conversations: human
conversations:  Introduction (Character) 
  
  Gerolt Laurie
  Ready 4 Willing 5 Able 3
  Gear: MPV, artificial optics, overalls
  PCon: Loved
  NCon: Destitute
  Goal: To find out who blew up his shop and why.  
  
  Laurie worked one leg out of his car, then the other, before heaving himself with a grunt out of the vehicle and into the light rain. He rolled his shoulders, and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt a little lower, seeking to protect his optics from the drizzle; they had short circuited in the rain before, leaving him terrified and blind outside of his girlfriend's apartment building, and now he was extra cautious. He glanced up, shielding his eyes. The porno ad on the corner still hadn't been taken down since it was hacked, and he read the time off the heart the hologirl blew towards him: 4:24 AM -  time for a good time, big boy , the ad intoned, but Laurie had already turned and was walking down the block. Above, a VTOL dipped a little low, and the downdraft sent a mess of sediment from the roof sloughing down onto the sidewalk some ten feet ahead of Laurie; he barely blinked, still in the early morning stupor his coffee hadn't been able to shake him out of. The rain finally soaked through his sweatshirt, and he shivered. He reached the corner of the block, wiped the condensation off his eyes. Something was going on, he could hear the low roar of a hovering VTOL and the squawk and bark of loudspeakers.
   Move on,  they were saying.  Police are conducting an investigation of the debris, move on.  Laurie rounded the corner.
  "please not a car bomb" he thought. The last thing he wanted was legal trouble, and he knew for certain some of the vehicles he serviced were off the books.  Move on,  the loudspeaker repeated. Laurie stopped dead. His garage, he knew, was across the street from Lou's Prime Market, a grocery mostly frequented by the junkies who bought the cheap synthetic crap that Lou sold, stuff that would give you a high worse than huffing paint, and kill you twice as quickly.
  But here, bright and glistening in the rain and the headlights of the hovering VTOL, all that remained of his shop was a ruined jigsaw puzzle of twisted plasteel and concrete. Laurie felt his stomach drop, and never stop falling. He simply stood for a full minute, staring like at the scene, watching: drone cameras flash, the VTOL land, a policewoman step out, hunch-shouldered and bleary, to yell at some kid in a neon pink poncho and torn sneakers, shove him away from the debris and into a puddle, a man in a designer jacket slip guiltily out of a cheap concrete apartment complex. He watched as the policewoman climbed back into the VTOL and he watched it take off, watched the taillights grow smaller in the pale dark of the morning.
  "****," Laurie said, finally, for lack of anything else to say. Even when he at last convinced himself to walk over to the rubble, his legs felt separate from him, like they were carrying his body without his permission. He stopped before he got there. There was nothing he could do, and if someone really was out to get him and they were watching the site, the last thing he wanted was to show himself. He turned stiffly around, and headed back to his car.
  4:29 AM -  time for a good time, big boy , the hologirl whispered as he passed.
  "****," Laurie said again.
  
   
   Spoiler: Rolls 
  
   7 
   9 
   10 
  
  Successes: 0
   
conversations: D20ragon:
conversations: human
conversations:  Name: Isgar Charleston(Held)
  Identity: Neuro-scientist
  Motivation: Power/Freedom/Knowledge/Revenge
  Skills: Knowledge, Sex Mod, lab assistance.
  R/W/A: 5/5/2
  Pcon: Financed.
  Ncon: Coerced.
  Goals: Want revenge over AlphaGen for using her. Want to create the  perfect brain. Want to see success of her creations. Want to take over  AlphaGen if possible. Want to cure partner.
   
   "Mister charleston" , the words of Alexar Trivanski, Isgars supervisor, drifted from across the fashionable table in the meeting room at Alpha Gen. Isgar didn't like the man but at least he didn't misgender him.  "We are still waiting for results" . Cursed the bloody results, no scientific breakthrough had been done without research in the fundementals. He of course couldn't say that and knew that he had to stall:  "The results will come in soon, but science takes time" 
   "Perhaps"  Alexar paused to take a breath of his NeoCigar and blew out a small blueish cloud which quickly dispersed. Isgar briefly wondered why Trivanski had decided to get his performance enhancers in the form of breathables. Cigarates of course could be made such that they didn't harm the users but there were an aspect of unreliability compared to automatic chips. Perhaps the ugly bastard like pretending to be classy.  "But it has been 'soon' too many times now. Surely you understand that we need to pay due to our stockholders and they want results." 
   '**** the stockholders'   "I assure you that results will come in. I just ne..." 
  
  "No." Alexar cut him off:  "Results need to come in soon. You have a month to make us think that the investment in you were worth it." 
  
  It wasn't explicit but Isgar clearly heard the implicit threat 'which means we'll cut off the life support for your spouse'.  "A month! That's unrealistic. We haven't even finished the initial testing phase." 
   "I'm afraid the terms are non-negotiable" , was the flat responds and Isgar could see that there were no way that Trivanski could be persuaded otherwise. He really didn't want Alice and Alden to become lapdogs of Alpha Gen or to be part of the perverted monopoly but what choice did he have?
  
   
   Spoiler: Rolls 
   (3d10)[ 10 ][ 6 ][ 10 ](26) 
  
  No successes
   
conversations: Sønderjye: