As they moved to leave, Jimbo gave Gadot and Jimmy a quick salute before turning back with a shudder. “Ooh, she’s downright terrifying. I like her. Where’d you find that one?”
The corner of his mouth lifting slightly, Kurt glanced over his shoulder to see them standing in the middle of the blasted-out intersection still watching. “Met her the same night as I met you, actually.”
“Seems tough. Must be a good ally.” Jimbo’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
Kurt turned to face him. “Yeah. I don’t have much in the way of driving skills yet, so she does that part of our heists, and Jimmy does the fighting.” He called his attaché for the GoonStorm Humvee he had stolen earlier. “It works pretty well.”
They waited for the vehicle to arrive, and Kurt nodded at his attaché as she moved away from the rubble and destruction behind them. He moved up to the passenger side and slid in as Jimbo got into the driver’s seat. They pulled away from the curb and Jimbo drove them to their objective without the benefit of a map on the windshield. He continued glancing at his wrist as they drove, trying to be covert about it but drawing a chuckle from Kurt anyway.
“So what’s the plan, Yojimbo?” Kurt yawned against the back of his hand, starting to feel his marathon session wearing at him.
Jimbo looked at him for a moment before turning back to the road and resting one wrist casually on the steering wheel. “It’s being held in a nightclub nearby, a GoonStorm Hub with a large underground garage. They’ve got heavy hitters for both the Goons and the Ursa in there guarding it though, and the hand-off should be happening really soon, especially after that shit show you guys put on at the talk.” He shook his head. “Don’t even know if my cover is still intact — you really should have killed me with the GoonStorm command.” Pausing to gather his thoughts, Jimbo ran a hand over his hair before continuing. “I’ll talk our way in, you back me up if it gets ugly. If things go right, they should walk us straight to the damn thing and wave us on our way with good cheer.”
“Okay. I’m your NPC attaché.” Kurt gave Jimbo a cool nod, but Jimbo just looked him in confusion. “They’ll never let me in if they think I’m a player. You they at least know about, I’d be a totally new entity. Trust me, this way is much easier.” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Not like it’s the first time I’ve sold the Goons on being an NPC.”
Jimbo snorted. “Ah yes, the excellently played bank manager.” He chuckled, peering out the windshield as they approached a series of squat buildings tucked into the edge of the Downtown Cluster. “This is it. You ready?”
Kurt scowled at him. “Are you?”
Jimbo smirked as he pulled into an alley. He had driven them to the southeastern edge of the Downtown area, where the buildings became squat and things looked much less wealthy in general. In the distance to the east Kurt could see the residential cluster that housed Jimmy’s safehouse. He looked ahead to see a collection of matched vehicles in a small parking lot.
The two men drove down the alley, with Kurt keeping a mostly glazed expression on his face, trying not to look at anything in particular. He had to control his reactions as they entered the parking lot, filled with GoonStorm and Ursa elite players, all of whom seemed rather twitchy. A dozen assorted rifles and shotguns raised in a heartbeat, the players holding them encased in heavy armor and wearing ballistic masks. The sight of two men wearing suits and not carrying any obvious weaponry seemed to confuse them.
Most of the players glanced around and a couple started muttering to each other. Kurt and Jimbo stepped down from the Humvee, moving to engage the players. As Jimbo smiled at them, Kurt kept his gaze distant and unfocused as he covertly took in the parking lot. A small steel door was set into the wall a dozen feet from a tall rollaway metal door that looked like it led to a garage.
“Gentlemen, hello!” Jimbo started off friendly, opening his coat so that his large silver desert eagle pistol was clearly visible. “I’m Jimbo, here to oversee the handoff for GoonStorm and The Ursa. I’m the neutral third party, brought in to witness and record.”
“Yeah, I know who you are, Jimbo. Why aren’t you with management?” One GoonStorm officer stepped forward, cradling his oversized rifle and lifting his facemask.
“The meet went bad. Those crazy-ass Pirates started shooting up the place and tossing grenades everywhere. I made it out; management didn’t.” Jimbo finished his statement with a shrug. “I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.” He glanced back at Kurt. “What time is it?”
Kurt reached into his hip pocket and produced his cellular phone. The ancient phone displayed the time on its home screen. “Seven-fifty-two AM, sir.” Kurt read the numbers off almost mechanically before slipping the phone back into his pocket and continuing to look at nothing.
“My attaché.” Jimbo spoke dismissively, not bothering to look at Kurt. “Can we move this along? I’m supposed to get paid after this hand-off.”
The GoonStorm officer held up an armored palm, stepping back and swiping at the air above his wrist. He spoke in hushed tones to someone on the other line for a moment before nodding his head once and turning back to them. “Okay, you’re good.” He took a couple steps back and waved his fist at a camera above the door. An electronic buzz sounded, and the door lock disengaged with a heavy thud. None of the gathered guards even looked at Kurt twice as he walked past them.
Once they were through the door, Jimbo let out a breath in relief as a huge smile crept across his face. “I love that feeling.”
Kurt nodded, playing with his plastic phone. The thing had cost him six hundred dollars, a price he found ludicrous, but in the strange little device’s favor it was a fully functional phone synched to his personal implant. He smiled at Jimbo as he overtly texted Jimmy the address and a warning about the welcome party out front. “Yeah, the deception is a rush, I can’t help but agree,” he replied.
Jimbo glanced at his hands before looking back at their new room. The entryway showed a similarity in defensive construction techniques to other hubs Kurt had seen. They walked down a straight hallway that seemed to be split in two sections. The entryway was bare and smooth, while the back half was populated by waist high concrete barricades spread out in front of a steel double door. Above and to the side of the door was another security camera.
“That toy was a nice touch. I always see NPCs on those things,” Jimbo said.
Kurt narrowed his eyes, shaking his head sadly. “Yep. The devil’s in the details, Yojimbo. . . The devil’s in the details.”
Jimbo took the lead, walking in a weaving pattern between the concrete barriers and looking as if he belonged. He kept his head high and jovially bantered with Kurt as they walked forward. “How’s that unique treating you, by the way? That thing looks nasty. I wonder how it upgrades.”
Kurt smirked as they reached the door at the end of the hall, and Jimbo offered a friendly wave at the camera. “Actually, it’s pretty interesting.” He stepped to the side and leaned on the wall beneath the camera, slipping the gun out of its holster and hefting it. Jimbo raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him. “I’m supposed to get very specific kills to upgrade it. Been working on that all morning.”
“What kind of kills?” Jimbo gave a quick unhappy look at the camera, then banged on the door again.
“I have to kill someone who knows I’m about to kill them but can’t do anything to stop me.” Kurt cocked the hammer back, aiming at a concrete barricade and miming the action of firing a shot. “I only need one more kill to get it.”
Jimbo shrugged. “That’s just the first tier, though. I’m sure it’ll have more obnoxious upgrade requirements. We can probably get you that last kill once we get into the garage.” A series of heavy footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, approaching. “Ah, finally.”
Kurt knelt and grabbed a smoke stick, popping the cap and tossing it back down the hallway behind them, before quickly sticking a Looper disk to the camera above him. He lifted the gun and pointed it at Jimbo. “No need. I’ve been saving it for you.”
Jimbo’s eyes boggled in realization and he reached for his belt, but Kurt squeezed his trigger and made the other man fall into a pool of swirling black smoke as the heavy door lock clanked open. Enacting his plan, Kurt holstered his suddenly heavier unique gun and slid out his Glock. He sprayed the hallway as the door slid open slightly, aiming only to cause ricochets and chaos in the now spreading smoke.
Armed and armored players shoved their way into the hallway as Kurt holstered his gun and slid down into the corner of the hall, shouting in fear and pointing towards the other door. “They just started shooting! Help!”
Faithful to his side of the plan, Jimmy arrived and began waging a brief but loud war outside, drawing the attention of the gathered GoonStorm and Ursa players. Kurt reached out and grabbed the door as it began to swing closed, content to be ignored. The firefight outside sounded brutal, but it was dwindling as the new group of players set up behind different barricades, waiting for whatever threat would come.
Bracing the door open with one foot, Kurt popped the buttons on his suit jacket and produced his mask, shouldering out of the jacket and tucking it against the door jamb to keep it open. He slid his mask on as the gunfire outside died down entirely. A series of light thuds on the ground preceded a polite knock.
“Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” Jimmy’s voice boomed from beyond the first door, and Kurt couldn’t help but snicker at the silence in the room. Within a few seconds, a monstrous gun blast sounded, and the door groaned as one of its hinges was shattered.
Shaking his head, Kurt gripped the butt of his Silencerco Maxim 9 and drew the handgun in a silent motion. Most of the players gathered before him were wearing ballistic face masks, but with their backs to him it was a simple task to put a single 9mm subsonic hollow point into the backs of each of their heads. A dozen players fell to dust as he made his way forward to the door just in time to watch the heavy plank of steel fall inwards.
Jimmy stepped inside, his oversized Beowulf rifle tucked into his shoulder. He stepped into the hallway with a sweeping motion, settling on Kurt and cocking his head. “Oh. Well then.” He shook his head as he moved past Kurt towards the other doorway. “Silly me, thinking you might need my help.”
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Kurt snickered as he reloaded his Maxim 9 and swapped it out for the Messenger. He scanned it to see what his upgrade had changed, as the gun felt more bulky and solid already.
The Messenger Upgrade Rank 1
Force and Verve
The Messenger is now a .44 magnum caliber handgun. Over-penetration chance is increased by 25%.
He hefted the gun again, noting the larger breach and barrel. Sliding out the magazine, Kurt was pleased to see it had a full complement of his specialist shredder rounds, but when he glanced at his inventory, he noticed it was still full of .357 magnum ammo. After a moment of frustration, he shrugged.
“What’s up?” Jimmy glanced at him, covering the doorway.
“Got my upgrade, but it’s a caliber increase, so all the ammo I just bought is useless now.” Kurt shrugged and holstered the unique weapon, drawing his Glock in its place. “I still have a magazine, but I should probably try to make those count.”
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, that sucks. Happens though. What’s the plan here?”
Kurt shook his head. “I have no plan. The door is open, that’s quite literally as far as I thought this through.” He waved his Glock behind them. “Based on the big sliding door outside, I imagine there’s a garage around here somewhere. Jimbo kept jabbering about a basement, we could start there.”
Jimmy’s smile was palpable even behind his heavy mask. He slung his rifle and hefted the new shotgun, drawing its priming lever and tucking it into his shoulder. “We just storm the place, then. My kind of party.”
They stepped up to either side of the doorway, peering inside for trouble. The interior was dark, with only the vague reddish glow of emergency lighting strips on the walls and floors to show anything. They could see a comfortable lounge area, red leather couches surrounding low wooden tables and large carpeted pillars throughout the room. Loud rhythmic music blared deeper in the building, and Kurt noticed his map was rendered useless by the sound. A single large, red dot pulsed from the back of the building in time with the music, but nothing else was evident, being washed away by the loud music.
“I think I’m going to go for the DJ booth, try and shut down the music.” Kurt sighed and shook his head, reaching for his jacket. As he slipped it back on, Jimmy gave him a nod and moved up.
Gunfire erupted from a dozen angles surrounding the door, causing Jimmy to stagger. He recovered his footing and roared a challenge as bullets sparked off his armor, before bull rushing a group of players under cover to his left as Kurt used the distraction to slip in. He stayed low and clung to dark areas, avoiding the emergency lighting strips as he moved to flank the players Jimmy was clashing with.
They had entered a lounge with two bars at either end, and most of the opposing players were nestled into the bars and behind the furniture in the room, firing over their cover at Jimmy as he blew apart wood and leather with his shotgun. Kurt remained unnoticed as he sneaked past the main group and approached the players behind the bar on his side of the room, using the pillars as cover. A single shot from The Messenger had the bar clear, punching through three enemy players, and Kurt drew the Maxim 9 with his left hand.
He continued to move through the room, staying in the shadows and dispatching players from behind with suppressed subsonic hollow points. Jimmy darted from pillar to pillar, eventually diving behind one of the bars with his enemies and roaring laughter as he sent them spiraling into dust clouds with point blank blasts from his shotgun. He created a wonderful distraction for Kurt, who was left to his sneakier work undisturbed, with none of the players he killed even realizing he was in the room with them.
Jimmy popped up from behind the bar, looking around. His shoulders slumped in disappointment when he realized the room was clear. “C’mon, guys, I’m only down thirty percent armor! You can do better!”
Kurt shook his head, barely able to hear Jimmy above the music at this closer proximity. He pointed at the next door, lush and padded, that Kurt assumed led onto the dancefloor. Jimmy held up a hand at him, checked his wrist, drew his sidearm, and shot himself in the foot a single time. He stepped up to the door and pushed at it, immediately vanishing in a fireball as a grenade went off against his chest plate. He rushed in, drawing another firestorm of bullets and gun blasts. Kurt stepped back from the door as more explosions rocked the area. He pulled up his map and looked for another way around.
Behind the bar to his right, a door led into a vacant supply closet and Kurt found a staircase at the far end of the tiny room. Trying to hear anything beyond Jimmy’s gunfight, Kurt crept down the stairs to a simple metal door. Pressing an ear to it, he could hear movement and speech on the other side, as well as the faint growl of an engine.
Kurt took a step back and pulled up his phone, sending a quick text to Jimmy. “When you’re done screwing around up there, come behind the bar and join me downstairs. I think I found the garage.” He took a moment to look around, pulling up his map to see that a hallway wound around the small room he was now in, leading back towards the front of the building and opening up into a massive room that coincided with the underground garage Jimbo had spelled out for him.
As he looked at the lightly buzzing strip lighting above his head, Kurt received a response from Jimmy. “Don’t boss me.” He snorted and shook his head, a resigned expression on his face as another text came in. “I’ll find my own way down. Busy as a bee right now.”
“Well . . . here goes nothing.” Kurt reached into his pocket and thumbed the button on his ECM device. The overhead lighting sputtered and died, throwing the room into complete darkness as the music abruptly stopped. The voices on the other side of the door rose briefly before dying down. As he stepped up to the door, Kurt could hear screams and more gunfire coming from upstairs, but the other side of the door was perfectly silent.
Kurt reached a hand behind his back, gripping a flashbang grenade in his left hand as he squeezed the grip of his Glock with his right hand. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself, he pressed the bar on the door and swung it wide, throwing the grenade to his left in the same motion. He ignored the rifle rounds that sunk into his armor, swinging around the door and clicking his combat flashlight into strobe as he charged the right side of the hallway.
The flashbang went off in the darkness behind him, causing shouts and screams of discomfort. He had correctly assumed his enemies would be ready for him, and that they would be wearing night vision or thermal goggles to counter the lights being out. His combat strobe flashed in a quick rhythm, allowing him to see the small cluster of heavily armed players crouched and spread out before him. All of them were struggling to see, the flashing lights essentially blinding the group as Kurt rushed them. He easily stepped out of their lines of fire, answering each of them with a burst of fragmentation rounds to end the encounter.
Once the right side of the hallway was clear, Kurt turned to deal with the left side. They were still dazed and recovering from the flashbang. He reloaded his Glock and sprayed the hallway with incendiary rounds, jogging back past the door he had entered from as he chased the remaining defenders. One of them made it all the way to the entrance of the garage before Kurt managed to light him on fire. The hapless player burst through the double doors into the garage, alight and screaming as he went, with Kurt close behind him. The player fell to his knees, and then to dust as Kurt came to a sudden stop, the lights flickering back into life above him.
The underground garage was huge, with tall ceilings supported by massive concrete pillars at regular intervals. The majority of the concrete floor space was reserved for vehicle parking, bright white painted lines indicating the layout, and leading down a dark ramp at the rear of the room towards further parking. An elevator doorway was evident across the room, on a raised concrete area that also housed a small office and maintenance room tucked into the far wall.
Kurt faced roughly three dozen enemy players, all heavily armed and armored, every one of them looking directly at him. “Uh . . . hi!”
Gunfire filled the air as Kurt dove for cover behind a concrete pillar. The room had a higher ceiling than Kurt had expected and was filled with concrete pillars at even intervals for structural integrity. Kurt flinched as chips of concrete filled the air around him, bullets and shotgun blasts tearing into his cover. He dove away as a grenade bounced past him, scrambling for the next pillar as his armor was put to the test.
The grenade went off, blowing concrete chips everywhere. Kurt crouched behind his new cover, trying to make himself as small as possible. He gripped the Messenger and his Glock, scowling in determination as he prepared to make another run for it. The constant gunfire died down to a lull, and Kurt could hear his opponents scrambling to reload. A light ‘ding’ sounded from across the room, and Kurt peeked his head out to see the gathered players turn around.
Jimmy stepped out of the elevator, lifting his monstrous shotgun to his shoulder. “Now remember guys, whatever happens next, we’re all here to have fun.” With that, gunfire filled the air once again.
Kurt wasn’t left entirely alone, but Jimmy had a wonderful knack for getting everyone’s attention. His shotgun blasted steel buckshot all around the room, dusting enemy players and costing anyone in its path armor and health. Kurt stood and did his part, using the Messenger to blow apart any players standing in a line as he moved from cover to cover, staying clear of Jimmy’s line of fire as he went. He used the Glock with incendiary ammo to create more chaos and pain among their foes, as both he and Jimmy continued to take huge chunks off their numbers.
Jimmy ignored cover, trusting his armor to protect him as he stalked through the crowds of enemy players and laid waste to them. He worked to make sure none of them got behind him to his one vulnerable area and shrugged off incoming fire while unloading his automatic shotgun. Once it clicked empty, he let his sling catch it and swapped to his Beowulf M-16. Each of the massive rounds dealt huge damage, often killing the weakened players with a single shot. The remaining few GoonStorm and Ursa players tried to retreat, filing into the doorway from which Kurt had entered. Jimmy and Kurt stepped into the center of the room side by side and lifted their weapons, dropping the last few enemy players into piles of silver dust and clouds of black smoke.
With the GoonStorm and Ursa forces defeated, Kurt took a moment to look around the basement for their objective. He turned in a quick circle, noticing the big rig tucked away into a back corner almost immediately. It was a huge, matte black, boxy thing, with a massive trailer attached to the cab. A quick scan identified it as a 1977 Peterbilt 359, though it had clearly been modified significantly. The windshield was covered with metal sheets, and only a small patch over the driver’s area showed actual glass. Heavy armor plating had been riveted to the vehicle, doubled up in several areas, with even the cargo box weighed down by extra armor. The tires were oversized, with giant off-road capable grip visible even at a distance. But the rig’s most noticeable modification was a gigantic cow catcher-style ram on the front end. Two solid slabs of matte black painted steel with splashes of red extended down from the cab into a sharp triangular point at the front of the massive truck, just above the road line.
“Gee, I wonder where the money could be.” Jimmy walked past Kurt to the back of the semi-truck, heaving against the door handle. The back end swung open, the heavily armored doors banging against the side of the container.
Kurt approached, peering around the side of the door as Jimmy lifted his facemask and let out a shuddering breath. Inside the cargo area was a solid wall of cash on pallets. He scanned the back of the truck, eyes widening as the read-out came in as he expected. Three billion in dirty cash was theirs for the taking.
“Dibs!” Jimmy turned and grinned at him.
“We get it out of here in one piece and I won’t fight you on that.” Kurt scanned the cash again, smiling at the read-out.
“I meant dibs on driving this thing.” He moved to climb into the cab, swinging open the heavy door and turning back. “Unless you have a higher rank in the Big Rig skill, that is?” Without waiting for Kurt to reply, Jimmy sat in the driver’s seat and grinned, before flipping down his facemask and starting the engine. It roared to life, belching exhaust from its towering pipes before settling into a comfortable idle.
Kurt jogged out to the garage exit, texting his attaché to bring the recently modified Ferrari to his location. That done, he swiped into his standing com channel with Jimmy and heard the rumble of the big rig’s engine in his ear as well as behind him. “I have a vehicle I think will help, so you in the truck works for me anyway.”
“For the best, really. I got an upgrade to my armor. Watch this.” Kurt turned to see Jimmy pulling the truck up behind him. It shimmered for a moment, and its exterior plates all shifted to match Jimmy’s armor; stony and leaking puffs of dust as it moved. After a few seconds, the effect faded. “My armor extends to any vehicles I get into now when I turn it on. Kind of sucks though, ‘cause when it's active it hurts me instead of the truck. Still, I have like half my armor left, so it should be useful.”
“No doubt. I’m pretty sure once we open this door the entire city will be after us.” Kurt shook his head and hit the button for the garage door anyway, ducking out with his Glock raised.
