones. Audio began in. Two signals, each one different... But for the moment, the audio was the same. They came with a "disturbance call", which was wrong, as they never reported in, with complaints about a blue car hooning around. If by hooning, they meant limping in agony to the safety of proper medical facilities, then yes, they were on the money. Or, at least, this was soon to be the case. It was hard to pick out which to follow, but one spiked before the other significantly. Raised voice. Isolate. It quickly turned sour; the signal seemed to have been cut off by an enormous blast of energy. This hypothesis was discounted when Ash's voice cut through the thought-to-be lost signal././
"Never thought the red paint would be such a good choice."
/./For a Native American, Thomas was sure to seem white from a distance. What did he find...? What happened?
The next few minutes were spent listening to Ash lock down the warehouse, stalking her prey, the fight to follow, and playing around with it until he was squeezed for info. An ending came to the confrontation, with Thomas listening in the entire time, wide jaw'd and fear-struck. Would Ash and Gen think Thomas clued them in on this place? Would they come to slay him as well? He hoped not. It's not like he could move too fast. Time estimated until Metal Wave was able to be pulled down from the CAD was about three minutes. He simply listened in for a while. He heard them clean the mess up, having to manually lift the hydro-jack up to retrieve the first slain-Merc's head and the blood-stained cash. Signals faded when both girls stepped away from the bodies for good. One explanation. They were on the way here. A lot of weird things have happened since the Zacks hit the streets. But this? All this? Thomas wasn't entirely sure which side he was on. Gen and Ash, rallying up at the Gyro-CAD warehouse, walked in to Metal Wave being sprayed down with a slick coat of metallic white primer, and Thomas laughing nervously. When questioned why, he only fed one response to their curiosity././
"Hehe... Ah... Eh-heh... I uh... Used to consider myself... Eheheheh.... Lawful Neutral..." /./He started, still choking back a fit of unjustifiable, sickening-for-the-moment giggles././ "But it seems with the advent of, and the soon-to-be events lately... I think I've gone Chaotic Good."
/./Unless either Muse or Stunt-Girl played D&D, the meaning would be lost on them. Let the strategic meeting commence. Ash made the proposal of an attack. In Thomas' eyes, he could see the crazy b*tch launching a full frontal by herself, armed to the teeth, ammo belts covering every inch of skin she could, bandanna around her hair, warpaint. It was a lulzy mental image. When the question of f**king with the mercs came into play, Thomas cracked an ear-wide grin. Nothing could be more perfect than what he had in mind. Already, ideas were weaving like so much cyberspace. Without much warning, Thomas pointed at Ash, and in an out-of-character gesture, spoke in a very deep, menacing growl of a voice. His usually matte copper eyes suddenly lit aflame, nearly sparkling. The Technomancer has come to bring a world of hurt././
"I need you to bring that cop car in here. Jack it, key it, whatever you need. Don't break any windows. I'll get Metal Wave off of the CAD." /./His usual speech mannerisms disappeared. Typically, when Thomas spoke, it was with a Colorado accent, distinguishable by the near plowing over of the letter "T" where not necessary. If the letter or consonant wasn't dire to the pronunciation of the word in question, it wasn't included. Here, Thomas spoke very clearly, his commands carrying clear and frontal././ "Prep Violet to apply a very light black tint on the cruiser. especially on the front windshield. I expect to be able just to see in. Outside, when it's dark like it is now, I don't want to be able to see faces." /./His command-point fell to Gen, while his eyes hit his ASUS././ "Gen, go strip the fake officers of anything electronic. I need to know if they were wearing dedicated wires. I need their phones too."
/./Before he allowed the girls to flee to their respective duties, Technomancer began to explain his plan, while researching this Derrick f*cker. The plan was deceptive and simple: Tech was going to break into the subsystem for the powerstation controlling the powergrid that the Casino, whichever it may be, and divert power to surrounding neighborhoods. With the night providing cloud cover, and only backup power to keep the casino lit, they would simply pass through the secure back entrance in the very fuzz car that left. Gathering surveillance from the casino, which was still to remain, Thomas could find whatever system the goons utilized to switch up imposers and work to their advantage. He would spot which vehicle left with our fake officers, and find any acute driving styles, names traded, speech mannerisms, whatever needed to be done. Passcodes, sign languages, the works. He continued on, describing how the cover of darkness would allow Thomas to feign a Carrier Attack, in the form of scrambling all wireless devices with generic voices screaming in horror, and to replace any taken lives by their own gunfire. Shortly after, and wirelessly, he could cut all ties from one agent to the other, effectively allowing them to run freely, without risk of allowing other distant units to close in on any particular station or location. Furthermore, to cause even worse panic, Thomas would completely annihilate their security systems in the worst way. Instead of feeding any information, the cameras would simply freeze in place.
tl;dr: Ashleigh and Technomancer would become ghosts. Seeming to pass through walls and doors. They would move erratically, backtrack, stick and move, whatever it took to keep the PMC guessing just what the f**k is happening. An added bonus: if they worked with the right conditions and methods, they may be driving back to The Shop with a whole weapons cache, if the enemy can't pop off enough rounds and waste their guns. The cherry? They were essentially knocking over a casino. With a few minutes in front of the vault, and/or enough electrical overcharges, Thomas could kick up his reputation as being able to break electronic locks on the fly. And bingo: whatever cash Derrick was stashing would hit LV in the most economic of ways. By never seeing the day of light in Ash's shop.
The composure Technomancer showed just minutes before dwindled. His voice cracked ever so lightly with anticipation. He just formulated a wonderful, devious Casino heist, and basically signed up to run it co-op with Ash. He swelled with adoration for a well-thought game-plan, and moreso that it was he who put it together. He'd cut through seventeen Zacks, taken a Vee-Dub in the face, and driven head-long into gunfire only to evade at the last moment by diving into a gigantic aircraft. What he was prepping for was soon to be the craziest thing he's done this week.
And oddly enough.
He loved it././
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