Places like Colu is just exactly Rico's area of expertise. Dense, cramped, and full of cits in a panic for one reason or another. The twisting corridors and streets don't do much to confuse him, and he navigates them with relative comfort. You haven't made it as a Judge until you've been through a riot gone really bad. And sure, these "rioters" are a little harder to put down, a little more deadly than the usual, but Rico's good at what he does. Very good.
Time for him to finally show it.
[A: A spirited discussion with one of the staff in the briefing rooms:]
"...No, I don't drokking care if I'm listed as whatever on your records. This is an emergency, and I need my lawgiver ammunition back."
"-...NO it's not the drokking same! You think stun shots are going to be useful in a situation like this?"
"-...Yes, that includes the incendiaries and high-ex. And yes I know how to use them, I'm not an idiot."
"-...Well, it looks like the circumstances have changed, haven't they? Any idiot could tell that. So why don't you use your spugwit brain to think outside of the box of a head they gave you for once?"
[B: Difficult decisions]
On Colu, in one of the secured, hastily barricaded habitation towers, Rico is quietly talking with a Coluan with a bloody injury on her arm, clutching it tight with tears in her eyes.
"I'm giving you a chance to say goodbye. You should be wise to take it."
Other Coluans are standing warily around in the corners of the room, some looking afraid. But not of Rico.
"Judging from our situation reports," he says, subtly cajoling, voice pitched so low it's barely a rumble. "You have about three minutes before you turn into an inorganic construct. At this point in time, there is no cure. There is no stopping that process. You can either have a chance to say your last words and go out as peacefully as you can. Or you can turn and endanger everybody in this room."
Rico tilts his head, staring at her. "You can see the logic in my words, right? Use some of that eighth level intellect I've heard so much about."
The metallic silver is creeping up her arm even as he speaks. He draws his lawgiver, slowly and carefully.
"One hundred and fifty seconds left, citizen. Make a decision, or I'm gonna have to make it for you. And we both don't want it to come to that."
[C: Rooftop defence]
Rico is perched on the roof of a weapons depot, belly down and rifle up. The wind is howling around them, a freezing bitter cold that penetrates his uniform. Steadying against the wind, he pulls the trigger and blows a chunk out of a shoulder of a particularly large robo-zombie that made it just past the barricades, sending the limb spinning away from the rest of its body. He chambers another round with a rough yank, and this time his aim is on spot. Why couldn't he have a more useful power? Like the ability to shoot drokking lasers out of his eyes or something.
He exhales angrily, and holds out a hand without looking. "Ammo." He says, tersely. "Someone to drag that thing out of here before it gets up. And a carpet bombing, if that hadn't been ordered yet. This facility is indefensible, and we're better off destroying it. What's keeping them?"
[C. ii]
Well, looks like Rico got his way. The robo-zombies are truly swarming at the gates now, and explosives are being set before they can be assimilated. Because the only thing worse than robo-zombies are robo-zombies with guns for hands. Rico has several bags slung over his back, filled with slim, black charges, and he shoves one of those bags in the closest person's direction.
"Make yourself useful and plant these, will you?"
[D: Retrieval mission]
Rico's been up for 48 straight hours without sleep now, and has for the most part been called out to be part of one mission or another with perfunctory breaks to shovel food into his mouth. Not the most grueling or necessary shift he's ever done, and he finds himself enjoying the action, almost. At least it's something to do, reminiscent of his usual activity. And the chaos means that his behavior is more or less going unchecked.
This time, it's a retrieval mission, infiltrating an overrun nanotech lab. He's more used to shock and awe tactics, kicking down doors or crashing through windows on his bike and opening with a salvo of gunfire. But that doesn't mean he can't be stealthy if he needs to be. He's had plenty of experience breaking in, after all. His boots tread lightly on the ground, carefully not making the usual customary tromping announcement.
[E: Oopsies]
In a corridor somewhere, a veritable mass of bodies litters the floor. It looks like a charnel house of sludge and silver, mixed with coppery blood from the few remaining organic compounds. Some dragging themselves, some moving, but all somehow, some form of incapacitated.
BANG.
A robo-zombie twitching back to life is blown backward again, its brains splattered on the floor. Rico lowers his lawgiver, gasping for breath. Just barely a meter ahead of it, he pulls himself up, propped up on his elbow, one hand wrapped around his midsection and the other dragging himself forward. It's bleeding sluggishly and trickling through the gaps between his fingertips, a gash in his transuit.
Another robo-zombie stumbles back to life, and he raises his lawgiver again.
Click. .....Click.
Rico curses under his breath.
[Wildcard]
You'll also find him on street level or going through housing blocks floor by floor, tasked with finding pockets of survivors and civilians and reporting their locations for evacuation. Feel free to run into him whenever. He's a busy man, and he knows what he can handle.
Rico Dredd | OTA | CW: gore, mercy killing, violence
Places like Colu is just exactly Rico's area of expertise. Dense, cramped, and full of cits in a panic for one reason or another. The twisting corridors and streets don't do much to confuse him, and he navigates them with relative comfort. You haven't made it as a Judge until you've been through a riot gone really bad. And sure, these "rioters" are a little harder to put down, a little more deadly than the usual, but Rico's good at what he does. Very good.
Time for him to finally show it.
[A: A spirited discussion with one of the staff in the briefing rooms:]
"...No, I don't drokking care if I'm listed as whatever on your records. This is an emergency, and I need my lawgiver ammunition back."
"-...NO it's not the drokking same! You think stun shots are going to be useful in a situation like this?"
"-...Yes, that includes the incendiaries and high-ex. And yes I know how to use them, I'm not an idiot."
"-...Well, it looks like the circumstances have changed, haven't they? Any idiot could tell that. So why don't you use your spugwit brain to think outside of the box of a head they gave you for once?"
[B: Difficult decisions]
On Colu, in one of the secured, hastily barricaded habitation towers, Rico is quietly talking with a Coluan with a bloody injury on her arm, clutching it tight with tears in her eyes.
"I'm giving you a chance to say goodbye. You should be wise to take it."
Other Coluans are standing warily around in the corners of the room, some looking afraid. But not of Rico.
"Judging from our situation reports," he says, subtly cajoling, voice pitched so low it's barely a rumble. "You have about three minutes before you turn into an inorganic construct. At this point in time, there is no cure. There is no stopping that process. You can either have a chance to say your last words and go out as peacefully as you can. Or you can turn and endanger everybody in this room."
Rico tilts his head, staring at her. "You can see the logic in my words, right? Use some of that eighth level intellect I've heard so much about."
The metallic silver is creeping up her arm even as he speaks. He draws his lawgiver, slowly and carefully.
"One hundred and fifty seconds left, citizen. Make a decision, or I'm gonna have to make it for you. And we both don't want it to come to that."
[C: Rooftop defence]
Rico is perched on the roof of a weapons depot, belly down and rifle up. The wind is howling around them, a freezing bitter cold that penetrates his uniform. Steadying against the wind, he pulls the trigger and blows a chunk out of a shoulder of a particularly large robo-zombie that made it just past the barricades, sending the limb spinning away from the rest of its body. He chambers another round with a rough yank, and this time his aim is on spot. Why couldn't he have a more useful power? Like the ability to shoot drokking lasers out of his eyes or something.
He exhales angrily, and holds out a hand without looking. "Ammo." He says, tersely. "Someone to drag that thing out of here before it gets up. And a carpet bombing, if that hadn't been ordered yet. This facility is indefensible, and we're better off destroying it. What's keeping them?"
[C. ii]
Well, looks like Rico got his way. The robo-zombies are truly swarming at the gates now, and explosives are being set before they can be assimilated. Because the only thing worse than robo-zombies are robo-zombies with guns for hands. Rico has several bags slung over his back, filled with slim, black charges, and he shoves one of those bags in the closest person's direction.
"Make yourself useful and plant these, will you?"
[D: Retrieval mission]
Rico's been up for 48 straight hours without sleep now, and has for the most part been called out to be part of one mission or another with perfunctory breaks to shovel food into his mouth. Not the most grueling or necessary shift he's ever done, and he finds himself enjoying the action, almost. At least it's something to do, reminiscent of his usual activity. And the chaos means that his behavior is more or less going unchecked.
This time, it's a retrieval mission, infiltrating an overrun nanotech lab. He's more used to shock and awe tactics, kicking down doors or crashing through windows on his bike and opening with a salvo of gunfire. But that doesn't mean he can't be stealthy if he needs to be. He's had plenty of experience breaking in, after all. His boots tread lightly on the ground, carefully not making the usual customary tromping announcement.
[E: Oopsies]
In a corridor somewhere, a veritable mass of bodies litters the floor. It looks like a charnel house of sludge and silver, mixed with coppery blood from the few remaining organic compounds. Some dragging themselves, some moving, but all somehow, some form of incapacitated.
BANG.
A robo-zombie twitching back to life is blown backward again, its brains splattered on the floor. Rico lowers his lawgiver, gasping for breath. Just barely a meter ahead of it, he pulls himself up, propped up on his elbow, one hand wrapped around his midsection and the other dragging himself forward. It's bleeding sluggishly and trickling through the gaps between his fingertips, a gash in his transuit.
Another robo-zombie stumbles back to life, and he raises his lawgiver again.
Click.
.....Click.
Rico curses under his breath.
[Wildcard]
You'll also find him on street level or going through housing blocks floor by floor, tasked with finding pockets of survivors and civilians and reporting their locations for evacuation. Feel free to run into him whenever. He's a busy man, and he knows what he can handle.