Bad to the Bone (PP: Bobcat)

[Brownlee]

Denver, somewhere between two places on a Harley. The line on the road might be dotted, but at Bobcat's speed it looks solid.

His bike is an extension of himself. He shifts his full weight to hug the road through turns. The roar of its engine is his barbaric yawp, his proclamation to the sky that he's alive--that he is.

His gang is an extension of himself: Maverick, Duke, Jo Jo, Mute, and Dogbreath. They share the same uniform: Harleys and black leather jackets. They share the same Brujah dream: absolute freedom.

[ri]http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H-K4h-zSeyA/UQlpdV_Ci6I/AAAAAAAABH0/AmqolRxD0Fk/s320/-Joan-Jett-rock-guitar-legends-32151699-396-594.jpg[/ri]If perfect were a thing, it was then, there--but nothing lasts, especially perfection.

Mood Music.

Maverick pops a wheelie, passes Bobcat at over 100.

Jo Jo (left) pulls alongside him--now there's a woman: hips, lips, fingertips. She swears like a sailor, fights like an Amazon, and fucks like her ass is on fire. It's too loud to trade words, but they don't need them. The devil's there, in her eyes beneath the visor: a challenge. She winks, licks her lips, and then criss-crosses in front of his bike, practically parallel to the road.

Dex + Drive if you want to play. Add Stunt Driving if you really want to play.

[Brownlee]

Jo Jo stands up on her bike as Bobcat accelerates past her, arms raised high--she steers with her knees--in a silent cheer.

Bobcat pulls it off, a move maybe only Maverick could match, leaving his signature on that obscure stretch of highway. In his side mirror, he sees Jo Jo try and fail to trace the line he'd left.

  Jo Jo, Trace Skid: 0 suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2015-01-21 19:52:35		Jo Jo rolls 6 to Trace Skid Marks (10 Again)		7, 7, 5, 3, 7, 1		failure

Side mirror again: Bobcat sees two figures, silhouettes side-by-side: one wide, one narrow. He doesn't need to see their faces to know by their builds that they're Mute and Dogbreath. Neither loses anything at the lack of conversation, since Mute doesn't say anything and Dogbreath isn't good at saying anything. There's one more figure, farther, back. Process of elimination makes it Duke, the only Daeva there--less adrenaline junkie, more joy-rider. He's the furthest back, but the closest to Bobcat, always having Bobcat's back, even when Bobcat is wrong . . . which is often.

Ahead, Maverick hits his right signal, takes the exit for some mountain township. A few side streets, and he finds a dark alley to park his bike, begins stripping his gear while he waits for the others to do the same. Bobcat had almost forgotten that the gang was on a mission, though they hadn't been briefed.

OOC: Announce your equipment in the next post.

[Brownlee]

[ri]http://i.imgur.com/ZfjMaSA.jpg[/ri]Maverick stows his riding gear. No weapon, besides the boot knife he always has on him--seems to be traveling light for a mission. Instead, he produces a camcorder, checks the battery, and then hangs it from a lanyard around his neck. Only then does he get around to answering the question. "Movement wants us to send someone a message." That's all he says about it. He starts off, knowing the rest will follow.

Standard protocol: parking away and then taking a hike, so the bikes aren't heard or seen on site. Odd thing, though, is that the group is at an upper-class residential area, one fancy standalone house or two per block. Maybe someone was running an operation out of a basement or something? It went without saying that if something went wrong, they were to meet by the bikes.

As the rest of the group gets ahead, Duke falls back to have words with Bobcat.

[ri]http://www.celebritiesheight.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Lorenzo-Lamas.jpg[/ri]He whispers, "What side of whose bed did he wake up on?" It'd be funny if something weren't off about Maverick. He always had that stoic way about him, true, but he was usually present. These past few months . . . he seemed distant. Things get complicated when you're in charge of people. Good sign, him doing that wheelie earlier--a sign that old Mav was still somewhere inside. "Something feel off about this to you?" The two are far back enough that no one else can hear them.

What you can see of your comrades: Dogbreath has a bat. Mute has a crowbar. Duke has a .357 revolver tucked into his waistband and a blackjack in his pocket. Jo Jo has her usual extendable baton tucked snug against her hip.

You figure you've arrived, because everyone's stopped. Mute kneels down to pick the lock on the front door. Duke has lowered his voice to a whisper. "Jo Jo and I will clear the first floor. Mute and Dogbreath get the basement. Duke and Bobcat, upstairs. Sweep up everybody and bring them to the first floor."

After you enter the building, roll Perception, no penalty, every turn. You can roll Empathy any time you like, but have to do so for each person whose reaction you want to gauge. Empathy gets +2 for members of the gang. First movement will have you inside and started up the stairs.

[Brownlee]

An alarm beeps twice when Mute opens the door.

Jo Jo stops just inside to punch in the code--it seems she, at least, had known more about this than the others.

The staircase is dark. At the top, you see two two closed doors before you. Lights can be seen beneath the cracks at the bottom of each. Nothing outside the doors to distinguish one from another. At the end of the hall there is a bathroom: the door is open; the light is off; no one inside.

As far as you can tell there are no indications that you've been heard. It's a stampede downstairs. Feet plod far below against wooden stairs--Dogbreath and Mute in the basement no doubt. And somewhere beneath you there is tense conversation, though the voices are blurred. There are three: Maverick's, Jo Jo's, and an unknown woman.

Duke looks to Bobcat to see what the plan is about the two rooms.

OOC: You can communicate by hand signal: both go into each, or one of you go into each room at the same time. Indicate who goes where by right or left. Also roll Perception and Initiative for whichever door you enter.

[Brownlee]

The door flies open--it's sensory overload.

Bed: center of the room. Pink sheets. Two people on it, one on top of the other. Teenagers: one boy, one girl--maybe sixteen. Looks like the room's the girl's.

Music: real low. Romantic. Some pop-ish radio fodder.

Window: Back Wall. Curtains closed.

Walls: Twilight posters. Vampires--irony.

The girl screams, pulls a blanket up to cover her chest--bra on.

The boy jumps up--no shirt. "Who the fuck . . ." He's frightened--not an athlete--but he's put himself between Bobcat and the girl.

Through the wall, in the room where Duke went, Bobcat hears a boy yell--young. And then he hears a dog bark and then growl.

Downstairs: You have no idea--too much going on in front of you.