Mar 19 11:55:11 108 PA - Looking for a Tech, and Surprise Philosophy

From Chronicles

Mar 19 11:55:11 108 PA.

NUT AND BOLT

Galvin is sitting at one corner of the bar with his computer out in front of him. He has a half eaten sandwich and a beer off to one side of him while he works on his hand held computer. The noise at the bar for midday is pretty minimal. He adjusts his glasses with a finger while he works.

The old soldier walks into the bar, earplugs in hand... then his smile perks as he discovers that today they're unnecessary. As the Nut and Bolt isn't particularly crowded for a change, spotting Galvin is easy. Of course, the fact that the mechanic-techno-fellow usually seems to sit in the same general area helps, too. It doesn't take much time to cross the distance before he's within polite speaking range for a club. A hand is raised. "Galvin! I think I owe you some money!"

Galvin looks up from his computer when Gabriel comes over. He smiles briefly at the other man as he picks up his bottle of cold beer. He takes a sip from it and nods at Gabriel. "Hey how's it going Gabriel? Nah you don't owe me anything. It was just a simple modification. Cost me more then it should have, but no worries."

Gabriel slides into a conveniently open seat near the tech. "No, please. I can't let both your own time and effort go without something, particularly if it cost you even more money than you expected. Please, gimme a number. Truly, I'll feel very bad if I can't make it up to ya somehow, my friend."

"Eh. Whatever it isn't like I have anything else to do with my time. I am pretty much wasting away bored as hell. That distracted me for a few minutes." Galvin shrugs his shoulders briefly before taking another sip of his beer. He pushes a button on his computer to save and turn off the hand held computer.

The Kentuckian smiles and pulls out a few credits, sliding a value of two-hundred across to the other man. "Here. I know it doesn't even come close to covering everything. You're bored as hell? Go hit the Nightingale, find yourself a pretty girl with brain, and take her across the little atrium and show her a nice meal at the Silver Fork. Put on some nice threads." Gabriel nods strongly. "Nice meal with a smart, good looking girl? Can't beat it."

Galvin rolls his eyes at the offer of credits. "No means no." He says with a little chuckle in his voice. "There is a shortage of nice girls here in Kingsdale. I'll just keep hanging out here and working on my designs. Nothing else to do in town. But if you need more work done be sure to tell me. It will at least be a little distracting."

There's a shrug, and Gabriel collects his credits - reluctantly. "Yeah, the women I run into do seem to be on the strange side. Got me there. If you have the time, I do have another job for you, but you're a competent guy. I mean, that's why I keep coming back here to harass you! What's keeping you from going out and making an assload of money with what you can do? Just about anywhere has to be better than this place." After realizing, belatedly, that he just insulted the man's favorite spot, "Um... yeah, sorry."

Galvin shrugs his shoulders again. "Well the best job I can get pays me 900 credits a week. I guess the economy in this city is just fucked up. No one wants any tech work. They just want the next magic doo dad or other crap. I can't get any work really. Oh well." He pauses for a moment to take another sip of his beer before continuing. "What is this next job you want me to do?"

"Heh, yeah, I never want to sound like I'm.. uh.. well, 'racist' doesn't seem appropriate, but whatever. You know what I mean, the mages tend to be on the arrogant side. Not all, but most as far as I've seen. I guess if you can just *do* something, without ever having to study and practice, makes you feel pretty good about yourself." Gabriel shrugs, an observation. He then brings out his long-barreled handgun, offering it to Galvin butt-first, as is correct. In his other hand is a Wilk's laser sight. "I can already plug a dime at a hundred feet, but I figure I'll take any advantage I can get." Waggling the weapon a little, he says, "Ironic, because it's for close-work. These fucking morons who put sound-generators in their perfectly good, otherwise silent weapons? Piss me off. So she's the quietest thing I have. Probably the quietest around that some idiot programmer didn't intentionally choose a sound that he liked to go 'BOOM' when the trigger's pulled."

Galvin takes the gun and the laser sight from Gabriel and nods his head. "Sure I can do this. Shouldn't be a problem." He says while he looks over the weapon and the laser sight. "I'll get it back to you pretty fast. At least I hope so." He takes a briefcase from where it is resting and opens it up. He places the gun and laser sight inside the briefcase and then locks it up. "Thanks."

With his drawl in full force, Gabriel chuckles a little. "No problem. Glad I could... give you something to do?" He waves down a bottle and knocks the cap off. "There has to be some kind of tech union around here, doesn't there? Guild or something? I mean really, these Juicers that Kingsdale pops out like a fucked-up assembly line, they're all tech, aren't they? Maybe not that shit they pump into themselves, but the things that they use."

"Well supposedly Kingsdale is a body modification capital in this area, but I don't see it. Aren't many people that get bionics. I don't even see that many juicers about." Galvin says before finishing off his beer. He gestures to the bartender for another beer before continuing. "There ain't shit work for me. That is why I have to work at Advanced Idea Mechanics doing work that I could do with my eyes closed. For little to no pay. It is the life in Kingsdale. If you aren't a magic user you are shit."

Gabriel seems to look off into nowhere for a second before offering with some mirth, "Well, you still have your health."

Galvin raises his beer up. "Well cheers to that." He says with a little laugh before taking a sip from his beer. "So anything else going on? Or just stop by for me to do the work?"

Gabriel pauses to think. "Hmm. Let's see. I have the Coalition probably trying to take a shot at me over in Whykin. I definitely have.. something.. trying to kill me somewhere in what I'm told is Iowa. I'm investigating a murder, which is going nowhere, and I'm stumped on. I'm trying to find where some of the 'Dregs refugees are disappearing to right out in midday, learning how to fly a jet pack, checking into a hate group, just about getting ready to teach a girl how to read... and I'm fairly certain that I've been hired to put a hit out on someone. But I need more information on that one." He winks. "I stay busy, even if it means being too busy, and with annoying things. But... am I keeping you? You want me to shuffle of, leave you to your computer?"

"Could be worse could have the Coalition want to take you captive, and work you for the rest of your life." Galvin says with a chuckle in his voice in response to Gabriel. He takes a little sip of her beer. "Yah I would go out in the field, but I don't really have any weapons just a little ion pistol. One day I'll be able to afford putting a weapon on my ATV, but then I imagine I couldn't really do much to help since I would need to take that everywhere. Nah you can stick around if you want. I was just playing with a few designs."

"Coalition's big on torture, are they? That's good to know," Gabriel says, pulling back on his perhaps proprietary 'Donovan's Fizz.' Then, "So what's this Advanced mechanics shop? Do you just do industrial-type automotive stuff, or is a general maintenance and repair place? Y'know, we had a good friend who owned a shop like that. You could bring anything to him and he could fix it. Amazing guy. Barely spoke a word of anything but Greek - literally, not a saying - still, wow." He shrugs a little. "I bet people'd appreciate an ATV with a cannon on it."

"They fix vehicles of all types from hovercycles, to cars, to robot vehicles. It is an ok place to work. I get to see a lot of different types of vehicles. I just wish they would give me a position worthy of what I can do." Galvin shrugs his shoulders. "Oh well could always be worse. Could be raining." He chuckles to himself at an inside joke. "Well I was thinking either a nice rail gun or a couple mini missiles launchers. Both would work with that hell of radar system I have in it."

Industrial doors are useful for one thing other than what they were designed for, they allow giants like Taz to enter without to much difficulty, which is nice. The giant of a juicer ducks his head still to get in but it's not the same as having to try and get into some normal sized door thankfully. Looking around with stogie clamped firmly between his teeth Taz grins, "Nice." He rumbles, apparently in a good mood, walking over towards the more squishy sized 'bar' and tapping lightly (for him) on the metal leg which makes some nice clangs. Only when he has pulled up a section of floor to 'sit' at the bar does Taz look around, "Heya Gabe." He offers in a conversational rumble before looking towards Galvin, "Who's yer friend?" He asks curiously. His armor scrapes slightly on the floor as he folds his legs into a lotus position.... flexible giant...

"Wow. That's a lot of fancy shit in a truck with a cool acronym," Gabriel states to Galvin. They're seated off at the bar, near a corner. It's midday, and the crowd is surprisingly minimal. "Rail gun versus missiles, sounds to me like you'd be more flexible with the gun? Or maybe missiles take care of things quick enough that it doesn't matter." He then eyes the man, one eye slightly narrowed. "So what is it that you do exactly, Galvin? You certainly seem to be a lot more than a guy good with a few wrenches, ratchets and a pair of pliers." Taz's emergence from outdoors is noted, but probably not with nearly the excitement expected. These things are normal nowadays. Still, Gabriel is nothing if not polite, and offers a nod and a smile. "Hey, Taz." Galvin is not introduced. Men introduce themselves, not for someone else to do it for them unless they're interviewing for a job.

"Well missiles are more expensive, but you can be versatile with them. Likely I'll go for the rail gun. Cheaper. What do you mean what do I do? I do lots of things." Galvin says before turning his head to look at the large man who came into the bar and walked up to them. He adjusts his glasses with a finger while looking over Taz briefly. "Name is Galvin."

Well up to might be a bit of an exaggeration, he's sitting on the floor at the bar where he could fit more or less and talking down the bar towards the other. Taz nods, "Nice ta meetcha." He rumbles to Galvin and then just listens, he's not even looming this time since he's sitting on the floor though, him sitting is about the same as another man standing all said and done. "Missiles got better range 'n mos' rail guns, cept the real big ones on tha super giants. Also can pop in frag for wide dispersal, Armor piercin' fer hard targets, plasma for a good burn. Rail gun, more precision 'n missiles strangely 'nuff, both good, both have their uses. Can't shoot railgun bullets down fer 'zample." He then gestures to the bartender for a mini-keg of beer while taking a few puffs of his cigar, blowing the smoke straight up. "But, nothin' says fire suppression like a rain o' missiles."

Gabriel makes the simple observation, "Didn't know anyone could shoot down a missile. Never seen it done. But fire suppression, if you need missiles, rockets, artillery, mortars, anything like that, you're talking about large units. Companies at the very least. Everything I've seen has been a lot smaller, where speed and surprise was plenty good before anyone could get in a position to need to be suppressed." He shrugs, looks between the two men and says with resignation, "Well, except for once, but that was an unusual circumstance. Sad one, though." He then tips back his bottle, the label of which displays, 'Donovan's Fizz,' one of the cola-type soda manufacturers that the bars and clubs in the city commonly sell. The one that those who know him is his cliche drink.

"That is why they call them mini-missiles." Galvin says with a little shrug of his shoulders. He turns to look up at Taz. "Thanks for the lecture on missiles." He chuckles a bit before taking a sip from his beer. "Yah well we will see when I build up enough money. I'll get something installed sooner or later."

Taz grins at Gabriel, "Ya'd be amazed 'ow many missiles a decent sized robot can have put in 'em an' 'ow many can be launched at once. Small unit fire suppresion right there." He rumbles with a shrug, eyeing Galvin's response, "Jus' talkin' squishy. Gabe didn' seem all 'at keen on missiles over rail guns." He rolls his massive shoulders in a shrug, "Both 'ave their places." He smirks down at Galvin before he shakes his head just as his beer arrives, giving Galvin a narrow eyed look out of the corner of his eyes as if wondering if the attitude is going to continue.

As some tension rises - probably some unnecessary tension, in Gabriel's estimate - the old soldier moves away and tries to make things a little more social. People know each other better, sometimes they get along more. "Taz, what's your story? Not like I've been in Kingsdale a long time, but I do know that you're newer than me. You have an interesting point of origin and a tale about how you, ah... came into your stature, and came to be here?" Today his Kentucky accent is somewhat rolling, a median between casually thick and deliberately removed.

Galvin picks up his hand held computer and puts it into one of his many pockets. He picks up his beer and takes the occasional sip from it while leaning back on his bar stool. His expression is pretty neutral while he listens to what Taz and Gabriel are talking about.

Taz takes his mini-keg of beer by the handle and pops the cork so he can take a drink, stogie held in his left hand while he drinks with his right, guzzle guzzle. He wipes his mouth and beard with the back of his hand and sets the keg down, "Ya think ya know everyone in Kingsdale Gabe?" He asks with some amusement, "Everyone inna Dregs?" A deep rumbling chuckle at that, "Short version. I'm from the Dregs, got tired of bein' a squishy. The End. Ya want more'n 'at yer gonna have ta offer me more'n a hammock." He says with an amused grin to the older man.

With a shrug and a shake of his head, "No, I sure don't know everyone. Don't want to know everyone. If that's all you want to say, that's fair with me. But I gotta say," Gabriel pauses and hoists his glass in pseudo-salute, "makes for a shitty story. Not going to buy you a beer for that one." He then grins wide and toothily. "You have plans and aspirations, or are you so new out of the 'Dregs that you're just happy to be out?" Judging by tone of voice and expression, the older man is truly interested, not just making a glib comment couched in a question.

Galvin chuckles softly to himself before taking a long sip of his beer. As his bottle become closer to empty he leans forward on the bar and gestures to the bartender for another bottle. "Maybe he doesn't like talking about where he came from. Lots of people like to forget their past." He shrugs his shoulders quickly and then finishes off his beer.

Taz laughs at Gabe's response, "Never claimed it'd be a good one." He rumbles good naturedly and he takes more guzzling swallows of his own beer. He does tilt his mini-keg in Galvin's direction as if to say 'Man has got a point' but then he answers the other question, "Not sure." He rumbles to Gabriel, looking thoughtful, "Got, five years an' ten months o' bein' a God 'fore my ticket gets punched. Did what I wanted ta do, mostly, when I got juiced." He looks thoughtful, "Ain't no goin' back tho, even if I detox'd right now, I'd end up a scrawny ass weakling freak who was way to fuckin' tall. Barely able ta move... Nah I'm in it fer the long haul, gonna ride it out, live life an' enjoy it bes' I can." He rumbles, taking another drink and then a puff from his cigar, two puffs, one to get the cherry going again another for actual smoke to be exhaled up at the ceiling. "Six years o' the good life, livin' it on the edge. Better'n a hunnerd of bein' pathetic."

As Galvin finishes his beer, Gabriel gives him a smile and taps his temple. "I have to remember. I'm from a great place, I want to remember it. Plus, as long as I remember - that place, and everyone I loved, still lives, y'know?" Taz's comments simply receive an interested gaze, perhaps the philosophy of a man of his age who has lived and survived through the events of his own life. Save for a simple, "Pathetic's in the eye of the beholder." He pulls back on his manly soda again.

Galvin picks up his latest beer from the bartender. He fishes out a few credits to pay his bill and turns around on his barstool. "Well Gabriel. I am going to head back to my shop to get that laser sight attached. I'll get it back to you in a day or two. If you need anything else modified or fixed let me know." He gets off his barstool and picks up a briefcase from the floor. "It was nice to meet you Taz." He says with a quick nod of his head to the juicer before starting to make his way outside.

Taz nods towards Galvin, "Later." He rumbles amiably before he looks back to Gabriel, "You don't know what I was like 'afore I was like this Gabe. Sometimes, bes' ta leave well enough alone." He says in response to the 'pathetic is in the eye of the beholder bit'. "Not everyone's had some pretty fuckin' princess life 'at is all sunshine and fuckin' roses." He rumbles, not angrily or derogatorily but just as a descriptive statement.

"We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give. Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow." Yes, Gabriel has always been, and continues to be a fountain of philosophy and knowledge, though that knowledge runs dry on matters of magic and psychic activity. He's pretty good with modern weaponry, though. As Galvin passes him, he hoists his soda. "Hey, take care, Galvin, don't tough both ends of the battery at the same time."

Taz shakes his head, "Whatever Gabe. Dunno what world you live in, but in my world, you take what you can, give nothin' back, an' fuck anyone who gets in yer way. Do unto others as they would do unto you, well in my world, the 'others' will fuck you over and leave you dead fer a pack of cigarette's or fer the shoes on yer feet. My world don't got any place for cheerful happy semantics and questionin' life. It simply is. You either predator, or prey. Not gonna be prey ever 'gain."

The older man smirks, then drinks, then speaks. "I suppose that's a simple philosophy. Easy to keep track of. 'Do what you want because you can and keep to worldly pleasures?'" There's no mocking tone, though truth be told there may be a hint of mocking behind it, if for no other reason than the blunt simplicity. "I like quiet. I like helping. I got into this business not because I liked killing people, but because it was a necessary evil. But I never forgot that even the lesser of two evils is still an evil." Gabriel tilts his bottle back once more. "Real peace is not the absence of conflict, it is the presence of justice."

"Justice." Taz says, "Justice is one person putting their morals over the morals of other. It's might, and power, using it to enforce their will on others just like a dictator, or a slaver, or anyone else." He rumbles, "It just uses pretty words to make it sound nicer." He takes another drink, "Don't get me wrong Gabe, I'm all for laws, and rules, so long as they're evenly applied to everyone. So long as everyone knows where they stand, what is allowed and what isn't. I can't abide hypocrisy." He rumbles seriously, "I can't abide dishonor either, I just know my version of honor, ain't the same as everyone else's. I live by my rules, and those who would do unto me, well, better fuckin' expect me to do unto them."

"How ironic," Gabriel says, with a definite tone of good humor. "I believe in the Law, but my respect for the Law ends where Right and Wrong begin. I'm not quite sure how you can be all for laws and rules evenly applied to everyone, if you yourself say that you live by your own rules. Isn't that.. not to argue with a man twice my size or anything, but.. a bit of hypocrisy?"

"Nope." Taz says, "If the local laws aren't ta my likin' I got every right ta pack up and move off. Anyone tries ta stop me an' force their laws on me, well that's slavery an' I ain't no slave. Like I said, not gonna be prey anymore." He finishes the beer in his mini-keg and sets it down, getting out his lighter to relight his cigar, puffing on it. "Only be hyprocrisy, iff'n I wuz willin' ta break them laws an' not care 'bout it. Got m'personal code, my version o' right an' wrong. Anyone else's welcome ta have their own so long as they unnerstan' I'll be fightin' fer mine."

A shrug. "Well, if you're truly willing to move along, that's fair enough. I think though, that people who might fight along side you some day, or have the potential option of fighting alongside you someday, might be a little interested in exactly what your version of right and wrong is." Gabriel shrugs and tips his bottle back. "I'm not comfortable putting trust in people who are so cynical about life that they're out for very little more than a buck and a fuck that makes themselves feel good, and damn anyone who happens to die along the way. Gotta fight for an ideal. What makes you a man." He then touches a pocket above his left pectoral muscle. "Or a tough woman."

"Bullshit." Taz rumbles simply though not angrily, "That's all semantic bullshit." He looks over towards Gabriel, "It doesn't matter -why- someone fights, so long as they do it right and by the numbers. I could care less if the guy next ta me is fightin' fer the honor o' his sister, or jus' because he's gettin' a paycheck. It's the value o' the thing that's important. It doesn' have ta be special, it doesn' have ta be some higher callin'. That's jus' another form o' brain washin' an' pushin' one ideal on another 'at they don' believe in." He rolls his massive shoulders in another shrug, "Why do I care about an' ideal? I got less'n six years ta live. Right now, livin' life the way I always wanted's good 'nuff. Maybe some day at'll change, but without creds, I die. Need credits fer the drugs keepin' me goin' at the bare minimum. So yeah, I fight cuz I like ta live good, an' yeah I won't turn down a fuck should the bitch be pretty enough ta get me goin' but that doesn' mean that's all I am. All you gotta know Gabe," He then looks seriously at the other man, "Is that I -always- do the job I am hired for. Always. I give my word on somethin' that's the way it is from here till I check out."

Gabriel takes a long pull before saying, "Oh, c'mon, you have to be kidding me. I have no problem about giving your word to finish a job. That's great, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find issue with that or not. But you're really going to sit there and look me in the face and tell me that if you and I were going to take on a Coalition platoon, you'd feel exactly the same, whether or not I was doing it because I believe in the right of freedom and good cause, or if I'm just some guy out looking for credits who might have been fighting for the other guy, but you got to me first and with the most cash?" The man pulls his head back on his neck. "Doesn't mean I couldn't be an equally good soldier in either case - but you'd feel exactly the same? And just for argument's sake, let's assume that yes, I could really hurt you if I wanted to."

"Trust is earned Gabe." Taz says simply, "If the guy is some righteous guy who cares more 'bout his cause then doin' the job, that's jus' as much a risk as a guy who might turn on ya. I don' trust anyone in this city, not really." He rumbles a chuckle, "Mebbie that'll change, but fer now, all I got is m'word, an' the knowledge I do right by my code." He puffs on his stogie, exhaling a smoke ring into the air. "Either one will betray ya, they both doin' right by them. The guy I trust the mos' is the guy who does his job on the spot. But, by holdin' my hard line, holdin' ta m'code, someone betrays me fer -whatever- reason, then that puts 'em in the same pile o' shit ta be dealt with."

With a long shrug, the older man says, "Everyone in this city has a code, and they're making it a lot more difficult than it has to be. Either you're doing the right thing, or you're not. You don't even need someone to tell you that you're doing it. The human heart knows it, save for the truly insane. Even evil people know it - they just do it anyway. Talking about a 'code' is all well and good, but the truth is that when you get right down to it, there's only one." Gabriel shuts his face with the end of his bottle for a few seconds. "But don't worry, I don't trust you, either, so you're in good company." He winks at the huge man in a friendly manner. "But if I need a blunt instrument who can take orders, and I believe I do at the moment, I'll talk to you."

"Nah that's where yer wrong Gabe." Taz says, digging up something from the museum archives he was looking at when everyone else was asleep, "Do ya believe cannibalism be evil?" He asks curiously, "Or how's about kidnappin'?" He then grins a broad toothy smile around his stogie, "Or murder? That one evil?"

"They're evil if they're done with evil intent. If it's cannibalism for survival? No. A military kidnapping? No. Murder depends on how you mean. A military assassination? No. Just killing someone because you didn't like them, or they had something that you wanted? Yeah, that'd be evil." Gabriel shrugs and points his bottle. "I'm not saying that I'm an angel. There's a lot that I'm going to have to explain and dance around when I meet Saint Peter if I want to get in. But my intent was never to harm for harm's sake. I did it for the sake of my family, my country, everything that decent civilization stands for." He pauses to clear his throat, then adds, "You know, Kentucky, where and when I was raised, wasn't exactly a beacon of education. But the nuns did a good enough job. You heard of the Marquis de Sade? This is one of his gems that they made us memorize - 'Wolves which batten upon lambs, lambs consumed by wolves, the strong who immolate the weak, the weak victims of the strong: there you have Nature, there you have her intentions, there you have her scheme: a perpetual action and reaction, a host of vices, a host of virtues, in one word, a perfect equilibrium resulting from the equality of good and evil on earth.' Sounds great, right? Except that he's the man from which we get the term *sadism.*

Taz shrugs, "You see, you got your semantics then, your ideals that guide you." He rumbles, "You and I, we're no different in that, you have your ideals, I have mine." He puffs at his cigar, "What amuses me, is ya think I be some evil fuck who will rape, pillage, an' otherwise destroy jus' cuz I can... or at leas' that's how ya presentin' y'self." He rumbles a deep chuckle, "I'm a simple man Gabe, so long as ya don't do me wrong, ya got nothin' ta fear from me. I'm a mercenary, ain't mean I got a heart of gold. I'll take payment for services rendered, that simple. But, if I get hired, the boss better be able ta pay me. I don' do shit fer free. Can't 'ford ta. Me workin' fer free is a quick trip ta the morgue. I don't have the -luxury- of your morals Gabe. It's a hard world we live in, an' I'm a hard man, but that don't mean I don't care 'bout nuthin, I jus' ain't willin' ta be suicidal fer a cause."

"Not *once* have I called you evil, and I've never thought it. My words were 'simple philosophy, easy to keep track of.'" Gabriel shakes his head. "I'm not trying to make everyone into a knight. Most everyone I've met here are the kind of folk I'd never have taken home to even meet my family for a handshake. Probably time to drop the subject." It's fairly clear in the tone of his voice that the older man has indeed dropped it. Sure, maybe he'll listen. "I'm truly sorry that you have to work for expensive drugs to keep yourself alive. Has to be hard."

"Fair enough." Taz rumbles, "Jus' the way it was startin' ta come across, like, my way or highway type o' shit." He still isn't accusatory, "Ya didn' mean it 'at way an' so ya still cool in m'book. Yer willin' ta fight fer whatcha believe in, but I seen that go astray is all. Look at the coalition? Almost every one o' them fucks think they doin' good. Think they righteous crusaders fer humans. Hell, maybe they are." He rolls his shoulders in a shrug, "But, that's a step I won't go ta. I won't enforce m'code on others, m'beliefs, so long as they do nothin' wrong by me." He grins amusedly, "So," He cocks his head to the side slightly, "Yah lookin' ta put together a 'righteous' merc group their Gabe?" He asks curiously. Not quite the same subject.

"I'm not looking to put together a merc group at all. I'm looking to put together a unit that knows how to work together to get a job done. But, since I would be the one in charge, we'd take the missions that I accept, in consultation with my second, who is an excellent warrior in and of herself, assuming that she's as interested as I am." Gabriel puts his empty bottle on the counter, and leaves his beverages at that total for now. "I guess, then, since I'd be the one pulling the jobs, you or anyone else, might see that the group had a certain bias one way or another. For example, I wouldn't take a million dollar job to burn down some village just because it pissed someone off, or it was his bachelor party and he's doing it on a whim."

Taz rumbles a deep chuckle, "Well then Gabe, assumin' ya think my word is good enough ta trust me eventually an' ya earn m'trust back you'd have the opportunity ta put m'strength ta use fer your causes." He puffs on his stogie thoughtfully, "Don' think I'd take that job, the burnin' down a village jus' cuz some fuck is pissed off or whatever. I got m'limits as to what I'll do. Some paychecks, ain't enough." He shrugs, then grins, "But that wouldn' stop me from goin' ta the village an' seein' if they could hire me ta protect 'em though." He rumbles a chuckle at that. "I got no problem sayin' no ta a job I don' like. Creds ain't gonna make me break m'code." He puffs some more on the cigar, "I dunno. I ain't got no problem helpin' people, jus' like wit' Coat y'know? I ain't a -bad- guy really. I jus' ain't a self-startin' do-gooder."

Suddenly, Gabriel swerves... "How much punishment can you take, Taz? You know, you're up against an equal, or up against numbers that you can't just dance around. When do you have to run - just humor me that you're going to run and live to fight another day. I'm going to assume that you can take one of these heavy rounds -" he taps a pistol on his hip "- that would turn me to a mist of blood and gore. Hell, I can't even take a shot to the head from a regular handgun. But what about you? Assuming that you're on equal footing, let's say because there's magic involved, how long can you keep going? I'm really not up on my Juicer technology."

Taz hmmms, "I'm flesh an' blood, jus' more o' it." He answers with a shrug, "Iff'n we were invincible, we wouldn' need ta be so damned fast." He rumbles a chuckle at that. "Figger... roughly 'at I can take as much as about twenty regular soldiers from small arms without m'armor. Roun' 'bout that number. I heal real fuckin' fast tho..." He takes off his glove and flexes bare knuckles, "So strong 'at if I punch without m'glove, can do real damage t'mself. A squishy... hell I hold back, hit as soft as I ken an' a squishy still gonna die." He rumbles simply and to the point before he puts the glove back on. "As fer m'endurance, I ken go five days, no sleep, easy. Need only a few hours 'sleep a night at most. Don't feel pain, at all really. Just kinda stings a bit." Then he grins, "But, I'm still flesh an' blood, ya shoot me wit' 'at pistol an put enough volleyball sized holes in me, it'll put me down... think o' it like this." He takes a final drag off his cigar, "That gun is as deadly ta me, as a small arms gun is ta you. Both o' us without armor. Enough shots, or a good shot inna right place... I'm still checkin' out."

"Fair enough, makes sense," Gabriel states, seemingly pleased. "How fast can you move? Running, I mean. What about senses? How far can you see? Hear?"

"Not that fast." Taz rumbles, "Not runnin, I ken jump twenty feet high, or twenty feet long or thereabouts with a bit of a start, ten from a stand still." He shrugs, "Normal juicer... they ken move, real fast, talkin' like fifty miles an hour 'r more. Me, on m'feet, as fast as a regular joe." He chuckles, "As fer senses, 'at's a hard one ta say... I see an' hear 'bout as good as anyone else, not good, not bad but... I can -feel- stuff comin', an' react ta it way fast. Don't even gotta know somethin's comin' an' I ken get outta the way, or try ta." He grins, "That is what makes us juicers so damned hard ta kill." He rolls his shoulders in a shrug, "Ya know ya could go down ta the clinic an' they'd give ya tactical readout's an' shit, before an' afters." Taz rumbles a chuckle, "It's not like juicers 'r some sorta state secret or some shit."

The old soldier grins. "It's always a good idea to read the weapon specs from the manufacturer, but if you really want to understand how it works, you have to use it yourself, or ask someone else who's used it." Gabriel nods sagely. "Tough is good, strong is good, but if you're going to be out in the open to get blown away by magic and regular weapons, that's bad. Walking speed, that'd be too slow, unless you can be invisible or something." The man seems to size up Taz in a different mode. "Good shot? Hide, hit where it's harder to be hit yourself? Need some serious range and accuracy, though."

Taz chuckles, "Slow don't matter when ya can dodge lasers Gabe." He rumbles with a grin, "An' I ain't kiddin. I went toe ta toe with a fuckin' allosaurus an' it didn't even scratch me an' I took it down in less'n thirty seconds." He shrugs, "Bertha's got a 4500 foot effective range, an' yeah, I know how ta shoot. Rifles, missile launchers, rail guns, yeah. If it's pistol range, fuck it, will pull off this beast." He points to the massively humongous chain sword on his back, "Ain't found a gun yet 'at can do as much damage as I ken wit' the beast." Taz finishes his cigar, "Bes' way ta look at m'capabilities, is like artillery. Might take me a bit ta get in position, but once I'm there, it's all over."

"Can't dodge magic, so far as I know, Taz. Part that I hate about it. What's Bertha? What kind of weapon? Energy, kinetic?" Gabriel seems to be more pointed at the moment. "Getting close may not be an option, at least, not before some bad people have gotten some good shots off at you."

"Magic ain't got the reach o' Bertha." Taz rumbles simply, "Anytime ya go in blind, ya got troubles. Head down ta NTI an' take a look at the Achillobator pulse cannon, she's a quad barreled gatlin' gun o' plasma propelled slug throwin' madness, belt fed, 500 rounds a belt." He rumbles a chuckle, "An' some magic ken be dodged Gabe, the bad thing 'bout magic is it ain't got the range o' a gun as near as I ken tell. Gotta be up close an' personal ta make it work. Sides, they glue me, I chew 'em up wit' Bertha. Guarantee they run outta magic 'fore I run outta bullets."

"Okay," Gabriel says, looking up as if he might want to order another bottle of soda... but no. "Don't get cocky, you don't even know what you're talking about yet. How much does that all weigh? Bertha, the ammunition, that chain thing on your back? Don't just guess, give me a good estimate."

"Bertha weighs a hunnerd 132 lbs on her own, each belt, 35 lbs, Armor weighs two hunnered an' fifty even, Beast weighs fifteen, add in standard gear. Lookin' at about six hunnered pounds all said and done." Taz rumbles easily, apparently, math is -not- a weak suit for him. "Like I wuz tellin' ya the other day, I ain't the man ta take fer no stupid fuckin' hunnered pound weight limit. Anytime ya bring a slug thrower, it gonna weigh more'n a laser. I ken carry it all easy, real easy. Can lift two and a half tons on any given day." He rolls his shoulders in a shrug, fishing around for a fresh cigar in his belt pouches and pulls out his cigar case and takes one out. "I ain't goin' into a nasty as hell fight without m'armor... though, without it am over twice as fast but like ya said, speed ain't enough."

Gabriel waves part of that away, very dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, you're tough, you can bench press an aircraft carrier, I get it. I hear that all over the place, or at least variations of it. Unfortunately, that makes you too heavy, at least as far as I know. Sometimes it's nice to be the insignificant little mammals crawling around the feet of the dinosaurs, you know?" Gabriel points out with a grin, thumping his chest softly. "Listen, if you're still interested, I can bring you in, whenever the asshole has the time to get back together. Longer this fucking thing goes on the worse it gets. Can't honestly say if you'd even 'fit' but I can bring you in. Otherwise, I should probably get on my way now. Really only came in here to get a weapon modified after all. So - you want me to contact you, or leave you alone? Either way's fine by me. Won't think any better or worse of you."

Taz levels a look at Gabe over the rims of his sunglasses, "I told ya more'n once, m'word is m'bond. When ya told me 'bout this job 'fore, said iff'n ya can get me there, I'll go. Even if it's jus' ta kill the boredom an' fer salvage. Ya don' need ta be askin' me multiple times, or think I give a fuck what you, 'r anyone else thinks 'bout me. It's not a question o' me. It's a question o' logistics an' need. If ya need my power an' ya ken get me there, then ya contact me. If ya can't, then don't. 'At simple. That said, it's up ta you. If I'm not the right person fer the job, then that's how it is, no skin off my back. Capiche?" He sticks his fresh stogie between his teeth and lips, pulling out a lighter and starts to light his new one without another word.

An eyebrow quirk, and he responds with, "Da." Da? Da? What the fuck? Anyway, as Gabriel passes by the huge creature, he extends a hand - the kind that polite people shake when meeting and departing. "Take care, Taz, I'm sure I'll see you around somewhere else soon. Oh, and don't break it," he asks with a grin, nodding his chin toward the offered hand.

It's a good thing Taz's last employer was a Russian dwarf or he might not recognize the statement! Still Taz nods, "More'n likely." He rumbles and reaches out to encompass Gabriel's hand in his own massive armored mit, but he doesn't break the other man's hand, in fact it's barely a shake at all. Limp wristed! No not really, just it's really hard for Taz to -not- break stuff when he tries for 'normal' just yet.

The old soldier smiles, nods and as soon out the door. Gabriel finally leaves one the two of his least favorite hangouts in Kingsdale.