FLASHPLOT: Wash

[legionnpcs]

Who| Agent Washington
What| A bank robbery
Where| Rimbor
When| In the dead of night, at the scene of a crime
Warnings/Notes| Violence inbound!

You'd think that the United Planets would enforce a shared currency. For the most part, it does. Nearly every vendor on the member worlds accepts the U.P. credit as the standard form of currency. And, while most of the transactions are digital, physical cash has always been in demand. Especially after the fall of the old information networks that lead to the rise of Titanet, the telepathic communications network.

On top of that, there are planets that still possess their own currencies, or trade with planets outside of the United Planets. From the singing gems of the asteroid trade networks to corporate scrip to the liquid metals of some of the former Khundian colonies, a modern bank has to be prepared to receive, exchange, and store any form of cash that enters their doors. Contained within a major planetary bank are untold riches, if only you're bold enough to access it. Of course, robbing a bank is a major undertaking, attempted only by the stupid, the insane, or the well-prepared.

So it comes as something of a surprise when a sector of Rimbor suddenly goes dark. Not a large one, the space of a few blocks. The Legionnaire on duty frowns, taps a few things, looks up the help manual, taps a few other things, and contacts the Science Police for a quick chat before calling up Wash. "Hey, Freelancer. It's Amp. Listen, hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but you're the only one marked as awake and on duty," well, except for Brainy, but bothering him was... "...and it looks like there's some kind of jamming field set up over on... Rimbor? Rimbor, yeah. It's pretty small, but centralized around a bank. I wouldn't be bothering you with this, except it looks like the Science Police are all busy with a dance hall riot. I need you to get to the Threshold gates, hop down there and make sure that everything is cool. Looks like the field's only covering a few blocks, so if there's trouble you've just got to job a little until you get a clear signal. Otherwise, I'm going to start waking people up if I haven't heard from you in, uh. Fifteen minutes."

---

Down on Rimbor, well. The planet's been described as the armpit of the galaxy by some. The truth might be a little further south. The air's not entirely pleasant, litter fills the alleyways, and building walls tend to be covered in gang markings. Much more noticeable is the stench of ozone and the sound of crackling from an alley near the bank. Someone's set up a phase gate, an illegal device that opens an unstable portal from one side of a barrier to another. Illegal because they have a tendency to collapse, unless they're of supreme quality.

However sane or well-prepared these robbers may be, however, they're apparently smart enough to leave a guard standing watch just outside of the portal, armed with a scoped pistol of some kind with a foldable buttstock dangling loosely from a totally unnecessary sling. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings, though. He seems more preoccupied with trying to light a cigarette in the wind that cuts through the alleyway.

Comments

[unrecovered]

Wash still isn't used to people calling him Freelancer like it's his name - even though, to some extent, it kind of is now. He's accustomed to hearing it as a title, said with a twist of awe or fear or derision, because Project Freelancer still has a reputation, though the takeaway for that differs depending on who you talk to.

But there's no Freelancer here, except for him. It's just a name. And it throws him every time.

He shoves that train of thought to the back of his mind as he passes through the jamming field and the external feed to his helmet radio goes dead. That's the start of his fifteen minutes. He sets a timer on his HUD and starts it counting down. Time to go.

It takes less than a minute, moving quickly and quietly as he can manage, to track down the phase gate and the guard standing near it, all outside of-

Goddammit this is a fucking bank robbery, isn't it. He mutes his radio and sighs, turning on recording. He'll pick over the footage his HUD records later, once this is over, and depending on how it goes.

First point of order is the guard, putting in Grif-level effort at his job. Taking him out shouldn't be difficult; taking him out silently was going to be a bit more of a challenge. For a moment, the answer is simple: throw the knife into his throat. The guard goes down silently, and Wash can continue on.

The moment passes, and he discards that thought. He's still thinking like a soldier, as though this is a survival situation, and it's not. He's...law enforcement, he guesses, because he still can't really wrap his brain around being a superhero, and the number one rule is no killing.

So he takes the long way and approaches the guard from the side, as close to behind as he can manage. It's kind of amazing how quietly you can move in power armor if you know what you're doing, and the noise of the city and the wind help with cover. He gets in close and aims a sharp strike at the back of the the guard's neck, following through with a grab for the guard's gun to keep it from clattering to the ground. That should work. Hopefully.