G:InterfaceZero 0.03

#GURPS: Interface Zero

version 0.03
August 20, 2018 - January 6, 2019

Band-Aid Makes It All Better

Friday, August 4, 2090

Where's Phil? You're Not Phil!

First Friday of the month. Time for John to restock the supply closet. Not his favorite part of the job, but it had to be done. There were people out there that needed help and he was gonna need more than spray bandage and anti-inflammatories. The grocery cart that he pushed made all sorts of noise as he made his way to the secondary service dock of South Seattle Medical Center. It was a third rate hospital, but definitely the best one in the area. They were always busy, turning folks away left and right, mostly because they didn't have the credits. Just leaving them to die. 

He pulls the hood of his jacket up over his head as he rounds the corner. He's supposed to look like some sprawler or junkie or something, pushing his cart around. He hates this part, but it's the only way it'll work. If he drove a van up here, security would be all over him. Plus he doesn't drive. Hasn't been behind the wheel is years. 

John approaches the loading dock and sees the steel barrel that's been turned into a makeshift grill. Smoke lazily wafts out of its top. The “go-ahead” signal. John pushes the cart up to the dock and climbs up, looking for his guy. A tall fellow, Russian by the look of him, steps out of a nearby doorway. He's holding a gun, though it's not pointed at John or anything. 

“Where's Phil? You're not Phil,” John says to him nonchalantly.

“Phil isz biszy,” he says in a thick Russian accent. “You're John, the patch man, yes? Come inside,” he motions to the open doorway with his gun. 

John moves through the doorway into the semi-lit hallway he has travelled many times.  Having someone he’s not familiar with makes him very uneasy.  He is glad he can feel “Betty,” his 9mm holdout, against his back.  He prays he doesn’t need to use it but just having it gives a certain level of comfort. John glances back the mob muscle, and laughingly says, “How ‘bout them Cubs?”  The Russian just stares straight ahead with his gun out.

“Fuck the Cubs,” the gangster spits out and shoves John further into the hallway. This part of the hospital is not frequently used and its been much longer since it’s been cleaned. Debris and dead leaves crunch underfoot as the Russian leads him inward. Finally, he stops John and directs him to another doorway to the left. “In there,” he says and gently shoves John into the room. 

Inside the room, what looks to have been some sort of administrative office now being used as a storage area, John sees his contact, Phil, tied to a chair.

There is a red patch on the side of the man’s head where he had obviously been hit recently. When Phil sees John, he starts to struggle and make whimpering noises. He refuses to look in John’s direction at all, and after just a moment of struggling, he sits still again. Also in the room is another Russian. This one is clearly the boss. He is well dressed and clean shaven, his dark hair combed back nicely. High end suit, fancy tie. Definitely the boss. He motions to a chair, “Come in, please, Mr. O’Brien. Sorry for all this, but I couldn’t find your number in my book.” He speaks with smooth, nearly perfect English, only a hint of Eastern European. 

John looks the Eastern European man in the eye, assesses the situation, then states, “Ok, let’s cut the bullshit.  First, I’m not that hard to find so I know this is a meeting was set up to put me in a position where I couldn’t say no to “whatever” you need me to do.  That’s cool, but you do know that you could have of just asked and I probably would have said yes. Second, I know that there’s not much I could do anyway but say yes now. I also realize that you need an off the book doctor for something so you aren’t going to shoot me right now.  I must be very nervous and angry enough ‘cause you got me talking too much.   So here is what I ask.  Just tell me what you want, no bullshit.   We can discuss it.  I might ask a few questions.  But I have to do it regardless.  Also, I need to look at my friend, Phil.  No negotiation on that.  He’s hurt and I fix.  It is in my nature.  It is what I do.  Plus you let him go with no strings attached.  You could just kill him.  Yea, you could. Nothin’ I can do to stop you but I wouldn’t take it well. So, if I live through your request or through this encounter, I may have to patch you up sometime and you may not get, ummm…., let’s say, my best.  Just something to think about. Now I’m done, what do you want?”

The boss sits down, he smiles and leans back in his chair, “I like you, um, hmm, no, no I don’t like you at all, but that doesn’t matter. You seem like what other folk might call ‘a nice guy,’ but whatever, I don’t give a fuck.” He pauses and lights a cigarette. It is long and black and smells expensive. He blows a few smoke rings into the air. His henchman smiles and watches them float up to the dirty ceiling. “Anyway, I think you got the right of it. I need a doc off the books, but I need that doc to be good. Not too good, nobody working at the hospital or urgent care or anything like that. Need a street doc. You fit that bill, but I also need someone I can leverage, and from what I can tell, you don’t got nobody that I can use to leverage. Not really anyway. You are an enigma, an island. But anyway, I know your story is out there, and maybe someday I’ll get a peek at it, but for now, I think I have another way. You seem to like helping people, almost like it’s your job or something,” he laughs at his own joke then gives his man a harsh look when he realizes that he isn’t laughing. The Russian goon quickly joins in with an uncomfortable laugh. “You run a clinic out of your apartment, down in Five Corners, near First South and 168th, right? Above that cheesy pseudo Asian Fusion restaurant and gaming center. Total shithole, but I got the right place, right?” John closes his eyes and nods ever so slightly, knowing that this guy is already certain that he is right. 

“So, here’s the deal, someone’s gonna come into your clinic today, gunshot wound, ehh, lets say wounds, that's probably gonna be more like it.” He turns and smiles at his man, who is now drawing shapes in the dirt on the floor with his shoe. The boss shakes his head and turns back to John. “So, this guy, let’s call him, oh, I don’t know, let’s just call him Guy, he ends up on your table today. You’re gonna fix him up, you’re gonna fix ‘em up real good. Nice and tidy, right? You take care of him real nice like, and that’s a good idea cause his friends probably won’t like it if he don’t make it. But here’s the twist. Before you’re done, you’re gonna leave this tucked away inside of him.” He opens his hands to reveal a folded up piece of gauze. He unwraps the gauze to reveal a small, fleshy little nub no more than a few millimeters across. A few hairs or something seem to be sticking off the side of it. “Organic tracker. Just need to keep track of a friend, but he don’t need to know. Actually, if you wanna tell him, I guess you can, but they’ll probably kill ya for it. You do this, and I’ll have all your supplies that Phil here had ready for ya delivered first thing tomorrow morning. You DON’T do this, and I’ll have something else delivered tomorrow, understand?” He folds the gauze up and sets it on a countertop. He closes his eyes for a moment, nods his head ever so slightly then makes a flicking motion toward John. An image of a man flashes up on his HR display. “That’s him. That’s Guy. We good?”

John puts on his vinyl gloves.  And picks up the device. He searches through his kit for a plastic bag and puts the organic tracker in it. John glances over at the Boss, and proceeds over to Phil to check him out. John does an analysis and realizes that Phil is just banged up a bit.  He grabs a bandage and antibiotic spray to put on Phil contusion on his head.  He then applies the bandage with antibiotic, turns and says to the Boss, “Ok, now we are good. You do know there is another form of leverage you could have used.  It is called money.  I do respond well to cold hard cash.  Yes, I’m a nice guy but that also includes being an honorable guy.  A contract is a contract.  You see, Phil here is my friend not because we are particularly close. We don’t go have beers and talk the current sports games.  He is my friend because he assists in honoring a deal we made.  So, you see I don’t like you now either.  I will do what you ask.  Keep in mind, the more you pull shit like this, I may not be so cooperative.  Because, like you said, you don’t know my story.  And part of me, may not be a nice guy.”  

The Russian mobster looks at John with a sneer. It almost seems as if he is reaching for a gun under his jacket then stops. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I’m not playing games with you. Put that tracker into that guy, got it. Don’t fuck around.” He turns around to leave, “Zem, let Mr. O’Brien know that I’m serious.” Before John can even turn to look at the other guy, the slugs John in the stomach, hard. John lets out an ooofh and doubles over. He sees the thug with his gun in his hand. “He means it, trust me,” then follows his boss out the door, watching over his shoulder as he leaves. 

After John recovers, John goes over to Phil and unties him.  “You okay? That guy is kind of overly dramatic.  Seen too many gangster movies.”  John then grabs his physicians backpack and heads back to his home/office. John is not sure if he will have enough supply to last but hopefully when he puts the tracker in the guy, this asshole honors his end of the deal.  As he rubs his stomach, he REALLY hopes honors his end of deal ‘cause he remembers how good of a soldier he truly was.  

A Drink at uNLuckys

On the way back to his place, his route takes him past Lucky’s, a favored watering hole of John's. He laughs to himself reading the sign where someone had painted the letters “uN" in front of the name, spelling uNLucky’s. It had been like that for several months. 

John then diverts into Lucky’s and looks around the bar.  He pull up his favorite stool, and orders a double whiskey.  He is hoping that a few of these will calm his nerves.

“Hey,  good to see ya, John,” the android bartender calls out in his cold, metallic voice. “Your usual?”

John smiles as he replies, “You know it, Mac.”

Mac sets John up with a cheap whiskey and slides it down the bar to him. He fills a small bowl with what John assumes are stale pretzels and puts them in front of him. “So, whaddya think about all them simulacra jumpers? There was another one this morning, somewhere in the Heights. I think that makes 5 now.” He motions over his shoulder to the large screen showing, among other things, a news-cast regarding a string of jumping “suicides” involving simulacra instead of Humans. The report stated that there had been 5 incidents in the last several days and that the authorities were attempting to determine if there was a connection between the sims and why they jumped. Each one had been damaged so thoroughly in the fall that a digital investigation of each unit was not turning up many clues. John finishes his drink and places the empty glass back on the bar. 

John shakes his glass to get another. “Simulacra jumpers, you say?”, John replies.  He continues, “I haven’t given it much thought. Of course, I never really studied the psychology of simulacrums.  But you say no clues, so the police believe it may be evidence of foul play.” John grabs a handful of stale pretzels as he ponders the puzzle. “What do you think Mac?  Any theories?”, John asks.

Mac refills his glass and says, “Who, me?  Oh, I don't know. Either they were emancipated and did it on their own accord or someone made them do it. But even that's tricky. Take me. I'm an android. I was built and programmed. I'm owned. A piece of property. The boss can tell me to do any number of things, all of which I'd do, no problem, but ya know what the owner can't make me do? Climb up to the top of a building and jump off. Self preservation coding. I got it. Most of us do. I mean yea, some of them military fighting units can be commanded it do some really dangerous stuff and all, but most anything with autonomous programming won't destroy itself like that. That just doesn't compute to me. Boss tells me to stand on the edge of a high roof and then pushes me himself, well that's another story I guess and then you'd have some newer, more efficient model in here making your drinks for you next time.” The android laughs his pre-programmed laugh, and for some reason John believes it to be sincere. 

As they talk, John sees a woman enter the bar. She smiles at John and Mac at the bar and heads to a booth in the back near the virtual pool table. She sits down with a man that was already sitting there. John does a double take at the booth because he didn't think there was anyone else in the place when he came in. He sucks down the remainder of his drink and chews on one of the half melted ice cubes. 

John thinks for a moment.  Something is sending that this situation is a little off.  He pops one of his stim tabs. Asks Mac for one of those synthohol beers (don’t really taste like beer but at least it doesn’t have the alcohol in it).  He casually moves to a booth where he can watch the room. He quietly removes his gun from it’s holdout holster and sets it on the seat next to him hidden from most eyes. He begins to watch to see what events are about to happen.

The two at the booth do not seem to notice John get closer, they appear to be focused on whatever they are talking about. Mac busies himself behind the bar since there are no other customers in the place. John sips his synthohol and tries to listen to what is going on between the two in the other booth, but he can’t hear them at all. After a few minutes, John starts to think that he was wrong and that nothing is it happens. The man, John now sees as an Asian man, with long hair and goatee, yells out, “What the hell!” and quickly jumps up from the table. “You bitch!” he screams at the woman and flips the table over on her. He turns and bolts toward the front of the bar, coming right past John. 

John grabs his gun as he stands up and attempts to bump the man as he rushes by.  As the man regains his balance, John looks him straight in eye, trying to assess the man.  John then proceeds over to the woman, with his gun in hand, to see if she is ok. 

The man climbs back to his feet as John stares him down. The man looks absolutely terrified as he scrambles around on the dirty tile floor of the bar. As he approaches the booth, the woman leaps from the bench, coming at John with a flying kick. “Who the fuck are you?” she demands. 

John frustrated, drops, and tersely states, “I’m John, and all I was doing was trying to see if your ok.  I guess you are!” As the woman flies over him, John starts to realize what a shit day this has become.

“Dammit,” the woman curses, still worried about the man on the ground with the gun. She whips out a pistol and fires three shots at the prone John.

John yells, “Stop shooting! I’m not going to harm you!” He rolls toward the bar away from the barrage of bullets.  Not sure if he got hit, he hopes to gain some cover behind the bar.

Mac starts waving a dish towel and yelling from behind the bar, “No discharging of firearms within the bar. Violators will be shot!” He leans over, getting something from beneath the bar. The woman curses and looks at the other man, climbing to his feet and moving toward the door.

John scrambles toward the bar and gentle puts his piece on the floor.  He then puts his hands up as he attempts to stand up. 

Mac produces a shotgun from under the bar as the woman and man both exit the building at about the same time, one from the front and one from the rear of the bar. “What just happened?” Mac asks John excitedly. “And just so you know, I don’t think I would have shot you, though my programming does direct me to fire upon violators of our rule. It seems that you were trying to help, so thank you.”

“Mac don’t worry. I would’ve tried my hardest not to violate that rule.  If I would, I just try to wound, at least something I can patch up later quickly.  What just happened? I don’t know. Deal gone sour? Maybe. Anyway, I better go home before my day gets any worse.  Put things on my tab?” John leaves through the front door pointing his feet toward home.

As John makes it outside, he hears several gunshots. Hearing gunshots in this area of Seattle is not that uncommon, but these were close by, around the corner somewhere. 

John debates following the direction that shots came from.  After a few minutes he realizes that he isn’t near his home but around where he thinks the shots came from.

Shot in the Empty Lot

John finds himself in an empty lot somewhere beyond Lucky’s. About 20 yards away, he sees a body on the ground, three kids are hunched over it, fighting over it's belongings. John cautiously approaches the group hovering the body. As soon as John gets within 10 yards, John shouts, “Hey guys, how it hanging?” As moves forward even slower, he pulls his gun out of his holster and tries to conceal next to his leg. As John approaches, the kids scatter, running off and yelling obscenities in his direction. He notes that they don’t run too far and all three remain nearby, watching. Quickly, John sees that the body belongs to the Asian man he saw in the bar recently. He has several gunshot wounds, on to his neck, that is bleeding profusely. He is alive, but probably only barely so. John holsters his weapon, and rushes over to the man. He puts med backpack down and reaches in to receive some bandages and antibiotic. He quickly does everything he can to stabilize this man and checks to see if he has any spinal issues. John believes this man is able to be transported. He yells at the youth, “Any one want some free stims, or money? I need help moving this guy back to my place.” One of the kids flips John off, then steps up a bit and calls out, “Yea, old man, I’ll help ya. 300 creds and some stims! Cash up front, and I get his jacket!” John sees a Credit Request icon from the kid pop up on his TAP display. It shows a request for 500 credits, not the 300 that the kid asked for. A moment later another one for 300 pops up from one of the other kids. Then a third one, from the last kid pops up, but for 3000 credits. John hears the kid curse then the request disappears and a new one pops up for 30 credits. The kid curses again and yells, “300! 300 muthafucker!” the Request icon disappears again then reappears for 3000. It disappears again then finally appears for 300. All the of the kids watch John as he considers their offers. John sighs. He hits his TAP and orders a ZoooM. John then declines all the offers. “Sorry guys, you all are way TOO expensive.”, he yells. He dons his backpack, grabs the man in an attempt to do a fireman’s carry. John gets the balance wrong but is able to semi-gently lower the man down but ends losing his balance falls over on him. He quickly checks the wounds to make sure everything is ok and attempts again. On John’s second attempt, he knew he didn’t quite get the hand placement right. He readjusts and gets the man off the ground to finally make his way to his rendezvous point. On his way, John realizes he hasn’t done this in years and must be a little rusty. Maybe he can talk Kirby or Angela into being his practice dummies for this maneuver. The kids curse and continue to flip John off as he drags the wounded man away. They break out in raucous laughter at one point when John drops the man and nearly falls himself. Finally, John makes it to the corner and the ride is there waiting on him. The driver leans out the window. “Aww, shit, is that dude bleeding out? I don't’ want no blood all over my ride, man! Come on! You look like a big, strong dude, can’tcha carry him? South ain’t that far. Aww, dude, he is bleeding. It’s all over you! You’re not getting into my ride like that!” he proclaims loudly. As John looks at the back seat of the used Nissan, he sees the remains of what appears many young people's mispent adventures. He looks at the driver, and says sarcastically, “You are correct. Blood in your car would ruin it’s pristine and sanitary nature.” John sends the driver on. He deeply sighs as he contemplates the journey ahead. In his army days, he remembers carrying wounded comrades miles to aid stations but he was much younger and much better shape. He looks at the wounded man and says, “You better be worth this.” The Asian man groans, as John starts to put one foot in front of the other to head home.

Second Mob Of The Day

John starts the walk home, carrying this unconscious and wounded Asian man. He is much heavier than he looks and John assumes he has some cybernetic upgrades somewhere in there. About two blocks into his trek, John hears tires squeal loudly around a corner. He turns and sees a blacked out luxury car skid around the corner. Three motorcycles with black suited riders follow the car. Finally, a highly modified JUMP bike comes flying over the rest, landing on the street just past where John is. The car screeches to a stop and the JUMP bike spins and stops at the far end of the street. The motorcycles rev their engines and zoom up and down the street, doing wheelies and burning out left and right. Two of the riders wave machine pistols and the third rider brandishes a wickedly curved katana. John disgustedly sighs and states, “Fuck this.” He lowers the man’s body gently to the ground and casually draws his gun from it’s holster. He desperately tries to hide the exposed gun against his leg as he positions himself between the car and the wounded man. John knows that if there is a fight he on the losing end of the stick but the way his day has been going he doesn’t give a fuck. Maybe this is the day he finally gets back with his unit. Three Asian men in suits get out of the dark car while the bike riders continue to zoom back and forth down the street. The three men from the car all raise assault rifles, pointing them at John. The driver of the car calls out for him to drop the gun and step away from the man’s body. John is pretty sure this must be the Yakuza. “Did you do this to Kanzo?” he shouts out to John. John gently puts his gun down on the ground and takes two side steps away from Kanzo. He shouts back, “NO! I found him likes this and was taking him back to my surgical suite to get back to a working condition. I’m a street doc! I’m John O’Brien!” Still not to sure about the trigger fingers on the hired muscle, John takes two more steps to the side. The Asian mobster takes a step forward and lowers his weapon. He reaches up and pulls the dark sunglasses from his face and cocks his head, looking more closely at John. “You’re a doctor? Surgeon? Can you help him?” he calls out. John nods, affirmative. The man calls out to his companions in Chinese or Japanese or some other language that John doesn’t understand. Several of the men move forward and pick up the injured man, Kenzo, and take him to the car. The man that spoke to John beckons him over, “Come on. We go to your place. You fix him up. You can get your gun. I trust you.” John smiles a little as picks up his gun and puts in its holster. He heads toward the car. He gets to the luxury sedan and says, “I can fix him and I will keep alive on the ride over there.” He gives the driver his address and concentrates on keeping his patient stable on the bumpy ride home. The car, escorted by the bikes, makes is way through traffic to John's place. The parking lot of Lo Pan’s Den - Fine Pan Asian Fusion and Gaming Center is beginning to get crowded. The large HyperObject that is the wizard Lo Pan glides around the lot, just over the tops of the tallest vehicles. He waves and beckons to passing vehicles and people, occasionally throwing a pair of flaming dice that always comes up snake-eyes. As the Yakuza vehicle enters the lot, John notices the HR Lo Pan turn and look in their direction. The smiling face turns sour and the giant wizard shakes his head and holds out his hand as if to say “no.” A notification pops up on John's TAP reminding him that residents of the building are not allowed to park in the restaurant lot even if they are coming in as patrons but instead must use the off-street or alley parking in the back. John signals to park around back. He says to the mob boss, “It has better access to my surgical suite plus you won’t have the hassle of your limo being towed away.” The mob boss signals to driver to go ahead and park around back. John says to the muscle as they haul Kinzo out of the back, “It is the 3rd floor, the apartment all the way at the end of the hallway. Hey, gently. He still isn’t out of the woods yet” He shows them where to place their hands to get a more secure grip. The group takes the elevator up to the 3rd floor. The hallway is dimly lit. John reaches up and touches his TAP and a door unlocks at the end of the hallway. “In there guys,” John states and gestures toward a well lit surgical suite. He puts his pack down in his apartment. He returns to the suite and begins to work on Kanzo. It takes several hours, but John is able to stabilize the seriously wounded man. If it had been much longer before they got here, it would have been too late, John thinks. It’s a good thing that the Yakuza showed up when it did. John then wondered if he would ever think that specific thought again. Then he thought about having another drink, all this surgery was really wearing him down. Normally his clinic was filled with folks with broken bones, small contusions, coughing, STDs, cyber rejection, things like that. Not serious gunshot wounds and all this mafia business. He finishes up with the Yakuza and the gangster in the suit pays him well. “You don't know us, right?” he says as they help Kanzo to his feet and leave. John is quite sure Kanzo recognizes him from Lucky's and gives him a weak sneer before leaving. John thinks he really needs to find another way to make money. John also thinks he needs another drink. He spies a bottle of whiskey on a nearby shelf then remembers he has a couple of free drink credits downstairs at Lo Pan’s. John heads down to Lo Pan’s. He sees his favorite waitress here, Lucy. He attracts her attention and she signals which is her section. He finds a quiet booth in her section and starts checking the news on his TAP. At first it seems the same old crap. Some congressman making a bad decision on something that is being opposed by another congressman from the other side. He sees a vid on how crime is up in Seattle. John thinks to himself, “No, shit.” Then a blog on simulacra jumpers catches his eye. He just started getting into the blogger’s theories when Lucy brings his Scotch. He gives her a free drink credit, and smiles. She doesn’t say much but she always seems to make him smile. He then finds his way over to the subreddit on medical procedures. He posts a couple of questions. Then finishes his drink. Lucy anticipated him and had another Scotch as soon as he finished the first one. He happily gave the other free drink credit plus a few credits extra as a tip.

Fresh Wounds

As John sips his drink, thinking about the events of the day, a call pops up on his TAP through one of the call routers he uses for the clinic. The OOL ID says Grim. John doesn't know anyone named Grim and he wishes he didn't have to use these call routers because since they give him some anonymity for the clinic, it likewise allows callers to use easily spoofed IDs as well. The life of a street doc, he muses. Saving lives and breaking the law. The call continues to flash in his peripheral. He takes another sip of his drink. John sighs heavily, and says “Hello” to answer his TAP call. As the image starts to appear, he states “Watcha need?” John is met with a young, raspy voice speaking quite frantically, “Aww, man. Hey, you the doc? I need a doc! I got three people here. Bee's been shot, the other two are banged up. Can you help? We're in the parking lot of some place called Lo Pan's. Karh tried to stop the bleeding but, um, I'm thinking it didn't work. There's a lot of blood here. Karh went in to look for you but this didn't really seem to be the right place.” The voice pauses for a moment, breathing heavily and John thinks he can get a few words in. John looks at his drink, and sighs heavily into the TAP, “Ok, I will be right out.” He grabs his backpack as he stands up. He scans the bar to see if anyone unusual in the place. He thinks he sees someone by the door, they don’t look like they looking for anyone just drinking. Realizing his TAP line is still open, John asks, “What does Karh look like?” “Ha, like a punk-ass.. um, sorry. I mean he looks like a guy. Bout 20, dark hair. Frowns a lot. Big but eyes,” the voice on the line chuckles again briefly then continues. “Not quite 6 foot, wearing a dark hoodie. I think he was wearing it anyway. Hold on,” the voice asks. After a moment, John gets an image over his TAP. “There, that's him.” Now with a picture to work with, John rescans the room as he makes his way to the door. Almost immediately he sees the fellow, Karh, talking to one of the Lo Pan waiters near the entrance. John makes his way across the crowded bar toward Karh. Upon his arrival, he leans in and says, “Hey Karh, I think you are looking for me. Now, let’s go to your friend before he dies.” The young man looks at John with a bit of a shocked look on his face. John now sees that the front of Karh’s clothes are covered with blood. Karh shakes his head and mutters, “Yea. Parking lot,” and turns and heads back out of the building. He leads John to an old model Tesla. Very old model, John thinks, totally an antique. He notices that the side of the car has some recent damage and several people can be seen inside the vehicle. Karh approaches it and waves his hand, “I got the doc,” he says. John sees an older man slumped over in the front seat and then a young, dark haired man climbs out of the back seat, he is covered in blood. John also notes that he has a sheathed katana in his hand. Two more people, a man and a woman are in the back seat as well. They both appear to be injured. “I’m Grim,” the dark haired man says, “We just talked.” John feels this man quickly sizing him up. He then turns and does a 360 scan of the area, clearly checking it out for danger zones. John thinks this kid, he can’t be more than 20 or so, has had some sort of training, military or private sector security, at least. He looks inexperienced but seems to have a good eye for things. “Where do you want them?” he asks John as he lights up a cigarette. John assesses the situation and states, “Do you think it would be safe to move them outside the car?” He then looks at the man in the front seat and begins to move him onto the tarmac of the parking lot. Karh shrugs and Grim responds, “I dunno. You're the doc right? Bee, in the back. She was shot. Dickhead and the old man were both smashed by a door and run over by a, umm, well, by a rhino. A hybrid, ya know?” John gets the man in the front seat carefully to the ground. As he does a triage of the patients, he states, “You know a little help moving the others would be helpful.” Grim and Karh help John with the injured bodies. As they do so, several people passing in the parking lot shoot glances at what is going on. Some smart ass shouts out, “Let ‘em bleed! Blood in the gutters!” Grim shouts back and flips the bird. Once again, the giant HR Lo Pan ambles over to where they are. It leans over and shakes its head and waves a finger in John’s direction. Another TAP message comes in, this time a direct message from the manager of Lo Pan’s, an older guy named Harko. “Second time tonight, O’Brien. Come on, get it out of the parking lot. You know the rules. I gotta report it to the owner this time.” The giant Lo Pan turns and stands directly over where John and the others are looking over the patients. John cusses as he realizes yet again that he is not to be performing business in the parking lot of his landlord’s business. The owner of Lo Pan allows him to use his apartment for his practice as long as he keeps it out of public view. John considers that Lo Pan’s could probably be shut down, or worse, if the wrong people found out he was running a clinic out of the building. A quick assessment show that the girl, Bee, is in the worst condition. She is suffering from a gunshot wound that has been horribly bandaged. The other two appear to have suffered from some blunt force trauma and may or may not be suffering from concussions, not that that isn’t dangerous, but they’re not bleeding out in the parking lot of a shitty casino and restaurant. Karh glances up as Lo Pan settles in above them then turns to John and says, “Might be best to get them off the street ya know? We are drawing a bit more attention here than either of us are looking for. Where should we go?” John snaps at Karh, “Yes, I know. I live here.” He quickly stabilizes Bee’s gunshot wound. When John finishes he looks at Grim, and says, “Dark One, she should be stable enough to move. Grab her. “ Pointing at Karh, he says, “You and me help the others.” John helps the closest one to him up and escorts them to a back alley behind Lo Pan’s. The alley is dark, and full of garbage. John spies a few of his recent patients on his way to the door. He thinks, “I guess they’ll be back.” When he opens the backdoor, there is a hallway to a rickety, unclean elevator. He looks at the group and states, “We are going to the elevator. It smells like stale piss but hey, it is better than the stairs.” When the creaking elevator gets to the third floor, the doors open to make-shift surgical suite. John motions toward a surgical table and says, “Put the girl there.” He motions his patient to a chair nearby and turns to Bee. He grabs a mask and instruments. He stops suddenly and looks at Karh, “You are going to be my nurse. Not hard. Just hand things to me when I ask. Oh, here is a mask. Put it on.” When he has everything in place he begins.

Cast of Characters: 

Doc John O'Brien: a washed out combat medic turned street doc; played by Dan E

and Jason GURPS as the GM

G:InterfaceZero 0.01

#GURPS: Interface Zero

version 0.01
August 2, 2018 - January 6, 2019

Fight Night

Friday, August 4, 2090

Hanging Wit' Da Boyz

Karh moves frantically around his apartment, straightening up. It wasn’t a big place, he thinks to himself, so it shouldn’t take too long, but it sure seemed to be. How could this place get so damn messy!

Karh expects his friends to be arriving soon. Everyone is coming over to watch the big fight tonight at his new place. The downtown apartment is on the 4th floor of a rundown tenement near the airport. So what if the parking lot and grounds flood when it rains, there is a walkway from the 2nd floor to the bypass next door. It’s cramped and the hallways smell funny, but it beats his old place out in Redmond. It was getting too dangerous out there and he didn’t like living that close to Glow City. 

The fight should be a good one tonight, Karh thinks to himself. The FUB 2090 Championship. The Russian cyborg Fedor Arvloski taking on the reigning champ, Tanner Weidman, a bear Hybrid from the GLU. The fight was happening out on the East Coast, in Boston, so it would be on a little early. When he “happened” to “come across” the access code to the Pay-Stream, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to call up a few of buddies and invite them to his new place. 

With the creak of worn out springs Karh drops into a dilapidated sofa occupying the center of the room.  A quick glance around the apartment confirms everything is as about as good as it’s going to get. The furnishings are sparse and pretty much everything has a second hand look to it.  A few boxes of odds and ends electronics sit in the corner. He props his feet up on the metal shipping container serving as a coffee table.  

The pregame commentary is already playing on the digital wall. Karh cobbled it together from discarded displays he appropriated last month.  It glitches from time to time and the audio is a bit shrill even when turned down low but it works.

Karh can't believe his good fortune.  He’s never had a place this nice before.  His last place had water leaking every time it rained.  You didn’t dare drink anything from the faucet because it smelled like sulphur and tasted like iron.  The walls were so thin you could hold conversations with the neighbors from inside the apartment.

With that thought in mind, Karh hears several shouts and curses from the hallway outside his door. Then a loud and frantic banging on his door. A voice shouts through the thin hatch, “Dammit bakebrain, you left the fraggin garbage chute open again! Them damn rats, or whatever the frag they are keep coming up!” Karh knew the voice, it was Mr. Jenkins, his neighbor from down the hall who had the unfortunate circumstance to have the apartment nearest the refuse chute. He had been harassing Karh about making sure the chute was closed since day one.

Mr. Jenkins, that bastard

Karh throws the manual bolt and opens the door.  He refuses to be intimidated by the old man.  “Listen Jenkins, how many times do I have to tell you?  It wasn’t me!  I don’t use that garbage chute. Now go bother someone else who has time to listen to ya!”  Not giving the geezer a chance to launch into one of his infamous lectures on trash protocols, Karh slams the door and bolts it back. 

Karh Danishan

Karh knows he really should stop opening the chute everytime he walks past, but the old man is just so damn annoying. Karh just can’t help himself.  Besides it gives Jenkins something to occupy his time.

There is one final slam on his door and he hears Jenkins cursing under his breath. “Yea, ya don't use the chute, that makes sense, ya choob, no wonder this end of the hallway smells so bad!” Karh can hear him out there steaming for another moment then he walks away. The sounds of random shouting can be heard from further down the hall toward where Jenkin’s flat is. 

More pounding on the door then a muffled shout of “Police, open up!”

For a split second Karh considers heading for a window. Then he realizes it’s not just some asshole in a uniform.  It’s an asshole he knows all too well.  He thumbs the controls for his cobbled together security system and yells brought he intercom.  “Fuck off Grim!  You’re lucky I don’t blast you through this door!”  Not for the first time Karh contemplates rigging some type of electronic trap to his front door.  Preferably one with high voltage power running through it.  He slides the bolt open and motions Grim inside.  “Hurry up before old man Jenkins gets wound up again.”

“Hey buddy,  what's up? Who's Jenkins? The short circuit at the end of the hall going in about beetle rats?” Grim says as he shoves past Karh into the apartment. Karh’s friend Grim, aka Graham Brooks, is one of his oldest and closest friends. He carries a 12-pack of beer. Looking closer, Karh sees that it's Nutrivend reBeer. His stomach turns at the thought. “Who else ya got coming over for the fight?” he asks as he lights up a smoke. 

Grim Brooks

Karh locks the door behind Grim and grabs one of his beers.   “What the hell Grim!  You know this crap doesn’t taste good when it’s ice cold ... and this stuff is almost hot!  Can’t you not be a cheapskate for once and get the real stuff?” Karh smiles a bit at Grim's expense.

Karh settles down a notch or two and repositions himself on the sofa.  He continues in a friendlier tone,  “Go ahead and throw that crap in the fridge anyways though. I don’t have anything better to offer.  Bee and Dante should be here anytime.  You know Bee hardly ever eats and Dante always charges for for his stuff.”  

“What? This stuff is great! And made from 150% upcycled table scraps and twice used undies. Nothing better and warm is the ONLY way to drink it!” Grim smiles as he cracks the can open and drinks the foamy beverage. “Plus, you can eat the can of you soak it in water overnight! Instant breakfast!” He gulps, burps and slams the empty on the counter and opens another before depositing the rest in the small fridge. He plops down on the stack of cushions that resembles a chair. “And seriously? Dante? I thought you said you had friends coming over. I mean Bee’s chill. But Dante. Whatever. Whatcha been up to? I've been working my ass off all week, mooking for some suit in from Portland. Portland, Maine dude. East Coast all the way! He's ok I guess. Works in transport or something. I don't really know. Been mostly downtown and a little sightseeing around the Sound. Bit how bout you, ami?”

With a grimace Karh manages to down a healthy swig of reBeer. It’s an acquired taste apparently. One that Grim has worked diligently on for years. “I managed to flip a few interesting files I found this week but otherwise not much going on. I need to hit something primo so I can fix this place up a bit.” Karh still can’t believe that he’s living here. It’s by far the nicest place he’s ever been able to call his own. “So whatcha think, Tanner or Fedor?  I’ve seen some of Fedor’s fights, I don’t think anyone can last against him.”

Grim laughs, “No way. The Bear is gonna smash him. Russian cyborg doesn't stand a chance against all those 100% natural bear muscles! Bet ya 50 on it?” He slaps the table just as there is another knock at the door. This time it's a much calmer, more polite knock, unlike Grim’s frantic bashing.

There is a pause and then the knocking  begins again, a little more forceful this time. “Uh, you want me to get that?” Grim says, looking at Karh over the top of his beer can.

“Oh no ami, wouldnt want to interrupt you nursing that beer back to life or anything.  You just sit there and relax while I take care of things eh?”  Karh once again steps up the door and checks the security screen.  He smiles and immediately throws back the oversized deadbolts, pulling the door open.  

A young man stands at the door fist raised to knock again. Karh addresses him warmly,  “Hey Dante!  Glad you could make it.  Come in.”  With a smug smirk Dante enters the living room and takes the seat furthest from Grim.  

Dante

He stands about 5’10 with a slender build.  His hair is jet black and tousled into long forward facing spikes. Coal black eyes seem to appraise everything and everyone.  His features are distinctly Asian and he keeps his face smoothly shaven.  His clothes are clean and neat if a bit threadbare.

He nods at Grim curtly, “I see you are still drinking that fermented garbage.  How you manage to survive day to day on that crap is a modern miracle.  You are going to have to let me get you either something real to drink or one of those new stomach implants like the ones Kortana Industries is making.  With one of those installed you could drink battery acid and still be ok.  Although it won’t make that reBeer taste like anything other than the shit it is.  You’ll need another implant for that!”

Karh shakes his head at his friends friendly (most of the time) banter as he is closing the door.  Just before the door seals a slender arm shoves it open and a gaudy figure forces her way in.

The young woman is about 5’8 and athletically built.  She wears her hair in long dreadlocks alternating between black and bright almost neon yellow.  Her dark features reveal a mixed African and eastern European heritage.  Her clothes are a wild jumble of contrasting colors and styles.  

“What in the hell Karh!  You sent me a message insisting I come over and watch the fight with you dregs just to slam the door in my face when I get here?  I augta kick your scrawny ass for that!”  She gives Karh a hard punch in the shoulder before enveloping him in a friendly hug.  

Bee

“Sorry Bee I didn’t see you coming.  If I had I woulda locked the door and turned the security on.” Karh rubs his shoulder as Bee turns to the rest of the living room.

She grabs the back of the sofa and lightly jumps over it.  Settling down into her seat she looks to the left at Grim and then to the right at Dante.  “You two having a little dick contest or something?”  She laughs good naturedly at the the guys expense.  “Throw me one of those reBeers you cheapskate.”  

Any tensions in the small living room are instantly deflated by Bees presence.  More beers are passed around and the group quickly settles in to watch the fight.

Grim laughs uncomfortably at Bee`s joke about the contest between him and Dante and scoffs, “Yea, and I'm winning.” He smiles then grinds his teeth and tries to back pedal, “I mean, he's winning because I've got, I mean he's got…” Grim`s face turns red as the others laugh. “Yea, well fuck you all. And seriously, stop bitchin`about my cheap-as beer when none of you even brought any!”

There are some banging sounds from the hallway and more shouting.  A high pitched screech is heard and Karh assumes it's his neighbor at the end of the hallway.  She seems to have a lot of different boyfriends and girlfriends coming and going and at least every other one ends up in a screaming match in the hallway while he's sleeping. 

The main event finally begins but the shouting and banging in the hall continues. He can hear his neighbor Jenkins out there raising hell about something again. Something loud hits the outside of his door.  Dante looks irritated, then he turns away and holds a finger to his temple. Looks like he is taking a call by the way he is moving his mouth. Must have gotten a subvocal comm upgrade. “Aww shit. I gotta jet,” he stands and traps the side of his head. “Sorry, but seriously, I can't hear the damn fight anyway with your neighbors having their own championship out on the hall anyway.”

Come In, Make Yourself At Home

As Dante approaches the door to leave he turns back to say something but is interrupted by a loud crash as Karh`s front door comes flying out of the jamb and smashing into him. The force knock him to the ground and the door lands on top of him. Karh sees his neighbor, Jenkins, laying on top oh the door in a bloody heap. 

“You musta not got da notice. It's moving day, sprawlers, get the fuck out!” Two gangers stand in the damaged doorway. The one speaking is a skinny punk with goggles on, twirling a havoc stick while the other one is a hulking hybrid, a rhino or something.  The hybrid steps into the apartment and swings a heavy chain around menacingly.  

Bee whispers, “Oh shit,” as she slides off the couch and onto the floor, never taking her eyes off the door and probably recording the whole thing now. 

Grim leaps to his feet and he frantically pats himself down, looking for a weapon. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he sees his jacket and sword in the corner of the kitchen. Karh sees him glance down at the combat knife sheathed in his boot. 

Karh dives for the bundle of clothes piled loosely together by his nightstand.  He tries to stay crouched down beside the bed in an attempt at using it for cover.   Frantically he reaches for his trusty Ravenlocke P9D concealed under his jacket.  

“What in the hell do you gangers want?  The rents been paid already!  And who’s gonna pay for my fracking door!”  Karh yells at the intruders, trying to distract them and slow them down in anyway possible. 

As Karh fumbles for his gun in a pile of dirty laundry, Grim watches the hybrid, a Rhino or Hippo or something big, grunt and rush forward to the side of Karh’s bed and swing his heavy chain over in an attempt to hit Karh. Fortunately, the thick chain misses and only hits the side of the bed. Bee screams out and Dante groans quietly as the other ganger strolls in. “I said get the hell out of here, ya stiffs!” he says he moves into the apartment. A bright neon devil HR tag can be seen on his combat jacket. Without wasting any more time, Grim jumps over the couch and goes for his gear, unfortunately, Karh’s  couch has other ideas and Grim catches his foot on its back and he trips, sending him crashing to the ground face first. He hits with a thud.

The skinny thug coos to the fallen Grim, “Aww naw ya don't, buddy. You just stay down, ok?” and steps toward him slowly, his havoc stick out in front of him.

The big guy kicks the side of Karh’s bed then makes his way around the bed, swinging his chain wildly and missing again. As he rounds the foot of the bed, he stops sort and cusses in a whimpering, high pitched voice, “Oh shit,” when he sees the SMG pointed at him. 

“Eat lead you fracking hippo!”  Karh screams at the hybrid attacking him as he squeezes the trigger.  Bullets fly on target at the intruder.

Big Hippo dives to the side hoping to avoid the barrage of gunfire but all three rounds get him. The bullets rip through his combat jacket and Karh winces at the sound of them piercing his fat flesh. “Arrrgh, you sonofabitch, I’m gonna smash you for that!” 

As Grim starts to pull himself to his feet, the skinny ganger steps up and lashes out with his Havoc Stick. Grim grunts and and dodges the attack. The ganger, anticipating an easy hit, over-swings and throws himself off balance. Grim uses this opening to pull himself to his feet and step toward his gear on the nearby table. The Hippo, now prone, crawls forward, pulling his chubby legs out of Karh’s sight. Bee still remains on the floor, crouching in front of the couch and Dante and Mr. Jenkins lay on the floor in the doorway, both quiet and unmoving.

With the hippo out of sight Karh turns to the skinny ganger.  “Drop it NOW!  Or I’ll drop you like your buddy!”  Karh takes aim at him.  He holds his fire, giving the ganger a chance to respond.  Any action short of dropping the havoc stick and Karh will fire.

The ganger, his attention now divided between two foes and his companion now on the floor in front of him, does just what Karh shouted at him, but instead of putting his hands up, he reaches beneath his jacket and goes for his gun!  Fortunately he does not whip it out very quickly and gets stuck fumbling with the holster but does manage to draw the sidearm. Grim grabs the hilt of his sword as he comes to his feet, turning to face the ganger and keeping his back to the wall. The Hippo hybrid crawls forward on the floor toward his partner.

Karh squeezes the trigger on his Ravenlocke, this time targeting the ganger who is drawing his gun.  He barely manages to keep on target but somehow he does.

The ganger turns and tries to stay out from in front of Karh’s PDW but one of the slugs manages to hit him. He curses loudly as the bullet penetrates his jacket. The ganger winces but does not go down, but instead raises his gun and pops off three rounds in Karh’s direction, but all three go wide and hit the wall and nightstand behind him. At the same time, the hippo hybrid slams into the bed, sending it crashing into Karh.

“Damn, damn! Karh, should I call the cops or what?” Bee shouts out from behind the sofa while the bullets fly around the room. “Is Dante ok? Should I call a medic?”

While this is all going on, Grim finally gets his blade out of its sheath and slashes at the standing ganger, trying to cut his legs out from under him. The ganger catches his move out of the corner of his eye and jumps out of the way just at the last second. 

“Call everyone!”  Karh yells at Bee as the bed slams into his side. The weight of the bed drops Karh to the ground with a thud. Not for the first time he curses the poor genetics that made him such a wimp. He pushes himself back up to his knees assessing the situation.

The ganger with the gun steps back, crouches and fires, this time at Grim, but again, all three of his shots miss. Bee cries out loudly in pain and slums to the floor, limp and motionless. Hippo pulls himself to his knees and growls at Karh across the bed, “I’m gonna crush you, worm!” he calls out. Meanwhile, Grim leaps forward and charges the ganger with the gun, trying to take out who he sees as the “bigger’ threat. He leads with his blade, stabbing directly at the man’s midsection. The ganger leaps back out of the way, somehow knocking Grim’s sword from his hand. The blade falls and clatters under the small kitchen table. “Dammit!” Grim shouts!

From his knees Karh braces himself against the bed and fires a three round burst at the hippo!  The shots are just barely on target.  “Not if I shoot you first!  You assholes are going to pay for hurting my friends!”  

Two bullets hit the angry hybrid and seem to just seem to be swallowed up by his bulk while the third whizzes through the air, passing just between Grim and the other ganger, striking the wall to the shitter. “Hey watch it, buddy!” Grim yells in Karh’s direction! The skinny ganger takes another step back, carefully keeping his balance as he walks over the mess in the doorway and works his way into the storage area. Half hiding behind the wall, and now out of Karh’s line of sight, he takes aim and fires three more shots at the weaponless Grim. Grim dives to the floor, hoping to avoid the incoming bullets and get a bit closer to his sword but all three shots hit him. Grim grunts loudly as he hits the ground. As Karh watches another friend get shot, the hybrid comes to his feet and swings the long chain over his head. It comes crashing down at Karh. 

Karh dives for cover behind his bed.  Not willing to risk being on the business end of Hippos chain, he puts everything he has into it.  He hears the chain whistling harmlessly overhead as he hits the floor once again.  

As soon as he hits the floor he is once again pushing up to a kneeling position. He looks over the bed as he is doing so.  Karh watches for the Hippo and his partner.

The next thing Karh knows, his bed is being flipped over, right on top of him and he hears the ganger yelling, “Com’on, Nigel, let’s burn!” As he scrambles to climb out from under the dirty mattress, he hears the two of them running from his apartment. As he gets out from under the bed, he sees Grim getting to his feet and patting himself down, “I, uh, whoa. I think I’m ok.” Both of them turn and stare at Bee, who is lying on the floor in front of the couch with large red spot beneath her. She is breathing, but shallowly. Groans can be heard from the doorway.

Cleaning Up the Mess

“Damnit Grim are you sure you are ok?  I thought I saw you get hit several times!”  Not waiting for Grim to reply Karh rushes over to Bee.  He grabs a mostly clean towel and manages to stop the bleeding.  “Hold on there Bee, we are gonna get you some help.”  

Karh looks around at the wreckage that is now his apartment.  The gangers did a pretty good job trashing things in a short time.  Karh doesn’t know if he will ever get the opportunity, but those gangers will have to pay for tearing up his place and hurting his friends.

“If you aren’t hurt Grim, see if you can wake Dante up.  I’m sure he knows someone who can help Bee.”

As Grim moves toward Dante and Mr. Jenkins in the doorway, there is a spate of loud shouting followed by several gunshots in the hallway. Three more gangers run past, one of them reaching back over his shoulder and firing off 3 more rounds, sending crashing echoes throughout the small apartment. Grim ducks and then drags Mr. Jenkins back into the apartment. “Think there’s still some gangers in the building, can hear some yelling from upstairs maybe,” Grim says as he props the door in place and drags Dante in as well. “That was, crazy,” he says, wiping his brow and grabbing his jacket and putting it on, even though it is already a little hot inside. He pats the back and finds his pistol and removes it, replacing it tucked in his belt in the front. “Just in case,” he nods and winks. “How’s Bee? Dante and this old dude are both out cold,” he says as he moves to the kitchen and gets another rag, soaking it in cold water. Karh looks down at his makeshift bandage job and realizes that his friend is still bleeding. 

Looking down at the blood still seeping through the towel and onto his hands, Karh curses.  “Frack!  Grim!  Throw me that medkit from over by my terminal!”  

“What? Oh, yea, here,” Grim calls out as he tosses the small plastic box across to Karh. When Karh catches it he sees that his friend, Grim, did not make it out of the skirmish unscathed. There are a few bullet holes in his shirt accompanied by a small amount of blood, but nothing to indicate major gunshot wounds, probably just lucky grazes. Grim sees Karh looking and zips the jacket up. “There's still some action in the building. I'm gonna go check it out, ok?” and before Karh can even answer, he bolts out of the apartment. 

“Damnit Grim what the hell am I supposed to do about gunshots?!” he yells at the empty doorway.  Karh sighs in consternation as he realizes Grim probably never even heard him.

“Frack!”  He yells to no one in particular.  Determined not to let his friend down he starts bandaging again.  This time he is meticulous and focus’ on doing his first aid right.  

Karh does his best and gets the bleeding stopped. By this time, Dante has crawled out from under the door. Mr. Jenkins, the neighbor from down the hall is still unconscious in the doorway. Bee moans and winces a bit as Karh tightens the bandages, but remains unconscious as well. Grim comes loping back into the room. His leg is bleeding but he is smilng. “I took out two more of the gangers, but one got me here, dammit. That hurts. Chased the rest of them out.” He steps over the unconscious old man and grabs another reBeer before flopping down in one of the chairs.

Dante looks around, dazed, “Wha happen’d?”

“You did your best to imitate a door stop you fracking idiot!”  Karh smiles and laughs at his friends misfortune.  Karh fills Dante in with all the details about the gangers attack. 

“Seriously though, what are we going to do about Bee and Grim?  They’ve both been hurt and need more medical attention then I can give. 

“Uh, well, yea. Ok. I think I know of a street doc nearby. Here,” he wiggles his fingers in the air and an address pops up. It’s not too far, just on the other side of the airport, maybe 2 and a half miles, Karh thinks to himself. Five Corners neighborhood. Dante sits down hard on the floor, his head sagging forward. Karh notices quite a bit of blood on the back of his head and staining his designer jacket. Must have taken quite a pop to the head. 

Grim crushes the empty beer can on the table, “I’m fine, just need a little cleaning up. I can move and whatnot. Dante don’t look good, neither does your neighbor there. What should we do? He give you an address or something?”

“Well ok then maybe Dante is in worse shape than I thought.”  He eases Bee up onto the sofa where she can be a bit more comfortable.  Turning his attention to Dante he checks his friends injury to the head.  

While he bandages Dantes wound he looks over at Mr Jenkins lying in a heap on the floor.  The old hermit was more of a pain in his ass than anything even remotely resembling a friend.  He's also pretty confident that Jenkins wouldn't even bother to slow down if he passed Karh lying injured out in the hallway.  

Growing up out on the streets it was something Karh learned quick;  Keep your nose out of other people's business.  Those with a bleeding heart didn't survive very long.  Even with all the years of harsh lessons out on the street urging Karh to just toss the old man out and let fate sort things out he finds he just can't let it go.  

He's tired of being pushed around.  Tired of watching people die all around him.  He has to stand up and do something.  Even if it is just making sure Jenkins gets some decent medical treatment.  

With a sigh he finishes the bandages on Dante and lays him down onto the floor.  Grabbing what's left of his med kit he steps over to Jenkins and does what he can to stabilize his crotchety neighbor.

“Hey Grim make yourself useful for a moment and keep your eyes on these guys ok?  I'll be back in a second!”  Not wasting any time Karh takes off down the steps to the first floor.  He steps over the motionless bodies of the two gangers that Grim has incapacitated, taking care not to step in the slowly widening pools of blood.  

The front door the the complex has been bashed open.  Karh passes through pausing for a brief second to wonder at the gangers lack of subtlety.  The bio lock on the door wouldn't have stopped a determined child if they had only tried.  Shrugging to himself he runs to the end of the building and turns left into an alley covered in graffiti.

Half obscured by heaps of refuse is Jenkins car.  He knows it still runs because the fracking idiot tried to run him over with it just last week.  The badge on the front identifies it as an old Tesla Model Z.  Just looking at it you wouldn't think it would run but Jenkins never could be bothered to maintain anything.  Woulda maybe been worth something if the company had not went under shorty after Musk abandoned it.  But that eccentric got what he deserved when he left for Mars in 2041. 

Karh accesses the security plate located on the drivers side of the car.  Confidently he attacks the security code.  In no time he has the car convinced that he is its new owner.  Sliding into the seat he toggles the hud and checks each of the cars readouts.  His good luck continues to hold, everything checks out, even half a charge left on the battery.  He eases the antique into drive and slowly pulls around to the front door.

When he stops and gets out, Karh hears sirens approaching. Only about 45 minutes too late, he thinks to himself. A moment later he shakes his head in disgust as the sirens fade back into the distance. He races back inside and finds Grim and another neighbor, Mrs. Li, helping Dante, Bee and Jenkins to the front door. Dante and Bee are both walking but Jenkins has been unceremoniously dumped into a rolling  laundry basket. Mrs. Li smiles when she sees Karh. “I knew you and your friends would chase those thugs off, such a nice boy,” she announces. Her and her husband own a nearby restaurant, Nice Rice, that serves tasty rice and noodle dishes. They have been fans of Karh since just after he moved in and helped them with some electrical work in their apartment and at their restaurant. “Now I'm sure you are trying to help Herman here and not use this as an excuse to hide his body, right?” She laughs in that ‘I'm just kidding… no I'm not… yes I am’ kind of way. As the group makes it back outside to the waiting car, the noise of a vehicle in bad need of a tuneup and new music selection comes from around the corner. Karh looks up to see a Samba pickup truck come crashing over the sidewalk. A glowing Hyper Tag of the little devil he saw earlier on the ganger is prominently visible. Two people, a man with a ski mask and a feline looking Hybrid stand in the bed of the truck. She wields a shotgun which she is firing randomly at the building and he lobs what could very well be a grenade in the general direction of the group headed toward Jenkins’ car. 

“GRENADE!!!!!  WATCH OUT!”  Something takes hold of Karh and he sprints towards his friends.  “Get down!”  As the grenade lands Karh finally takes his own advice and dives for cover behind an abandoned auto vender.

Everyone else follows Karh’s advice and dives for cover as well. The grenade lands nearby and explodes but appears to be some sort of homemade explosive and does not shred everyone to bits like a real military-grade weapon would have. The truck with the gangers skids around the far corner of the building followed by another explosion and more shotgun blasts a few moments later. With the danger passed, Karh quickly ushers everyone into Jenkins’ waiting car and floors it, though the antique vehicle only accelerates at a moderate rate. Karh pulls up the address that Dante had given him and starts making his way to the nearest street doc to get his friends patched up.

It only takes Karh a few minutes to get to the other side of the airport, just a quick drive down 154/156th to a left on Ambaum. The drive is a bit hectic as there is traffic and Jenkins’ brakes are not as responsive as Karh would like. The old Tesla flies in and out of traffic, sideswipes a Metro stop, scaring the few people there waiting for the bus, and nearly rear-ends a trash truck but finally, three hair-raising miles later, skids into a crowded parking lot in front of some restaurant and casino type place. Huge sign and HR ad says it’s Lo Pan’s Den - Fine Pan Asian Fusion and Gaming Center. Sounds interesting, Karh thinks to himself, vowing to check it out when he has more time. A huge, floating image of an Asian wizard ambles around the parking lot, just above the height of the tallest vehicles. He beckons passerbys and frequently throws out flaming dice that always come up snake eyes. 

“This the doc’s place?” Grim asks hesitantly from the back seat, looking out at the lights and people milling about. The building is 3 or 4 floors high, and the restaurant and gaming center probably only utilize the bottom two floors at most. “There’s a lot of blood back here, Bee is bleeding again. So is Dante,” Grim announces. At this, Mr. Jenkins, who is slumped over in the front seat, rouses a bit, looks around with a surprised look on his face, starts to say something, then falls back unconscious. 

Karh leaves the his friends sitting in the dilapidated junker and steps out onto the street.  He is familiar enough with the necessity of street docs although he's been lucky so far to have never personally needed their services until now.  

He reluctantly makes his way into the main floor of the building.  He curses a bit under his breath as he looks around for an employee to talk to.  Meeting new people isn't high on Karh’s list of fun things to do.  His injured friends waiting back in the car are about all that is keeping him on track for the moment.

He fervently hopes this doc is worth all the trouble. These meat cutters aren't always known for being the most stable of personalities. With a chuckle Karh, remembers a story about a doc who used to operate without any pants on. But that was a story old Gumpter used to tell.  Granted that whino was not the most reliable either. Drank enough ale to drown a rock he did. Damn geezer could really tan your hide if your ran afoul of him.

Putting old stories aside, Karh catches the attention of the first live attendant he can find.

The young Asian man bows slightly and asks if Karh wants a drink, table reservation or tokens for gaming. He adds, in a slightly annoyed tone, that all of Lo Pan's amenities can be accessed through conveniently placed HyperObject menus, their node on the Deep, through OOL Direct, and through the VR Portal. He turns to face Karh but is only barely seeing him, no doubt accessing something through his TAP.

What's Up, Doc?

While Karh focuses on the waiter, he is caught off guard by another man that walks up and speaks. He leans in and says, “Hey Karh, I think you are looking for me.  Now, let’s go to your friend before he dies.”

Karh looks at this newcomer with a bit of a shocked look on his face and mutters, “Yea. Parking lot,” and turns and heads back out of the building. He leads the street doc outside to Jenkin’s car and waves his hand to signal Grim, “I got the doc,” he says. Grim climbs out of the back seat, and says, “I’m Grim. We just talked.” Kar watches is quite shock as Grim does a quick scan of the area, always on the lookout for danger. He is thankful that his friend is with him. He hadn’t expected so much pressure and stress and was glad that Grim always seemed to keep his wits. “Where do you want them?” Grim asks the doc as he lights up a smoke.

Doc John O'Brien

The doc assesses the situation and states, “Do you think it would be safe to move them outside the car?”  He then starts  look at Jenkins in the front seat then begins to move him onto the tarmac of the parking lot.

Karh, still a bit in shock over the whole thing, shrugs, and Grim responds instead, “I dunno. You're the doc right? Bee, in the back. She was shot. Dickhead and the old man were both smashed by a door and run over by a, umm, well, by a rhino. A hybrid, ya know?”

John, the doc, gets the man in the front seat carefully to the ground.  He starts looking him over, then turns and says, “You know a little help moving the others would be helpful.”

Grim and Karh help the doc with Bee and Dante. As they do so, several people passing in the parking lot shoot glances at what is going on. Some smart ass shouts out, “Let ‘em bleed! Blood in the gutters!” Grim shouts back and flips the bird. The giant HR Lo Pan ambles over to where they are huddled around the ancient Tesla. It leans over and shakes its head and waves a finger in their direction as if saying, “no, no, no.” The doc responds by cursing under his breath. Lo Pan moves and stands directly above the makeshift triage in the parking lot. 

Karh ignores the random AI interest in their party and addresses the doc.  “Might be best to get them off the street ya know?  We are drawing a bit more attention here than either of us are looking for.  Where should we go?”

John snaps at Karh, “Yes, I know. I live here.”  He turns and quickly adjusts the bandages covering Bee’s gunshot wound.  When the doc finishes, he looks at Grim, and says, “Dark One, she should be stable enough to move. Grab her. “  Then  he points at Karh and says, “You and me help the others.”  The street doc helps the closest one to him up and escorts them all to a back alley behind Lo Pan’s. The alley is dark, and full of garbage.  There are several people, homeless or addicts, possibly, sitting or laying in the alley here and there.  The doc opens a backdoor revealing a hallway to a rickety, unclean elevator.  He looks at the group and states, “We are going to the elevator.  It smells like stale piss but hey, it is better than the stairs.”  

When the creaking elevator gets to the third floor, the doors open to make-shift surgical suite.  Doc John motions toward a surgical table and says, “Put the girl there.”  He motions his patient to a chair nearby and turns to Bee.  He grabs a mask and instruments.  He stops suddenly and looks at Karh, “You are going to be my nurse. Not hard. Just hand things to me when I ask. Oh, here is a mask. Put it on.”  Without waiting for any response from Karh, the doctor goes to work on Bee.

Cast of Characters: 

Karh Danishan: a young hacker looking for that big score; played by Ben L
Doc John O'Brien: a washed out combat medic turned street doc; played by Dan E
Casanna "Talon" Moretti: a tiger hybrid bounty hunter; played by Carol C
Kobato: android former pop star turned anarchist; played by Jason P

and Jason GURPS as the GM