[SYNOPSIS]

"Hey baby girl, where were you last night? Michael was going nuts when you didn't check in." Ally Pashtun flashed Silver a devilish grin as she orbited around the pop star in training. Ally herself was an icon of industrial world sounds-or at least she would be soon and her admiration for the girl who missed curfew was evident. The two chatted conspiratorially as they walk together between classes in the DMS Media Training Campus, buzzing about the seedy new world Silver had dipped into. Soon, they came across Greer entertaining a crowd of admiring girls. Greer was the untouchable deathrock star of the senior class, just months away from public release. His angular anglo face, shocked up locks of jet black hair, and combination of black military fatigues and chain mail shirt had been being pumped into media channels for months now in anticipation.

"Hey Silver. Heard you gave Michael a coronary. Nice." The unexpected complement came like sudden, blinding headlights while crossing the street, but lessons from Silver's media training class kicked in almost immediately.

"Sure. Made some new friends on the outside, too. Invited me to some motorcycle street races tonight. Want to check it out?"

"Sure." Silver caught the acceptance graciously and moved on, her heart hammering with adrenaline at the carnage she had just made of those girls hopes behind her, and Ally beaming beside her.

***

There was a knock on the door. Jack jumped. He hadn't been expecting any visitors. He picked up his gun and challenged the visitor through the door. "Pizza delivery" replied the visitor. Jack announced he hadn't ordered any pizza, and the stranger announced he was from DHL with a package. Nonplused, jack drew back the hammer of his pistol and approached the door as if it might explode at any moment. He opened the door a crack, and spied a man in a heavy jacket and baseball cap. Beneath the turned-down visor, Jack could make out that the man's entire face was wrapped in bandages.

"Who are you," inquired Jack, and the man snapped off a razor-edged grin from between bandages and replied he was D. He had been on his way to the bar, and thought he might drop by and ask Jack some questions about computers. He stepped into the flat and took in the cybermodem hookups on the small coffee table against the wall. With a smile, he announced to Jack he might have a project for him. Jack grabbed his jacket and they headed down to their bikes in discussion.

Jack noted immediately upon reaching their bikes that D was riding Artistotle's bike. Besides a plate change, D hadn't even vaguely attempted to hide the original identity of the bike. And what a nice bike it was, too. Jack's competitive hunger flashed, remembering his defeat at Jenny's mocking hands the other day, and he bristled. "How about a race?" D smiled again, met Jack's 250EB bet, and they tore into the night.

***

Darkness swam in Racy's mind, but the sense of people pacing closely made her face pinch in discomfort. An man's voice declared the girl was awake, and the gentle pat of a hand on her cheek made Racy open her eyes. He tried to sit up, and discovered she was strapped to something like a dental chair in a windowless room. An undefined number of people milled in the darkness beyond her field of vision, but Racy was immediately more concerned with the man in front of her: the Asian man.

The thin, chiseled face announced his name was Hermes. The gliding motions in the perfectly pressed suit said he was dangerous and calculating. He pulled out a silver autopistol and gently touched the barrel to Racy's left eye. "My little brother is still missing, and now my other brother Aristotle has been found dead. I thought you should know what your crimes were before you died."

Racy sputtered, shivers running up her body as tears streaked down her face. She pleaded with Hermes for a chance, swearing she could get their brother's remains for him. All she needed was a phone. Hermes nodded, and a man appeared from behind Racy's immobilized head with her own phone. She recited and he dialed, and soon Dale was on the line.

She pleaded quickly and emphatically. Dale must recover whatever is left of Hermes's and Aristotle's brother by (Hermes gestured) 3am or she'd be as good as dead. Dale's voice was grave as he promised he's do everything he could. Racy passed on a meeting time and place, and the men filed out of the room, leaving Racy acutely and painfully ALONE...

***

At the bar, Shiv, , Grubby, Vincent and Jenny greeted Jack as he entered with triumph on his face, the knowledge of certain victory over D buoying his mood. Jenny reciprocated with her own good tidings, and she spilled out of her bag a pile of NCP patches. Night City Perps was the name they had agreed upon for their gang, and Jenny had recruited a graphic artist from work to make something up for her. She eagerly started to hand them out.

A gloved hand snatched one up before any else had a chance to touch one, and everyone looked up to see D. He greeted Vincent with that same razor smile, tossed a hearty compliment to Jenny for the patches, and sat himself down at the table like the Mummy joining a family for afternoon tea. D cast an appraising look at Jack, and counted out 250EB in fresh notes and slid them across the table. Jack snatched them up like a fading mirage and pocketed the money. With the assuring bulk of the bills pressing against his skin through the fabric of his clothes, Jack relaxed a bit and drank from a box of Smash Jenny had passed him.

Conversation shifted to recent events, as Vincent had been keeping a low profile lately, and soon they came to the previous night, their encounter with Aristotle, and their flight after accidentally killing him. Around this time, Bob called in from the precinct and informed the gang that Racy had gone missing from the hospital. Suspicion raced around the table, and Shiv stood, asking if anyone had investigated this Aristotle. After all, Racy may be in danger, and they shouldn't just sit around. D slid an id across the table to Shiv, who got up and left, declining offers from D to accompany him.

D, with plans of his own in his mind, asked Jack to help him with a different course of investigation, and headed out, leaving Grubby, Jenny and Vincent to head to the Berkeley St races together.

The races were on a half-mile long stretch of cleanly-paved road to the east of downtown. Close enough to the corporate burbplexes to benefit from their protection and road maintenance, bu far enough to have irregular police coverage at the best of times. 150 bikers lined up on the sidewalks to drink and watch challenge matches while pickup trucks blocked traffic on both ends of the course. Straight drag racing was the order of the evening, and the squeal of rubber and the smell of melting rubber filled the air as Vincent, Jenny and Grubby arrived.

Greer and Silver pulled up within a few minutes, with Silver waving excitedly to Jenny who greeted her with an exclamation and cheer. Shiv arrived shortly after, having had similar trouble to D and Fix the previous evening penetrating Aristotle's apartment. He had succeeded in leaving a note for Aristotle or friends, as it was addressed, in case Aristotle's friends found it in them to negotiate with the gang. Finding themselves in a dead end, the gang settled in to watch some races and race a little themselves while they tried to think of other ways to track Racy down.

After a few races, Grubby found himself under assault by a local drug dealer for infringing on his turf. Just as Grubby was being surrounded by the dealer and his two goons, D shows up and joins the fight next to Grubby. Vincent is soon to follow, as his heightened senses picked up on the distant altercation even from where the gang had been on the other end of the street. The battle was quick and rough, refraining as they were from pulling their guns, and therefore being limited to using their hands and feet to stomp the drug dealer into submission.

D seized on the moment, and told the dealer this race belonged to Grubby and the Night City Perps, and that he should remember that name and stay out of their way from now on. Shiv was appalled that they'd get into a fight here, and D simply stated that if people push members of the gang, that he'd push back. Vincent, though he didn't like D personally, had to agree with the sentiment.

After watching a few more races, the gang retired for the evening, minds numb from Smash and other intoxicants.

Bob started back to the precinct. On the way, he spotted a violent beating in progress in an alley, and pulled his car over. Bob ordered the man to release the bloody and disheveled girl sprawled on the ground beneath him, but the man simply ignored Bob. Bob called in backup, and began to drive closer when he heard the thunder of dozens of motorcycle engines coming to life. Bob looked around, and saw mean looking motorcycle cruisers spilling out of hidden alleys and side streets to surround him. Bob's heart began to race. This was the gang Beth had been hanging with.

He gunned the engine, but even as the car leapt forward, a rolling thunder of gunfire sounded and his car trembled from dozens of small, sharp impacts. The car ground to a halt. Bob lay sunken into the car, broken glass spilled all over him, but unhurt. Before he could do anything else, he heard the sound of rushing feet and then felt heavy, clutching hands pick him up and pull him out of the car. Bob tried desperately to cover himself from an assault of feet and fists, but they just kept raining down and down on him. He felt a finger break, then two. Heavy blows bit into his thighs and back. He felt broken teeth and tasted blood in his mouth as the world became a grinding patchwork of blood red and screaming--his screaming.

Suddenly, the pummeling stopped. The gang members drifted away. Bob lay crumpled and smashed on the ground, senseless and barely hanging onto consciousness. He managed to turn his head to see a woman's silhouette over him. Beth. She pointed a gun at his midsection, her eyes cold like metal. Bob tried to speak, to say something, to say he was her father, but his mouth was senseless and all he could do was slur out a hiss and sputter blood. Without a word, Beth fired into her father's belly, then turned around, mounted her bike, and rode off with her gang, leaving the damned old cop to die in the street.

***

The lights blazed on in the empty room and Racy jumped at the shock. Hermes walked into view in front of her with a bag of bleached bones in his hand. He thanked Racy for helping him reclaim his brother's remains. Unfortunately, he said, and he truly looked regretful as he said it, their murder of Aristotle was a debt that had to be paid also. Racy shrieked. She didn't have anything to do with killing Aristotle, she pleaded. "Yes, I know" said Hermes as he placed his silver pistol to her forehead. "I'm sorry," he said, and squeezed the cold metal trigger.

[GM NOTES]

racy dead, gang colors, gang identity

Three major plot lines happened this game: the introduction of gang colors for the group, courtesy of Jenny and the previous vote, the establishment of the gang identity on the streets, and the difficult decision to start following through on the vendetta from Aristotle and his mysterious associates.

The first two plot lines were intimately connected, as the gang has been slowly trying to pull itself together for many sessions now. The introduction of a usable name and a symbol which they could mark themselves with will be major elements in pulling them together while making them safer yet more easily targeted at the same time.

D played into this well. I thought about his behavior from their encounter with Aristotle, and since D's player hadn't showed for a couple weeks, I made him into an NPC. I figured D's behavior could be explained if he was the kind of person who is willing to shoot at the slightest provocation, like old-style desperados. The second thing I reasoned was if he was as aggressive a personality as his behavior suggested, he might be the kind of guy who might take the gang thing very, very seriously. I'm approaching the gang as D's pet project. It serves him to help define the gang by driving wedges between it and other weaker gangs. The fight between Grubby and the other dealer was a perfect situation for D and the gang to publicly kick some butt and loudly declare the NCPs had arrived.

Shiv was irate, and D brushed him off as if everything Shiv was saying was actually friendly or simply misguided. It was kind of like the movie Chopper when Chopper's friend in jail starts stabbing him because of a contract out on him, and Chopper simply says "buddy, if you keep stabbing me, you're going to kill me" and hugs him. An interesting struggle is therefore building between Shiv and D as Shiv wants the gang to succeed by racing and being cool, and D wants the gang to succeed by getting people to fear and respect them by being tough and cool. D sees things though the lens of a gun sight, so his method will be colored by that.

The gang is ambivalent about D. They don't like him because they think he's crazy, but he seems to sincerely like them and appears to be legitimately be looking out for them. Can they just kill him because he's crazy? Can they do that and let Vincent live?

Finally, there was the Racy story. I really liked Racy, but she was an easy target for Hermes's men to pick up. She did succeed in getting them Johnny Chan's remains, but the fact that the gang had killed Aristotle only aggravated the situation. Before, they promised they'd kill the gang if they didn't return the body. Now, they seem obligated to kill the gang members despite the fact they returned the body. What makes it more tragic is that Racy wasn't even at the scene when they killed Aristotle. Her guilt by association carried over though, and she was the first victim of the vendetta.

More ironic is Aristotle's gang. Bob's searches into the matter point to Aristotle working for a Tai Shan Trading Company. John Chan is the nephew of one Walter Chan, a senior partner of the company. Aristotle is not related to these people, and none of them have significant criminal records. Nor does the company have any known connections to organized crime. So who are these people and why are they gunning for the NCPs? The emerging reality is that they're not a gang. They were legitimately looking for their lost brother. Aristotle thought, perhaps erroneously, that to negotiate with a gang, you had to make a believable show of force. That they did when they confronted Jade in Episode 8. Now that Aristotle has been killed however, and directly by the gang, there is a real and true vendetta to be paid.