Post by Braddoc on May 20, 2008 19:05:43 GMT -5
No. 5 felt a little silly sitting there with a subvocal mic stuck to the side of his neck, right next to the implanted version. But the gear these fraggers carried outstripped his headware radio by miles even if he'd bothered to pick up the encryption software. Without a datajack, his own mic couldn't hook up to anything but his own unused comm gear and that simply wasn't going to cut it today.
He could still use the stuff to pick up trid broadcasts and all, projecting their images into his awareness, but beyond some selfish entertainment it wasn't good for much else.
Ah, well. First day on the streets and some of his implants were already obsolete. Welcome to life in the computer age, chummer. If he could find some time to go back under the knife then he might rectify the situation but for now it wasn't important. He was in secure communication with the team and they had bigger things to worry about. Like these fraggers they were facing. Bunch of lunatics with dangerous toys, he considered. Guys who had nothing better to do than shake rolling convoys for loot or even the simple joy of being a pain in the hoop.
A part of him was hoping that things would break down soon and they could teach these punks that they played a dangerous game. Sometimes the met some hardliners that were to be given drek, people who shot back bigger and better than themselves.
But that was pretty stupid thinking. The fewer guns going off, the better for everyone. Even if the other guys couldn't shoot for drek there was no telling when a round had your name on it. No. 5 might be new to the game, but he knew that much at least. Sailing through on calm waters was the number one healthiest option, but that still didn't keep him from wanting to put a round or two into some dumb fragger's head.
So still he waited, shotgun in his lap and unseen astral assaults happening beyond his awareness. Nothing to do but be cool and stay alert. He just wished someone would do something soon... this standoff was getting on his nerves.
He could still use the stuff to pick up trid broadcasts and all, projecting their images into his awareness, but beyond some selfish entertainment it wasn't good for much else.
Ah, well. First day on the streets and some of his implants were already obsolete. Welcome to life in the computer age, chummer. If he could find some time to go back under the knife then he might rectify the situation but for now it wasn't important. He was in secure communication with the team and they had bigger things to worry about. Like these fraggers they were facing. Bunch of lunatics with dangerous toys, he considered. Guys who had nothing better to do than shake rolling convoys for loot or even the simple joy of being a pain in the hoop.
A part of him was hoping that things would break down soon and they could teach these punks that they played a dangerous game. Sometimes the met some hardliners that were to be given drek, people who shot back bigger and better than themselves.
But that was pretty stupid thinking. The fewer guns going off, the better for everyone. Even if the other guys couldn't shoot for drek there was no telling when a round had your name on it. No. 5 might be new to the game, but he knew that much at least. Sailing through on calm waters was the number one healthiest option, but that still didn't keep him from wanting to put a round or two into some dumb fragger's head.
So still he waited, shotgun in his lap and unseen astral assaults happening beyond his awareness. Nothing to do but be cool and stay alert. He just wished someone would do something soon... this standoff was getting on his nerves.