Round Three - Mission One Results
Micky McKinley, Clankenstein, and Bill the BUM… a more disreputable-looking gang of Mecha-Necks you’d be hard-pressed to find. They were none of them fast, well-armed, or particularly handsome. But what they all were were consummate professionals of the Automechanical Arts. Some whispered that they were on the verge of becoming…
The weather was on their side this day. Since none of their faster or better-armed brethren chose to accompany them to Stretch’s branch of the Fleetwood MacChanics chain of junkyards and repair emporia,
they were lacking someone with the skillset necessary to evade the machine gun turrets mounted on every corner of the yard. The motion was raised to roshambo a candidate to die before the turrets, but once it was realized that, though he was also the fastest, Clankenstein’s high EN skill would be vital to unlocking the door, Bill the BUM volunteered to distract the turrets. Just as he began his decoy maneuvers a squall began to blow, driving rain so powerfully before the yard that visibility was down to mere inches. The other two Mechanics doused their lights and coasted over to the rear loading dock doors in Neutral, successfully evading detection. They rolled up to the lock code panel and began to hack. Each failed attempt hurt, either through electric shocks (which were especially painfully damaging in the rain) or through shots landed on Bill as the hacking process dragged on and the turrets completely failed to run out of bullets.
It took 25 attempts, but in the end the door opened with McKinley having hacked two of the digits and Clankenstein getting the other three. Bill, having taken out two of the pesky turrets, rolled around to join his compatriots as the door rolled open, and they stood in silence, regarding Stretch’s junkyard dog Fido.
He looked to be much the same breed as Rex had been at the start of his biological life, but without the more obvious cybernetic implants. In point of fact, Fido was completely artificial, sort of a proof-of-concept that Stretch built, largely to win a bet, to show that there was nothing under the sun that couldn’t be improved upon by careful iteration, lengthy beta testing, and dedicated quality assurance.
The Mechanics consulted their notes, compared their analyses, eliminated redundancies, ran a quick roshambo to establish firing order, and took their turns reading off Fido’s seven known commands in the three languages the cyberdog was believed to understand.
Micky “Sponge” McKinley, whose Rock had proved triumphant over the Scissors of the other two Mechanics, went first.
“reH Heghpu’.” spake the Sponge in a guttural tone that required much patting of the back and sipping of water afterward. Immediately Fido reared back on his hind legs and danced for a full fifteen seconds. Micky Sponge blinked. “Well, that wasn’t it.”
“Let me try,” offered Clankenstein. “Patayin.” Fido padded over and bit off Clank’s right headlight for 2HP damage. “Ow! Sonofabitch!”
Bill the BUM smirked. “Not much of a touch with animals you got there, Reverend Clank. Let me show you how it’s done. HoH.” Upon which Fido immediately began humping Bill’s leg, which, when completed, suddenly conferred upon Bill the distinct sensation that somehow his Luck had improved by +2LK or so. Not that he was tempted to repeat the experience.
Micky couldn’t resist pointing out that maybe Bill had too much of a touch with animals, whereupon Bill impatiently indicated Mick should get on with it. And so it went:
Micky: “کشتن.” The dog evacuated its bowels violently on the floor, including a somewhat soiled Parts Package.
Clankenstein: Having seen what Micky got from “Play dead” in Klingon, Clank skipped to the next one on his list: “رول بر.” The dog began to howl loudly enough that the Mechanics nearly bolted, sure that Stretch would awaken and all the security measures would fall on their heads like a ton of bricks. But then Fido ceased howling and silence reigned supreme once more. Stretch remained silent and motionless, parked in his charging station. Bill stepped forward for his turn.
Bill: “I-play ang patay.” Fido scampered behind each of the three Mechanics and emitted an odd high-pitched whirring sound. From the tailpipes of those who had suffered an APC or squid-larvae infestation over the last few days came a long stream of the nasty little pests, which Fido slurped up greedily. When the last little parasite had been consumed, Fido sat down in front of the Mechanics again, wagged his tail once, and cocked his head expectantly.
And on it went. Micky’s “Manatili” made the dog head over to Stretch and begin the boot-up sequence, but Clank, whose next guess had been scheduled to be the same, hurriedly choked out the next command, “Nep!” which resulted in Fido voiding a growing pool of uric/hydraulic acid onto Stretch’s bedside rug. Bill’s “دراز بکشید.” earned him a nibble on the tailpipe for 1HP damage, and when Micky grunted “ba’” the dog went behind the parts counter and brought forth a loaded 10mm pistol which it lay at Micky’s feet, good for +2FP. Clank said “بنشینید.” and Fido tore off his front license plate. Bill said “ghop shake” and Fido dropped Clank’s LP at Bill’s feet. Not feeling the need to reproduce Bill’s nibble from saying “Lie down” in Farsi, Micky tried “Iling.” Fido bared his teeth and began to growl menacingly, whereupon Clank hurriedly checked his list. “Shake hands” in Tagalog was no good, “Kill” in Klingon had also already been tried, so he hollered “بازی مرده است.”
Fido immediately turned and leaped into Stretch’s open driver-side window. Placing his forepaws upon the dash, he barked once, wagged his tail happily, and promptly self-destructed.
Car parts and circuits rained down throughout the loading dock and junkyard office. Once the smoke cleared, the Mechanics warily drove into the office and looked around. The keys to the junkyard were found, the machine gun nests were disarmed, the safe carefully extracted from beneath the parts counter. On the way out the door, Bill bumped into a watermelon-shaped component that immediately began complaining.
“Dad-blame you thievin’ communistic sonsabitches! Wait till the Boss hears o’ this! He’ll stomp you flatter’n hammered horsepucky, see if he don’t!”
Stretch’s head had more things to say, but Bill just tossed it into the back of his Ford tow truck and grinned. “Oh, I think Cougar’s gonna be happy ‘bout this.”
Note: this Mission was 10 miles round trip. Each Mechanic used 1 gallon of gas.
Clankenstein (davide405) Mechanic
MHP HP FP AR SP TQ MV EN LK Gas LP 31 15 29 28 43 23 24 59 33 29 40
It took 25 attempts to break the code on the back door, and you took 10 electric shocks in the process. At 1.4 HP damage per shock, you suffered 14 total HP of damage! 3 digits successfully hacked for +3LP! Fido bit you for -2HP! -1LP lost to Fido! You succeeded in getting past Fido for +10LP! +15LP for successful Mission completion!
Micky McKinley a.k.a “Sponge” (blckjckdavey) Mechanic
MHP HP FP AR SP TQ MV EN LK Gas LP 28 14 25 23 31 14 12 30 19 29 22
It took 25 attempts to break the code on the back door, and you took 10 electric shocks in the process. At 1.6 HP damage per shock, you suffered 16 total HP of damage! 2 digits successfully hacked for +2LP! +15LP for successful Mission completion! You got a 10mm pistol for +2FP!
Bill the BUM (webiii1976) Mechanic
MHP HP FP AR SP TQ MV EN LK Gas LP 31 09 27 27 33 14 49 28 18 35 20
It took 25 attempts to break the code on the back door, and you took 20 hits from turrets in the process. At 1.1 HP damage per hit, you suffered 21 total HP of damage! 2 turrets destroyed for +2LP! +1LP gained from Fido! Fido humped your leg, Lucky! +2LK. Fido bit you for -1HP! +15LP for successful Mission completion!