Jan 17 16:21:05 109 PA - It Was Worth a Shot
From Chronicles
Jan 17 16:21:05 109 PA.
EAST DREGS - OUTSIDE THE IVORY LADY
The day is a good one for what Gabriel has in mind. High noon. Rain, sleet and snow making plenty of noise but not getting in the way of sight. Coming in from the general direction of the landing strip, he approaches the block where the club rests via jet pack, starting a descent from a thousand feet, aiming for a spot on the opposite side of the street. With no more than necessary, only a pulse pistol, battered L-20 hanging form a harness and a .44 grace his sides as obvious protection. A few Blinders and tear gas grenades are strapped on randomly, as is the hilt of a Wilk's laser sword and a neural taser. He searches for a good spot, preparing to fire on the building 'accidentally' with his L-20 on impact.
Midday in the neighborhood of the Ivory Lady. Pretty peaceful today, probably thanks to the weather. Keeps the less desperate and less prepared in shelters. So those about fall into the more prepared categories. A few street rats, a gang thug, and a single cyborg patrolling around the Lady while the doors are closed. Pretty standard crowd. A single street rat, the thug, and the 'Borg, all take note of the dramatic arrival by Gabriel.
Thump. That wasn't bad. Gabriel's happy enough that his feet are on the ground and the 'pack's still wound up. He begins to amble casually toward the building, looking to note obvious weapons carried by the three who have clearly noted him.
The 'Borg is armed as anyone would expect a security Borg to be, like a tank. Rail gun, lasers, missiles. One's best defense against the arsenal may be collateral damage. The thug is more average, a rifle, a knife, medium non-EBA armor. The street rats are lucky to make do with sticks and stones. A knife is possible though. Gabriel's casual ambling towards the Lady keeps the 'Borg's gaze. That’s his job after all.
Gabriel continues to walk, slightly meandering so as not to be running at a target, but neither walking around like a fool, either. People are noted and ignored as anyone might expect as proper in these parts. Nevertheless, his steps carry him closer to the building, his eyes seeking out bullet holes, laser scars - or the complete lack thereof. The general door appears to be a possible stopping point.
No structure in the 'Dregs is lacking holes or scars, the Lady included. Given the activity of the area it would be easy to conclude there are two classifications. Buildings, designed to take some abuse, or rubble, that can't withstand the constant abuse. The 'Borg keeps pace, meeting Gabriel at the door as his course is pretty obvious. "What do you want?" The deep mechanical voice asks with a bit of menace in the tone.
The man from years past answers fairly, "Work." Gabriel nods. "Wallet's damn near empty, and everyone knows that this place is busy. Thought they - you - might have something."
"If you saw an ad in the paper, you got the address wrong. So move on, doors don’t open 'till eight even if you are legit." The 'Borg snarls, its weapon arm keeping a good trace on the visitor. Those that noticed his arrival before are still watching, could prove entertaining.
Gabriel takes a careful step back, holding his hands up. "Whoa. Okay. Maybe I'll come back then." As soon as he's clear enough that he can fire off his thrusters without being overly annoying to someone on the ground, he does, rising slowly toward the dead center of the roof, muttering to himself about angles and sight lines.
It is a decently high ceiling, leaving the 'Borg from the plain of view as well as the street rats, if one doesn’t go too high. The thug can still be seen, and is still watching. Though he doesn’t make any move to signal the 'Borg at all. Everything seems to resume as it was for the moment.
At this point, Gabriel drops as quickly as possible to actually land on the center of the roof, where even something tall would be obscuring, at least in theory. His .44 is removed and fired into the roof, as well as the L-20 on its lowest setting. No reason to aim, just pull the triggers. There's a smile behind his face plate. Suppressed semi-auto? Laser making a hum? Hundreds of feet? In this weather? Oh yeah. He even gives himself a thorough nod, then fires up the jets and departs.
