The roar of the ocean is on your right and the monolithic buildings of the LA city scape is on your left, grav cars circling the upper reaches like so many moths to the flames. The barrens that lay at it’s feet spread before you stretching till the night closes on it far to the south. You pull your coat closer so less of the stinging October rain invades your dryer parts and begin wondering if all this waiting is going to be worth it.
Yoman is standing beside you, eyes intent on the cityscape below you. You are currently standing on one of the more dilapidated buildings in the south of old Long Beach. While filled with local chipheads and condemned by any authority that matters, it has one small advantage for tonight’s current activity; it’s one of the taller buildings looking in to the south end of the San Pedro Barrens.
Yoman finally spots what he’s looking for – He hands you his binoculars and points – to a large group prowling through an intersection some miles away.
“Coo ya mon! – There they be!” He stuffs his hands in his pockets to ward off the cold after handing you the scopes.
“An can get weesp on the delivery deh ‘bout hour before the zutopongs bring the manleys out.”
It takes a few moments to translate from the mix of rasta/cityspeak to figure out that he means. He can get word on the delivery before the gangers bring out their money and move it to the drop area.
You continue to watch as the garishly dressed gangers make their way across the pavement. You lose sight of them on and off but since you know where they are going it’s easy to pick up their trail. If you hadn’t had the word from Yoman more than likely you wouldn’t even give them a second thought. They look like any large group of locals partying and slowly making their way to the docks. Studying them you see the extra muscle and the caution in their heavily made up eyes.
They are buying drugs and chips to sell on the streets. Large amounts means a large amount of money.
Once at the old dockyard a few select make their way to one of the boats tied up on the officially unused docks in the San Pedro harbor.
“Em been makien draws one er twice a season but in two weeks there be going to a might lot o manley’s cause of the turn. Lots of chippers go wild for it so the zutopongs are teble-in it. It’s a deal for a Don – so you dween it?”
If his estimate is right you’re look at maybe half a million nuyen. Maybe. If the rasta man can be trusted or more importantly, if his information can be trusted. You nod in the affirmative. Yoman lets out a loud woop call to the rain above. You continue to watch the ridiculously dressed gangers make their way back to the inner barrens.
“An know you had the juice! Tem ‘weeners just begin fi dead!” He looks at you with wide wild eyes. “Happy Hell-oween!”
The parade route is from West 12th st. to the San Pedro docks, south end. Asian traders known as the Razors (A small subset of a popular Triad) are selling. The scheduling node for the pirate haven didn’t look like an easy bust and Predator didn’t seem to like hitting both the Yaks and the gangers at the same time. A raid on the Yaks boat itself was considered but in general the Yaks seem pretty safe.
Ghost and Senna was sent to a party that the ‘weeners throw as every year at this time is a big money making operation for them, and ended up doing some drugs. Predator and Winger dramatically ran in to save her and Senna but as it turns out the Halloweeners response time was lacking. They walked in and all but walked out.
So were back to the parade route. An intersection has been picked and on Halloween night the fires start -
So the Halloween festivities have begun. A raid on the Halloweeners parade went off without a hich – till the White Tigers showed up. So the money was off with them on their bikes. Dropping an almost dead Winger off at the bar and dragging a drugged up Hamfist the runners made their way to the boatyard. In the meantime the dingus had jumped ship from the yaks.
Wandering around the San Pedro Barrens a few more gangs were seen; the gents in a black truck being chased by the Hex Angles, two cars filled with orcs, a helicopter (on fire) being chased by a dragon (small) and the remains of weird net device.
It seemed, however, that another group of runner’s had managed to catch the yaks on their ricepeds and steal the money. Our intrepid heroes watched as one car of orcs dealt with the runners. Scratch one set of runners.
But no money.
The second car of orcs checked in and a deal was struck. Orcs and the heroes to the end. As the runners group was meeting its end the money was making its way across the barrens. Currently in the hands of the Black Truck group the second car of orcs was tailing the Hex Angles who were tailing the Black Truck that was being attacked by the White Tigers.
Truck crashed- truck guys out. Current group of yaks out. Hex Angles walk away with the prize taking it back to their compound.
Heroes and Orcs decide to wait it out. More Black Truck guys show up and promptly deal the Hex Angles out of the deck. Black Truck guys seemed well funded and had the feel of mercs. A few shots traded, helicopter shot out of the sky (second for the night) and it was decided that it was time to visit the docks again.
Yaks and the Black Truck Guys had a discussion.
At the docks some heavy spirit security was removed by the orc and heroes and that is where we pick up this week episode. One I like to call “Waiting for the Tiger”.