Gangs of Metru Nui

[25K Now!]

IC: Naona - Circle Territory, Po-Metru

 

"It is highly unlikely that the Northwinds will attempt a full-scale assault on this outpost," she replied. "There are other locations of higher priority nearby."

[NorikSigma]

IC: [Vaxel]-[Po-Metru]-[Circle Observation Post]

 

Vaxel got a little annoyed at the dismissive tone in Naona's voice, but he didn't show it.

 

"Good to know," he concurred and returned into the bunker nearby.

 

Darn nutbags. This City is a big melting pot of them.

 

He took a sip of diluted brandy.

 

Just like I.

[Geardirector]

IC:

 

"Anyway, I can tell I'm not making any friends here. Sorry about nearly running into you, sorry for implying that you couldn't carry that, and... I think those were the two things I was sorry for. Well, regardless, if you could tell me where I might be able to find a heatstone for cheap I'd be out of your way."

 

He casually jerked a thumb behind him towards the desert, and the other Metrus beyond it. "It gets cold out there at night, and I'd really keep all my fingers and toes."

 

IC: Baranx (Dún Outskirts)

 

"Heatstones have never been common in this particular part of Metru Nui" Baranx remarked, not looking at either of them.

 

"However, you can probably find one or two amongs the medical supplies. I think we have a few left over after making sure all our patients had proper heating, just tell them I sent you"

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Swordshifter, the Notch)

 

"Sure. I'll get you funds. And get someone to deliver a grapnel shooter to you. Meanwhile, I'm going to head back into hiding... Good luck."

 

Without turning, his eyes locked coldly on the both of them, he took two steps back, entering one of the chutes composing the walls just as its protective field was weak. And as such, he vanished.

Edited February 23, 2014 by @Maidan

[Shadowhawk]

IC Miira

(Po-Metru, Central):

 

"Yes, Matoran size", Miira replied with a nod. "How fast do you think you can make them?"

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru

 

I thought about it. For ten seconds, on the dot.

 

"Swords, spears, I've got both of 'em in stock. Send someone t' pick 'em, whensoever you please. The bows'll be done tomorrow, and the shields'll be done the day after that, I reckon."

[Toa Levacius Zehvor]

[iC - Callerin] - [Le-Metru] - [The Notch]

 

"Well, that was interesting," she said. "But I'm afraid I must check on other matters until called upon for the next stage of the plan. Try not to get lost in the chutes." After saying that, she walked off over to the chutes, before finally deciding on the one least likely to take her to her destination (and therefore, in the Notch, the most likely) and departing.

 

-Toa Levacius Zehvor

[Toatapio Nuva]

IC Miira

(Po-Metru, Central):

 

Miira nodded. For all the madness Scruff was cursed with, he seemed to be a good businessman. Miira had no doubt weapons crafted by him would be of sufficient quality.

 

"I will send someone to pick the order and pay the price."

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru

I grunted approval. "Alright. Any time's fine wi' me... oh, an' I guess maybe you'll want t' give me a description of your errand boy. Else next time y' see him, it might be in the daily newscast, obituaries section."

[25K Now!]

IC: Yyevi

 

"So, how's life?"

[Toatapio Nuva]

IC Miira

(Po-Metru, Central):

 

Miira nodded. "I will send two. The other one is a red and yellow Ta-Matoran with a blue Kaukau, the other a Po-Matoran with a grey Pakari."

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru

"Two? Good enough. Done deal."

I frowned thoughtfully, committing the descriptions to memory, and then my weathered visage cracked in a smile and I held out a scarred, gnarled right hand.

"Shake on it?"

[Underscore]

IC: Kapa (Le-Metru)

 

"Well, best get started then. Where to first? The Moto Hub?"

[Toatapio Nuva]

IC Miira

(Po-Metru, Central):

 

Miira did not hesitate for long before returning the handshake. Scruff's appearance didn't inspire trust, but for some reason Miira thought as if he already knew the Turaga and honestly believed he would not try anything.

 

"Deal."

 

IC Vilu

(Le-Metru):

 

Vilu nodded. "That's the best place to train at. Let's go."

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru

I grunted approvingly as the Ta-Matoran shook my proffered hand, and then I stepped back, looked him in the eye, and nodded farewell, finishing it all off with a brief, but darn right definitely military, salute. A gesture I'd picked up somewheres back along the line, and hadn't forgotten.

"Done deal, done deal... Off you go, then; it's a-gettin' darker by the minute, and take my word for it, Po-Metru ain't a place for Matoran to wander alone come nightfall. If it ain't the Northwind sentries, it's the Circle thugs. Only safe place, is under cover and behind locked doors."

Turning, I commenced tromping back homewards, favoring my leg a bit as I went. "See you around, lad."

[Toatapio Nuva]

IC Miira

(Po-Metru):

 

Miira gave Scruff a nod and left for Ta-Metru. He was a skilled combatant and far from helpless, but knew the Turaga had been right about the night in Po-Metru. It wouldn't do to encounter a gang of either Northwinds of Circles.

[OmiChron]

[iC: Nepak] / [On a Frost Beetle]

Um, Yyevi? Did you say a healer? Do you know where they are?

[Relapse]

IC:(Iceblade-Some Time Later)

 

The Blade second-in-command stood just outside a remote, abandoned chute station at the exact coordinates given to him by a real estate merchant, over a rotting wooden trapdoor. Luckily he had carried a rope with him for the situation at hand: kicking the trapdoor in revealed a seemingly bottomless pit, roughly five feet in diameter, enough for him to climb down with the rope. A simple knot would keep the rope tethered at the top of the hole as he slid down the rope about thirty feet. When his feet hit the ground, he lit his torch and began looking around.

 

Iceblade examined the lot he had purchased. The purchase of the underground bunker had been the easy part- it was spacious and in a desirable location, but an underground cave was not desirable real estate. He had been able to buy it with his own money. Furnishing it was the hard part. The funding from Swordshifter would only cover half of the tech he planned on inserting into the base-of-operations-to-be, and that wasn't even figuring in the pool table and mini-fridge... What Iceblade envisioned was a dual-sided project. First and foremost, it would be built into a technological behemoth from which the Blades could conduct business, perform surveillance, store goods for a rainy day...that would always be the primary objective. But over the weeks, he saw it becoming a low-key recreational spot for himself and his comrades. A place to kick back and rest when the time was appropriate. This was by no means merely an act of the kindness of his heart, of course, but rather the channeling of his own exhaustion. He looked forward to a bit of enjoyment that didn't involve combat.

 

But for now, he stood in a dank hideaway of rock, the only light source being a torch he had placed on a wall.

[25K Now!]

IC: Yyevi

 

"Yeah follow me."

[Relapse]

IC:(Iceblade)

 

It was the day of the race. Iceblade looking down at his side to affirm that yes, his grapnel launcher was still there. High atop a building so as not to be seen and recognized, Iceblade looked down at his com, waiting for Shifter's orders

Edited March 26, 2014 by Douglas

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru / Area 31

Anyone who thinks grumpy old men ain't up-to-scratch on tech, ain't never seen the bunker workshop of Area 31. There's things down here most Matoran've never seen; heck, there's things down here I've never seen.

Ha. That was a lie. Sort of.

Leastways, it was three in the mornin' and I was hard at work, rubbin' the final coat o' polish into the last batch of shields. Nothin' fancy, they weren't, but steel takes time to do right; I know. I'm about as much steel as you can pack into a Turaga, and trust me, kiddo, I took time to get where I'm at now. Just sayin'.

I set the last shield down in the rack, stepped back an' let my eyes drift contended-like over the gleamin' metallic alloy. Not bad, not bad at all. Simple circular shape, reinforcement rivets, adjustable forearm straps to accommodate most anyone under Toa size. I had the blades and such done as well; nothin' fancy there either, but solid and durable. Simple hand guards, blood grooves, clean edges... utilitarian and functional as you can get, just about.

All that was left now, was for that Ta-Matoran's hired muscle t' come an' collect. Which reminded me... I hadn't checked the perimeter in thirty minutes. Even with an (illegal) closed-circuit surveillance telescreen network, that was far too long for comfort. Even in the dead o' the cool dark desert night.

 

Especially in the dead o' the cool dark desert night.

Shrugging into my armored firefight combat vest, I stepped into the elevator and jabbed at the 'UP' button. A chill hiss of hydraulics, the reinforced blast door clicked shut, and I slid smoothly upwards on polished tracks, thirty feet a second.

[Geardirector]

OOC: Character retcon

 

IC: Baranx (Po-Metru)

 

*Thud*

 

*Thud*

 

*Clack*

 

Rinse and repeat about half a million times, and you would find the old man standing with a square cut block of concrete barely visible on the horizon. The Northwind healer knew very well about the trigger-happy hooligan who lived there, probably watching him right now. "Scruff", they called him, or so did those very few who retained the ability to enunciate words after getting too close.

 

Baranx knew better, he'd stopped as soon as he could make out the bunker on the horizon, and remained there as he went through his game plan briefly in his head.

 

He lifted his staff, and waved it in the bunker's direction.

[Shadowhawk]

OOC:

Oooh, what fun. Been a while since I've seen a combat standoff between two grumpy old men.

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru / Area 31

Constant vigilance, lads an' lasses. Never let no one tell you it ain't a requirement these days. Wise men keep their mouths shut an' their eyes wide open; fools never get the chance. Believe it, I know.

Me, I taken a glance at the fuzzy white-on-black security telescreen and first thing I seen was this little movin' dot on the far dark side o' th' far dark horizon. A little movin' dot that ain't much to look at, might be anything... and ain't normally there.

Just like that, I could feel my blood pressure spike and my heartbeat steadying off into a cool, precise lub-dub, lub-dub. Calm, icy calm. I wasn't nervous, heck no, but I was alert and I was ready. I'd been here, seen this. I knew what to do.

First thing, I jabbed the 'SYSTEMS RED - ACTIVATE' button with a gnarled forefinger and listened to the eerie pop-pop of hydraulics and steel as every last anti-personnel landmine and electric fence and spear trap and spike pit in the compound shook off the dust an' got ready to eviscerate anyone fool enough to plant so much as a scummy bootheel on my turf.

Then I snapped open a nearby compact armory rack and swung out a wicked little somethin' you don't generally see in the shops an' the gun shows. A standard Xian Lightstone Rifle... only not quite so standard if you take a look inside, past the rugged grey metal carapace and the beat-up textured handle grips. Energized lightstones? Pah.

 

More like, custom scaled-down Cordak rockets, dead-on accurate to four hundred yards and capable of blowing a six-foot smokin' crater in anything that moves, save solid protosteel. Takes some shoulder muscle to heft, but when this thing talks, you won't need an undertaker.

You'll need a vacuum cleaner.

OOC:

Feel free to take another action if you like, Geardirector. Scruff's watching you on the camera. I'd have written a longer post, but I won't have any more free time until this evening, and what free time I have now ends now, sooo...

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx (Po-Metru)

 

As he'd expected, "Scruff" had decided to raise Karzahni at the slightest provocation. He shrugged, and buckled the pack he was carrying on his back a little before he remained still again.

 

"I haven't come to fight," he called, "I have a proposition for you"

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru / Area 31

...

I hit the external intercom, activating the hidden loudspeakers on the bunker roof. A quick burst of static, and then my voice was being projected into the still desert night at roughly twice normal volume. Not terribly loud, but sure loud enough t' hear.

"...That's what they all say, stranger. Who're you an' who're you representing?"

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx (Area 31)

 

"My name is Baranx, I'm a member of the Northwinds, but I come here representing myself"

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru / Area 31

Another burst of static as I turned it over in my antique skull. The name checked out; I'd heard it mentioned once or twice, but where, I've no idea. There's three important things that come wi' old age, see; the first is memory loss, and I forgot the other two.

Har har. Last punk who poked that jest at me, I busted his legs. Both of 'em. Just below the kneecaps.

"This a legit business request, or somethin' tied in with your lot? The underworld, I mean."

Edited March 27, 2014 by Shadowhawk

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx (Area 31)

 

"It's about as legit as it can get, given the situation this city's in" Baranx replied, sighing under his breath, this was beginning to grate on his already pretty worn last nerve.

 

"Will you just get your rangy behind out here before I die of old age where I stand?"

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru / Area 31

One second. Two seconds. Then I chuckled, the sound grating harshly but sincerely from my ancient windpipe. The old duffer had nerve, and he wasn't about to back down, and I could appreciate that. He was one of the old type... my type.

"No, I ain't a-comin' out... but I reckon you can come in, if you've a mind to. You'll have to pass the standard security inspection, o' course... there. See the lights? Follow 'em on up t' the door."

As I spoke, I was hittin' the battered yellow toggle switch marked 'SAFE ENTRY'. Outside, little green lights lit up in a winding, criss-crossing trail across the parched desert earth, marking a randomly-generated safe path through the trap-riddled compound to the bunker's dusty steel entryway. It was an ingenious little setup, custom engineered by a scroungy little Le-Matoran technician I'd met in a tavern one evening. Snap the circuit, and a computer network deactivated certain traps at random, then marked 'em. A whole unique pathway, every time.

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx (Area 31)

 

Thuds and clacks, mixed with raspy panting and muttering under dusty breath sounded from Baranx as he traversed the field, weighed down a little by the pack slung across his back.

 

He had a half a mind to give Scruff a piece of his mind when he finally circumnavigated his way to the entrance. He reached out to knock or open the door

[25K Now!]

IC: Naona - Po Metru (Circle Territory)

 

Naona watched the desert.

 

OOC: Open for interaction.

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx (Area 31)

 

"It certainly is quite the operation you have here" Baranx remarked to the Turaga of Iron once he was past the entrance.

 

"I suppose us of the "rare" subspecies have to take our precautions" he remarked with a noncommittal shrug.

 

Much like Iron, Gravity was an element with scarce numbers, but for a different reason, too many of them would simply be too dangerous, Baranx himself had only run into one or two other Ba-Toa on his journeys.

 

Baranx met Laredo's eyes, seeming to dissect him with his gaze. Laredo's eyes were shifty, watchful, zeroing in on every move Baranx made, and his finger a twitch away from pulling a weapon on him. Paranoia had set in, and gotten quite comfortable, it seemed.

 

"But enough smalltalk," Baranx continued, "I come with a proposal"

[Shadowhawk]

OOC:

Bunnying permitted.

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru / Area 31

"Constant vigilance!" I barked abruptly. "Yes, I reckon we do. I've lived a good long while, and I ain't ready to stop any time soon."

Even as I spoke, I was a-callin' on my element, mentally 'frisking' the aged Northwinds gangster for metal weaponry. Same little trick I'd pulled on the Ta-Matoran, and about a hundred thousand persons before him through th' years. It hadn't ever failed me yet.

"And what's yer proposal? Speak it straight out and honest; we're both adults and well past the age of pretense, I reckon."

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx (Area 31)

 

Aside from his plainly visible Badge of Office, the only other object likely to raise any alarms was the one Baranx had slung across his back wrapped in cloth, which wasn't going to remain a secret for much longer anyway.

 

"The Northwinds' war with the Circle is at a standstill, but I feel something brewing, and I want to be prepared."

 

And with that, Baranx buckled the pack around to his arms, and ripped off the cloth, revealing a somewhat dusty Impact Crystal Launcher, with a few stains of rust, and an audible cluttering of loose parts as he moved it in his arms.

 

"I presume you can fix this?"

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Laredo ('Scruff') ] - Central Po-Metru / Area 31

I eyed the dilapidated weapon appreciatively, noting the trim, utilitarian lines and fine craftsmanship still evident under the rust and dirt, then held out battered, steel-gauntleted hands as if to receive a solid brick of purest gold. Or a newborn babe, or somethin' o' the sort. Somethin' rare an' valuable. A collectible, almost.

"More'n likely. Mind if I take a look?"

[Geardirector]

IC: Baranx (Area 31)

 

"You're the expert, just do your job" Baranx grunted, that was his idea of a quip.

 

If there was one part of his old self that Baranx still felt like indulging, it was his eventful past, and so he didn't wait for invitation to tell the story of how the Xian weapon had come into his possession.

 

"This weapon used to belong to a feared Skakdi warlord, one with ambitions beyond just ruling Zakaz, and smart enough to focus on that part of her expansion while everyone else were still warring over the last two rocks on Zakaz that were put together. And she was even smart enough to attack the weakest first."

 

Baranx spat the last few words with vitriol, disgust evident in his eyes.

 

"That eventually led her to a village on the Southern Continent where a plague had recently passed through, leaving most of the villagers dead or weak. I was there, having worked to keep the plague at bay, but I was the only Toa for Mio around, it was grim.

 

"So I challenged her to single combat, and long story short there's still a few on Zakaz who curse the name 'Baranx the Liberator'"