Don't Roll a One!

Recent Updates

Re: Empire

Gatac posted in Empire on 2018-02-21 10:35:15
Suitably equipped for all foreseeable contingencies, Takao and Toshiba are picked up by Lady Ikishi's carriage and "enjoy" the ride to the docks with subsequent ferrying to her mansion in silence. When they do arrive at the mansion / mausoleum / crazy deathtrap, it looks quite different from their previous nocturnal incursion: the sparse courtyard is now covered with a large fabric tent roof, under which two dozen personnel labor to prepare the lunch courses. The smells of caramelized onions, sharp peppers and stir-fried meat fill your nostrils, seasoned by the soft salty breeze. The table set for you is also much less imposing than one might suspect, being able to seat at most ten people; as is, it is set for merely three. At the head of the table, a richly decorated wooden box - Ikishi's personal norimono has been placed.

"Welcome, Shinmen Takao," Ikishi says from within, her face in shadow. Even those words seem to be too much, and she struggles to suppress a cough. She stretches out a hand to indicate that you should take a seat - you can't fail to notice that it is covered in a long glove, with no skin visible. "Please, take your seats," she continues. "It is...agreeable that you...brought the Blue Oni with you. We have...some things to discuss. Things that...are not meant for Lady Kamura's ears."

Unseen by anyone else, Kagemaru detaches from the shadow of the carriage and begins his approach to the mansion.


The courthouse is almost empty, because the trial of the day is popular. So popular, in fact, that masses of legal scholars, administrators and the well-to-do among the “concerned citizens” have been clamoring for seats all morning, ending in Judge Omo ordering the whole crowd ejected from the proceedings. Every step echoes in the grand hall, where so far a bare dozen people remain: Omo himself, Lord Hetechi and an assistant, the court scribes and a few guards. Still missing are the accused herself, Lady Matsumoto Yukio (or is that Empress Yukio? We’re here to find out!) and her advocate, Lady Kirika Kamura.

“Bring in the accused,” Omo orders. It echoes a bit, from all the empty space, but the way he says it, in a particularly low and unhurried manner, indicates that he’s going to take this trial as seriously as any other. Accordingly, a simple side door to the hall slides open, and Yukio steps out - wearing a fine kimono and with her hair done up, leaving little doubt as to her heritage. Her face falters briefly when she doesn’t spot Kirika in the hall yet, but she strides in, setting the pace with two guards following behind her. As if there was an ‘X’ drawn on the floor, she stops in exactly the right place and bows her head.

“Judge Omo,” she says with practiced surety, “I humbly present myself to your court.”
Omo bows his head in return. “The court recognizes Lady Matsumoto,” he says. “Please be seated.”
A knocking occurs at the latched louvers covering the windows to the roof, and then one of them knocks inwards - revealing Kirika Kamura, who rolls through the gap, hangs off the fifteen foot ledge, and drops straight to the floor like it was five. A blue form slides through sideways after Kirika - as so not to snag the arrows hanging out of her chest - and instead of hanging, just hovers down to the ground next to Kirika. Kirika dusts her fine kimono off - none the worse for wear, and steps forward to Judge Omo. “Judge Omo, Kirika Kamura, and my second, Kaede Kamura, humbly present themselves to the court in the defense of Lady Matsumoto.”
“How’s it going?” Kaede adds, pulling one of the spectral arrows from her shoulder. “Don’t mind me.”
“...the court recognizes Lady Kamura,” Omo says, then looks at Kaede. “And Lady Kamura. Please be seated.”

Yukio gives a smile to Kirika’s entrance, though even she can’t help but raise an eyebrow at Kaede’s entrance. Hetechi, though, seems unfazed by the presence of an unearthly spirit, instead scanning his notes again. Kirika takes her seat at Yukio’s side - after sliding out a chair for Kaede - and takes her love’s hand as she sits down.

“The trial will commence now,” Judge Omo says. “Does the accused’s advocate wish to make an opening statement?”
Kirika stands. “I do, Judge. Esteemed High Judge Omo, we are here today to reach a fair judgement on Princess Yukio Mohime - not as a potential Goddess or Empress, but as a citizen of the Empire. We do not dispute...the allegations made against her today, but instead ask that the court find the leniency agreed upon by both sides - the sincere apology of Princess Mohime and the restitution offered - sufficient in this case. Princess Mohime deeply regrets her actions last night, and wishes to make amends, Judge - just as any other citizen should. Thank you.”

Omo nods to Kirika. “The court has heard Lady Kamura’s opening statement. Lady Matsumoto, is there anything you would like to add to the words of your advocate?”
Yukio stands up from her seat and bows her head. “I have nothing to add to Lady Kamura’s words, Judge Omo.”
“Very well,” Omo says. “You may be seated.”

As everyone settles back down, Omo makes some quick notes on a scroll in front of him. “The court now wishes to hear from the accuser’s side. However” - he checks his scroll again - “I see here that the court has received a petition to dismiss the trial on the grounds that the accuser does not wish to press charges against Lady Matsumoto. The scribes will please note that the trial proceeds at the explicit request of the accused. Lord Hetechi, as representative of the accuser, it falls to you to present the best possible case for why Lady Matsumoto should bear the weight of the law despite the special circumstances in this case.” He sighs. “I take it you have prepared an opening statement to this effect?”

“Indeed I have, Judge Omo,” Hetechi says, rising from his seat. Kirika can see a quiet bit of despair play over Omo’s face as Hetechi picks up several pages worth of notes. “By your leave, I shall begin.”
“The court will now hear Lord Hetechi’s opening argument,” Omo says.

As Hetechi strides forward, Kaede floats over to Kirika. “...he’s yummy,” she comments.
“He’s not into your type, sadly,” Kirika replies. “Women, not spirits.”
“Has everyone switched sides while I was away?” Kaede wonders, maybe a bit too loudly. Yukio coughs as a convenient excuse to cover her face.
“Why, did you know him?” Kirika asks, lowering her whisper slightly to try to get Kaede to do the same.
“Hah!” Kaede laughs. Omo and Hetechi look at her, and she spits out a quick “Sorry!”, floating a bit lower.

Undeterred, Hetechi clears his throat and looks down at his notes one more time before he spreads his left arm out and turns slightly, like an actor addressing a packed theater.

"The issue before us today is not whether Mohime-san injured Yakuta-san,” he begins. “Nobody here disputes this. Neither is the issue whether Mohime-san is, by marriage, the rightful Empress and as such a living goddess. It is an important question, but as I will show, it is not fundamental to this trial. The issue is whether a goddess can become a woman by merely saying so.

The court will note that I beg indulgence to elucidate some common knowledge, not to draw out the proceedings, but to establish the foundation upon which this case turns. It has been the consistent position of Imperial jurisprudence, if not scholarship as a whole, that the Emperor and the Empress are gods in human guise, guided by divine wisdom. As such, any action taken by a god or goddess is, a priori, correct. The purpose of the law is to instruct us mere humans in correctness; a god or goddess needs no such direction. As the law is made by humans, it is necessarily a shadow of the truth. It is a shadow we endeavour to draw in the sharpest lines, but still flawed in ways we are ourselves too flawed to truly understand and therefore remedy. Where divine wisdom contradicts the law, it must be seen as an instruction to fix the law, for the law in that regard is simply wrong."

Hetechi nods to Kaede, who doesn't seem to quite know what to do with that, but nods back.

"Mohime-san has stated clearly and under no duress that she wishes to be tried as a samurai befitting her station, as the daughter of Matsumoto Aotaka. If such a thing is possible - and I say this with no prejudice towards either side of the question - then the trial would be a simple application of the law; we would examine the circumstances of the injury, the privileges and protections extended to both Mohime-san and Yakuta-san, as well as the wisdom of previous rulings. But although this might make things easier on all of us, we cannot choose an answer by how convenient it is. We must look seriously at the question no matter what we wish to be true: what if a goddess cannot be a mere woman?

I fear it is so, and I will now explain why I believe it. The truth is not a matter of convenience, nor of belief, or even of what we are able to grasp of it; it simply is, and it resists all attempts to change. No amount of sophistry will make true that which is not, or render truth into lies; to believe such can be done is the mark of a fool, to turn it into a trade is the mark of a huckster. What is true is true and cannot change no matter how much we wish it could; what can change is not truth, and never was. There exists no mold that can shatter itself, no songbird that can deny its beak and feathers. A goddess is a goddess, whether we believe in her or deny her.

If Mohime-san is the rightful Empress, then she is a goddess, and cannot be a woman, no matter how much she professes a desire to be treated as such. If this was the conclusion I reached here, then this trial would, indeed, turn to the question of whether Mohime-san is the rightful Empress; a question which, with all respect to the court, I believe should not be decided here. Yet, how can we argue about anything else, when this case seems to hinge on the distinction?"

He lets that hang for a moment. As he turns away, Kaede floats up a bit again. “He’s taking a while to get going, isn’t he?” she whispers. “I liked yours better. To the point.”
“I see what he’s trying to do,” Kirika replies. “He’s going to be going for a while yet, I’d get comfortable.” She leans over to give Yukio a peck on the cheek. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay, dearest,” Yukio whispers. Still, she squeezes her hand a bit harder as Hetechi’s argument continues.
“I’m here, love,” Kirika replies, returning the squeeze and rubbing her thumb on the back of Yukio’s hand.

Hetechi’s latest dramatic pose finished, and he resumes his argument.

"But!" he says. "In my haste, I have not drawn a clear distinction between some things, and in those distinctions I see a way out of this dilemma. A careless scholar might say, to be is the same as to be treated as; certainly this is an assumption one might tease from my speech. Yet, I say, it need not be so. It might be argued that to treat a goddess as anything other than a goddess is to deny what she is, but such would be the refuge of only the simplest intellect. Our minds, flawed as they might be next to divine wisdom, can recognize the difference between what a thing is and what it should be treated as, and believe in both. A child learns to wield a stick as he might wield a blade, a game of shogi tasks us to imagine legions of warriors in place of painted pieces of wood; why, even the throne itself is, to sober eyes, a mere thing of wood and metal and lacquer, but it holds immeasurably vast power as a symbol of the Emperor's rightful place in the Heavens. In all such cases, we have substituted what we can grasp for that which we cannot."

He looks to Kaede again. “I think he’s into me,” Kaede whispers.
“Do you know him?” Kirika whispers back.
“No,” Kaede says, and grins. “I’d remember a butt like that.”
Yukio coughs again.
“Okay, okay,” Kaede whispers.
“It is nice,” Kirika admits. “But not as nice as yours, love.”
“Girls will be girls,” Kaede comments quietly.

Just then, Hetechi starts the final walk of his performance.

"In my examples,” he says, “three things have been treated as more than they are, but is the reverse permissible? I see no reason why it should not be. One might say it is disrespect to treat a goddess as a woman; I do not see how that follows. I do not propose that we treat Mohime-san with any disrespect. I propose instead that we treat Mohime-san's request as that of a goddess who has come to instruct us in divine wisdom. We should consider her request as that of a master who steps into a dojo and asks to be instructed as a beginner, to both test the teacher's skillfulness and to add to it. And I say to you: if you were the teacher and you treated this master differently than any one of your other students, if you extended courtesies to him and him alone - does this not speak poorly of how you conduct yourself away from the watchful eyes of your betters? If your heart wavers at this thought, does this not show you how much farther you have to travel down the road to your own fulfillment? And do you in your arrogance believe that you need to hold back your strength and skill against a master lest you hurt him?

I say, let us honor Mohime-san's request. Let us replace our fear and flawed thinking with a full-hearted embrace of this trial. Let us sharpen our wits against the whetstone of divinity. Let us trust that a goddess does not require us to second-guess her decisions.

Let us try Mohime-san as she wishes to be tried: as a samurai."
“Woo-hoo!” Kaede cheers from her seat.
“...Lady Kamura,” Omo says. “Order, please.”
“Oh, right,” Kaede says. “Sorry, Judge.”

As Hetechi finds his seat again, Omo turns to his scribe, who gives him a nod. “The court has heard Lord Hetechi’s reasoning,” Omo says. “Recess is ordered for half an hour. All rise.”
Kirika stands, only releasing Yukio’s hand to bow to Omo before it immediately returns to its proper place. After a round of bows, Omo rises from his seat and retreats to his office along with the scribe.

“Well, that was quick,” Kaede comments.
“Only the first round of the trial, I’m afraid,” Hetechi comments, a warm smile on his lips as he walks over. “Lady Matsumoto,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “I am glad to see you well. May I just say that I admire your willingness to stand trial and set precedent thereby? I do hope you’ll forgive me that I was cast as the villain in this play.”
“Oh, I...I wouldn’t say that you’re the...villain,” Yukio says, returning the bow.
“And I hope my library was of some use to you, Lady Kamura,” he adds.
“It was,” Kirika says, and looks to Kaede. “For more than one reason. Have you met my aunt Kaede?”
“I have not,” Hetechi says, nodding to the spirit. “You lead the peasant uprising in the South during the Millet Crisis, if I recall correctly.”
Kaede smirks. “They called it a rebellion, in my time,” she says.
“History is rarely kind to noble causes,” Hetechi says. “First they are demonized...then trivialized.”
“Better than to be forgotten,” Kaede says.
“Um,” Yukio speaks up. “I’m sorry, but...can we talk about...why you’re here?”
“I asked for help, and she came,” Kirika says. “Not sure what for yet, but I have faith.”
“There’s a purpose to everything,” Kaede says, then pauses. “I think.”
“I’m afraid matters of the worlds beyond are not my field of expertise,” Hetechi says. “Lady Kamura, your opening statement was very...straightforward.”
“And yours was intentionally obtuse,” Kirika replies. “I know an attempt to bore someone to death when I see it.”
“It is difficult to lose just enough,” Hetechi says. “I thought I’d try to set a precedent in the jurisprudence, or two, while I’m at it.” He harrumphs. “I did try to spice it up a little, I should say.”
“Worked for me,” Kaede blurts out.
“Should I...shift my approach?” Hetechi asks.
“No, I think things are going just fine,” Kirika replies. “Perhaps not enough fights for my aunt’s liking, but the day is still young.” Kirika smiles. “I heard that you used to be quite a troublemaker yourself. Maybe we’ll see if you still have some moves, Rooster.”
Hetechi cracks a grin. “Oh, wasn’t the show exciting enough so far?”
“Totally,” Kaede says.
“In any event,” Hetechi says, “I did some unwise things when I was young. An experience I would heartily recommend, however.” He looks at the judge’s bench. “I must admit, I was hoping to work a crowd. You’re catching me on my...less developed idea. I do hope you’ll forgive that I’m improvising a bit with this routine.”
“What does it look like when you’re not improvising?” Kaede asks.
“Perhaps we can explore that after the trial?” Hetechi says.

Yukio coughs, but Kirika just smiles. “Business now, fun later.”


Gatac posted in OOC on 2018-02-21 09:51:41
To forestall questions about it, "Pale Rainbow" is not immediately relevant to your current investigation. Just setting up some stuff for WAY down the line.


Gatac updated in Wiki on 2018-02-21 09:49:48




  • Architecture 1
  • Criminology 1
  • Human Terrain 2
  • Languages 1
  • Military Science 1

  • Bullshit Detector 1
  • Bureaucracy 1
  • Cop Talk 1
  • Flattery 1
  • Flirting 1
  • High Society 1
  • Interrogation 1
  • Intimidation 1
  • Negotiation 1
  • Reassurance 1/2
  • Streetwise 1
  • Tradecraft 1

  • Electronic Surveillance 1
  • Forgery 1
  • Notice 0/1
  • Outdoor Survival 1
  • Pharmacy 1
  • Photography 1
  • Urban Survival 1

  • Athletics 3/8
  • Conceal 1/4
  • Cover 10
  • Digital Intrusion 0/2
  • Disguise 5/8
  • Driving 2 (Motorcycles)
  • Filch 2
  • Hand-to-Hand 4
  • Health 6
  • Infiltration 13/15 (MOS)
  • Network 10
  • Preparedness 1/2
  • Sense Trouble 8
  • Shrink 5/8
  • Stability 6
  • Surveillance 4

  • Laura Mayer, former Mossad, now dark web information broker (2 points left)


Drive: Altruism. Everyone deserves to come home.
Symbol: Kids, both the dead and the living sort. It’s why Tim never wants to leave bodies during a mission - and it’s why he will if he has to.
Solace: His sister, Sydney Barstow, frontwoman for the post-djentcorephonic band Wesley Snipes Is A Complete Sentence, currently on tour wherever is convenient to the plot.
Safety: Tim’s boat, the Carousing Bubble.
Trust: Mason 3, Blake 2/3, Luc 1

Re: IC 3 - Amsterdam - Day 3

Gatac posted in IC 3 - Amsterdam - Day 3 on 2018-02-21 09:46:11
(Mason uses Medic to bring van Roemburg back to a semblance of consciousness.)

As Mason and Luc go about rewrapping van Roemburg's injuries, his eyes flutter open and he starts coughing. Luc helps to stabilize his head while Tim pinches a sofa cushion to put under van Roemburg's head. "Hospital?" he asks, groggily.
"Not yet, mon ami," Luc says. "We have questions first."
van Roemburg groans, his eyes flicking from ceiling light to ceiling light. He's conscious, but not exactly firing on all cylinders.
"Who was your contact?" Mason asks.
van Roemburg breathes heavily. Clearly, figuring out that keeping his mouth shut won't help him tasks his brain for a bit, but then he answers. "Tuma," he says. "Asim...Tuma." He coughs. "He doesn't....doesn't know I know his name." Coughs again. "But I had to...had to make sure he was legit."
"What was the mission?" Mason askes.
van Roemburg coughs some more. "Fear," he says. "The explosions...were supposed to create chaos. Then we take the family...the royal guarantee escape." He reaches for Mason's arm. "I never kill everyone inside. But a few....a few were...acceptable."

(Tim spends a point of Reassurance to pump van Roemburg for information.)

"Well, one thing's for sure," Tim pipes up, "you did a hell of a job. I can see why they wanted you as their inside man, you got shit done. And you would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for us meddling kids."
"Heh," van Roemburg coughs. "You admire the work of a...terrorist?"
"See, that's the thing," Tim says. "I'm sure they'll call you one, but we all know you're a mercenary, not a believer. And speaking as someone who's smuggled a thing or two past the odd security checkpoint...I'm still working out how you pulled it off. Take the bombs for example. You didn't exactly got those in with the catering truck, did you?"
"Not during the big event," van Roemburg explains. "Two months ago, as part of the renovations in the upper levels. The powerlines up there are too old for heavy construction, so they got special authorization for generators and portable heaters. They smuggled in the parts and assembled the devices up there, where there are no cameras."

Two months ago. Blake's mind reels as he does the math. Before the Russians admitted that the Semtex went missing. Before there was any chatter on the wires. This thing's brewing for a while. No wonder RoI could follow up the Delhi incident so fast here - they've been planning and preparing this all along.

"But the gear was all over the palace," Tim objects.
"We...created a power failure," van Roemburg says. "I knew the contingency patrol routes. While they were fixing things, I positioned everything we would need." He coughs. "And the guns..."
"Tuma provided them," van Roemburg says.
"We should take vem to ve plane," Luc weighs in. "Perhaps ve serial numbers are useful?"
"I only had to acquire some uniforms ," van Roemburg continues. "I had all the time I needed to find out the access codes for the doors."
"You've been busy," Tim says.
"I have been," van Roemburg says, his eyes unfocusing a bit as he sucks in a few deep breaths. "I'm not one of the crazy ones. I knew that...I knew that I was throwing away everything. But they knew about...the people I killed..."

Wait, what?

"Pale Rainbow," van Roemburg says.
"And what's that?" Tim asks.
"You Americans," van Roemburg says, "are not the only ones with dirty secrets. I knew if it became public...nobody would believe my side. I was as good as dead. Might as well...might as well fuck the people who gave the orders, maybe even live a new life somewhere else. But, you see...if you want to hear more about Pale can't kill me. Maybe we make another deal? You can get me out of prison here, I am sure."
"Tell us now," Luc says. "We could be leaving with you."
"No no no," van Roemburg says. "I mean real deal. Your president makes a phone call to the king. I get pardon and freedom and a house in Montana and protection. Then you can have this secret." He looks to Mason. "How do you say? Look out for Number One."
Mason doesn't respond to van Roemburg's pleas. "What is Renewal of Islam?"
van Roemburg smiles but doesn't answer. He seems to be on the brink of passing out again.
Mason grabs van Roemburg's hand - and pinches a nerve, hard. "Last chance, asshole. What is Renewal of Islam? You choose - going back as someone who kept their mouth shut, or going back with 'snitch' written on your forehead."
Van Roemburg yelps. "I don't know!" he says. "Never heard the name...never heard it before. Tuma was the man. Everything...he arranged everything. He said....he said friends are coming, don't talk to them, just....just get them inside. And I did. His plan. His people."
"Good choice," Mason says, and stands up. "Peanut gallery have anything on Tuma?"
"Was that my cue?" Laith asks on the comms. "Well, he's in the system. Don't have clearance for the file, I'll let Ops wrangle that for you. Oh, by the way, we have a radio intercept. The royal family is safe. Palace is still being evacuated." He pauses. "Okay, and apparently there's gonna be some must-watch TV tonight. The king has announced he'll be giving a live speech in response to the events."
"You have another burner handy?" Mason asks.
"If I had a nickel for every burner in this van," Laith muses. "What's the plan?"
"Pick your least favorite and text Hesselink to meet van Roemburg at the the closest checkpoint to her," Mason replies, and looks back to the Major. "We'll blindfold him and tell him to walk."
"You got it," Laith says. "Also, Mom says to get your butts to the airport." A pause. "Also, she says that if any of you call her Mom you will not live to regret it."
"Can do," Mason says.


Gatac updated in Wiki on 2018-02-21 08:59:29




  • Human Terrain 0/1
  • Languages 3
  • Law 0/1
  • Military Science 1

  • Bullshit Detector 3
  • Flattery 2
  • Flirting 3
  • Interrogation 2
  • Negotiation 0/1
  • Tradecraft 2
  • Streetwise 1

  • Notice 2/3
  • Outdoor Survival 2

  • Athletics 0/8
  • Conceal 1/4
  • Cover 9
  • Disguise 0/2
  • Driving 4
  • Explosive Devices 2
  • Hand-to-Hand 4
  • Health 4/6
  • Infiltration 0/4
  • Mechanics 0/2
  • Medic 0/4
  • Network 15
  • Piloting 2
  • Preparedness 6/8 (MOS)
  • Sense Trouble 2/8
  • Shooting 0/8
  • Stability 4
  • Surveillance 0/4
  • Weapons 0/8

Cover Identities
Stef Heimans, ABP - BURNED


Mason also brings with him 4 points of Extra Heat: 2 points in Colombia and 2 in Chechnya. But surely, the hateboner of two major groups of organized crime are not gonna create any problems for you at all.


Drive: Altruism. Mason's all about doing the right thing. He just lives in a world where the Right Thing usually is to kill bad guys.
Symbol: A family on their knees with guns to their heads. The names, the faces, the blurs together for Mason, who's seen this too often. The people just outside that neat little picture, the ones holding those guns? Mason's gonna bury them, bury them all, so he never has to see this picture again.
Solace: Alira Holden, ASIS. Mason and Alira have crossed paths before, both professionally and...less professionally. And unlike the rest of Mason's conquests, Alira was a good choice. Would be a great choice, even, now that she's got a medical retirement and is out of the game for good.
Safety: A farm deep in the outback. Breed ostriches, drive a fuck-off big ute, keep an arsenal of "hunting" weapons large enough to repel an invading army. What could be safer than that?
Trust: Tim 1, Luc 0, Blake 0

Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

skullandscythe posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-02-20 14:42:35
"Never liked the spotlight much anyway," Zaef says looking up at the nearby roofs, empty hand caressing a 'knife' handle with a little smirk.

Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

CrazyIvan posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-02-19 19:24:35
Angel gently slaps what would be the "shoulder" of FTE's chassis. "It'll wear off. Eyes to the sky."

The scout nods at Zaef, getting his own rifle out of the skimmer. "What say you and I go find a quiet back entrance while the heroic infantry types storm the front? There's bound to be some climbable roofs around here, and while it's not my area of expertise, my understanding is that it's easier to stab some bastard if he's looking the other direction."

As adjusted as he has become to the "Kesh" part of his role in the world, it's quite evident that storming some insurgent compound is still squarely in what Angel considers his wheelhouse.

Re: IC 3 - Amsterdam - Day 3

Gatac posted in IC 3 - Amsterdam - Day 3 on 2018-02-19 14:32:00
(Tim assists Mason's Conceal.)

God bless Mercedes - not only is the floor compartment for the seats big enough to stash van Roemburg - tight, but he's in no condition to complain - but Mason also locates the compartment under the trunk that holds a compact jack, tools and a tire repair kit. With all that junk cleared out, it fits your weapons and KMar suits, too.

(Tim uses Disguise. Blake and Luc piggyback on his result.)

Meanwhile, Tim's been busy breaking into the other cars. Not just to keep his skills sharp, but also to throw together some disguises. An overnight bag here, an "emergency" clean suit jacket stashed there, even a shopping bag - it only takes a minute or two for Tim's expert eye to outfit them with something that looks decent for the three of them. Mason, of course, is in no haste to discard his custom bullet-resistant suit.

Pile into the car. One last check for contraband, then it's out. The minivan's driver side door has the access card needed to get through the garage's exit gate. The chaos outside is nigh perfect: it feels like half of Amsterdam was downtown for the festivities, and now they're all trying to flee on this specific, narrow road. Government plates and the bulk of the minivan do afford a bit of privilege in the molasses-like traffic flow, but you would have been quicker by far to walk out - or swim out, for that matter. But then you wouldn't have van Roemburg with you. As the stop-and-go traffic winds towards the bridge and the police checkpoint set up in front of it, you see your last chance to abandon van and run for it come and go. No way out but through now.

(Mason spends a point of Law.)

A street cop with a ballistic vest and submachine gun waves you forward and motions for you to lower your window.

"Papers, please," he asks in Dutch.
Cool as a cucumber, Mason hands over a bundle of documents from the glove compartment. "Stef Heimans, staff advocaat," he says with a sigh. "And three heroes."
"Heroes?" the cop asks, more interested in looking over the rest of the team than checking papers.
"They used their guns against the terrorists at the palace," Mason explains. "Chief Kruijssen wanted them off the scene before the press could get to them. You know, use of force, investigators have to get their statements, that means I have to babysit them to make sure they don't talk to each other or anyone, really, you know, the last thing we need is more problems regarding this -"

Car horns honk behind you, indicating that you have now exceeded the grace period of blocking the checkpoint. Another cop - this one with more gold on his epaulets but no SMG in hand - approaches to check.

"Any problems?" he asks.
"No, uh," the checkpoint cop says. "Just government business."
"Well, can't keep the government waiting," his boss says. "Get them moving."
"Yes, Sir," the checkpoint cop says. He returns the papers to Mason, then steps back and waves for him to proceed.

#thatfeel when you roll a minivan past a half-dozen cops with a renegade KMar officer under your seats.

As predicted, smooth sailing from there on. You do see a few more armed cops on the streets, but the ones who are paying attention to the traffic at all are those trying to direct it. After fighting for fifteen minutes to go about half a klick, you cross a bridge with the last inner-city gracht and traffic calms to normal-esque European capital levels. A few more minutes after that, things are quiet enough to park in a side alley and relocate into the undisturbed confines of a seasonally-closed travel agency. Blinds are drawn, doors are watched and floorspace is cleared to lay down van Roemburg.

Honest to God, he doesn't look so good. His golden hour is close to running out, and while the bandages on his chest aren't actively leaking, they are seeped through with blood. With a mix of medical supplies from the bunker and the van's first aid kit, you might be able to get van Roemburg conscious enough to answer a question or two, but what he really needs is a hospital, semi-pronto.

Re: Empire

Gatac posted in Empire on 2018-02-19 12:31:34
"That goes without saying," Copperhead remarks.

Re: Empire

Admiral Duck Sauce posted in Empire on 2018-02-19 12:27:39
"That will do, and thank you," Toshiba says. "Also, make sure you avenge us," he smiles.