Shadowrun RP: Incoming!
 

OOC: Gah! Turns out I am seriously behind on school work, cause I was sick for two weeks before school let out, and I have makeup work and Christmas Break work to do. *Sigh* Such is life. Anyway, I'll be a little slow because of the flood of work I have, but I'll make sure to post and move the plot along. And now for the actual start.

The modified military transport jet soared through the sky as it neared it's target of Chicago. It was painted black to try to hide it from view, but the radar jamming wouldn't take effect until the got closer to the city. The pilots, a human and a dwarf, sat in the cockpit, wires running from various places in their body to the plane around them to give best access to the plane. The human turned on the passenger camera to see the inside of the transporter, normally meant to house military equipment, had been modifed for about two dozens cheap metal seats for passengers. The camera passed over the occupants, a big troll that looked like an average street thug, two men in the back arguing, a priest and an old man, but most likely not what they appeared to be, a strange man he had seen enter but who sat just out of range of the camera (<How did he know about that spot> The human thought), and about a dozen runners who looked like they would be cannon fodder, but it wasn't up to him to say who could be a runner, he just transported them.

"So why are we transporting all these mooks into Chicago?" The man asked again.

"Cause they pay us good Nuyen, and we're one of the only transporters goin' to Chicago," the dwarf replied.

"I hear it's some sort of warzone down there, and what if the rumors are right and VITAS broke out again?" The human said nervously.

"They aren't, that's why they're rumors, or served up as government drek. I got a contact inside, says everything's going down the tubes, some sort of bug spirits attacking and warlords going nuts. We ain't stayin', when we drop these clowns, were out of there, but the pay is too good not to take them." The dwarf said.

The human grumbeled to himself, but shut up, knowing the pay was going to be good. He just hoped he didn't get shot up before he could use it!

The plane approached the Chicago limits, and began to fly over the Zone to reach Chicago.

* * *

On the ground, two men were sitting in an old shack, slapped together from debris laying around. The portable radar outside was acting up again, and they didn't know why Xerxes wanted them to man it since no one was crazy enough to come into Chicago with everything that was going down. He went outside and made an adjutment and it came back online, when the other man sitting at the moniter saw and heard the blip on his radar. He jumped up and grabbed his radio, saying to the person at the other end, "This is outpost 7, we have an incoming plane, I repeat, incoming. If you want it, you'll have to be quick cause it's coming in fast!"

OOC: The four mentioned runners are NPCs, not you guys. Just introduce you characters for now, and I'll post again after some people have mentioned their characters.

Nenessa pulled the cheap trenchcoat tighter around herself. Like almost everything else she had, it was stolen. She chose to think of it as "temporarily appropriated", being that she went through disguises the way the ork beside her was going through soybars. He must have been very skilful - he was talking, eating and watching the holonews at the same time. Unfortunately, his multitasking abilities didn't extend to keeping the crumbs off of her. Nenessa was too occupied in thought to care about it, though.

How did they find me? Ghosts or not... I shouldn't even have left a trace... favors instead of creds, staying away from technology, keeping a low profile... but it didn't work. They almost got me... and they got Nigel. And it wasn't even his fault - simply a case of wrong place, wrong time...

She closed her eyes, reaching for the inner focus that would allow her senses to go astral. If there was anyone spying on her magically, she wanted to know.

Truance wasn't exactly sleeping with his feet propped up on a chair, but he was relaxed. Well, relaxed as one could be here.
He had been lucky enough to get a seat near the rear, keeping the number of people that his back exposed to a minimun. While he had lived in constant danger for most of his life he enjoyed the fact that he was a little bit safer than those in the front rows.
It had felt like forever since he had gotten on this bucket of bolts, and the bickering of the two men next to him didn't enhance the flying experience. Every once in a while he thought one was about to slammit on.
Feh, I wonder when we're going to land.

OCC: Darkt0aster, I was trying to have everyone start off on the plane, since it will be important to the plot...

Mendel nearly jumped out of his chair as a minor vibration went through the plane, but after a few seconds he settled back down. He was typing furiously on his portable computer, carefully scanning every one of his prgrams multiple times, and reviewing a rewriting code until he was certain it hadn't been tampered with.

<Those Ares IC, they're sneaky! I know they did something, sure I thought I knocked out that Killer IC, but my programs acted funny after that, I know it! There has to be something in here somewhere...> Mendel thought as he searched through his cyberdeck programs. A fly buzzed about the passenger cabin and landed on his ear. Mendel jumped up and nearly pulled his gun out of it's concealed holster so he could take it on the plane, but stopped himself when he realized it was a fly. He immediatly slumped back down and continued to scan his programs, knowing that someone had to be out to get him somehow...

OOC: I thought you said we weren't on the plane, that those are NPCs...

Mendel's monitor fizzed slightly as Covenant walked by, and dropped a crushed paper cup into a trash can.

Then he retreated to his seat. He looked over the motly assembly, and tried to gauge in his head if he could take them down if neccesary.

Shifting forward in his chair, Sigmaeus fiddled with his combat knife before sliding it back into its sheath.

Just a few more minutes now, and we'll be on the ground, ship blasting away behind us... and then we'll have to keep out of trouble until we're actually somewhere we can stop looking behind us every 20 seconds...

Sigmaeus ran his hands thru his white hair as he looked over the motley assembly of runners. Not exactly the most imposing our lethal looking, Sigmaeus had to stifle a sigh. All of them were paranoid. Contrary to their emotions, the man known as "The Living Tattoo" didnt care. He just wanted to get out of this plane and into Chicago alive... and start the job...

He had heard of Chicago. Not such a bad place as Seattle, but its like comparing a rhino to a hippo. One has a horn. The other doesnt. One of Sigmaeus' few friends had been running in Chicago.

I havent talked to Sid in a long long time... Kinda funny, now, though... because he's dead.

OOC: The ones I specifically mentioned are not us, we are what the pilot thought of as 'cannon fodder', the unnamed ones also in the plane.

Drek sat in his chair, his extremely oversized, armored suitcase on his lap, open. Inside were all of Drek's favorite weapons. His rocket launcher, his M4, his Desert Eagles, and his trusty shotgun. He had a rag out and a bottle of polish, making his weapons look as nice as possible.

OOC: All of his weapons are smart linked, and he is bad at aiming without a smart link since he is so used to it. Forgot to mention that in bio.

Cov's eyes widened slightly as he saw the weaponry, but he dismissed them easily. People relying on weapons, weapons that need to be used from far away at that. They'll probably be the first ones to die.

He flexed his hands a bit, because the temperature inside was chilling them a bit.