Drifter One

Hey folks - just to let you know im gonna bail as this game does not seem to be going anywhere. Good luck all.

 RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45 INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4 Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions: Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed | Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4)   As conversation continued as the Kuma glided down the freeway, Ricky began loading Lucy with slugs, his calloused fingers nimbly slotting them into the magazine. "This old girl can sure shred a wheel or two. If we do this then we need to surround them quick and grab the merch.  We probably have more time than we need out here as NCPD wont consider it a priority now we are outta the city streets. Unless we cause some catastrophe that is." Ricky flicked the safety off the aging weapon and adjusted his position, pressing the button to retract the window. "Ready. If you are..."  

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45 INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4 Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions: Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed | Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):   Ricky rummaged in his duffel bag at his feet for a moment s Kat smoothly brought the Kuma around and nestled in the traffic a couple of vehicles behind the White SUV. He withdrew a long iron; a shotgun formed of cobalt blue steel barrel and a walnut stock. It looked old and battered, like it had seen a lot of action. "This is Lucy. The old girl has seen a fair bit trouble over the years, and yes, ive popped a few tyres with her. If this is the road we are taking, i can take the shot."  Shooting tyres was all part of being a beat cop, as car chases were commonplace throughout NC. Quietly, he hoped Lucy has enough clout to take out a custom rig.

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45 INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4 Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions: Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed | Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):   Ricky was about to retort but then thought better of it, as he felt it wasn't his place to lecture these Pups anyway. They would soon realise that Night City was not a good place to be and certainly not a "fun" environment. Unless ones idea f fun is surviving each day. Now Kat, the driver, was more his kind of guy. He wasn't a talker and seemed to just be a "get the job done" sort. Ricky admired that. Suddenly, the detective found his reverie interrupted.   "woah slow down, we got contact on the radar. U-Turn! Do a U-Turn! Package was in that whive SUV, we have to follow it, but we can't bee too agresive, as not to spook them." Rossalie spat, but Kat did not flinch nor make any drastic maneuvers. Ricky shuffled forward in his seat and his hand went to rest on his pistol.   "Jeezus Christ, calm down! Made me nearly jump out of my threads! Look, Kat is right, lets not panic or draw attention. We will drive up the road a little then smoothly turn around and tail them." Ricky swivelled so he could catch sight of the white SUV out the rear window. "Right, I think we have two options. We can tail them and see where they are headed. Bare in mind that they could be heading to a lockup, warehouse, or some other such place where they can double the number of gonks. I don't think that would be in our favour. Ricky paused and scratched the stubble on his chin. "Or, we could tail them for a bit and pop the tyres, force them to stop on our terms and then try and klep the goods. I wasn't expecting the target to be mobile, so the sooner we get out mitts on the package, the better. What'dya reckon?"

im here. Where else would i be? Its cyberpunk man!

Uh uh. I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well to tell you the truth in all this excitement I kinda lost track myself. But being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and would blow your head clean off, you've gotta ask yourself one question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya, punk? - Harry Callahan

Happy New Year folks. Hope it is a good one and an improvement on the last few!

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45 INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4 Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions: Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed | Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):     What do we do for fun? is she fucking kidding me!?   Ricky felt his blood boil somewhat at this question, either she was naive or completely new to this game, either way, there was no fun to be had in Night City. Ricky just stared out of the window as the Kuma whizzed by, noting secific areas where he had been shot at, involved in a bust or slotted some punk. Every street had a story, and he had been involved in far to many. He often wondered how he was even still alive. Ricky took off his glasses for a moment and used his coat to try and buff out a smear before replacing his dark lenses back on his nose. The glare of the Neon that constantly bounced in ones face around NC often caused him headaches, and the sun glasses gave him some mild relief. Ricky cleared his throat.   "There ain't nothin' fun in NC, kid. This place...it draws you in, chews you up and spits you out on the street. Trust me, i've been around these blocks for many, many years, more than i care to remember. It sucks any fuckin' joy you have right from your very soul. Everyday is a challenge just to get by, earn enough Eddies to pay your bills without getting a fuckin' bullet to the skull. Nah, there ain't no fun. There's just survivin'."   Ricky shuffled in his seat, he flet he had said too much already. He wasn't much of a talker. The conversation soon turned and the others began to argue about what each should be called.   Just use yer damn names! Ricky thought, and decided it was a convo he should check out of.

whoops. AN oversight i have now rectified 🙂

finally Platinumed Cyberpunk 2077 after 92 hours.... PLaying Warhammer 3: Total War now.

  One of the all time greatest Christmas hits....ever!

Ricky fell silent. The wheelman was right of course, getting slotted was par for the course for that amount of eddies. Trouble was Rick had far too much to do and reparations had to be made; he couldn't do that if he got zero'd. Then again, he'd been working the mean streets of NC for a couple of decades now and he had survived this long.   Despite the near misses. he thought to himself as he mindlessly rubbed an old gunshot wound in his thigh. It still hurt now and then, but he could never tell if it was a phantom pain or if it was real. He could've just gone the route of some of his old pals and got decked out with some chrome replacements, but Ricky hated it. He would never substitute his real body for any robotic nonsense. Despite all the aches and pains of middle age. He pulled out his pistol, a Millitech AP-49 custom. The grip had two entwined silver swans etched on each side. He affectionally called it Renee, after his wife. She had a vicious bite too. Checking it was loaded with a full clip he checked the safety and stowed it away in its holster.   "Yep. Nice and clean. But if those punks come shootin'..." Ricky paused, not bothering to finish his sentence. If his life was in danger, playing the nice guy would not end well. "let's just get this done." Ricky sat back in his seat and looked out the window. The streets were quiet, but they always concealed something, so he made sure he would keep his detectives eye on his surroundings.

@Sapphic Reiver hope all goes well for you.

The messenger for the Pastor did not hang around; spilled the beans and delta'd outta there. Something did not sit right with Ricky, maybe it was instinct or maybe it was just his years on the force made him suspicious of everything and everyone. Still, he had to do what he had to do. The tracker was passed to Mercedes, so she slipped in the front next to the Nomad and Ricky found himself sat in the back next to the Koi lady. Ricky wound down the window to try and let the odour out. NC was rank on the best of days, but damn it was less of a torment on the nostrils than the stench coming from the car.   "Something stinks." Ricky muttered. "And I don't mean the wagon." he added, realising he was stating the obvious. He shuffled forward in his seat, grabbing the headrest of the passenger seat in front. "So we are delivery drivers, huh?" Ricky nonchalantly pulled his hipflask from his overcoat and began to unscrew the cap. "Last time I got mail, din't take four fucking people to deliver it. This ain't gonna be no simple pick up, and if the package is as important as it seems, why would scav trash nick it?". Ricky flopped back into his seat and stared out of the window as the full sun began to blaze higher in the sky. "I dunno. Just need to be on our toes, is all im sayin'." Ricky took a long swig from his hiplflask.

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45 INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4 Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions: Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed | Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):    

  As Ricky puffed away, enjoying the tabacco taste as it burned his throat with every inhale. He was often like this; enjoying the pain of lifes choices one minute, and then drowning them with whiskey the next. It was a paradox. The fella who gave him the light did not seem to be a talkative sort, but then most people on the game wern't. It was easier that way. As ge reached the end of his cigarette, a petit looking woman appeared, dressed to impress yet had the odd accessory which suggested a big "**** You!" to the system. He felt for her a little, for he knew the system could not be beat, and it always won. Nevertheless, she seemed quite confident and announced she was looking for something.    Only a moment later another woman appeared, very young looking Ricky thought.    Damn kids should be at home with their folks having breakfast! Yet, as she got closer, Ricky noticed there was wisdom in her eyes, maybe not as young as he thought. She pleasantly introduced herself, which took Ricky back a bit as manners were in short supply in Night City, and although he lacked them himself through the nature of his career, he sure as hell appreciated them. The second individual mentioned Pastor Robert.    "Paster Robert?" He affirmed. "You too?" he asked, turning to the other woman. Exhaling a final puff of blue smoke, Ricky tossed his cigarette into the road and walked over to the pair. "Looks like we are all part of the same crew. I'm Ricky." he introduced.   Before any conversation could start, a thunderous noise interrupted the formalities. Ricky looked up and could see a red vehicle screaming towards them, hitting the kerb with the dull thud of rubber on concrete before screeching to a halt. The din was cut immediately as the engine was terminated.   "You the pastor's lot?  If'n you wanna roll 'n talk, hop in, otherwise point me where you want me.  Rather not park on a main." Came a gruff voice from inside the cab. Ricky walked over and leant into the window, one arm resting on the roof. A pungent smell punched him in the nose and he almost baked at the odour.   "Hey man. You the wheels? Im Ricky." He motioned over to the side street opposite. "Why don't you pull up over there? We need to talk to this dandy fella over there and get the deets."  

  Ricky was sat in one of his favourite dives, a slinky little bar in Japantown called Ziggi's. It was small, long and narrow running under the street and filled with the typical pink and green neon strip lighting. Ricky found it calming, especially after a day cruising the beat in Night City. He had knocked off early from the night shift and found himself sat in Ziggi's, the usual companions of a pack of "Aces" cigarettes and a large glass of whiskey. Looking down at the brown liquor in his tumbler, he promised himself he would one day visit Scotland and taste the real stuff. But that had to wait.   Turned down low, a flat panel was showing footage of a music concert, some wild haired glamourpuss strutting about on stage and the crowd going wild for it. Ricky downed his whiskey.   God damned Rockerboys! he muttered to himself, indicating to the bar steward for another double shot.   Brrrrpppp....bleep bleep! His agent stirred into life. Ricky grabbed the aging device and tapped the screen, it was from the Pastor; co-ordinates of where to go for the gig. Castille and Herald. Ricky felt a pang of bitter sweetness. Glad he had been chosen so he could earn some extra eddies, but disappointed it was South Night City. The place was rough and dangerous; he was hoping for a simple errand. Popping another "Ace" into his mouth, Ricky lit the tobacco stick with his Classic '98 and took a long draw.   Everything alright, Rick? Asked Neto, the bar steward as he placed a coaster and his drink down on the bar.   Yeah, Neet. Just runnin' some overtime. Y'know? he answered as he exhaled the blue smoke. I'll finish this up and be on my way.   Whatever you need, choom. Neto replied.   Ricky did not stay long, he finished his cigarette in a few drags and gulped down his whiskey. Tapping on his agent he transferred the eddies owed and slid off of his stool before slipping on his Trilby.   See you tomorrow. Neto said as he cleared the empty glasses from where Ricky had sat.   Yep. He replied, gripping the handrail to the stairs as he ascended back up to street level. It was 20 past five in the morning and the early risers of NC had just started to crawl out of their pits. As he reached the street a pungent odour of the all too familiar smell of rotting rubbish filled his nostrils. He often wondered how could "fresh" air often smelled so foul. Hailing  cab, Ricky made his way to Castille and Herald.   Castille and Herald The AI spat at Ricky as the taki pulled up on the street corner. It was quiet, which was how he wanted it to be, but he checked his iron just in case, before stowing away in his hidden holster. As the taxi drove off with a hum, Ricky adjusted his trousers and tucked his shirt in, all the while his keen eyes scanning the street scene before him. He examined the rooftops to ensure there was noone peering down from above, at least that he could see and most of the few folks that were wandering about looked harmless enough. There, leaning against that car... read pants and a leopard skin jacket.   Christ, who dressed this clown? he thought to himself. Pulling an Ace from its packet, Ricky strode over to the individual.   Hey Man. Got a light? he asked, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. As the man offered his fire, Ricky leant in to ensure the cigarette tip met with flame. Pastor. You know 'im? God some of the lords work to do.        

  Ugghhhhhhh.....   Ricky stirred and as he rolled over he tumbled from the stained, cracked leather couch, hitting the hard floor of his conapt with a thud.   Jeezus Christ... he cursed as empty bottles clattered and crashed around him. Ricky sat up, back against the couch and rubbed his head, sore from and overindulgent evening and his hair messy and crusty with dried Stylocream. He paused for a moment, his arms resting over his knees as he surveyed the mess around him. He was living like a bum, and he knew it. He struggled since he and his wife had separated and he was forced to rent this shoebox whilst things "sorted out". Standing with a grunt, Ricky kicked some empty vials out of his path as he stumbled to the bathroom. He was still fully dressed from the night before, even still had his overcoat on. Get a grip... he muttered to himself as he reached out and waved his hand in front of the shower control. Hot streams of water immediately fell from the shower head, steam filling up the small room immediately. Ricky began to peel off his dirty clothes.   The shower came as warm relief to Ricky as the hot water seemed to wash away his foggy head and the grime of Night City which just seemed to stick to his skin. He had lathered up with soap and washed it away and was now just standing under the stream of warmth as it soothed all his aches and stresses.   bbzzzzzz....Hot water quota limits reached. Terminating...bzzzttt came a static ridded synthesized voice and the shower abruptly stopped. Ricky sighed heavily. Exiting the shower booth, Ricky quickly dried himself and dressed in his usual white shirt and dark brown suit. Pouring a quick pick-me-up of whiskey and drinking it in one gulp, Ricky heard the familiar beeping sound of his agent.   Where the **** is it... he swore, rummaging through cushions and empty glasses and all manner of other untidied items, much like a scavenger on a rubbish tip. Eventually he exhaled with relief as he found his agent, but slumped back on the sofa in disappointment, it was not Renee calling to offer reconciliation. It was the job boards, pinging with the latest gigs.   Ricky was a cop, but cops got paid pittance and he found he was struggling more than ever, Since his split from Renee, he had to support himself as well as her and their son, Jack. He had already been declined three times for promotion this year; he was beginning to feel the precinct were trying to stifle his progression. He had toyed with the idea of pimping himself out to private clients for some time now, just to make ends meet, which is why he had signed up to these damned job boards in the first place. His finger hovered over the screen for a prolonged period until finally it dropped and pressed the "Accept" button.   His agent immediately connected to the fixer who had posted the gig. It was a recorded message which at the end, asked Ricky to leave contact details, where if chosen the fixer, one "Pastor Robert", would be in touch. After leaving his details, Ricky terminated the call.   All in the good service of the Lord. he told himself. He turned to the coffee table and pushed some debris aside and grabbed an upturned photo frame. He stared at it for a long time, the picture of his wife, Renee and their son, Jack. He kissed the picture and set it upright on the table.   I'll make this right, Baby. I promise.

Damn NCPD budgets!!!

@TheWorldmakerwould Ricky have access to a Squad car at all?

ahh cracking thanks!

hmm , im not a coder by any stretch, and cant seem to get my image to stick. Any advice from you techie types?

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45 INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4 Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions: Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed | Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):  

lets bust some Gonks! And do other things...