Lorimer - Accidents happen

This is one of the main characters named Lorimer.

Hi my name is Lorimer, or good 'ol Lorry as people tend to say. I like fixing trucks, cars and anything mechanical. It's from my past life as a Worker. Now since the accident, nothing is really like before. But I like it, I have to, it's my life.

The accident you ask? Well, I rather not talk about that. As everyone knows, the life as a Worker has one important keyword in it; money. I lacked on that bit, people are not that fond of plain old cars anymore. So I saw this ad' in the local paper; it had written money all over it. Well, I've got nothing to loose I though and went. And well do I have to say that I never did get the money, nor did it do anything good? I let my body speak for itself, heck, it even speaks for others these days. An old friend of mine, back from when Workers and the Gangs were a bit more close, took me in. Nowhere to go, business shut down. I mean, who would hire a man with defects? So I accepted the life in the gang. Eventually the close friend also had an accident. A 20 inch bar "accidentally" hit him on the head over and over again. Now I was sick of accidents so that's how I got into this Enforcer business.

If I ever want to go back? A tough question. Somehow the crowd here isn't as fake as the yuppies or whatnot I served in the shop. So, no, I think life is okay here. No intention going back at this point.

How would I describe myself? A bully by size, mechanics by hand, friendly by heart. Fond of cars, hates electronics, computerized stuff.
Don't smoke, not afraid of getting hands dirty. Single.

"I hope you keep on my good side. I'd hate if some accident would happen to you."

Episode 1

It's a chill, clear night. Well, as clear as it ever is out here on the fringes of the sprawl. Just another bloody patrol night. Routine as hell, and about as fun. The car runs nicely, no signs of trouble and out here on the north eastern edge of the turf that's both unusual, and welcome. Suddenly however, Markus starts yapping in the back. Yapping, barking... this dog only does that when his nose catches a scent. 'Coptors were just visible between the factories, lights flashing this way and that over the sprawl below - a strange sight; normally the sort who can afford air travel don't give two shits what goes on out here. This is dead land. The fringe. Almost feral. But not damn quite. Markus was getting really agitated, and it was not the stench of the refuse strewn street.

"You mind shutting up the junkie mutt before I throw it out the window," snaps Syke, turning his head from the flashing lights.
Lorry turns his head to look at Markus. "What's the matter boy?"
The dog yelps back. Lorry turns his head back to face Syke. "Stop the car, something's going on."
With a disgusted look, Syke complies. "What?"

As the car stops, Markus leaps. Too keen, far too keen, to race down a dingy alley lined with overflowing garbage cans, and rife with puddles that could put a skunk to shame.
Lorry walked slowly into the alley, following the dog, then turned back, "Syke, get a flashlight."
"You have got to be kidding." Syke watches the dog go, shrugs and pulls two flashlights from the glove compartment.
"Damn. These alleys aren't really the prettiest.", Lorry steps over some tilted garbage cans. "Where is that light?!" He turns and looks back toward Syke.
"Here," mutters Syke, handing one over. "This means you owe me... how many now? Twelve?" Under his breath he continued, "that's a big number a ways after two."

Lorry mutters something that can't be heard, takes the flashlight and headed off; flashlight beam playing across the alleyway, Syke followed. The two enforcers start down the alley, torches lighting the way enough for the fouler puddles to be skirted, not stamped in. Markus was a good way ahead but just about visible towards the far end, where the alley apparently turned a corner. Progressing steadily, but not overly cautiously, the enforcers moved further down the alley, away from the road. A splash at their feet; just another bloody rat. Something had knocked over one of the garbage cans here, typically fetid, and the spill had left medical waste all over the alley. Too bad the incinerator had closed down well before the hospital. Markus has disappeared around the corner now, but his bark, sudden and urgent reaches back around with clarity.

"Oh no, we couldn't get a cockroach as a mascot. Had to be a goddamn speed freak mutant OW!" The tirade is cut short as Syke collides with his colleague, who had stopped suddenly to examine something dreadful and smelly.
"Watch your steps fool!" Lorry's response. "Someone is here I think, and my boy got him." Lorry gives Syke a glare.
"Fine, but you owe me a nose graft. Let's see what the son of a bitch's dug up, then."

As if on cue, a shout of alarm is heard from up ahead, along with more barking, much more agitated than normal. Pounding feet to reach the bend, Lorrry rounds it, Syke on his heels. Markus, maybe fifty feet on, is growling at, barking at and otherwise generally harassing a couple of dodgy looking street thugs. The further of the two figures looks up at the new arrivals, drawing something from his jacket. By his extravagent pink hat, and copious bling, this bastard is recognisible alright - Bo'Geo. Markus must've picked up on a deal going down. The other man is unrecognisable, but fear is writ large on his face. Coming to a rapid halt, Syke curses the universe in general and canines in particular.

"Dumptruck!" the smaller enforcer hisses, "call off the critter and let's just..."
Cursing, the dealer yells "Fuck you, bastards. Can't a man make a goddamn living without being hassled every fucking step?!" His arms flailing to keep Markus off him, he looks far from composed.
The larger of the two enforcers yells at the dog , "Down boy!" but Markus doesn't respond, still yapping at the dealer, the scent of something evidently powerful.
"Hey Bogie," Syke calls, "whatcha got there? Haven't seen the mutt this excited since he sniffed Bear's undies." As he says this, Lorry steps up towards the two figures.
Looking up for the meerest second, not trusting Markus not to go for him, the crim replies. "Just a few Spare Parts, an old TASER...."
His buyer, clearly purturbed by Lorry's deliberate approach takes a step back.
Smiling broadly, Syke steps up. "Then you wouldn't mind if we had a look at it" and Lorry holds out a hand waiting for the crim to hand him the merchandise.
Nervously twitching as he is, Bo'Geo's reply that comes slowly, deliberately, seems wrong. "Sure. Just call the dog off, first, eh? I can't get to it with him snapping at my crotch like that"
"Down boy!"

The buyer, now recognisable as a green and clueless street kid, tries to crack a smile but the terror in his eyes belies his true motives, and as soon as he hears Lorry call off the dog he turns to bolt. Unfortunately for him, the other man was waiting for such an opportunity. The TASER in Bo'Geo's right hand goes off the second Markus backs down, striking the kid in the chest as he turns. Even as he fired, the dealer dropped the stun gun, and shoved his mark at the enforcers. Turning, he sprinted for the far end of the alley. All tangled up in dog, perp and each other, the duo stumble and then, gracelessly, fall over in the dirt. There is a pause. Extracting themselves from the pile, the enforcers clamber afoot and set off at full pelt in pursuit, Lorry pausing briefly to scoop up the spent TASER, then trailing the electrodes as he ran. Bo'Geo had a good head start on the pair though, and with nothing but the shit piled either side to impede him, and no sense of a need for cleanliness, he ploughed towards the mouth of the alley and rounded the corner. Moments later the enforcers reach the end of the alley, Markus let loose again and leading them on.

"For. Future. Reference, you big useless lug" Syke starts, " when the dog manages useful, such as grabbing a shifty-looking bastard by the balls..."
The dog is salivating, working up a serious sweat, but poor Markus doesn't seem so focussed all of a sudden. Everyone saw the dealer turn right out of the alley, but there's no damn sign of him now, and Markus seems to be conflicted - perhaps fixing on a second scent.
"... you do NOT tell 'im. To. Back. OFF."
In frustration Lorry throws the flashlight in the ground. "Damn!"
Syke stops, out of breath. "What the everloving fuck?"

After a couple of seconds that seem like an eternity, a yelp confirms Markus had re-established a trail. His barking disturbed their quarry, and a sudden flash of pink from across the street as the uncovered dealer bolts again. Before the two enforcers could react, however, the night was broken by a piercing scream. Nothing around here makes a sound like that, the scream of a seriously powerful engine. A black, shiney, and above all official-looking, car swept around the bend, clearly moving far too fast for safety in this region, and clearly out of control. It screamed past the duo, spraying up shit from a kerb-side puddle into they alley mouth they just left, and once again Syke lands mouth-first in the mud, this time vaguely on purpose. Bouncing off the kerb, the car veered off towards the far side of the street, smashing violently into a doorway surrounded by refuse. The impact crushed the front end, destroying the driver-side door in the process. Splinters of metal flew everywhere, and the din of garbage cans thrown high into the air and crashing down on the street, spraying their foul contents over the area, was immense. Syke looked up from the puddle in time to see the driver's door open and a figure starting to crawl out; covered in blood, the man was all but dead. But most staggering of all - he was wearing a suit.

Another engine roar, and a second car appeared, this one moving almost as fast but absolutely more in control. Also black, also big, expensive and desirable. Corporate. The windows were rolled down, and it was obvious why; the driver was packing a firearm, which he held in a hand still dangling outside the car. On seeing the wreck he pulled up; or rather, pulled over. Without stopping, he proceeded to run over the Suit as he attempted to crawl from the wrecked car; then second car stopped then, suddenly, seemingly caught on the other. From his prone position, Syke motioned for Lorry to get the fuck out of sight. and Lorry shrank back behind a garbage can as a light fell on the twisted cars, a spot from a 'coptor. As it did, the driver looked round, instinctively flinching from the glare. His scarred, goatee-dominated, face a picture of menace and hatred, the driver's flinch left him looking straight out of the window. Right in the direction where the two enforcers were concealed. Markus was still stood in the alleyway, yapping, and the figure turns to inspect the sound, his eyes narrow, and he scans the kurb near the little yappy dog, slowly and deliberately. His eyes settled on Lorry, crouching behind a dustbin that did not hide his bulk, just as the two enforcers sprang out, grabbed the dog and headed back off up the alley apace.

As the two ran, Lorry talks to his dog, "Well, you sure know how to find trouble, don't ya boy?"

Syke was too busy expecting to get shot in the back to even comment. An engine fired behind them, and tyres screeched, the noise then dying away such that all that could be heard were the agitated murmurrings of a crowd sleepily gathering around the crash scene. Returning to the site of the fallen perp, the enforcers found him woozily trying to regain his footing.

"Here's some help kid" Lorry grabbed, and held, him by his jacket.
"Perfect," growls Syke. "Okay, bring along the trash. Let's have a little civilized chat."
Lorry nodded and dragged the kid by his jacket, then looks at Syke. "So, what did ya get out of that?" He paused, "I mean, the 'copter and cars out here."
The dirt-smeared enforcer kept checking over his shoulder with the torch. "Yeah, well... big bad corporate mojo. Ludicrous-to-one says, Dead Driver banged Crazed Driver's squeeze or stole his fucking stock options or something." Syke shrugged. "Dunno 'bout the copters, though. Seems a bit overkill."

Lorry's captive had now shaken off the wooziness from coming round, but the stench of fresh faeces is ripe, and the expression "shitting himself" was more than just figurative. This kid was scared.

Lorry ignored the kid. "I've heard people speaking of some revolution happening. Suits and Corps in war with each other. That might be it?"
"I dunno anything about no resolution man. I w's just after some gear!" A whiney plead, delivered over the bumps and splashes of being drageed along the alley.
"We're almost back at the mobile," Syke commented. "And shit-pants, you stay quiet."
"Look I'm ... " he tailed off, nodding as best his circumstance will allow.
"Sheesh, but you need a good solid acid bath." Syke turned back to Lorry. "Revolution? Nah. Just same old money-grubbing, different people, different weapons."
"I don't get it at all." Lorry answered back, "What do we need the kid for? He seems innocent enough."
"No-one that nervous is innocent. And he annoyed me."
"I swear! I was just after a little...."
Syke raised an eyebrow, something he did fairly well. "A little... what?"
The kid was cut off again as Lorry dragged him across the curb knocking him cold and the two enforcers loaded up their stinking captive into the back of the car, causing Markus to complain. Even the dog found the smell unbearable. The quick trip back to the Sub was uneventful, those few people out at this time all seemed to be headed out towards the hospital.

As they pulled up outside the HQ, they caught Miles setting off on foot at speed, as always.
"Twelve favours, one nose graft and ANOTHER fucking nose graft on account of Stinky Perp," muttered Syke, exiting the vehicle. Leaving Lorry to deal with dog and everything, he chased after Miles.
"Yo! Carrot! Where you heading?"
Miles turned, grinning, "You not heard, shithead?", referring to the muckstained Syke, "Big RTA over by the ol' hospital. Word is it's a Suit been whacked"
"You don't say."
He frowns, "yeah. Wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"
"I'd wager word isn't, Suit was run over by other wacky Suit with a fucking hornet's nest of 'copters buzzing around overhead, and a very pathetic lug trying to hide behind a very small garbage can."
"Saw it, then? Damn it, can't you two ever prioritise? Fucking gear'll all be toast before I get there. Still, needs must" And with that Miles turned and headed off at a sprint.
Syke looked like he was about to make a retort, but it was too late. Instead, turning to Lorry, he said "how's Stinky doing?"
Lorry glared back then answered. "He's fine. Have a talk"
"Finally this night is looking up."

The kid had come round and even settled a bit, clearly relieved not to have been given a proper beating. Then Syke advanced on him, wearing entirely too friendly a smile and an evening's worth of dirt. The kid spilled at the merest chance, some lame first-time buyer who wanted a piece and some solvents to prove he was a man. First time out after curfew, it had been pure chance he had got mixed up in this evening's shenanigans... and probably in his best interests; the scabby little bastard would not do it again. After giving him hell and turning him loose, probably to find the nearest junked jeans he could grab, Syke and Lorry headed back into HQ for the end of shift de-brief. Just inside the upper booth, Sweet's office, the other team lead and her newest recruit, Johnson, were clearly engaged in more than just conversation. Despite that, Johnson seemed to catch Syke's eye as the duo passed the once-operational ticket barriers... was that a wink? Syke and Lorry proceed down, splitting to do their own things - Lorry went off to feed Markus as Syke settled into his office. It's no surprise to Syke when 30 minutes later the new guy knocked, stepped in, and said simply:

"I need a word with you."

In the beginning...

Hi and welcome to Dogtown.

This is a fictional narrative, born from a creative desire to run an RPG over IRC with a couple of friends. Having promised various people I wouldn't get involved in GMing a tabletop game until I've finished writing my PhD thesis, I needed an alternate outlet for the creative ideas banging around my mind, one that wouldn't take quite as much prep-time or carry the same general workload.

Thankfully when I pitched the idea of an IRC game I got a positive response. It was originally going to be using basic mechanics from the HeroQuest RPG. However, this was quickly dropped and it became a freeform exercise, working purely on the basis of how the three of us trip off each other.

This blog will log the progress of that game as edited into narrative form, and possibly related thoughts. We're just 3 sessions in and on a limited run as one of the other guys is soon moving out of a workable timezone so it may be short and (with luck) sweet.

I'll try to paint a picture of the setting and the cast as we go, but I'll offer up episode #1 as a jumping off point. It's the weakest of the three so far as it was the first IRC session any of us had ever participated in but sets the ball rolling well enough.