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Shadowrun: Rise of APEX » Places

Places in Shadowrun: Rise of APEX

This is a list of locations that can be found in Shadowrun: Rise of APEX.


All Places

Berlin

50 posts · 9 characters present · last post 2015-05-08 17:10:08 »

         Aphelion would have grimaced, had she not wanted to keep a resolute mask. A promise of answers rang more as a run around, and she was starting to wonder if this was a good idea after all. A tiny voice at the back of her head whispered in an annoyingly condescending tone that the elf was playing it smart. It was, admittedly, best not discuss the details of a run out in public. Such things were best left for secure channels or face-to-face meetings. The usual drek one went through to land a job, if they were looking in the right places. She glanced around, feigning absentmindedness, and silently acknowledged that this venue probably was not the most secure dive in Berlin. Then again, what did she know? She had not been in the Flux State for that long. Downing the last of her coffee, Aphelion's back straightened as she laid her palms flat on the bar top. Her skin was beginning to itch. Maybe it was about time they got going.

From his seat, Tam observed the others in silence as they each chimed in. Even the dwarf had returned to the bar, apparently with renewed interest in the proceedings. He elected to keep his mouth shut for now, and tried to get a feel for these runners. The cloaked, dark-haired human who had come in with the waifish elf seemed to have his wits about him, as well as an obfuscated curiosity beneath his dour countenance. By contrast, the other human sat at the bar looked torn between the matter at hand and his own affairs. At least he appeared a businesslike sort. Perhaps he could be counted on. Time- or turmoil- would tell. As he oh-so nonchalantly turned for a better glimpse of the others, their new employer declared it was time to relocate. He shot a look at Aphelion, one she saw coming, and slipped smoothly off of his seat. "I won't be one to lie, you've gotten my curiosity piqued," he informed with a painted on grin. His partner moved to follow, smoothing out her coat. He knew it was just a show, and that she was really feeling her tucked away sword for reassurance. Like a child reaching for their favorite stuffed animal.

That was when Eris stopped, and Tam's gut twisted as apprehension's hand gripped him like a demon from the aether. Their impromptu boss grimly stated, "We really need to leave now," and the cafe exploded. Light poured in through the new entryway as a hulking silhouetted figure lumbered over the broken boards. If that image alone was not striking enough, his weapon sure as hell hammered the situation home. Tam's hands had been reflexively going to his pistols, but they immediately fell right back to his sides as he whirled around, scanning for cover. The only thing that looked half descent was the bar, which he vaulted over with Aphelion right on his heels. A few of the others took a similar route. Tam's ears caught the tell-tale sound of the gun whirring up, the mechanism spinning the monstrosity to life a painful second before it roared a hail of lead across the cafe's interior.

Aphelion, sat beside Tam with her back pressed hard against the bar, glanced at him with barely concealed rage brimming up in the deeps of her eyes. "This is your fault," she blandly informed over the tumult of large caliber rounds.

An indignant scoff clawed up Tam's throat, the only response he bothered to give. His mind was reeling, a thousand contingencies all muddled together in a brutal fist fight for supremacy. His heard was thundering in his ears, every pulse ramming home in his chest and pumping his veins full of epinephrine. This was hardly the kind of drek you got hit with on your average run. Drugged up gang bangers and the occasional opposing runner usually did not merit much of a risk. The quick glance he had gotten of their new found chums practically screamed corporate, and not average security goons, either. Big money, glossy equipment, and probably the tempering training you would expect from SpecOps units. That left them with very few feasible options, most of which involved getting the ever loving fuck out of that kill zone!

Movement in his peripheral was followed by a flash of light and the stench of burning ozone. The blonde elf had fired off a spell, a look of wrath etched across her features. Tam shuffled across the floor, and risked a peek around the edge of the bar. Everything was obscured by smoke, and he was quick to duck back behind cover. If they were equipped with infrared then such a ploy would do little good. He prayed not all of them were properly outfitted, but what were the odds that would be the case? He reached behind his back, fingers sliding into the grooves of his ergonomically designed pistol grips and tightening in a vice grip. Their usefulness was debatable at best, but they were better than nothing.

"Any plans?" Aphelion queried, her eyes settled straight ahead at the ruined shelves lining the cafe's rearmost wall. She felt entirely superfluous. Aside from her pistol, which now rested loosely in her hand, she had nothing. This was the sort of scenario she loathed. Tight quarters with all the gunfire aimed downstream at their heads. She needed cover, space to maneuver in, if she wanted to really flex her worth in a fight.

"Yeah," Tam huffed, risking another look, "'Don't get ventilated' would be number one." There came another blast of conjured electricity, this time from the dwarf. He was beginning to curse ignoring any latent talent he might have carried.

"Inspired." Aphelion lazily rolled her eyes. "Anything else?"

"Not really," he belatedly admitted. "That body armor looked properly thick, add on the sheer wall of munitions bearing down on us and we've got a 'you're fucked' cocktail."

"We wait for a pause and run?" Aphelion spared a look at the others. The blonde elf dashed out from cover, a move she considered fairly suicidal. She appeared to forget about it instantly, not that it had seemed to bother her much in the first place.

"That would be the one where we live, yes," Tam nodded. On second thought, he holstered one of his guns and fished out a frag grenade. He worked his mouth thoughtfully, pondering if it would even remotely assist, or just make things even worse. Another quick look revealed the smoke grenade's effects were fading fast.

Eris was suddenly on the both of them, hauling them up as she made a mad rush for the rear exit. Tam bit back his pride- silently wondering what Aphelion's thoughts on the matter were- and followed once he was on his feet. He clamped down on the grenade's pin with his teeth as he rose up, and chucked the live explosive in the general direction of the corporate assholes as a final farewell just before passing through the doorway.

The cold night air was disconcerting, and oddly comforting in a way. It felt like stepping into an entirely separate universe, but he kept after Eris with the others presumably on their heels. Aphelion tore past him, her arms slicing through the air like blades as she sprinted away. Their path made use of a U-Bahn track, and it seemed like they had made it home free. Or, he hoped as much. They eventually arrived at the entrance to what he assumed was the safehouse Eris had mentioned just before the night went to hell. However, apparently the sudden chaos had taken quite a toll on one of their compatriots. The cloaked man rounded on Eris with a fury. Just as Tam was suspecting that perhaps he was not quite as collected as a runner should have been, the man seemed to calm down considerably. The dwarf was having none of it, immediately turning on the man with accusations of her own.. although choosing to focus mainly on his poor choice of timing.

Touché, Tam shrugged internally.

Meanwhile, the blonde elf made her own attempt at settling the contretemps herself. Aphelion, lingering nearby, looked back over her shoulder, watching for any signs of trailing danger. As Tam suspected, the girl wanted little to do with the others' misgivings. Even if she had some of her own.

"Can't we all just wait to kill each other 'til we're safely tucked away, meine freunde?" Tam kept his tone even, and tried not to step on anyone's toes in particular. His philosophy dictated it was best if he potentially pissed off everybody in general. Divisions were never healthy, but he supposed they were to be expected this early, and after nearly getting geeked out of the blue. "I'm sure our fashionably dressed mates back there wouldn't have any qualms of beating us to it, should they catch us out in the cold." He tapped the barrel of his drawn weapon against his leg, a very minor tell displaying a niggling sense of impatience.

The city of Berlin is a divided state, with the smaller East being controlled by the anarchic Flux State and the West divvied up between the megacorporations.

Golden Tower

1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2015-03-03 19:53:02 »

         <January 14, 0100 hours, Aztechnology Atlotl Pyramid, West Berlin>
Shouting and yelling rings through the narrow hallway as Aztechnology security forces and a rather large band of Shadowrunners duke it out, bullets and bolts of lightning and flame whizzing past as the forces fire near-blindly through the screen of dense smoke. Someone thought it would be a good idea to throw a few smoke grenades into the mix, despite neither opponent possessing infrared imaging systems. The balance is tipped, however, when the security turrets stationed at the end of the hallway suddenly turn upon their masters, the whole of the Aztechnology security team going down in a spray of red mist, gunned down from behind by their own system. The Spider has pierced the fierce defences of the Atlotl Pyramid at last, and the Shadowrunners rejoice as the firing stops.
"Ah, brilliant!" exclaims one of them, a wiry mage-type who can't be older than nineteen, "We showed those drekheads!"
Their rigger -- the more traditional sort, opposed to the spider -- an obvious cram addict with wide eyes and twitchy, sporadic movements trailing a Doberman drone speaks up, then, looking about himself in a paranoid manner, "Aye, but let's not get too comfortable. More of them could be around any corner."
"Pff, with the firepower we've got?" interjects a large troll, apparently a weapons expert by the amount of heat he's packing, "It doesn't matter how many they send."

With that, the procession continues into the next area. This was going to be a milk run...or so they all thought. Before their spider shut down communications, an encrypted message got out to the local Knight Errant detachment -- the Azzies need a High-Threat Response Team, and it just so happens one is in the area. The team is at the pyramid only minutes after the message arrives, a small detachment of only three men and two women, of varying degrees of skill. Their leader, a massive-built troll with no apparent weaponry steps out of the APC that arrives on-scene, scanning the area for signs of life with his Neuro-HUD from behind his mask, his gaze sweeping over the entryway. Other than a massive hole blown in the pyramid's front entrance and a small group of the corpses of brave lobby employees who gave their lives to distract the Runners while the rest of their coworkers ran, there is little damage. No subtlety, Grendel thinks with disdain, before silently signaling the rest of his team that the area is safe. The team makes their way into the building, upon which they are confronted with two decidedly hostile autoturrets, which are quickly dispatched by the accompanying rigger's Microskimmer drone, a small saucer-shaped methane-powered extremely quick and extremely silent drone generally used for advanced recon purposes, but in this case repurposed as a tiny arsenal of rocket-propelled micromunitions and outfitted with three attached 9mm submachine guns.

While the decker remains in the lobby to hack the compromised security system back into friendly hands, the rest of the team continues onward. Before they hit the next pair of turrets, the system is already friendly again.
"Engage night vision, I'm cutting the lights," comes the decker's feminine, businesslike voice over the comms, and the team barely has enough time to comply before both the standard flourescent lighting and the red-tinged emergency lighting disengage, plunging the entire pyramid into pitch-blackness. She catches up with them moments later, and the team continues. Finally, they reach their destination, a vault in the very center of the pyramid, where the large group of Shadowrunners frantically attempt to find a way to open it. Most of them are dead before any of them know what's going on, silently eliminated with a brief series of muffled muzzle flashes and Grendel's powerful assassinations. In a matter of moments, the leader is the only one left, a willowy Elven Spider, presumably the one who had turned the security system against its own people. Before he can react, Grendel is upon him, his powerful fingers wrapping about the Spider's throat and lifting him into the air. "I don't care who sent you," states the low, gruff voice of the Knight Errant captain, "but you will inform them that if they hire another group of runners, they will be found and eliminated."

Suddenly, Grendel grasps the upper arm of the elf and pulls it off with minimal effort, a sickening pop and a tearing sound, the screams of the Elf piercing the darkness. Grendel quickly pulls a large patch from beneath his uniform and places it upon the wound, a hissing sound emanating from the area as it's quickly cauterised. "Your rigging days are over," he states as he pulls the induction datajack from the dismembered hand and drops the now-whimpering Elf to the ground. The team leaves the Pyramid with a sense of urgency, gone like shadows in the night with a pile of bodies in their wake. "Objectives complete," the troll states into his commlink.

Minutes later, as he is changing from his combat gear back into his suit, another communication comes in on a secure channel. His Neuro-HUD lets him know that it's from a Mister Johnson, one of the proxies corporations often use when they would prefer to keep their identity a secret. Normally, they would be contacting shadowrunners. It's rather odd that they deign to contact the Knight Errant this way. Grendel answers the call, but before he can even speak, the sly voice of Lofwyr, the Golden Dragon himself, comes through the speaker. "I need your services," he states, "and none may know of my involvement."
"You've gained my interest, Dragon. Go on," replies Grendel, as his HUD confirms that the job is authorised by the big boss himself.

An hour later, he and his team are gearing up for an incursion into East Berlin, the Kreuzbasar kiez. How odd that Lofwyr cared so much about some dingy non-threatening district in the middle of East Berlin as to send a HTR team in. Grendel was not one to question orders, however, and so he didn't. This would clearly be an easy job, as the Kreuzbasar was lightly defended, and his APC should be able to cut through those gang-riddled kiez's with hardly a scratch, given their shoddy weaponry and minimal training. And the pay was wonderful; his commission alone could buy him a yacht or two. "Alright, men," he states to his team as they walk to the black-painted APC whose engine has barely cooled down from their last job, "This is going to be a milk run. Get in, level the kiez, get out. We haven't any reliable tactical data on the area, so our strategy will have to be developed on the move. Understood?"

The rest of his team nods, and they step into the APC, which speeds off into the distance, the driver expertly navigating the empty early morning roads of West Berlin, a messenger of doom bringing the horsemen of the apocalypse to East Berlin's doorstep...

Saeder-Krupp Heavy Industries Company's seat of power in their large portion of West Berlin, Golden Tower can be seen across the entirety of the massive city, stretching far above everything around it. It serves as an icon of corporate power in Berlin.