OIC (25)
MegaZone23
"Desperate eyes across a weary room/A glazed look, and I
was on the road to ruin."
--Pink Floyd
Gryphon, Kei, ReRob, Deedlit, MegaZone, and Yuri were
sitting at Chez Lucifer enjoying some drinks. In strode a
bombshell in a rainbow dress and purple hair. Megazone and
ReRob turned to watch, and Yuri slapped MegaZone across the
face. Zoner thought the peek was worth the pain, though.
ReRob, however, didn't care, so he kept on looking. And
what he saw was...surprising. He avoided her gaze directly,
but just sat there, trying to determine who she really was.
Gryphon was the first to react. "ReRob, are you okay?"
"I think I know her, Gryph."
"What? We haven't been on R&R for two days and you
think that you know somebody in this room?"
"If she's who I think she is, Gryphon, than I know her
better than I know you."
Kei spoke up. "ReRob, she's obviously not an old
flame... How can you know her better then Ben?"
ReRob was still in Never-Never Land. "If she's who I
think she is, she's a legend--and my summon spell's been
working overtime. Mother of Pearl! It is her! It's the way
she holds the baton!" ReRob, of course, was referring to the
carefree way she triple-flipped her credstick before catching
it and placing it into the bar register. ReRob immediately
fell into a quasi-trance, trying to figure something
out. Oddly enough, Deedlit seemed to be dealing quite well
with the entire situation.
Gryphon spoke. "Will somebody tell me what's going on?"
"He said 'baton' didn't he?" Megazone asked, Gryphon
replying the affirmative. "Then it's gotta be Vixen," Zoner
said matter-o'-factly.
Deedlit was nonplussed. "Oh, her. Okay."
Meanwhile, ReRob got up, intentionally oblivious of the
people at his own table, and made his way to the lady who was
making all the commotion.
"Excuse me, Ma'am, but you wish to speak with me."
"I doubt it."
"You want to talk to me about a credstick which pays in
the coins of pleasure and pain. You want to talk with me
about a file on this--" he pointed to his pocket computer--
"which describes you."
"Why should I want to--"
ReRob attempted to punch the lady and failed. In fact,
the message never passed through his spinal chord and stopped
far short of any motor neurons. He never moved at all. He
wanted it that way. The lady responded by drawing a second
credit baton from her back. She stopped just as the stick
got into a position fit to be wielded.
"And, you want to talk to me about why you did that
while I stood perfectly still."
"You're right. You do want to talk to me about those
things, sir." With that, they sat down with their respective
drinks at a vacant table.
"I think some formal introductions are in order. My
name's ReRob. I'm a Terran traveler."
"My name's Dawn. That'll do for now. I'm a local."
"Beauteous. Now what I'm about to show you is a
character sheet from a role-playing game. The scale is one
to six, with six being the natural human maximum. Take a
look at this character, and tell me what you think of it."
He punched a few keys on his pocket comp, and gave her the
display.
Dawn looked the display over. "You're a good player,
ReRob. She's a powerful character, but not a rules
munchkin."
"Now check the psyche profile."
"I like this lady. You wrote a good, detailed profile.
But what does this prove?"
"Okay, you still won't crack. How about this?"
Dawn found herself staring at the Vixen's equipment
list. Highlighted at the top was the item "Monofilament whip
concealed in a credit baton."
ReRob spoke. "If you were trying to bribe me, you
wouldn't have pulled out a reserve credstick from a back
holster. What're the odds that, if I took a look at that
baton, I'd find the control buttons to let the tip detach?"
"Listen. I don't show my credit batons to strange men."
"You do it every day. If you didn't, how would you
check out at the supermarket? You can't convince me that
you're not the Vixen unless you can actually contradict this
sheet."
"Well, I wasn't born anywhere near Seattle."
"Other than that. I think you're the local version of
the Vixen."
"Well, if I'm not the actual Vixen, then why would my
stats mesh so well with hers?"
"It's a long story, a long strange trip, a little
of Heinlein, and a truckload of half-level magic."
"Half-level what?"
"That's another long story. But the facts are, you are
a perfect match to these stats. In fact, I'm willing to bet
the armored bike I rode up here on that "Vicki" is your
middle name."
"You've got a battlebike?"
"The chromed monster. It's parked right outside. Take
a look if you want."
Vicki strolled outside the club for a minute or two.
She returned, duly impressed. "Are those things around the
front wheel...?" She made rotary motions with her hands.
"Yeah. Rotary laser arrays. Mondo firepower. They're
messy, but they're fun at parties."
"You realize that's incredibly illegal."
"I kinda thought that. So?"
"So, do you realize how much I could get for turning you
in?"
"If you could turn me in. I'm kinda hard to handle. At
least, that's what Deedlit says."
"You don't know my capabilities."
"Oh, really?" ReRob pointed to the computer screen.
"By the way, you haven't answered my question."
"Oh, yeah. You win. The full name's Dawn Victoria
Scritelli."
"Greetings, Vixen. Robert Edward Mandeville. Just call
me ReRob." He stood up. "Now, according to your M.O.
you're a recon combat goddess. We could use somebody like
you. You between runs right now?"
"Yup. I was here to meet a contact, but he doesn't seem
to be showing up."
"Well then, this sounds like the start of a very
lucrative relationship." ReRob slapped down a holographic
business card. "I'm a military recruiter. I'd like you to
join the Wedge Defense Force. Our contracts have zero-zeros
installed, so you can cut and run anytime. You won't be a
wage slave."
"One condition. I want one of those battlebikes."
"I'm three steps ahead of you, Vix. We want you
piloting one of those. But a little different. More suited
to your combat style. That's a pig-man bike out there."
"Then show me your facilities."