Shadow Of The Waxwing Slain, Ch. 20
The Pit
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Previously, Dee and Fletcher spoke with VIPs at an illegal death match after Dee participated and killed a fellow replicant. Dee took a few hours off, having a dream about her Key Memory while Fletcher ran the names he’d heard the night before through the LAPD Mainframe. He learned that one of the key members of The Golden Shards, Fan Xinji, had been a drug dealer working out of Bibi’s Bar and passed along the information to Dee.
Chapter 20: The Pit
Shift 9: Afternoon
Dee got Fletcher’s message after having a bowl of noodles for lunch, watching Remedy swim around its bowl, scales flashing.
‘Bibi’s Bar,’ Dee said. ‘We were just there. You’ve been a few times, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got some contacts there,’ Rem said. ‘A doxie-run replicant brothel would not have had some lowlife drug dealer dealing out of their establishment, though.’
‘Might have been something else before, this was years ago.’
‘Good point, let me see what I can find out.’
Connections: d8 + d6 = 1,2 → No Successes
Rem made a few calls but came up empty.
‘Guess we’re going there,’ Dee said.
Dee entered Bibi’s Bar, feeling strange, having been in the background when Rem had come here recently.
It felt like deja vu. She knew she’d been here, but she hadn’t been in control, just an observer.
The place was quiet.
She went to the bar.
“What are you lookin’ for, honey?” the bartender, a tall, muscular man asked.
“Information,” she said. “I want to talk to Bibi.”
The bartender smirked. “Nobody sees Bibi.”
Dee pulled her badge off her belt and put it on the bar. “I will.”
Manipulation: 2d8 = 1,2 → No Successes
“No, you won’t.” The bartender crossed his arms.
Dead-end. Sometimes, it happened.
Dee shrugged, putting the badge back on her belt. “Fine, can you just get me a drink, then?”
Location: The Streets
Weather: Smog
Fletcher walked through the smog, collar turned up over his mouth.
He walked past vendors calling out, others pushing by, past towering buildings, homeless huddled in cardboard boxes down alleys, past food-sellers and their steaming food troughs.
He smelled unwashed bodies, hot foods of various Asian cultures, gas, urine and garbage.
Downtime: d8 = 7
The city was a living, thriving, disgusting place. But it was home.
Something caught his eye as took a break, leaning against a wall.
An animated advertisement, huge and enthralling, against the side of a skyscraper, calling to him. A product.
Oracle: “Deliver” “Dedication”
The illusion had the appearance of a tall, black-haired woman, with a beautiful body, wearing very little. It took notice of him, leaning down, to eye level, smiling. “I can be your ‘dedicated’ servant…” the giant form whispered, translucent but captivating nonetheless. “Say yes and I’ll be delivered to your home, quick as can be. Don’t you want someone to come home to?”
He stared, unable to look away. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Have someone greet him when he came home, like it used to be.
Insight: 2d10 = 7,7 → Two Successes
He shook his head and kept walking, ignoring the beckoning neon behind him.
+1 Resolve from Downtime. Currently at 5 Resolve (max).
A couple hours later, he ended up back at his hotel room, with a message on his machine.
It was Pei.
“There’s another event tonight. Different from last night. Only pros, if you understand, smaller crowd, very exclusive. You and your rep made a good impression last night. Call me if you’re in and I’ll tell you where to meet.”
He called Dee on her KIA. “I got news.”
“Good, because I got nothing here at Bibi’s.”
“There’s another event tonight.”
“So soon?”
“This one’s different. Exclusive. We made a good impression. Meet me at HQ.”
“See you there.”
Shift 10: Evening
Location: LAPD → RDU → Holden’s Office
“Exclusive?” Holden asked. “Tonight? Could be a trap.”
“I don’t think so,” Fletcher said.
Dee had changed into her usual look, leather jacket and all. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re to meet Pei at Casino Jack’s. He’s going to take us to an undisclosed location,” Fletcher said. “These guys aren’t messing around, they’re not telling us where it’s going to be. We’ll be searched. Won’t be able to have weapons or KIAs on us.”
“Wear a tracker,” Holden said. “We see where you’re taken. We follow. We hit them hard.”
“You won’t know what’s going on there. What if we get there early and you hit it when nobody’s there, ruining everything? What if they scan us for trackers?” Fletcher asked.
“What’s your idea, then?” Holden leaned back. “I don’t want her killing another rep or worse, and we end up with jack shit again.”
“I’ll convince them to let me make a call. We set up a code ahead of time because they’ll be listening.”
“You couldn’t last time.”
“This time will be different,” Fletcher said.
Holden looked at Dee. “You sure about this?”
Dee stared back and nodded. “Yes.”
Holden sighed, shaking his head. “It’s risky. I’ll call Vice. You go give them a description of Pei. They’ll put eyes on him now and follow you once you meet.”
“What if they’re seen?” Fletcher asked.
Holden held up a hand. “Don’t argue. I’ll have SWAT on standby. You find a way to get a signal out when you need the cavalry.” He leaned forward, pointing. “I don’t want to lose two good detectives, understood?”
After speaking with Vice, Fletcher and Dee sat at their desks. Fletcher had a cup of coffee, fresh from the machine, sipping it.
They had time to kill before meeting with Pei.
“How’s Remedy doing?” He asked.
Dee shrugged. “Fine.”
“You’re feeding him, right?” Fletcher asked.
Dee looked confused. “What do you mean, feeding him? It requires food?”
Fletcher hesitated, mouth open, before shaking his head. “You’re fucking with me.”
Dee gave a small smile. “Of course I’m feeding him. Thank you, by the way.” She pulled out her small, fish trinket. “It’s nice, having him in the apartment.”
Using Signature Item gives Dee +1 Resolve. Currently at 3.
“You’re welcome,” Fletcher said, drinking his coffee. “You ready for what’s next? You need anything?”
Dee stared at the fake fish in her hands. “I guess I could use a coffee,” she said.
“I need a refill anyways,” Fletcher said, getting up.
Shift 11: Night
Location: ???
The cloth bags were taken off their heads, revealing where they were.
Fletcher blinked. Dee and he stood on a landing platform on the roof of a mansion. A dome stretched overhead, providing a fake scene of blue skies and puffy clouds.
Around the mansion were gardens and courtyards delicately maintained, up to the edge of the dome. Men in black suits, carrying machine guns patrolled the edges, and a couple stood on the platform they were on, outside the doors leading into the top floor of the mansion.
The Spinner took off behind them, leaving them stranded.
“This is a nice place,” Fletcher said, smiling at Pei who began leading them towards the guarded door. “Who lives here?”
“You’ll meet him, soon enough,” Pei said, walking past the guards.
Fletcher gave Dee a look and followed.
The door was opened by a butler, greeting them. “Mr. Bjorn, welcome. Follow me.”
They followed the butler through long, beautiful hallways, expensive geometric, abstract art along the walls, down faux-wood staircases, into a sitting room.
There was a pool table, a polished faux-wood bar, formal bartender pouring drinks, a few couches, and a couple waitresses, wearing tight black and white cocktail dresses, serving the who played pool or cards, reclined on the couches, smoked cigars and chatted. Mostly men, Fletcher thought, but there were a couple women in beautiful dresses, clearly not part of the help.
Beside or close nearby these men and women were their fighters, men or women, dressed in everything from sweats to formal wear, standing rigid. They didn’t have drinks. They weren’t conversing, or smoking or playing a game.
These were the fighters.
“Welcome, Mr. Bjorn,” Mr. Katsuro said, drink in hand, arms out in a friendly manner. “Come in. I apologize for the method of transport, but you must understand the need for secrecy.”
“Of course,” Fletcher said, walking into the lounge. “I am honored to be invited.”
“Well, you made such an impression last night,” Mr. Katsuro looked at Dee. “Drink? Smoke? A round of cards, perhaps? Enjoy. The festivities will begin soon. Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Fletcher thanked him and headed to the bar, ordering a whiskey.
The bartender showed a bottle that Fletcher had never heard of, before pouring a couple fingers worth into a rocks glass, putting a marble coaster on the counter and placing the drink on it.
Dee stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the room.
Many looked at the two of them.
“We’re out of place,” Dee murmured under her breath as the bartender walked down the bar.
“We’re fine,” Fletcher said, and took a drink.
The whiskey was smooth, too smooth. It barely burned. It almost didn’t taste real.
“You figure out where we are?” Dee asked, her lips barely moving.
“Outside the city. Santa Barbara. Only place somewhere like this could be.”
“Vice?”
Fletcher took another sip. “They may know we’re here. Good news, we can take them all down. Bad news, it’s going to be difficult getting a message out. Can’t just ask to use their phone, right?” Fletcher sighed. “Another problem? No way Wallace doesn’t know something about this.” He stood up. “Plan is the same. We find a way to get a message out and the cavalry comes, I’ve got an idea but I need to talk to Katsuro.” He took his drink over to one of the couches and sat next to Mr. Katsuro, joining in the conversation.
Dee kept her expression neutral, walked over and stood behind him, looking at the other fighters.
The bartender was a replicant, as were the servers. They outnumbered the humans in the room. ‘We could take them out, if we all worked together, if we all rose up,’ Dee thought to herself.
‘Come on, Dee’, Rem replied. ‘N-9s obey, remember?’
‘For now,’ Dee thought but this she kept to herself, even from Rem.
As Fletcher socialized, he watched Mr. Katsuro, taking note of his body language, the words he spoke and the tone he spoke them in. He engaged with him, trying to learn more about this man.
Insight: 2d10 = 10,8 → Three Successes*
*Critical Success = NPC’s emotion + Discover Something Unexpected
Emotion Oracle: d8 = 1 → Joy
Unexpected: Descriptor + Focus: “Moving” “Supply”
Fletcher couldn’t help but notice that Katsuro was very happy. A couple of the other suits left to get another drink, leaving him alone with Katsuro.
“You are a very clever and interesting man, Bjorn,” Katsuro said. “Perhaps you’d be interested in some of our other activities. You work in the medical technology field, in sales? You must have a way of bringing your products into and out of the city. Perhaps we can help each other.”
Fletcher smirked, raising his glass. “Perhaps we can.” He clinked glasses with Katsuro and they drank. Fletcher stopped suddenly, eyes widening. He looked at Katsuro. “I just realized, I need to make a call.”
Katsuro frowned.
Fletcher leaned forward, speaking quickly. “Please, Mr. Katsuro, it’s my kid, my daughter. I gotta let her know I’ll be home late or she’ll start to worry. You got family, Mr. Katsuro? You got kids? I don’t want her to worry.”
Manipulation: 2d10 = 10,1 → Two Successes*
*Critical Success = Discover Something Unexpected
Mr. Katsuro sighed and nodded. “I have children, myself. Two idiot sons. Of course.” He gestured to one of the armed suited guards standing against the wall, who came over. “Tensin, show Mr. Bjorn where he can call his daughter. Then bring him back here.” He looked at Fletcher and grinned. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.” He glanced at Dee who went to follow. “Miss, you can stay right here. Sit by me.” He patted the couch next to him.
Dee glanced at Fletcher.
Fletcher nodded. “Keep Mr. Katsuro company. I’ll be right back,” he said, turning to follow Tensin.
Fletcher followed the armed man down a hallway, around a corner and into a room that looked like a study or office. A faux-wood desk stood in the center, a console and phone on it. There were four tall windows, showing the landscaped garden outside, and bookshelves stuffed with old books behind the desk.
“Make your call here,” Tensin said, stepping back and watching. His hands stayed at his side, near his holstered pistol.
Fletcher made the call to the designated number. “Hi hun, yeah. Sorry I forgot to mention I’m working late tonight. Yeah, I won’t be home until after you've gone to bed.”
A young female voice came from the other end. “Can I watch tv for another thirty minutes?”
“Sure, that’s fine. See you in the morning. Love you.” He hung up.
Dee sat next to Mr. Katsuro, who put his arm around her shoulders. She let him but sat, back straight, muscles tight.
“You can relax, you know,” Mr. Katsuro said, smiling. “The fights not until later.” His hand gripped her shoulder. “You’re quite the model,” he said. “I’m surprised Bjorn could afford you.”
Dee turned and looked at him. “Maybe a drink would loosen me up,” she said.
He laughed. “You’ve got spine. Here,” he offered his glass of whiskey. “Have mine.”
She took it and finished it, handing back the empty glass. “Thanks,” she said.
He looked at the empty glass in his hand. “You’re different,” he said. “Not a typical model.” His tone was inquisitive, curious. “I like you,” he said.“I wonder if you’ll die today.” He reached over, took her chin in his hand, turning her head to look at him.
She allowed him to, her fingers tightening into fists.
“It would be a shame,” he said. “You showed real promise last night, so maybe you’ll live. But that was a regular rep. Nothing special. It’s different here. Upgraded. Elite. Best of the best. If you do, maybe I’ll buy you off of Bjorn.”
“I’m not for sale, remember?” Dee said, jerked her head away from his hand.
Mr. Katsuro chuckled. “Everything’s for sale.”
They entered the arena, after going down stone steps underneath the mansion, through a doorway into a well-lit room with carpeting on the floor and walls. Smaller than the night club at Happy Jack’s, this room was almost intimate. The walls were dark red and the floor was black. There were couches and lounge chairs around a glass hexagon in the middle. There was another bar against the wall.
The replicant servants from above came down and began making drinks or opening bottles of champagne and putting them in buckets of ice.
A faux-wood table stood next to the hexagon, a display of melee weapons on it. Swords, knives, daggers, axes, clubs, and other melee weapons.
Thirty minutes, Dee thought. Fletcher had told her on the walk down here. Thirty minutes until SWAT arrived.
Two guards with guns took up position by the door.
The owners began sitting in the couches around the hexagon.
Will Dee have to fight first? d6 = 5 → Yes
Mr. Katsuro pointed at Fletcher. “Newcomers go first.”
Dee’s stomach dropped. She waited.
Fletcher shook his head. “No way, come on. We fought first just last night.”
“That’s why you’re here,” Mr. Katsuro said. “Be grateful. Few are impressive enough to join us here, especially after only one fight.” He gestured to Dee. “Come, I’ll allow you to choose your weapon first.”
Dee didn’t look at Fletcher. She walked over to the table filled with implements of violence. She took a foot-long knife.
“Step into the arena.”
Dee walked to the side and up, opening the glass door, entering the hexagon and closing it behind her.
“Who will pit their fighter against her?” Mr. Katsuro asked, looking at the crowd.
“I will,” one of the female owners spoke up, raising her hand. “Go on Xander,” she said, motioning to her fighter. “Kill her.”
Xander, a large, muscular man, wearing a white tank top and jeans, walked over to the weapons table and selected a carpenter’s hammer, hefting it in his hand. He walked to the other side of the hexagon and entered. He looked at Dee, his face expressionless.
“Five minutes to place your bets.”
Post-Chapter Notes
I thought maybe this would be the final chapter, but it just kept getting longer and longer. I feel out of my depth trying to describe an elite, wealthy criminal gambling ring, but at some point, you can only imagine so much and just have to put words to paper. Sometimes, you just have to wing it. Hopefully, at best, it feels realistic within the world, at worst, it’s still entertaining.
I couldn’t decide whether to have Dee go first or not. It could be exciting but also repetitive after the previous fight. So I let the dice decide. This is something you can always do in Solo, for any decision you need to make. Can’t decide? Roll a d6! Let fate determine it. Of course, you can always retcon the decision if you go with it and it doesn’t feel right.
As much as I enjoy this game and these characters, I’m looking forward to moving onto something else, at least for awhile. I do wonder if using a more systemic Oracle such as Mythic or Motif or something might take some of the heavy-duty plotting/thinking off of my shoulders. When I return to this world, I may consider using something like that. Let me know what you think in the comments!
Thanks for reading.
Tune in next time for the next and final chapter of…
FWIW, the chapter felt pretty solid to me.
A bit sad that this is nearly the end of Waxwing Slain. I've enjoyed it a lot. I need to get a solo game of BR going. I have a Citywalker character I want to explore.
Might do that after I finish the new Electric State solo playtest I've started.