1.3 - The Escort Job

You sit in the van just outside the docks. Looking up at the sky the, the Stars have slowly been dotted out as dark clouds swirl slowly overhead. A light drizzle is coming down. The weather reports say it's supposed to rain for the next 24 hours. As you sit in a slightly reserved silence for a moment a sudden and familiar chime comes over the comms.

I believe your 'solid guy', the DJ is here, Phantom says. A few moments later you hear the sound of the bike. Phantom has already added it's location to the nav overlay of the mission.

When you're ready, our guy is inside. Warehouse 3B. We shouldn't keep him waiting too long.

Kessel sends OWL around the perimeter before rolling in himself on his bike. He is eager to see his cousin, whom he hasn't seen in person in a long while.

OWL's optics engage night-mode.

Breech-a opens the back doors of the van, equipped with his tactical vest and shield, while his pistol is holstered at his waist. He scans the area before picking out Warehouse 3B.

Breech-a waits by the van, awaiting Kessel's arrival.

The bike draws up closer to Kessel, Corril opens his visor, and looks at his cousin with a happy grin. "Party's on, cuz. Beautiful weather, ain't it?"

"Hey, cuz. You alright? No trouble getting here? Hold that thought." Kessel interrupts himself as OWL's feed is patched into his optic implants. "Overwatch reports perimeter is clear. Br33ch-a? Status report."

"ASSESSMENT: No Apparent Threats," monotones Breech-a. The bulky construct seems to ignore the pattering of rain across his chassis, and the red glow from multiple optics forms a slight mist around his head.

"All clear, Mack." Kessel says, reporting in. He dismounts, and his bike dematerializes, compressing into a single line of code uploaded to the digital nexus inhabited by the technomage's mysterious patron. Kessel turns to Corril. "Where were we? Ah. How've you been, cuz? I'm sorry I haven't been to see you spin. Been busy hustling. You know how it is."

Corril gestures Hi to BREECH-A, and Mack in the van first. "Hey."

"Not yet, but I intend to. First real job, so to say. Hope it pays better than art. Who's the target and we gonna do to them?" he answers Kessel, shaking his head while mentioning the low income from his hobby.

"Don't worry, cuz, you'll learn the ropes soon enough. Yeah that's Mack, our team leader, in the van. Breech-a's our combat specialist. Tymora and PhantomNimbus handle things from HQ. I'll introduce you properly later. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?

While waiting for Mack's lead Kessel takes Corril aside. "Hey. We don't expect things to get hairy but I need to know if you're prepared in case they do. You packing? I've got a spare SMG if you need one. I'm not much good with firearms. I've got Breech-a for that."

Mack finishes fiddling with the controls of the van, making sure it's ready for something. He's still vaguely concerned that the heads up display software has some kind of glitch in it that futzes with the steering, but he can't seem to find anything and Tymora's been no help whatsoever insisting everything is just fine.

Stepping out of the van he nods to Kessel and Breech. "Good to meet you Corril." Mack sets his hat firmly upon his head and adjusts his duster. "Should be a simple escort gig. Right? Shall we head in and say hello?"

"Right then. On we go." Mack heads to the door, looking for Mr. Escortee.

Breech-A falls in line, allowing Kessel and Corril to go before him, as they proceed to the warehouse.

As you approach the warehouse you see a camera lies outside watching the entrance. A few moments before you reach the door large warehouse doors slide open wide enough for a dwarf to pass through. he strides out and looks you over as you approach. You the guys?, he grumbles out in a rusty voice. Before you have a chance to answer he adds, Where's your ride?

He stands staring and waiting for an answer.

"It's back there." Kessel says, jerking a thumb. "Where's the cargo?"