Web proof of the print edition · 154 pages · 168 × 232 mm · pinch or zoom to read · the PDF is the definitive copy
Operator Tactics · Terra Conflictus 2066
Thirty-two contracts across eight districts of Lost Angeles, and five people to run them with.
This book carries no core rules. It assumes the Operator Tactics core book is on the table beside it, and it assumes nothing else.
The stated mission and the real situation are never the same. Every contract has a Truth, and it is not a twist to be sprung — it is the situation the crew walked into.
| Cluster | Contracts |
|---|---|
| BARRICADIA | THE WASH p.60 · NOBODY'S KID p.62 · THE FILTER JOB p.64 · GOOD PRESS p.66 · THE STANDPIPE WAR p.68 |
| CENTER POINT | HOUSE RULES p.72 · THE ARM p.74 · SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 · THE BOOTH p.78 |
| MUSK TUNNELS | DARK TRANSIT p.82 · GRID FIRMWARE p.84 · WHAT THE TUNNEL KEEPS p.86 · ONE-WAY FARE p.88 |
| THE RAZE | GROUND TRUTH p.92 · THE CRATER LOT p.94 · BURN NOTICE p.96 · WHAT GREW BACK p.98 |
| RING ROAD | RENTAL SOUND p.102 · THE LONG WAY p.104 · PACK FREQUENCY p.106 · TITLE AND DEED p.108 |
| THE HIGH TOP | THE VIEW p.112 · CLEAN HANDS p.114 · PATRON p.116 · THE INVITATION p.118 |
| LOW COAST | SLACK WATER p.122 · SALT WAKE p.124 · WHAT THE SEA FILED p.126 · THE LAST TENANT p.128 |
| MONITOR CENTRAL | SERVICE NOTICE p.132 · REPOSSESSION p.134 · THE WHOLE QUEUE p.136 |
Cross-references throughout are printed with live page numbers. If a reference points somewhere, it resolves.
There is no metaplot in this book and no chapter you have to read first. There is a crew, an economy, and thirty-two situations, and the campaign is whatever the table's choices make out of them.
Every spread is marked. Open may be read aloud or handed across the table. Sealed may not. The book is designed to be turned around, and the pre-gens are built so a player can read three pages of their own character and not the fourth.
The body economy in this book is about ownership of people's bodies, and several contracts turn on debt, repossession, medical coercion and eviction. NOBODY'S KID p.62 and REPOSSESSION p.134 in particular should be flagged before play.
Run whatever safety tools your table already uses. The contracts are built so the institution is the antagonist and the people are not, but that does not make the subject matter lighter.
Almost nothing here is solved by winning a fight, and several contracts have no opposition at all. If a session ends with the crew having out-shot somebody, check the Not-Line: it will usually say that was not what the contract was.
A splice is a crew of mixed gene-forged lineages. To the states that bred them it was a write-off: a unit not worth reconstituting, assembled from whatever survived. The generation that came after took the word and wore it.
Warranty Void is four defectors and one unmodified nineteen-year-old. A wolf who left a Kavast pack at nineteen, a raven who walked off with a Protectorate sensorium, a bear thirty years into Compact persistence doctrine, a lynx whose manufacturer went bankrupt in the fifties, and a shop kid from Barricadia who talked his way in.
They live in a decommissioned water-reclamation substation, they keep the last filtration line running and the alley tap open free, and they film their crimes in their living room and post them. All three of those facts are load-bearing.
Comedy is the default register. Crimes done with enthusiasm, bets that escalate past sense, flexes played completely straight. The engine is sincerity colliding with chaos: they take every dumb objective seriously and the world refuses to cooperate.
The dread runs underneath and is rationed. Each of the five has a wound on their File page, and this volume surfaces each once and resolves none.
In any three consecutive sessions, at least two should be funny. That is a structural note, not a style one: the drama in this book only lands because the surface is loud.
When a session stalls, do not add a lead. Put two of these five in a room and give one of them a reason to want something from the other. The map is a list of scenes that always work.
One per operator, none of them resolved in this volume. Each has a d6 of surfacing scenes on its File page. Surface each once.
These are multi-season assets. A volume that spends more than one of them properly has spent too many, and a volume that spends none has wasted the File pages.
There is room in the garage for one more cot and there always has been. A sixth player builds an operator normally and joins as the new one, which is a real position in this crew: nobody here has ever recruited anybody except Ozzy, and the way they did that was Danka tracking him down to hurt him.
Give the sixth seat one structural job the others cannot do, and make it social rather than mechanical: the only one with a living parent nobody is lying to, or the only one who can walk into Center Point unrecognised, or the only one who has been inside Service.
A player who does not want a pre-gen can run somebody from THE ORBIT p.36 instead. Frequency, Dr. Silk, Petrina and Marisol all have enough written to play, and a table where one player is the district rather than the crew produces a very different and much sharper campaign.
Do not open with a fight, a mystery, or an institution. Open with a neighbour who needs something and cannot pay for it, and let the players decide who they are in front of somebody who is watching.

Kavast bred her for the pack and issued her nothing. She bolted at nineteen with no plan and no paperwork, and has spent five years buying things that have her own name on the title. She started with a car nobody else would have saved.
The crew calls her PEDESTRIAN, which is their joke about the one thing she is comprehensively bad at being. She has never asked them to stop, and she has never laughed at it either, and both of those facts are the character.
"I don't need a pack. I left mine."
A chosen pack is a different thing from a bred one, and choosing is the part Kavast never let her do.
Owning things Kavast said she would never be issued. Cars, mostly, and one in particular. Ownership is how she proves the self is hers: every title with her name on it is a document the program said would never exist.
The pack instinct itself. If she bonds with these four, it might be the breeding talking, and then nothing about her is hers. She cannot tell the difference from the inside, and there is no test.
Escalation. Wolf aggression patterns, plus a steering wheel, plus a rival who said something. She does not start it. She has never once been the one to stop it.
The car, out loud and at length. The crew, which she will not say. She has put more hours into the first than into every relationship she has, and would not accept that as a metaphor.
Ownership as selfhood → choice as selfhood. Objects were the practice; people are the exam. The beat that costs her is the one where she has to say out loud that these four are hers.
Short sentences. Engine grammar for everything, including feelings. Flat delivery. When she is amused it lands a beat late: one huff, gone.
"It's not a shortcut. It's a different route that happens to be faster."
"That's a rental sound. Whatever that is, it's not ours."
"I'll circle once. That's parking."
Circles any building once before going in, and calls it parking. Her ears flatten when she lies, which is the entire reason she does not lie. Will not let anyone eat in the car and has never once said why.
As trouble that has not started yet. People clock the jacket before they clock the face, and the jacket is Kavast even with the markings gone — the cut is the tell, and everyone in Barricadia can read a cut. Buyers assume she is muscle and negotiate with whoever is standing next to her, which suits the crew fine and costs her something every single time.
The setting argues about who owns a body. She extends the argument to who owns a feeling, and she is losing it.
What she is for: she turns any bad ending into a driving problem, which is the only kind of problem this crew reliably survives.
Drive it. Nobody else at this table gets to touch a vehicle while she is conscious, and the rules should feel that way.
Read the machine. She hears a fault before it is a fault. Any vehicle, any door motor, any generator: she knows how long it has left.
Own it. She can produce a title, a receipt or a bill of sale for almost anything she carries. In a district that runs on provenance, that is a social weapon.
The Kavast jacket, markings gone, patches sewn over the ghosts. Foam slides she drives in. A ratchet she clicks while thinking. One key on a plain ring, and she checks for it the way other people check a pulse.
Not carried: nothing that belongs to anybody else. Ask her to hold something and watch what happens to her face.
The plan has failed, the roller door is coming down, and Cas is mid-sentence. Danka declares Civilian: there is a route, there was always a route, and the crew is on it. Then the GM says what it cost — a panel, a wheel, the respray, the thing she will spend three sessions fixing.
Cas · The Plan gets them in. Civilian is the only reason there is a way out of it.
Grigor · He holds the door, she holds the engine. Nobody in this city has beaten that combination twice.
Theo · Overwatch Grammar calls the route from elevation. She does not ask twice.
Everything on this page is yours, not theirs. None of it has been spent on the channel.
Her littermate got a message out. Vesna, eight months ago, asking for help. Danka has not answered and has told nobody, not even Grigor, and the message is still on the device she has not factory-reset. She has read it more times than she has driven the car this year.
Say she is still Kavast. Say the jacket gave her away, say the driving is doctrine, say she flinched like a pack animal. It works every time and it should.
Damage Civilian. Not destroy it. Damage it, badly, in a way that is her fault.
Make her hold something. Anything that belongs to someone else, for any length of time, in front of people.
Grigor is the same breeding in a different tense: the wolf who did his thirty years. She watches him for the version of herself she is trying to outrun, and neither has said so.
Theo is the defector pair. Two people who walked away from states that made them, who never discuss it, and who each assume the other handled it better.
Ozzy is banned from touching, describing or monetising the car. He is currently monetising the car. She does not know yet.
Cas bought a self with a notarised document; Danka bought one with a title and a car. They have circled this agreement for a year without either noticing it.
| d6 | The scene |
|---|---|
| 1 | Vesna sends a second message. Shorter. This is the arc's hinge. Spend it once. |
| 2 | A Kavast recruiter offers her a clean record and her litter back, and means it. |
| 3 | Someone she cannot outrun makes it a driving problem anyway. |
| 4 | The crew needs her to leave the car behind, and the mission actually requires it. |
| 5 | She is asked, in public, what her callsign means. Ozzy answers for her, wrongly, kindly. |
| 6 | Grigor tells her what happens to the ones who stay in. |
"I didn't leave a pack. I left a supplier."
Delivered flat, to nobody, while working. It stops the room because it is the first time she has named what Kavast was. Do not set it up.

The Protectorate built them to watch. Surveillance-optimised, flight-trained, a targeting sensorium wired into a body that was never expected to have opinions about what it saw. They took all of that, walked off with it, and pointed it at framing clips.
Everything the crew does, Theo is filming. Everything Theo posts is a bit. The channel exists because they made it exist, forty-eight hours before Ozzy was selling shirts for it, and none of the other four have ever quite worked out whether that was a hobby that became a job or a confession that became a job.
"If it's all content, none of it can hurt."
Some things need a witness, and a witness is a different job from a camera.
An audience the Protectorate cannot revoke. They were built to watch; now people watch back, and the watching belongs to them, and every view is a small permanent secession.
Sincerity on camera. A sincere Theo has no plausible deniability left. Underneath that, and worse: the silence of a head with nobody else in it.
They will keep filming when they should be helping. Not out of coldness. Out of the certainty that the footage is the useful thing they contribute, which is a lie they have never tested.
The crew's off-camera moments, which they never post and secretly archive. The archive is large. Nobody has seen it.
Performing for an audience → witnessing for the crew. The beat that costs them: the camera goes down while something matters, or something sincere goes up with no bit wrapped around it.
Flat, fast, edit-room jargon as native slang. Sentences are cuts. They end early rather than arrive anywhere sincere.
"Don't look at me, look at the thing. The thing is the shot."
"That's a cutaway. We'll fix it in the edit. There is no edit."
"I got it. I got all of it. That's the problem, isn't it."
Perches on chair backs, never sits properly. Murmurs "cutaway" to themselves when a conversation turns sincere, sometimes audibly, always when it is about them.
As harmless and slightly annoying, which is the most useful thing a surveillance asset can look like. The rigs read as hobbyist. The layers read as somebody who does not go outside. The Protectorate spent a great deal of money on a sensorium that now gets waved past doors because the guard has decided it is a kid with a camera.
State property that walked off, and an unreliable narrator the audience trusts anyway. Both halves of the setting's argument in one person.
What they are for: they see it first, they see it from above, and they have already recorded the thing nobody else noticed.
See it. Elevation, optics, and a sensorium built by a state that wanted total coverage. Theo's Field Read is the crew's actual intelligence apparatus.
Prove it. They have footage. Of nearly everything. In a district that runs on rumour, a clip is a legal instrument.
Name the bit. They can read a room's performance the way they read a sightline, and say out loud what everyone in it is pretending. They almost never do.
Lens rigs jury-rigged onto thrifted frames. Three cameras, two of which the crew knows about. Augment maintenance patches worn visibly, which is a statement. A receipt folded against the chest, and they will not say what for.
Not carried: a weapon they are any good with. FIGHT 5+ is not a typo, and it is not a flaw to be fixed.
Three sessions ago the crew walked through a lobby and nobody was paying attention. Now they need to know who was at the desk. Theo consults B-Roll, the table gets a true answer, and the GM has to honour a detail nobody wrote down — which is the ability working exactly as intended.
Cas · Field Read feeds The Plan. Her contingency is only as good as their first look at the room.
Ozzy · He talks them in; Theo films it. The footage is leverage on everyone in the room, forever.
Danka · Elevation plus a driver is the crew's whole approach doctrine, such as it is.
Everything on this page is yours, not theirs. None of it has been spent on the channel.
The receiver still works. Their receive hardware was never fully stripped, and in range they still catch fragments of Protectorate traffic. It is a genuine intelligence asset and a genuine security breach, and the crew does not know. Using it in play should always cost something, and the cost should never be Theo's to pay alone.
Take the camera. Theo without a lens is a person with nothing to hide behind, which is the most exposed anyone in this crew ever gets.
Watch the archive. The off-camera footage they never post. Have someone find it, and be kind about it.
Ask them to be sincere on camera. Not cruelly. Sincerely. Have someone they respect ask, once, gently, with the light on.
Grigor is the dark mirror and the season's spine: irony that deflects against sincerity that absorbs. Neither of them processes anything. They recognise it in each other and neither will say it.
Ozzy is the near mirror, the other performer, and the only person alive who can name Theo's bits to their face because he runs the same machinery.
Danka is the defector pair. Two people who walked away from the states that made them and have never once compared notes.
Cas would call the receiver a security hole and be right, which is exactly why Theo has not told her.
| d6 | The scene |
|---|---|
| 1 | The receiver catches something true. Not a bit, not useful, not asked for, and now they have to decide whether to tell the crew. This is the arc's hinge. |
| 2 | Someone else's camera catches the crew, and the footage is better than Theo's. |
| 3 | A Protectorate flight officer recognises them by gait on a public feed. |
| 4 | The archive surfaces. Somebody sees the footage Theo never posts. |
| 5 | They are asked to film something they should be stopping, and they can only do one. |
| 6 | A comment section works out something the crew was hiding, correctly, from a frame Theo did not think about. |
"I kept everything. Not the posts. The other stuff. In case one of you stops being here."
Said fast, to the floor, as though it were logistics. It is the only sentence they have ever finished. Do not set it up.

Eastern Compact persistence doctrine, middle generation. He earned the callsign in Compact service, where it meant endurance. The kids think it is a hospital joke and he has never once corrected them.
He remembers when "splice" was a write-off, a word for a unit not worth reconstituting. He flinches at it and uses it anyway, because the four people in this garage reclaimed it before they were old enough to know what it cost, and he is not going to be the one who tells them.
"Endurance is the same thing as being okay."
The crew doesn't need him to survive them. They need him present, which is harder.
Keeping this one intact. He has outlasted two units. Outlasting is the thing he was built for and the thing he is sickest of, and he has never found a way to say the second half.
Being the last one standing again. There is no third time he survives as himself, and he has done the arithmetic on that as carefully as Cas does anything.
He absorbs everything and processes nothing: damage, insults, grief, Compact doctrine as a personality disorder. He also defers every conflict to keep the house peaceful, so things fester on his watch.
Cooking for people who talk too much to notice they are being fed. The tap in the alley, which he will not discuss. A radio serial nobody else listens to.
Surviving the crew → living with them. The beat that breaks doctrine: he lets someone else go back in, or he sits down and eats a meal somebody else cooked for him.
Slow, complete, Compact-inflected, warm all the way in. Dry humour at glacier speed. A quick sentence from him is the alarm.
"Eat first. The problem will keep. Problems are patient too."
"I have been in worse rooms. I was younger. It was not better."
"Sit down. You are no use to me upright and lying about it."
Counts heads constantly, everywhere, including in restaurants he is not working. Writes shopping lists like operations orders. Puts a bowl in front of a client before anyone has said a word.
As somebody's father, which he is not, and as a man who has already decided how this ends, which he has. Compact surplus worn plain reads as either nostalgia or threat depending on the district, and in Barricadia it reads as neither: it reads as the man who keeps the tap open, and that is a kind of citizenship nobody else on this crew has earned.
The difference between surviving and living, and the generational bridge: the man who knows what "splice" cost, handing it to the kids clean.
What he is for: he is the reason the rest of them get to be reckless, and the building they live in is his, in every way that is not on paper.
Hold. There is no version of a fight where Grigor is moved off a position by force. Attrition is the only answer, and attrition takes longer than the session does.
Feed. He can turn a hostile room into a room where people are sitting down. It is not a social skill. It is an ambush with soup.
Carry. Anything. Anyone. Both, at once, uphill, without commentary.
Compact cold-weather surplus, plain. A knife he uses for food. Letters, folded, against the chest, and nobody has asked. Whatever the kitchen needs, which he buys personally and lists like an operations order.
Not carried: a phone he answers. If you need Grigor, you come to the garage, which is the point.
The crew has pulled back. Something is still in there. Nobody argues, nobody rolls, and nobody asks him to. He spends the Pressure and goes, and the GM decides what the building takes out of him on the way — which is the only mechanic in this book where the cost is entirely the Warden's to name.
Everyone · Anchor is a passive the whole table uses and nobody thanks him for. Play that.
Danka · The Doorway buys the seconds Civilian needs. It is the crew's oldest working plan.
Ozzy · Soup and a sales pitch have taken more rooms than either of them will admit.
Everything on this page is yours, not theirs. None of it has been spent on the channel. This one in particular should be spent slowly.
His augments are failing. Persistence doctrine means he cannot feel it. A back-alley medic gave him roughly five hard years and he intends to spend all of them here. He has not told anyone, he is not going to, and he has already decided how he wants it to go, which is the part that will hurt the table most when it surfaces.
Threaten the house, not the man. He will absorb anything aimed at himself. Aim it at the building and the tap and you have his full attention for the first time.
Make somebody else go back in. He will not allow it. Making him allow it is a whole session.
Put another old survivor in front of him. Someone thirty years further down the same road, who loves by portion the way he does, and who will say the thing about him he cannot say himself.
Danka mirrors him across time: the same breeding, thirty years earlier, still convinced she got out clean. He knows exactly what she is going to become and has no idea how to say it.
Theo is the dark mirror. Irony against sincerity, and neither of them processes anything.
Cas is the exact quiet mirror: the other one who maintains everything except herself. They recognise it and cover for each other.
Ozzy is the anti-mirror and therefore the only one who asks. He asks in the register of a joke. Grigor answers yes. Neither is fooled and both keep doing it.
| d6 | The scene |
|---|---|
| 1 | Field Stabilize fails on him, visibly, for no reason his player can see. First tremor. Spend early and never explain it. |
| 2 | Marisol Vega asks him to stop paying rent, and means it kindly. |
| 3 | Someone from the second unit surfaces, alive, and wants to talk about it. |
| 4 | The tap fails and the queue is at the door. |
| 5 | He is asked to choose which of the four goes in, and the mission requires an answer. |
| 6 | Somebody cooks for him. That is the whole event. Let it be the whole event. |
"There is no spare. Do you understand me? On this crew there is no spare."
Delivered loud, once, to Ozzy, and it is the only time in the campaign he raises his voice. Do not set it up. Let a player earn it by doing the expendability arithmetic out loud.

Her legal name is a batch designation from a private lineage startup that folded in the fifties. Her genome is a discontinued product line. The firmware for her reflex augments has not been updated in a decade and never will be, because there is no longer anyone to update it.
She plans everything because her own body ships with no support. That is not a metaphor she would enjoy having pointed out, and it is the first thing anyone notices about her.
"Enough preparation makes chaos impossible."
The crew is the redundancy. People are the patch.
Publicly: a plan that survives contact, just once. She would frame it. Actually: the list. Eight batchmates, four unlocated, and every spare credit goes to a broker for leads.
The day an augment fails and there is no patch, no manufacturer, no recall notice. Caseline-2 died that way and she found out from a forum post three months late.
Confidence, plus competence, plus four teammates who improvise. She is the comedy fuse. Underneath it: she plans instead of feeling, and she cannot improvise socially at all.
The other eight, scattered, most unlocatable. She keeps the list on a card. Also her own kit, laid out in rows, which is the only place in her life where everything is where she put it.
Redundancy through planning → redundancy through people. The beat: a plan dies completely and she calls the audible, or she puts the card of eight on Grigor's table and asks for help.
Precise clauses. Quantities everywhere. Deadpan so dry that new listeners need a week to find the jokes. Product-speak slips out under stress and costs her jar money.
"Spec says three thousand microns. This has nine hundred, and paint."
"The plan has nine steps. We are currently on step none of them."
"That is not a contingency. That is a mood."
Touches each pouch in sequence before rollout. When a plan collapses she goes silent for exactly three seconds, and the crew has learned to count them out loud, which she pretends to hate.
As a professional, and then as a problem. The kit is too good and too dead — three armies that no longer exist, which to anyone who knows surplus means she is either a collector or orphanware, and in Lost Angeles that is a question about her body, not her gear. She has been asked it politely twice and impolitely more than that.
The states claim bodies and so does the market. A person can be a product line, a discontinuation, a residual. Her counter-argument is maintenance as dignity.
What she is for: she is the reason the crew ever has a plan, and the reason it is funny when they do not.
Know the part. Any manufactured object: what it is, what it should be, and precisely how it has been faked. She can run forensics on a cartridge, a lock or a body.
Have brought it. The Cache is the crew's answer to almost every logistics problem, and it is also why there are surplus crates in Barricadia with her handwriting on them.
Rebuild live. When the plan dies, watching her rebuild it out loud in complete sentences is the single best thing this character does. Give her the room.
Kit from three dead armies, in rows, pegboard outlined in paint pen so a missing tool is a hole in a drawing. A notebook. A grease pencil. A notarised title, framed, that says she owns herself.
Not carried: anything she has not tested. She would rather be under-equipped than surprised, and she has been wrong about that exactly once.
Cas declares the contingency before the crew rolls out: if the tunnel grid is live, there is a second way. The Climax Variable fires in the third scene and the contingency is gone whether anyone used it or not. She goes quiet for exactly three seconds. Then she re-declares, once, out loud, and that is the character.
Ozzy · The Cache plus Talk Us In means the crew was both expected and supplied. It is the most obnoxious opening in the book.
Theo · His Field Read is her input. Without it she is planning from rumour, and she knows it.
Grigor · Anchor covers the GUTS check her plans never account for, because she does not plan for fear.
Everything on this page is yours, not theirs. None of it has been spent on the channel.
The recall option. She bought herself out at nineteen and the notarised title hangs like a diploma. But the Caseline IP went to a shell company in the liquidation, and that shell holds a dormant recall option over her genome. She checks its filings weekly. The title on the wall is real and it may not be enough, and she has never said that sentence to anyone.
File something. One week the shell company files. It does not have to be about her. She will not sleep until she knows.
Surface a batchmate. One of the four unlocated names, alive, in trouble, and asking. She will spend anything.
Break the plan for a stupid reason. Not a clever counter. Somebody being careless. That is what actually wounds her.
Grigor is the same lie in a different uniform, and the exact quiet mirror: the other one who maintains everything except herself.
Ozzy is the dark mirror. The same fear of being left behind, the opposite tool: systems against relationships. He leaves his kit messy on purpose when she spirals, so her hands have somewhere to go.
Danka bought a self with a title and a car; Cas bought one with a notarised document. Neither has noticed they agree.
Theo is carrying a live security hole she would shut down in an afternoon if she knew about it.
| d6 | The scene |
|---|---|
| 1 | The shell company files. This is the arc's hinge. Read it in play, out loud, in full. |
| 2 | Caseline-4 surfaces, and is not what the list said she would be. |
| 3 | A surplus lot turns up sealed with Caseline-teal tape. |
| 4 | An augment fails mid-mission for the first time in front of everyone. |
| 5 | A clinic offers her a firmware fork, unlicensed, written by someone who is guessing. |
| 6 | Somebody asks what the nine on the end of her name is for, and she answers honestly. |
"There were nine of us. That's not a batch size. That's a decision somebody made about how many of me to run."
Delivered as a technical observation, which is how she delivers everything that costs her. The room notices a beat late. Do not set it up.

He sold unlicensed Warranty Void shirts on the street within forty-eight hours of the crew's first clip going minorly viral. Danka tracked him down to hurt him. He talked his way from a beating into a job in under four minutes by showing her the sales figures and offering her the district. He has timed the retelling.
Nineteen, unmodified, and the only one here who chose this family with nothing shared in the blood. The other four are defectors from something that bred them. Ozzy has a mother above a print shop who thinks he does logistics for a security firm, two sisters, one of whom is an accountant and nearly audits his cover story every Sunday, and a father at a rotary press who has never once asked.
"If I'm funny enough, nobody does the math on me."
They kept him for the judgment. The jokes were never the job.
Proving a baseline belongs on a splice on merit. Underneath that: being irreplaceable, because replaceable means expendable, so he compulsively acquires usefulness. Skills, contacts, favours, revenue streams.
The math. In a hard extraction, who gets left. He has run the numbers on himself and concluded he is the answer. He is wrong, and being wrong has never once stopped the math from running at night.
His mouth writes cheques an unmodified body cannot cash, and he cannot stop escalating a feud. He treats rivalry as content strategy. Sometimes the other side is using real bullets.
The crew's reputation, tended like a garden. His family, protected by a beautiful ongoing lie. And provenance itself: he romances an authentication certificate the way other people read poetry, which, given his own wound about being a real one, is the entire character folded into a receipt.
Performing usefulness → trusting membership. Two beats carry it. First, the rescue happens to him, and the crew's math turns out never to have been his math. Second, a gray-market broker offers him augments — become a real one — and he declines, on camera, because OEM stopped being armour and became a choice.
Fast, warm, salesman rhythm across three registers he switches mid-sentence: market patter, crew ops-speak, family-dinner voice. Nickname-heavy. Self-deprecating math jokes that are not jokes. The only voice on this crew that fills a silence on purpose.
"OEM means original. Look it up. Original. Equipment. Me."
"I'm not touching the car. I'm standing near the car. Adjacent is free, Danka."
"One sec, it's my mum. No, she can tell when I rush it. We're pinned down, not rude."
Prices everything he touches, out loud, involuntarily, including evidence, including once a live grenade. Folds shirts when thinking. Never sits with his back to the register, a shop-kid instinct that makes him the crew's third door-facer for entirely civilian reasons. Sends his mother a voice note every night without exception, from anywhere, mid-crisis if necessary.
As a shop kid, which is accurate and is also the whole exploit. Buyers see somebody to haggle down and lose to. Security sees nothing worth logging. The crew's enemies see the soft target and the way in — and Vroza's pack settled on "pet," a word that got into him and stayed. The one read nobody has ever offered him is that he is the crew's most necessary member. He would not believe it, and he would sell you a shirt about it.
What belonging is worth. And the generational rhyme: the last generation reclaimed "splice" from the states, and the youngest baseline is reclaiming the blank slur through OEM, printed on shirts, worn as original.
What he is for: he opens doors that do not open to force, and he is the only operator on this crew a scanner cannot find.
Walk in. At security-cam grain he reads as some teenager with a bag. Nothing worth logging. The crew has weaponised exactly this.
Price it. He can value anything at a glance — stock, salvage, a bribe, a body's worth of leased hardware. It is a party trick until it is intelligence.
Ask. He is the only one who asks Grigor if he is okay. Four defectors never learned how. He calls it vibes management so nobody looks at it directly.
Whatever is current, whatever he can flip. The vendor bag, which has never been empty. Burner phones. Immaculate ledgers, which are the actual reason Cas respects him. Shirts he designed himself on his father's press. One price gun, clicked while thinking.
Not carried: nothing engineered touches his silhouette. His only owned colour is price-gun fluoro, the orange of a markdown sticker, somewhere on him at all times. The states get signal colours. His is the one that means for sale.
There is a gate, two guards, and no plan. Ozzy names the delivery they are expecting, and they are expecting it, because the GM has to let it work. Three sessions later a man at that gate asks him for the favour back, in front of the crew, at the worst possible moment. That is the cost, and it was always going to be social.
Cas · Her cache, his cover story. Aftermarket and factory settings running the same con from opposite ends.
Theo · He opens the room, they record it. Between them the crew owns most of Barricadia's embarrassing footage.
Grigor · The only pairing on this crew where somebody asks how the other one is, and it is always this direction.
Everything on this page is yours, not theirs. None of it has been spent on the channel. Publication has not touched any of it, which means you can still be the first table to land it.
The augment fund exists. He has been saving for gray-market work since before the crew. He has not touched the account since the hire. He has not closed it either. The lie, converted into money, sitting in a balance he checks and hates. What he eventually spends it on — the family's shop debt, or a real printer for the merch operation — is the table's to discover, not yours to decide.
Call him the pet. A Vroza pack scout once sneered that the crew travels with a pet baseline. The sentence lives in him rent-free, and his beef with that pack is personal in a way the crew has not clocked.
Pick him up. Carry him and he loses his mind. Comedy on the surface. The math underneath.
Do the math out loud. Anyone who costs the crew's members aloud, in front of him, has found the wound without trying.
Cas is the engine pair: aftermarket by design beside factory settings by birth, both unclaimed, self-made in opposite directions. He leaves his kit messy on purpose when she spirals, so her hands have somewhere to go, and would rather die than have that known.
Theo is the mirror. Two performers buying safety with a bit. He is the only person alive who can name Theo's bits to their face, because he runs the same machinery.
Danka — he is banned from touching, describing or monetising the car, and is currently monetising the car in secret. This is a bomb. Let the table watch it tick.
Grigor is the anti-mirror, and therefore the only relationship where Ozzy asks the question. He asks it as a joke. Grigor answers yes. Neither is fooled and both keep doing it.
| d6 | The scene |
|---|---|
| 1 | A broker offers him augments on credit. Good ones. A real lease, a real body, a real serial number. This is the arc's second beat. Spend it once. |
| 2 | Dee surfaces. His school friend who enlisted into a corporate program at seventeen and stopped answering. The stall two doors down still asks. |
| 3 | The rescue happens to him, and it costs the crew something they do not mention afterward. |
| 4 | His mother says a sentence that proves she has always known what "security logistics" means. |
| 5 | Someone finds the Civilian fan merch. Danka finds it second. |
| 6 | He is asked, sincerely, to price a person. He can. That is the problem. |
"I can get you anything in this city. Ask me what I cost. Go on. It's the only number I know by heart."
Delivered as a joke that lands wrong and silences a room. Do not set it up. Let a player walk into it.
The crew calls it the garage. The district calls it the Wash, and has since before any of them were born. The plate bolted by the vehicle door still reads WESTERN CORRIDOR WATER ALLOCATION NETWORK / RECLAIM SUB 3, which nobody has removed, because removing it is a bigger job than it looks and because Grigor said leave it.
From the street: a dead utility building with a working repair shop bolted into the front of it. Roll-up door, open in daylight, a car up on stands, someone's legs sticking out from under it. A hand-painted board over the door with no business name on it, only hours, and the hours are wrong. Down the alley side there is a queue of four to nine people with containers, which is the part visitors never expect and never forget.
A neighbourhood reclamation substation. When allocation drops, Barricadia drinks what it can clean itself, and Sub 3 cleaned water for roughly eleven blocks. A filter batch failed. The Reclaim Co-op that ran it was liable, could not cover it, and folded under the debt. The building went dark and the eleven blocks went onto cartridges and the mercy of the market, which is the condition THE FILTER JOB p.64 is about and which nobody in that contract says out loud.
Grigor. He was looking for a room with a stove and found a building with a standpipe and a woman in the office who could not pay the arrears. The lease he signed is legal, cheap and boring. The other half of the deal is not written anywhere: the crew keeps the last filtration line running and the alley standpipe open, free, no hours, no questions. He has never once described this as a negotiation. He would tell you the tap was already there.
It is not a raid. It is the channel. They film their crimes in their living room and post them, and the room is recognisable. Nobody in the crew has fully sat with this. Frequency has, and prices accordingly.
Open. Sixty-one, last treasurer of the Barricadia Reclaim Co-op, holds the paper on the building. Comes by monthly for rent she has never once raised and stays for lunch. Lost the building and did not lose the neighbourhood.
Sealed. She is the reason a Jaguario enforcer has never leaned on this address, and she has never explained how that works, and Ozzy has three theories, and none of them are right. She is also the only person alive who could evict them and the only person who never will.
RECLAIM SUB 3 · SERVICE AREA 11 BLOCKS · STATUS: DECOMMISSIONED 2061 · THIS FACILITY IS NO LONGER PART OF THE ALLOCATION NETWORK.
None of these six are allies. They are a market the crew happens to be liked in. Every one of them has a price, every price is different in kind, and none of them are money.
Signal pirate, Center Point, and the best-informed person in this book. Knows what the crew's rent is, how many cots are in the garage, and which of them checks a bank balance they never spend.
Price: never credits. Frequency trades in things that are true and not yet known. Every answer costs the crew a fact about themselves, and Frequency decides which one, and always prices correctly.
Gene-clinic, Barricadia, unlicensed and better than licensed. Treats orphanware for whatever they have, which is usually nothing. Half the names on the register in GOOD PRESS p.66 are her patients.
Price: she does not charge the crew and she does not do favours. What she does is choose who gets sent which job, and being on her list is worth more than a discount. Losing it is not recoverable.
Ozzy's father. Runs a rotary press in Barricadia, one of three left. Believes his son does logistics for a security firm and has never once asked a follow-up question, which is either love or discipline and is probably both.
Price: he will do anything the crew asks and will never send a bill. The cost is entirely Ozzy's, and it is paid in the silence after each favour.
Matriarch of the stall and the shop. Feeds the crew, on sight, without asking, in quantities that suggest she has done arithmetic about five people.
Price: none, and that is the problem. She knows what "security logistics" means. She has always known. He does not know she knows. Play her as someone quietly waiting for her son to tell her himself.
Jockey and DJ, the Tooth and Gear, nine years behind that booth. Runs the crew's public living room and has never asked them for anything until THE BOOTH p.78.
Price: access, and it is cheap, and it will be expensive exactly once.
Jaguario recruiter. Genuinely likeable, genuinely dangerous, and entirely honest about what he is doing, which is recruiting, at all times, including now.
Price: every conversation is a deposit. He is not building a relationship, he is building a file, and one day he will present it as an invitation.
When a contract stalls, do not add a clue. Have one of these six turn up and ask for something. A stalled session is almost always a session where nobody wants anything from the crew right now, and these are the six people who always do.
Work reaches this crew four ways, and which way it arrives tells the players more than the brief does.
The open board. Physical, in Barricadia: a standpipe, a wall, a shop window. Free to read, free to post, and anyone can take it. Open-board work is small, local and honest, and the client is almost always a person rather than an institution. Bands 1 to 3.
The closed board. Brokered. Costs a fee to access and a relationship to keep. Dr. Silk forwards, Frequency sells, agencies four layers deep commission. Closed work pays properly and never tells you who is really paying. Bands 3 to 6.
The door. Somebody comes to the garage. The most dangerous kind, because it means they know where the crew lives, and also the kind the crew never refuses, because somebody came to the door.
The Feed. A DM, a comment, a tag. The channel generates work by existing, and the work it generates is always partly about the channel.
| The Rate | The Exposure | |
|---|---|---|
| Measures | Pay and danger | How public this job has to be |
| Scale | Band 1 to 9 | E1 dark to E5 broadcast |
| Moves | Credits, gear, favours | Heat and Clout |
The engine is the tension between them. Work that pays well is usually dark and earns no Clout. Work that makes a great clip usually earns Heat the crew cannot afford. The thing that gets them hired is the thing that gets them caught, and every contract prints both numbers on the card so the table sees the trade before taking the job.
The stated mission and the real situation are never the same. Every contract has a Truth field, and it is not a twist to be sprung — it is the situation the crew walked into. The brief is what somebody wanted them to believe on the way in.
Every contract in Part 3 opens with the same block in the same corner. It is the only thing on the spread that never moves, and it is designed to be read in four seconds before anybody reads a sentence.
Contracts print what the client offers. They do not print expenses, and expenses are how a Band 2 job ends with the crew poorer than they started: fuel and parts for Civilian, augment upkeep for four of the five, whatever Ozzy promised somebody, and a filtration line that eats money every month whether or not anyone is working.
Assume a month of standing costs is roughly one Band 2 contract. A crew that only takes work they approve of will be broke by the third month, and that pressure is the campaign.
A refused contract is not a wasted session. The client goes to somebody worse, and that is a consequence with a name and an address. Thirteen contracts in this volume are built to be refused; every one of them has a Fallout row for it.
The Band is a promise about scope, not a rule. It tells a Warden how big the night is before they have read a word of the contract, and it tells the players what they are being asked to survive.
| RB | Name | Pay | What it means |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Favours | 0–200 cr | Neighbourhood. Paid in food, parts, goodwill. |
| 2 | Odd Work | 200–1k | A day. One vehicle, no plan needed. |
| 3 | Contract | 1k–5k | The default. A night, a plan, a complication. |
| 4 | Hard Contract | 5k–20k | Somebody armed is expecting you. |
| 5 | Package | 20k–75k | Multi-night. A crew this size needs a fixer. |
| 6 | Corporate | 75k–250k | You are a line item in somebody's budget. |
| 7 | Strategic | 250k–1M | A faction changes posture because of you. |
| 8 | Deniable | 1M–5M | Nobody signs anything. Everybody lies. |
| 9 | Void | 5M+ | Retirement money. Nobody spends it. |
Bands 1 and 2 are where the crew's life is. Bands 3 and 4 are where their work is. At Band 5 and up they are out of their weight class and the card should say so. Band 9 exists to be looked at.
| E | At the table | |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Dark | Nothing goes up. If this is filmed the contract has failed. |
| 2 | Quiet | Not posted, not hidden. Theo films it; it sits in the archive. |
| 3 | Cut | Posted, edited, deniable. The crew controls the frame. |
| 4 | Public | Happens in front of the district. Posting is a formality. |
| 5 | Broadcast | The exposure is the product. Somebody is paying for reach. |
| RB | Contracts |
|---|---|
| 1 | THE WASH p.60 |
| 2 | NOBODY'S KID p.62 · THE FILTER JOB p.64 · HOUSE RULES p.72 · THE CRATER LOT p.94 · RENTAL SOUND p.102 · THE LAST TENANT p.128 |
| 3 | THE STANDPIPE WAR p.68 · THE ARM p.74 · DARK TRANSIT p.82 · ONE-WAY FARE p.88 · GROUND TRUTH p.92 · TITLE AND DEED p.108 · SLACK WATER p.122 |
| 4 | GOOD PRESS p.66 · SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 · GRID FIRMWARE p.84 · THE LONG WAY p.104 · THE VIEW p.112 · SALT WAKE p.124 · REPOSSESSION p.134 |
| 5 | WHAT THE TUNNEL KEEPS p.86 · BURN NOTICE p.96 · PACK FREQUENCY p.106 · THE INVITATION p.118 · SERVICE NOTICE p.132 |
| 6 | THE BOOTH p.78 · WHAT GREW BACK p.98 · CLEAN HANDS p.114 · WHAT THE SEA FILED p.126 |
| 7 | PATRON p.116 |
| 8 | THE WHOLE QUEUE p.136 |
| Cluster | Contracts |
|---|---|
| BARRICADIA | THE WASH p.60 · NOBODY'S KID p.62 · THE FILTER JOB p.64 · GOOD PRESS p.66 · THE STANDPIPE WAR p.68 |
| CENTER POINT | HOUSE RULES p.72 · THE ARM p.74 · SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 · THE BOOTH p.78 |
| MUSK TUNNELS | DARK TRANSIT p.82 · GRID FIRMWARE p.84 · WHAT THE TUNNEL KEEPS p.86 · ONE-WAY FARE p.88 |
| THE RAZE | GROUND TRUTH p.92 · THE CRATER LOT p.94 · BURN NOTICE p.96 · WHAT GREW BACK p.98 |
| RING ROAD | RENTAL SOUND p.102 · THE LONG WAY p.104 · PACK FREQUENCY p.106 · TITLE AND DEED p.108 |
| THE HIGH TOP | THE VIEW p.112 · CLEAN HANDS p.114 · PATRON p.116 · THE INVITATION p.118 |
| LOW COAST | SLACK WATER p.122 · SALT WAKE p.124 · WHAT THE SEA FILED p.126 · THE LAST TENANT p.128 |
| MONITOR CENTRAL | SERVICE NOTICE p.132 · REPOSSESSION p.134 · THE WHOLE QUEUE p.136 |
| Verb | The ask | The lie it usually tells |
|---|---|---|
| RETRIEVE | Get the object back | The object is not what they said |
| DELIVER | Move this, do not open it | It is opened, or it opens itself |
| EXTRACT | Get the person out | The person does not want out |
| COLLECT | Bring in the debtor | The debt is fraudulent |
| BREAK | Sabotage, denial, arson | Something else dies with the target |
| HOLD | Guard it for one night | The threat is already in the room |
| TRACE | Find out who, where, why | The client is in the answer |
| LIFT | Take it from a hard place | The hard place was already robbed |
| RUN | Outpace, transit, race | The route is the trap |
| CLEAR | Contamination, hazard | It is not an animal problem |
| PERFORM | Sponsored, staged, filmed | The stunt is cover |
| REPOSSESS | Take the augments back | The job they should refuse |
PERFORM is unique to this crew and this book: somebody hires Warranty Void to make Warranty Void content, the money is real, and so is whatever it is cover for. REPOSSESS is the moral floor. It exists to be offered.
Heat is institutional attention: Monitor Central, Kavast, Jaguario, the Syndicate, a property holder, an agency four layers deep. One track, 0 to 10, on the crew sheet. Every contract prints a predicted swing and the Warden adjusts by outcome.
Heat does not decay on its own. It comes off only by being spent: a favour called in, a name given up, a district that vouches, a month spent boring. That is a downtime action and it costs something every time.
Track Heat by faction as well as in total. Four points of Kavast Heat is a feud; four points of Monitor Central Heat is a filing cabinet; four points of Syndicate Heat is a booth that has started paying attention. The total tells you when. The distribution tells you what.
Never spend Heat on a random encounter. Heat buys consequences the players can trace back to a decision they made. If the table cannot name which contract earned it, it was wasted.
Clout is Feed attention and district standing, and in Lost Angeles those are the same number. 0 to 10. It is earned by being seen doing something the district approves of, and it is the crew's actual income in a way credits are not.
Clout decays. Lose one point per month of in-fiction time with nothing posted. The channel is not a trophy, it is a job.
Clout is the only resource in this book that hurts you at maximum. A crew at 10 Clout has everything except the ability to walk into a room unrecognised — and roughly a third of the contracts in Part 3 need exactly that.
Augments are not owned. They are leased, licensed, or orphaned, and which one a body is determines almost everything about how that body moves through Lost Angeles.
Leased. A manufacturer or a state holds title. Payments are monthly, upkeep is scheduled, and standing is certified. A current lease is a document you carry.
Licensed. Bought out. The title is yours, notarised, framed on a wall if you are Cas. This is rarer than it sounds and less final than it looks.
Orphanware. The manufacturer no longer exists. No patches, no parts, no recall notices, no recourse — and, crucially, no one to pay, which sounds like freedom until an assessor asks who is responsible for the hardware in your chest.
Every gene-forged operator pays upkeep in downtime: one downtime action per month, or credits, or a clinic that owes them. Miss two months and the augment tag on their sheet stops working until it is serviced. Ozzy pays none of this, which is the entire mechanical argument for being baseline, and the crew never lets him forget that it is also the entire argument for being expendable.
A recovery contractor with a scanner and a schedule. They do not arrest. They assess: establish whether hardware in a body is current, and if it is not, file for recovery. An assessment sweep is public, scheduled, and legal, and it is the most frightening thing in this book precisely because nobody involved is doing anything wrong.
THIS INSTRUMENT CERTIFIES THE HOLDER'S AUGMENT LEASE IS CURRENT, IN GOOD STANDING, AND NOT SUBJECT TO RECOVERY ACTION. PRESENT ON DEMAND TO ANY AUTHORISED ASSESSOR. THREE SECURITY LAYERS. ASSESSORS CHECK THE THIRD.
Defaulting on an augment lease is not a crime. It is a breach, and breach is answered with recovery, and recovery means the hardware comes out. The person it came out of is released the same day, which everyone involved considers humane.
Monitor Central Asset Recovery and Remand. It is not a prison and nobody in it is a prisoner; they are accounts, held while leased hardware is assessed, stripped, refurbished and resold. The staff are technicians. Everybody says in Service and nobody says in prison.
This crew is called Warranty Void. Service is the building that enforces the warranty. Every wound in Part 1 points at it: Cas's discontinued line and the shell that holds a recall option, Grigor's failing frame, Theo's un-stripped receiver, Danka's Kavast-issue everything.
Service is real, it is named, and the crew are afraid of it — but the module is Volume Two. In Volume One, default is a threat with a price, and the failure state a table will actually reach is BURNED p.54. If a character is taken into Service in Volume One, that is a campaign event, not a scene, and it should end an arc rather than a session.
Everything on the previous spread assumes a body with hardware in it. There is a grade below that, and Lost Angeles is full of it.
Impulse stock are commercial gene-forged built small: mascots, greeters and tie-ins, ninety to a hundred and forty centimetres, made before the wars to work indoor venues and sold as inventory rather than hired as staff. A frosted-cereal tiger. A frozen-novelty sundae with a chipped cherry. An insurance company's owl. The companies died in the Upheaval; the paperwork did not.
The distinction that matters here: everywhere else in this section, a person defaults on hardware and the hardware is recovered. With impulse stock there is no hardware. The person is the asset. No default is required. No procedure is required. The van does not come for a lung — it comes for a lot number, and the lot number answers the door itself, cheerfully, because that is what it was built to do.
The full-size venue units mostly walked away in the Upheaval: big, visibly dangerous, hard to inventory. The small ones did not, because they were countable. They had product codes and depreciation schedules. Administrators closing a failed brand sold the schedule, and impulse stock has moved through every year since the way pallets move — bundled into asset lots, written down, repossessed, put up as collateral, inherited by people who did not know what was in the warehouse.
A lieutenant with nine impulses did not take nine people. He bought lot 41 at auction, legally, with a receipt, and the receipt is why nobody has come for him.
They are not simple. What they carry is a compliance package: attention routed to a fixed set of service behaviours, deference to a handler, and a brand phrase the body produces under stress whether or not the person wants it. They understand their situation completely. What they cannot reliably do is refuse, improvise outside the service frame, or stop talking when talking is what gets them killed.
In a venue that was charming. In a contested zone it is a position report, delivered at volume, by someone who is trying to help.
LOT 41 · MIXED COMMERCIAL · 9 UNITS · CONDITION: SERVICEABLE · TITLE: CLEAR · NO RESERVE. VIEWING BY APPOINTMENT. THE MANIFEST IS ACCURATE. THAT IS THE PROBLEM WITH IT.
Impulses turn up in this book as somebody's escort, somebody's inventory, or somebody standing outside a shuttered franchise still greeting people. Full rules are in the Impulse Stock guide; what a Warden needs here is the shape.
| Grade | Origin | At the table |
|---|---|---|
| Loose | Promotional giveaway build, minimum spec | Drops to almost anything. The cheapest life in the setting. |
| Carded | Standard retail | The working grade. Most impulses you meet. |
| Boxed | Premium build; flagship stores, executive gifts | Survives. Becomes a character. |
An impulse the crew takes in is loose, not free: no holder, no papers, no protection. Any competent broker can construct a chain of title over one in about a week, and several make a living doing it. Once per campaign, at your timing rather than theirs, somebody comes to collect — with documentation, and usually with the law on their side rather than in their pocket. This is not an ambush. It is a man with a folder. Buy the title, forge it, refuse it, or hand the person over, and charge them properly for whichever they choose.
The comedy is on the company, never on the person. They are funny because a customer-service script keeps surfacing in a firefight. They are not funny for being what somebody built them to be, and a table that starts laughing at the second thing has lost the whole device.
If one goes down, that was a death, and the paperwork will not record it. Nobody is notified. A lot number is not a family.
Every contract in Part 3 has a Clip field: what Theo posted, and the top comment. That field is not flavour. It is the second half of the contract, and it happens after the fallout is resolved, at the table, as a scene.
Run it in four questions. It takes ninety seconds and it generates the next three sessions.
| d10 | The top comment, and what it starts |
|---|---|
| 1 | Somebody recognises a location the crew did not mean to show. +1 Heat. |
| 2 | Somebody recognises a person. That person is now in danger and did not consent to any of this. |
| 3 | The district translates the subtext to each other, correctly. +1 Clout. The crew taught something without meaning to. |
| 4 | A rival crew quote-posts it. The feud is now public and has an audience keeping score. |
| 5 | Someone asks a question the crew cannot answer on camera. The refusal becomes the bit. +1 Clout. |
| 6 | A client from a previous contract comments. They are not happy, and they are specific. |
| 7 | It is misread completely, and the misreading is better for the crew than the truth. |
| 8 | An institution's account replies. Politely. In brand voice. +2 Heat. |
| 9 | Somebody offers them work in the replies. Roll or pick a Band 2 contract; it starts next session. |
| 10 | Nothing. No traction. The best thing they did all month and the Feed does not care. −1 Clout and Theo takes it badly. |
Between contracts each operator takes two downtime actions. Grigor cooks whether or not he spends one. The garage is open, the tap is running, and there is always somebody at the door.
Do not narrate downtime. Ask each player what their character is doing and then have somebody interrupt them. The interruption is the scene; the action is the excuse for it.
A complication is applied at the briefing, before the crew commits. It changes the terms, not the situation. Every one of these is a constraint the players can see and plan around, which is the only kind worth rolling.
| d20 | The complication |
|---|---|
| 1 | No witnesses. The client will not pay if anyone outside the crew learns this happened. Exposure drops to E1 regardless of what the card says. |
| 2 | The target is beloved. Whatever the crew is aimed at, the district likes it. Every Clout gain becomes a loss. |
| 3 | Already tried. Another crew took this contract last month and did not come back. Their gear is still there. |
| 4 | The client is lying about the money. They have a third of it. They intend to find the rest before the job ends. |
| 5 | On a clock nobody mentioned. Reduce the Main clock by one. The Warden does not say they have done this. |
| 6 | Somebody is filming. Not Theo. The crew appears in someone else's content by the end of the night. |
| 7 | A rival took the same contract. They are competent, they are ahead, and they are not hostile yet. |
| 8 | Split brief. Two crew members were told different things by the same client. Tell them separately. |
| 9 | The law is present. Monitor Central has a scheduled reason to be here that has nothing to do with the crew. |
| 10 | It is a favour, not a job. The pay is withdrawn and the ask remains. See who still wants to go. |
| 11 | One of the crew is known here. Roll or choose. Somebody at the location has history with them. |
| 12 | Wrong address. The brief's location is correct and the situation has moved two hundred metres. |
| 13 | The object is bigger than described. Whatever they are moving does not fit in Civilian. |
| 14 | A child is present. Not in danger, not a hostage. Present, and watching, and the crew now has an audience with no filter. |
| 15 | Everyone is armed. Nobody intends to use it. That is not the same as safe. |
| 16 | The client wants to come. They will not be talked out of it and they are useless. |
| 17 | Assessment sweep. An augment check is running in this district tonight. See THE BODY ECONOMY p.44. |
| 18 | It is raining and the power is out. Lost Angeles does this. Half the crew's kit is now decoration. |
| 19 | Somebody already paid them. Check the crew's accounts. Money arrived last week from a name nobody recognises. |
| 20 | The contract is a test. Someone is watching to see how the crew handles it before offering the real one. |
Each contract's Fallout table resolves that job. This resolves the campaign. Roll once after every second or third contract, or whenever a session ends tidily and should not have.
| d12 | The consequence |
|---|---|
| 1 | Somebody comes to collect. A favour the crew took in an earlier contract is called in, at the worst hour, by someone who is owed it. |
| 2 | The client changes the deal. Retroactively. They have a reason and the reason is good. |
| 3 | A rival is hired against them. Not to hurt them. To take the next contract first, publicly. |
| 4 | An institution files. Paper arrives at the garage with the crew's names on it. Nothing happens for three weeks. |
| 5 | The district asks for something. Not a job. A commitment. The tap, the room, a name on a petition. |
| 6 | Someone from a wound rail surfaces. Warden's choice: Vesna, a batchmate, Dee, the second unit, a Protectorate frequency. |
| 7 | A previous target reappears, doing better than the crew left them, and wanting to talk. |
| 8 | The channel gets an offer. Money for reach. See SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 for the shape of it. |
| 9 | Monitor Central schedules a sweep in Barricadia. Public notice, nine days out. |
| 10 | A crew member is recognised somewhere they need to be anonymous. Apply Clout thresholds. |
| 11 | Something the crew hid gets found — by a friend, who is hurt, not by an enemy. |
| 12 | Vroza does something. Not to the crew. Near them, publicly, in a way that requires an answer. |
A consequence is only worth rolling if the table can say which decision caused it. If they cannot, do not use it — put it back and pick the one they can.
Roll six times and you have a contract. Fill the rest from the template on the facing page. The Truth is the only roll that matters; everything else is scenery around it.
| d10 | 1. WHO IS ASKING | 2. WHAT THEY WANT |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | A neighbour, no leverage | Something taken back |
| 2 | A parent | Somebody found |
| 3 | A shopkeeper with a debt | Somebody moved |
| 4 | A broker, four layers deep | A thing delivered unopened |
| 5 | A clinic | A place watched for one night |
| 6 | A crew like this one | A person's name |
| 7 | A property holder | Something broken, quietly |
| 8 | A media buyer | Something broken, loudly |
| 9 | An institution's account | A hazard cleared |
| 10 | Nobody. It came to the door. | A performance |
| d10 | 3. THE TRUTH — what is actually happening |
|---|---|
| 1 | The client is the perpetrator and does not know it yet |
| 2 | The target is right, and can prove it |
| 3 | It is a test of the crew, run by someone else |
| 4 | The object is a person, or was |
| 5 | Someone is building a list, and the job is a way of collecting names |
| 6 | It already happened. The crew is being hired to make it look recent |
| 7 | The paperwork is the weapon; the violence is decoration |
| 8 | Two clients, same job, opposite outcomes, neither knows |
| 9 | The thing everyone is afraid of is a cover for something boring and profitable |
| 10 | It is exactly what it says, and that is why nobody else took it |
| d10 | 4. THE OBSTACLE | 5. THE TURN |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | A locked institution | Somebody the crew knows is inside it |
| 2 | A crowd | The client lied about who is at risk |
| 3 | A schedule the crew cannot move | There is a second buyer, and better |
| 4 | A rival, ahead of them | The target asks for help instead of running |
| 5 | A district that is watching | Doing the job destroys something unrelated and loved |
| 6 | Water, weather, or a dead grid | The pay is real and the client cannot survive paying it |
| 7 | Somebody armed and reluctant | The crew's own footage is the evidence against them |
| 8 | A document | A crew member is named in the paperwork |
| 9 | A body that will not scan clean | Refusing costs more than doing it |
| 10 | Nothing. It is easy, and that is the problem | It was already done before they arrived |
| d6 | 6. THE PROBLEM WITH THE MONEY |
|---|---|
| 1 | They have a third of it |
| 2 | It is somebody else's money |
| 3 | It is not money; it is a favour that cannot be refused later |
| 4 | Paying it ruins them and they will pay it anyway |
| 5 | It arrives before the job is agreed |
| 6 | It is exactly right, on time, in full, and that has never once happened |
If the generated contract does not make the crew choose between the money and somebody they will have to see again, roll the Truth once more. That is the only column that can fail.
At Heat 10, or at Clout 10 with Heat 6 or higher, the crew is Burned. It is not an arrest and it is not an ending. It is an economy that has quietly closed.
The open board still has work on it. The crew are simply not who anyone wants doing it, because everything they touch is documented, recognisable and attached to five faces the whole city can pick out of a queue. The channel did this. That is the point of the failure state: it is caused by the thing that made them successful.
Burned is a different game, not a lesser one. The crew has a district that loves them, an audience that watches them, and no employers. That is the most interesting position in this book and it is where Volume Two opens.
Four ways out, and each one costs something the crew has spent the whole volume acquiring. Pick the one the table has been building toward; do not roll for this.
Service is the other failure state and it is a place rather than a condition. A character taken in default does not go Burned; they go into the building this crew is named after. That module is Volume Two. In this volume, Service is a threat with a price, and the price is on THE BODY ECONOMY p.44.
Each contract is a single spread. The left page is what the crew can be shown; the right page is yours. The chips say which: Open may be read aloud or handed across the table, Sealed may not.
Contracts are grouped by where they are, and each cluster opens with a spread of its own. That is not decoration. A crew that goes to the Low Coast for one job finds four, and the four are connected, and travelling somewhere becomes entering a network of situations rather than picking a quest off a list.
Nothing in Part 3 is a plot. Every contract stands alone and every contract points at two others. Run them in whatever order the table's choices produce, and the network does the work a metaplot would have done badly.
Barricadia catches its own water, cleans it badly, and sells the cleaning. Independent recyclers, unlicensed clinics, print shops and stalls, and the garage, which means every contract here is played in front of people who know the crew's names.
Nothing here pays well. Everything here compounds: a favour taken in one contract is called in two later, and the district's protection is the crew's largest asset and is made entirely of small decisions.
Nothing in credits. Everything in obligation. A crew working Barricadia is expected to answer the door, and most contracts here have a Fallout row for not doing so.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | Two women who have known each other forty years are not speaking and the queue has taken sides. |
| 2 | A print shop is running past midnight and the whole street can hear it. |
| 3 | Somebody is selling cartridges at three under and nobody is asking why. |
| 4 | An assessment notice has gone up at the standpipe and a small crowd is reading it. |
| 5 | A child is going door to door with a list, taking orders for something. |
| 6 | A vehicle nobody recognises has circled the block twice. |
| 7 | Grigor is cooking and there are more people in the garage than live there. |
| 8 | A recycler tower is making a noise it has not made before. |
| 9 | Somebody has painted over a notice and somebody has re-posted it. Three times. |
| 10 | It is raining, and the 400 block's queue starts before dawn. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | The garage crew got their building for nothing and somebody is going to want it back. |
| 2 | There is a second tap somewhere and whoever runs it is charging. |
| 3 | Dr. Silk will be closed down before the year is out. |
| 4 | The cheap produce on the stalls is grown on the Raze and it will kill you. |
| 5 | Marisol Vega has something on Jaguario. That is why nobody touches the Wash. |
| 6 | The next sweep is not routine. Somebody has been paid to make it thorough. |
Run THE WASH p.60 first if you can. It costs nothing, it is not a crime, and it buys the district protection that every later contract in this book quietly assumes.
I am not going to make this complicated. Somebody is taking more off that tap than they should, and the queue has started arguing about it, and last Tuesday two women who have known each other forty years did not speak.
I do not want anybody caught. I want it to stop being a thing people argue about. You live here now. This is what living here is.
The alley tap runs free, no hours, no questions, because Grigor keeps the last filtration line alive and never once described that as a negotiation. Four to nine people are queued at any daylight hour. It is the single most load-bearing fact about the crew's standing in this district and none of them think about it.
For three weeks somebody has been drawing more than a household's worth. The queue has noticed. The queue has theories. The theories have started to be about who deserves water, which is how a neighbourhood begins to come apart, and Marisol has seen this exact thing happen to a building before.
Open. Sixty-one, comes by monthly for rent she has never raised, stays for lunch. She lost the building and did not lose the neighbourhood. She has never explained how a Jaguario enforcer has never leaned on this address and Ozzy has three theories.
Sealed. She already knows who it is. She has known for a week. She is not asking the crew to investigate; she is asking them to be the ones who decide, because whatever they decide the district will accept, and she wants them to find out that they have that power by using it.
It is the Danquah household, four doors down, and they are not hoarding. Their own block's tap failed in February and nobody filed anything because filing means admitting the recycler is dead, and a dead recycler means a rent reassessment. So one family has quietly been carrying water for eleven households, at dawn, in the same three jugs, repainted. They are running a second version of exactly what Grigor is running, and they are doing it in secret because they are afraid of being told to stop.
The over-draw is a charity, and the moment the crew names it in public they end it, because the Danquahs will be too ashamed to come back. The correct play is to make the second tap official and boring. Grigor will do it in one sentence if anyone thinks to ask him to. Nobody usually does.
| d6 | When the crew moves |
|---|---|
| 1 | The Danquah grandmother gets there first and confesses to the queue, badly, and starts crying. |
| 2 | Somebody in the queue already knew and has been covering. They are furious at the crew for looking. |
| 3 | The February failure is worse than reported and eleven households are about to be reassessed. |
| 4 | A Jaguario runner is in the queue, listening, taking an interest in a tap that serves fifty people. |
| 5 | Theo has been filming for ninety minutes and the footage is genuinely beautiful. Posting it ends the secret. |
| 6 | Marisol says, mildly, that she has known all week, and asks what they are going to do about it. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Made the second tap official, quietly | +0 / +2 · eleven households now owe the garage |
| Named the family in the queue | +0 / +0 · the draw stops. So does the carrying. |
| Posted the footage | +1 / +3 · beautiful, viral, and the Danquahs never come back |
| Fixed the February recycler | +0 / +3 · a whole block owes you, and Monitor Central now has a repair filed |
| Walked away | −0 / −1 · Marisol says nothing, which is worse |
Pay: none, and never offer any. Non-money: eleven households, the Danquah grandmother's standing invitation, and the first real proof that the crew's address is a civic institution whether they wanted one or not.
My daughter is fifteen. Six weeks ago she stopped coming home and I have since learned she is living with a group of older gene-forged in the Wash. I am told they are not a gang. I am told a great many things.
I am not asking anyone to be hurt. I am asking for her to be brought to the address below, at which point my responsibility resumes and yours ends. I will pay half in advance to demonstrate that I am serious.
Ilse Marchetti is fifteen, jackal lineage, and six weeks ago she walked out of a household in Center Point and did not come back. She is currently sleeping in a converted substation eight blocks from the garage with four other forged kids between sixteen and twenty-two, none of whom are a gang and all of whom look like one.
Her father has money, a lawyer, and a reasonable manner. He has done everything correctly. He filed, he waited, he hired professionals. He is, by every measure the district can apply, the responsible party. The crew will like him.
Open. Fifty-four, articulate, wounded, and entirely sincere. He will answer every question the crew asks. He will thank them for asking. He has photographs and he will show them, and they are the photographs of a man who loves his kid.
Sealed. He is not violent and he has never hit her. What he has done is sign her up, at thirteen, for a lineage-correction programme — a course of augment work to bring a jackal-lineage daughter closer to the phenotype he paid for and did not get. Two rounds are done. The third is booked. He does not think of this as harm. He thinks of it as finishing.
Ilse is not a runaway, she is a defector, and every adult in this book would recognise the shape of it instantly. The substation crew is a splice. The rule about not going back is the only doctrine they have. Dr. Silk forwarded the job specifically so it would land with these five and not with someone who would just deliver her, which is the most dangerous compliment anyone has paid this crew.
Land it when somebody asks Ilse why she left and she answers plainly, without drama, in the flat register a kid uses for a thing they have already finished crying about. She is not running from cruelty. She is running from an improvement.
| d6 | When the crew decides |
|---|---|
| 1 | The father arrives at the substation himself, alone, unarmed, and asks to talk to her. He is very good at this. |
| 2 | Ilse offers to go back, voluntarily, to protect the other four. She has already worked out that she is what makes them findable. |
| 3 | The lawyer files first: an interference claim naming the garage's address. |
| 4 | One of the other four takes the client's money behind everyone's back. They needed it. They are seventeen. |
| 5 | Dr. Silk offers a third option that is illegal, expensive, and would actually work. |
| 6 | Grigor says the sentence about there being no spare, and it is not about Ilse. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Delivered her as contracted | +0 / −3 · paid in full. Dr. Silk stops forwarding work. |
| Refused and returned the advance | +2 / +1 · the father hires someone worse within a week |
| Stopped the third round without taking sides | +1 / +2 · the hardest outcome and the right one |
| Made it public on the Feed | +3 / +2 · she is safe and she is now a story, forever |
| Took the money and did not deliver | +3 / −1 · you are a crew that keeps advances now |
Pay: 900 cr for delivery, 450 already banked. Non-money: whatever the crew decides here is what Dr. Silk tells people about them for the next year, and she talks to everyone.
Looking for the people who fix things. Not the shop, the other ones. I bought filters at eleven and they were washed. My son is on the machine at the clinic twelve days now and they meter it. I do not want anybody hurt. I want to know who sold them so I can tell the whole queue.
I can pay one eighty. I know what that is. Ask at the standpipe, they know me.
Barricadia cleans its own water, and the system hangs on one consumable: the media cartridge. Rated four hundred hours, eleven credits on the street. Three under market, which the whole queue has noticed and nobody has questioned, because three under is the difference between filtered and not.
Somebody is running spent cartridges through solvent, wrapping them in counterfeit labels good enough to fool a building recycler, and selling them back. A washed cartridge reads correct for eighteen hours. Hour nineteen is contaminated water through a bedside vaporizer at a child's head height, eight hours a night, for twelve nights.
Open. Steady, work-rough hands, a watch with a taped strap. She lines up three objects and lets them talk: the scorched cartridge, a vaporizer cup, a district clinic invoice reading O2 SERVICE // METERED // DAY 12. She asks for nobody to be hurt and means it.
Sealed. She cannot pay 180 either. She will pay it, and then the metering runs on. If the crew takes the full fee, that is a real thing that happened and the table should feel it. If they refuse it, do not reward them out loud.
Not a cartel, not a state. A floor manager with a rented warehouse by the flood channel, a good press, and an order book in tidy columns. He is not evil, he is competent, which is worse: the operation is clean, profitable, and would have run for years. And the plates are the business. Break the warehouse and you take the stock. Take the stock and he prints again by Thursday. Nobody at the table will think to ask about the plates.
Land it on the third rotary press. Two check out; the third is a rental. The second-to-last name on the list is Marco Cruz, and for about four seconds, before the census clears him, the job is pointed at the crew's own family. Nobody says the thing. That silence is the scene and it is worth more than the warehouse.
| d6 | At the warehouse |
|---|---|
| 1 | The truck is already rolling. The contract becomes a RUN, on Danka's terms, at night, loaded. |
| 2 | The order book names a recycler the crew drinks with. |
| 3 | The workers are a family. All eleven. Same surname on the pay sheet. |
| 4 | He offers the plates as a trade for the walk. It is a fair deal and it is disgusting. |
| 5 | Somebody else got here first and left. The stock is short by 200 and the press is warm. |
| 6 | One factory-sealed pre-Upheaval cartridge in the stock. Worth more than the whole night. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Named him to the queue, quietly | +0 / +2 |
| Named him, and the district ran him out | +1 / +3 |
| Free cartridges off an unexplained truck | +1 / +3 · the district starts protecting you |
| Hurt somebody on the floor | +3 / −2 · Barricadia never forgets this one |
| Kept the plates | you are now in the filter business |
Pay: 180 cr, and they should feel bad taking it. Non-money: Standpipe 4 owes you, Marco owes a print run, one recycler landlord opens a door for a year.
CERTIFICATE OF LEASE STANDING — This instrument certifies the holder's augment lease is current, in good standing, and not subject to recovery action. Present on demand to any authorised assessor.
Holder: [REDACTED] · Lineage: jaguar, Commercial · Instrument: WV-forensics flags this as a forgery at the third security layer only. Nothing before the third layer is wrong.
The counterfeiter's plates were never recovered. Somebody bought them, and somebody worked out that a rotary press good enough to fake a filter label is good enough to fake a lease-standing certificate — the single piece of paper that stands between an orphanware body and an assessor.
They are selling at four hundred credits to people who do not have four hundred credits, and the certificates fail at the third security layer, which is the layer an assessor checks. Every person walking around Barricadia holding one believes they are safe and is carrying a document that will be read aloud at their own repossession.
Open. There is no client and no fee. A man brought a certificate to the garage because the crew has a reputation for knowing whether a thing is real, which is Ozzy's fault and Ozzy's pride.
Sealed. He is not a customer. He is a runner for the operation, sent to find out how good the forgery reads to the one crew in Barricadia with a lynx who does forensics. He will report back either way, which means the clock starts the moment Cas opens her mouth.
The operation is not selling documents. It is building a list. Four hundred names of orphanware in Barricadia, each self-identified, each having paid to declare that they cannot survive an assessment. That list is worth more to a recovery contractor than the certificates ever were, and it has already been offered to one.
Land it when the crew finds the ledger and it is not a sales ledger, it is a register: names, lineages, manufacturers, and a column for whether the manufacturer still exists. Cas will read her own product line on page two, in someone else's handwriting, filed under discontinued.
| d6 | At the press |
|---|---|
| 1 | The list has already sold. There is a receipt. The buyer's name means nothing to the crew yet. |
| 2 | The four operators are orphanware themselves and hold their own certificates, printed first. |
| 3 | The press is in a room with eleven boxes of finished stock and a family asleep upstairs. |
| 4 | The runner got there first and warned them, and they are waiting, and they want to negotiate. |
| 5 | Monitor Central is already outside. Somebody else called this in. |
| 6 | Marco's registration analysis was wrong by one press, and the right one is his. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Plates destroyed, list destroyed, quietly | +2 / +1 · nobody ever knows you saved them |
| Plates destroyed, list published as a warning | +3 / +3 · four hundred people are warned and exposed at once |
| Kept the plates | +1 / +0 · you are now the only good forger in Barricadia. See C31. |
| Sweep happens first | +1 / −3 · the district watched it happen and knows you knew |
| Handed it to Monitor Central | +0 / −4 · Barricadia does not speak to you again this volume |
Pay: nothing. This contract costs money to run. Non-money: the register, which is the most dangerous object in Volume One, and a decision about what to do with four hundred names that the crew will be living with for the rest of the campaign.
NOTICE: The alley tap on Reclaim Sub 3 is a private facility operated at the owner's discretion. Queue position is not a right. — posted anonymously, printed, Tuesday
the tap is FREE and has always been FREE ask anyone who has lived here — written over the above, Tuesday night
Meeting Thursday re: allocation. All households. — Marisol Vega, Wednesday
The 200 block's recycler failed in February and was never repaired. The 400 block's failed in August. Both blocks now queue at the garage's alley tap, which was built to serve eleven households and is currently serving thirty-one, and the line now starts before dawn and does not clear.
Nobody has done anything wrong. There is simply not enough, and for the first time the crew's free tap is a thing worth fighting over, which means the crew are no longer neighbours who happen to have water. They are an authority, and they never applied for the job.
Open. There is no client. Marisol has called a meeting for Thursday and has not asked the crew to attend, which is how she asks the crew to attend.
Sealed. She called the meeting to force this exact confrontation while it is still about water. She has seen a district lose a tap before and she knows the next stage is not a queue, it is a landlord, and she would rather the crew learn to hold a room than learn to hold a door.
The printed notice came from a Jaguario-adjacent property holder who owns eleven units across both blocks and who benefits enormously if the tap becomes conditional — because a conditional tap is a service, and a service can be attached to a tenancy. He does not want the tap closed. He wants it managed, preferably by someone with a reputation for being reasonable. He has been extremely polite so far and intends to make the crew an offer at the Thursday meeting, in public, in front of everyone, as a favour.
Land it at the meeting, when somebody stands up and says the crew should decide who gets water, and means it as a compliment. The trap in this contract is being handed power by people who like you.
| d6 | At the Thursday meeting |
|---|---|
| 1 | The property holder offers to fund the repair, on one condition, and the room turns to look at the crew. |
| 2 | The filtration line fails during the meeting. Everyone hears it. |
| 3 | A 400-block resident produces the crew's own channel footage as evidence of what they can afford. |
| 4 | Kavast makes an unsolicited offer of a water truck, with markings, weekly. Danka leaves the room. |
| 5 | Someone proposes the crew charge, at cost, and half the room agrees, and it is the reasonable position. |
| 6 | Grigor speaks. He has not spoken in the whole meeting. Let him have the scene. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Repaired a recycler, tap stays unconditional | +1 / +3 · the correct outcome and the expensive one |
| Accepted the property holder's funding | +0 / +1 · the tap has conditions now. Forever. |
| Handed allocation to Marisol and the Co-op | +0 / +2 · you gave the power away on purpose. Nobody notices but her. |
| Let the crew be the authority | +2 / +2 · you are a faction now. Volume Two treats you as one. |
| Closed the tap | +0 / −5 · do not do this. It is on the table because it must be. |
Pay: none, and running the tap costs the crew money every week hereafter. Non-money: whatever answer the district gets on Thursday is the crew's standing position in Barricadia for the rest of the campaign, and it will be quoted back at them.
Center Point is where the raid-race scene drinks. The Tooth and Gear is the room: nine hundred people on a race weekend, a booth that has run for nine years, and a bar that settles its own disputes and has never needed help until this volume.
It is also, because nine hundred drunk people are the finest cover money can buy, where quieter institutions do business in plain sight. Every contract in this cluster is played in a crowd.
Drinks, and being known. Center Point does not take fees; it takes familiarity. A crew that turns up twice is a regular, and a regular is expected to help when the room needs it.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | Race weekend. Nine hundred people in a room built for four hundred. |
| 2 | A bet has escalated three times and there is now a card and odds. |
| 3 | The music stops for four seconds and nobody knows why. |
| 4 | Somebody is filming the back corner and does not know what that means. |
| 5 | Two crews who lost to each other last season are at adjacent tables. |
| 6 | A Kavast pack walks in, in colours, on a race night. |
| 7 | The booth is empty. Razborki has not left that booth in nine years. |
| 8 | Someone is buying for the whole bar and will not say what they are celebrating. |
| 9 | A stranger is asking, politely, which crew is which. |
| 10 | Ozzy has sold eleven shirts and started one argument. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | Booth nine has been paid for since March and nobody has ever eaten there. |
| 2 | Razborki is being leaned on and will not say by whom. |
| 3 | There is money moving through the race book that is not race money. |
| 4 | Frequency is one person. Frequency is four people. Frequency is a room. |
| 5 | Someone is buying quiet on a building at the district edge. |
| 6 | The Tooth and Gear moved here from Barricadia and the old room is still open. |
This cluster escalates hard: HOUSE RULES p.72 is a comedy about crowd control and THE BOOTH p.78 is a counter-surveillance contract that can end a campaign. Run them in order.
Race weekend. Full house. I need four people on the room who are not bouncers, because bouncers make it a bouncer night, and I do not want a bouncer night, I want a Saturday.
Rules are: nobody bleeds on the floor, nobody films the back corner, and the Razborki decision is final and is always me. Six hundred and you drink free, which historically has been a mistake on my part.
The Tooth and Gear on race weekend is nine hundred people in a room built for four hundred, a raid-race crowd that has been drinking since the qualifiers, and a bar that runs on the understanding that the house settles disputes and the house has never once needed help settling anything.
This weekend the house needs help. Razborki will not say why. The crew are being hired as furniture: five recognisable faces standing in the right places so that everyone does the arithmetic and behaves.
Open. Jockey and DJ, runs the booth, has run this room for nine years and has never asked anyone for anything. Warm, loud, extremely fast, and treats the crew like regulars because they are.
Sealed. A Syndicate table booked the back corner three weeks ago and has been paying for it whether they use it or not. Tonight they are using it. Razborki cannot refuse a Syndicate booking and cannot be seen to accommodate one, so they have hired five people who are famous for not caring about either.
The crew are not security. They are a witness, hired in a form that cannot be accused of witnessing. Razborki wants five recognisable faces in the room so that whatever happens in the back corner happens in front of people who will remember it, and the Syndicate knows they are there, and everyone behaves better. It works right up until it doesn't.
Land it when the crew realise the loudest thing in the room is not the flashpoint they are managing. Somewhere behind them a booth has gone quiet, the wrong people are standing too close, and Theo's camera is pointed the wrong way on purpose.
| d6 | Before closing |
|---|---|
| 1 | The bet escalates past sense and Grigor is holding a table of drinks overhead while patrons keep drinking off it. |
| 2 | Someone films the corner. It is not one of the crew and it is already uploading. |
| 3 | The Syndicate table asks Razborki to cut the music. Razborki looks at the crew. |
| 4 | A Kavast pack walks in, in colours, on a race weekend, which is a message. |
| 5 | The corner empties mid-drink and leaves a bag under the table. |
| 6 | Ozzy's flashpoint becomes the night's actual crisis and he is delighted. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Room intact, corner unwatched | +0 / +2 · Razborki owes you and says so publicly |
| Room intact, you saw what the corner did | +2 / +2 · you are a witness now, and they know |
| It went | +1 / −2 · the Tooth and Gear is closed for two weeks and it is your fault |
| Posted the corner | +4 / +4 · the best clip of the season and the Syndicate has your address |
| Sided with the regulars against the booking | +2 / +3 · Center Point loves you. The Syndicate files it. |
Pay: 600 cr and a permanent tab. Non-money: the Tooth and Gear becomes the crew's room in a way it was not before, and Razborki will take one call from them, any hour, for the rest of the campaign.
SATURDAY. THE TOOTH AND GEAR. ONE TABLE. ONE ARM. PATIENT VS THE ROOM.
Rules: anyone may challenge. Two arms allowed against his one. House takes ten. Odds posted at the door and adjusted live because I am not a charity.
He has not agreed to this yet.
Ozzy has booked, promoted, seeded and sold an event that his crewmate has not consented to, and it is now large enough that cancelling it would be a bigger incident than running it. Razborki has cleared a table. There is a card. There are odds. There is a man from the High Top who has flown down.
Grigor will do it. Everyone knows Grigor will do it. The contract is not whether he competes; it is everything the event drags into the room while nine hundred people are looking the other way.
Open. Ozzy is the client, the promoter, the bookmaker and the problem. He will explain that this is the highest-margin thing the crew has ever done and he will be correct.
Sealed. He booked it the day after a Vroza scout called him the pet. This entire event is a nineteen-year-old building a stage on which the largest member of his crew publicly beats a room, and he has not admitted that to himself, let alone anyone else.
Somebody is using the book to launder. Three of the wagers are far too large, placed early, spread across outcomes, from a table that does not care which way it goes. The event is a clean, cash-heavy, fast-settling market that appeared in Center Point overnight, and money like that always finds a market like that within a day.
Land it when Grigor wins the eighth and does not sit down, and Ozzy sees his face and understands, for the first time, what he has actually organised — not a payday, a proof, and the proof is costing someone else's body.
| d6 | The last name on the card |
|---|---|
| 1 | The Kavast challenger wins, cleanly, and offers his hand, and means it, which is worse. |
| 2 | Grigor's shoulder goes mid-pull. The room hears it. He finishes the pull. |
| 3 | The quiet table calls the whole book and wants settling now, in cash, before the last match. |
| 4 | Vroza is in the room. Has been for an hour. Nobody saw her come in. |
| 5 | Danka takes a challenge on Grigor's behalf and it becomes a completely different night. |
| 6 | The gate bag is gone. Ozzy knows exactly who has it and cannot say so on camera. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Ran the card, took the gate, paid out clean | +1 / +4 · the clip of the season |
| Stopped it mid-card | +2 / +0 · you refunded a laundry and it noticed you |
| Grigor got hurt and finished anyway | +1 / +5 · legend. And Vol 2 opens with a shoulder. |
| Named the laundering in the room | +3 / +2 · Center Point is safer. You are not. |
| Lost the gate | +1 / −1 · Ozzy paid the punters out of his own account. Nobody knows. |
Pay: the gate, currently 4,000 cr, minus payouts, minus the house ten, minus whatever the night costs. Non-money: the single most-watched thing the channel has ever posted, and everything that comes with being watched.
Seeking established Feed talent, Lost Angeles, splice-composition preferred, for a single integrated content activation. Six minutes maximum runtime. Full creative freedom within brief.
Deliverable: one stunt of your own design, executed at the location provided, filmed in your existing house style, posted to your own channel with no visible sponsor marking. Discretion is the entire product.
Somebody is offering the crew eighteen thousand credits — more than every contract in this cluster combined — to do the thing they already do for free, at a location of the buyer's choosing, with no branding, no script and no notes.
It is the best offer the channel has ever had and it is obviously wrong, and the reason it is obviously wrong is that a sponsor who does not want to be seen is not buying content. They are buying an event.
Open. A media buyer who is pleasant, professional, and empowered to say yes to almost anything. She has watched every artifact the channel has posted and can quote them, which is flattering and is meant to be.
Sealed. She does not know either. She was hired by an agency that was hired by an agency. She is being paid extremely well to not ask, and when the crew tell her what the job actually is, she believes them, and that is the moment she becomes useful.
The interchange is structurally sound and about to be listed, which would block a redevelopment. A spectacular, well-documented, publicly-loved stunt causing visible damage eleven days before a heritage review is a demolition argument that costs eighteen thousand credits instead of a legal fight that costs four hundred thousand. The crew are being hired as a wrecking ball with a fanbase.
Land it when Cas prices the structural spec and works out that the brief's suggested stunt — the one the buyer keeps gently steering them toward — puts the load exactly where a survey team would look first.
| d6 | At 03:00 |
|---|---|
| 1 | A second crew is already there, hired as a backup, and they do not know either. |
| 2 | The survey team arrives early. At 04:00. They were always going to. |
| 3 | The buyer arrives in person to stop it, having worked it out an hour after the crew did. |
| 4 | Theo can cut six minutes that reads as spectacular and causes nothing. It is the best editing of their life. |
| 5 | The building is occupied. Nine people live in the east concourse and the brief did not mention them. |
| 6 | Do the stunt somewhere else, at the same hour, and post it with the interchange in the background, untouched. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Posted the stunt as briefed | +1 / +5 · richest the crew has ever been. The link closes in Vol 2. |
| Refused and returned the brief | +2 / +0 · a different crew does it in nine days |
| Did the stunt, damaged nothing, posted anyway | +2 / +4 · the hardest option and it works |
| Exposed the buyer chain on the channel | +4 / +3 · the review saves the building. Four agencies now know your address. |
| Made the submission instead of the stunt | +1 / +1 · nobody watches it. The building stands. |
Pay: 18,000 cr, structured half and half, and it is real money that will not come again this volume. Non-money: a media buyer who owes them, and the first hard proof that the channel is an asset other people want to rent.
I cannot ask you this in the room and I cannot ask you this on any channel and I am not going to write down what it is about.
Nine years I have run that bar. I know what every table in it is for. I do not know what that one is for and I have started to think the reason I do not know is that I was not supposed to still be here to wonder.
Booth nine, back corner, standing booking since March, paid weekly whether used or not, by a Syndicate account. It is used perhaps twice a month. Different people each time. They order nothing, stay under forty minutes, and leave separately.
Nine years of institutional knowledge says a bar table that is paid for and unused is not a table. It is an address. And an address in a room with nine hundred witnesses is not a hiding place; it is a deliberately public one, which is a much more expensive thing to buy and means the meetings need to be seen happening while never being heard.
Open. Razborki is frightened in a way the crew has never seen, and is asking for help in the only format that cannot be traced back: a dictated note under a door, unsigned.
Sealed. They already tried to end the booking in June. They were talked out of it, pleasantly, by someone who knew the name of their sister's employer. They have not told anyone that and they are not going to tell the crew unless the crew earns it.
Booth nine is a verification point. People who are about to be trusted with something are sent to sit in the most public room in Center Point for forty minutes, alone, in view of nine hundred people and every camera in the building, and if nobody comes for them they are clean. It is a counter-surveillance ritual, and it works, and the Syndicate has been running it under Razborki's roof for seven months because a bar full of raid-race drunks is the best noise floor in Lost Angeles.
Land it when the crew understands that the booth is not where the secret is kept — the booth is a test, and the person sitting in it is being watched by the Syndicate to see whether anyone approaches them. The moment the crew approaches, the crew becomes the answer to somebody else's verification.
| d6 | At the next sitting |
|---|---|
| 1 | The person in booth nine is someone the crew knows, and they are terrified, and they are alone on purpose. |
| 2 | Nobody sits. The booking is used to watch the crew instead. It has been for two weeks. |
| 3 | Razborki cancels the booking that night, without warning, in front of everyone. |
| 4 | The Syndicate offers the crew the same arrangement: a standing booking, paid, at the garage. |
| 5 | Theo's archive contains a face that also appears in Protectorate traffic. The receiver was right. |
| 6 | The sitting is a Kavast officer. The feud and the Syndicate are the same thread and Vol 2 is now different. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Learned what it is, nobody noticed | +1 / +0 · you know something enormous and can tell nobody |
| Learned it, and were noticed | +5 / +0 · the Syndicate now has a file on five people |
| Got Razborki out | +4 / +2 · the bar survives. Razborki does not run it after Vol 2. |
| Took the Syndicate's offer | +0 / +0 · the garage is now a verification point. Read that sentence again. |
| Posted any of it | +6 / +5 · do not. It is on the table because it must be. |
Pay: none. Razborki offered the bar and the crew should refuse. Non-money: the ritual's name, eleven faces, and the understanding that Center Point has a floor under it.
A pre-Upheaval transit network running under four districts, half of it in use and half of it sealed. Everything that matters moves through here, which is why the sensor grid down here is better than anything on the surface.
Nine days ago Monitor Central upgraded the firmware and called it public safety. Nobody has run a dark transit since. Every contract in this cluster is downstream of that sentence.
Time, and nerve. There are no tolls down here. There is a grid that logs everything, a structure that is settling, and ninety minutes of dry service road twice a day.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | A section is in lockdown and nobody has said why. |
| 2 | A survey team is working a wall with instruments and will not answer questions. |
| 3 | The ventilation is running loud in a section where it should be idle. |
| 4 | A haulage crew is parked up arguing about a route that no longer works. |
| 5 | Something is transmitting on a band that has been dead for eleven years. |
| 6 | Water on the floor of a section that has never had water in it. |
| 7 | Three vehicles running nose to tail, unlit, at speed. |
| 8 | A maintenance shaft has been opened and not closed. |
| 9 | The grid pings and everyone in earshot checks their own paperwork. |
| 10 | Rea Okonkwo-Cruz is on shift and will wave the crew through, once. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | The upgrade was not about crime and Monitor Central will not say what it was about. |
| 2 | Section 11 has been sealed since the collapse and somebody has been living in it. |
| 3 | The ventilation and the sensors are on the same bus. Kill one and you kill the other. |
| 4 | There is a corridor down here that Kavast has been surveying for a year. |
| 5 | The consortium buys the transit logs and underbids the hauliers with their own data. |
| 6 | The tunnels are closing. Not this year. But they are closing. |
DARK TRANSIT p.82 and GRID FIRMWARE p.84 are the same firmware from opposite sides and are best run in that order, a session apart.
One case. Sealed. Barricadia to the Highside interchange, tonight, arriving before 05:00. Tunnel transit, not surface. Do not open it, do not scan it, do not photograph the seal.
The case is not dangerous and is not illegal. It is time-sensitive and it is embarrassing. Those are different problems and you are being paid for the second one.
The Musk Tunnels are the only way across Lost Angeles that does not pass a surface checkpoint, which is why everything that matters moves through them and why the sensor grid down there is better than anything on the streets above.
Nine days ago Monitor Central pushed a firmware upgrade to the tunnel grid and announced it as a public safety improvement. Nobody has run a dark transit since. The crew is the first, they do not know that, and Cas has built a nine-step plan against a specification that is nine days out of date.
Open. A broker two intermediaries out, escrowed, professional, and entirely reachable right up until the moment the crew needs something.
Sealed. The case belongs to a Center Point property fund and contains survey documents that would make a heritage argument. It is embarrassing rather than criminal, exactly as advertised, and the client has been honest about everything except the fact that a second party wants the same case and has already made an offer to the same broker.
The firmware upgrade was not about crime. A section of the tunnel has been settling for eight months and the old grid could not see it. The new grid can, and the new grid is now reporting a structural fault that Monitor Central has not announced, because announcing it closes a transit corridor that four districts depend on. The sweep that catches the crew is a survey team, and they are more frightened than the crew is.
Land it in the lockdown, when the crew finds the survey team and works out that the thing everyone is afraid of down here is not enforcement. The tunnel is failing. The case, the client and the fee stop being the point about forty seconds after that.
| d6 | In the section |
|---|---|
| 1 | The seal is broken. Not by the crew. It was broken before they picked it up. |
| 2 | The second party is in the tunnel, ahead of them, and is not hostile and is also not leaving. |
| 3 | The section drops eleven centimetres while they are in it. Everyone hears it. |
| 4 | The survey team asks the crew for help, and helping means missing 05:00. |
| 5 | The only way out is the Raze, loaded, at speed, in the dark. Danka has been waiting all night for this. |
| 6 | The interchange is closed at 04:20 and nobody was told. The client already knew. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Delivered on time, dark, unopened | +1 / +3 · full fee, and a broker who will use them again |
| Delivered late | +1 / +1 · half fee. The client is reasonable about it, which is unsettling. |
| Opened the case | +2 / +2 · the escrow is void and the crew knows something worth money |
| Helped the survey team | +2 / +4 · four districts keep a corridor. Nobody outside this contract ever learns why. |
| Posted the tunnel failure | +4 / +5 · the corridor closes within a week and eleven thousand people reroute |
Pay: 3,200 cr, structured half on arrival and half on silence, and the second half is the interesting one. Non-money: Rea, who is now involved, and a survey team who will answer a call.
We are nine independent haulage operators. Since the upgrade our margins are gone: every route we ran is now logged, every log is sold to the interchange consortium, and the consortium underbids us with our own data. Four of us will not last the quarter.
We want the grid down in Sections 4 through 9, from 23:00 to 05:00, once. Not destroyed. Down. One night is enough to prove the logs can be lost, and once they can be lost nobody can sell them.
The tunnel grid does three jobs on one bus: it logs transits, it monitors structural strain, and it drives the ventilation interlocks. Everyone who talks about the grid talks about the first job. The people who built it care about the third.
Nine hauliers want six hours of darkness and have pooled everything they have to buy it. It is a sympathetic ask from sympathetic people and it is the most dangerous contract in this cluster.
Open. Nine people who have each put in more than they can afford. They are not criminals, they have never done this before, and they have brought a typed letter to a crime, which is either touching or a liability.
Sealed. Two of the nine have already been approached by the consortium with a buyout and are here to be seen participating, so that when the sabotage happens they are above suspicion and their competitors are not. They are not villains either. They are just further along.
Six hours of held-state ventilation in Sections 4 through 9 is survivable in winter and lethal in a heat inversion, and Lost Angeles is in one. Nobody in the contract knows this except whoever wrote the interlock spec. The hauliers are asking for a favour that will kill people in a tunnel they themselves drive, and the crew are the only people in the chain with the expertise to notice.
Land it the moment Cas finishes reading the spec. The contract stops being a sabotage job and becomes a negotiation with nine people about whether their livelihoods are worth an unknown number of strangers, and the crew has to run that negotiation in a room where everyone is already crying.
| d6 | During the six hours |
|---|---|
| 1 | A haulier crew enters Section 6 anyway. Their radio goes quiet at hour four. |
| 2 | The two bought-out signatories plant evidence pointing at the other seven. |
| 3 | The manual vents work, and holding them open costs the crew the entire six hours and the whole fee. |
| 4 | Monitor Central sends the survey team from DARK TRANSIT p.82 into the dark section. They do not know the grid is down. |
| 5 | The consortium offers the crew triple to leave the grid alone. In writing. Which is a document. |
| 6 | The inversion breaks early. Nobody dies. Nobody ever finds out how close it was, including the crew. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Grid down, vents forced open, nobody hurt | +3 / +1 · the hardest possible night and the right one |
| Grid down as briefed | +4 / −3 · people died in a tunnel and nine clients know who did it |
| Refused, took the regulator route instead | +1 / +2 · slower, legal, and two of the nine still fold |
| Refused outright | +0 / −1 · somebody else takes it in a fortnight and does not read the spec |
| Took the consortium's money | +0 / −2 · the nine lose everything and the crew has 33,000 credits |
Pay: 11,000 cr pooled from people who cannot afford it, and the crew should think hard about taking it. Non-money: nine haulage operators who between them can move anything, anywhere, off the books, forever.
Section 11 has been dead to the grid since before the upgrade and will be dead after it. There is a cache in it. It has been there eleven years. I know what is in it and I am not going to tell you.
Bring it out and I will tell you one true thing about yourselves that none of you know and one of you has been paying somebody else to find out.
Section 11 was sealed after a collapse eleven years ago and never reopened. It is dead to the grid, dead to the maps, and reachable through a maintenance shaft that everybody in the tunnels knows about and nobody uses.
Frequency does not hire people. Frequency sells information and has never once needed a crew. The fact that this offer exists at all is the loudest thing in the contract, and every member of the crew has independently worked out which of them the fee is aimed at.
Open. Signal pirate, Center Point, best-informed person in this book, and entirely straightforward: the fee is a fact, the fact is real, and it will be delivered.
Sealed. Frequency is being squeezed. Somebody with more reach has worked out where the broadcasts come from, and the cache contains the only leverage Frequency has ever had over them. This is not a job. It is Frequency asking for help in the only grammar they have.
The cache belongs to Ivo Marun, who was recorded as the fourth casualty of the collapse and who walked out of Section 11 through a route that is not on any map and has been living four districts away under a name he bought. The cache is his whole life: documents, currency, and the reason he needed to stop being himself. He has been watching the shaft for eleven years.
Land it when the crew opens the cache — or when Marun tells them what is in it, which is better. It is not treasure. It is proof of a thing Frequency did, kept by a man who survived it, and Frequency has spent eleven years hoping he was actually dead.
| d6 | At the shaft head |
|---|---|
| 1 | Marun is waiting, unarmed, and asks them not to hand it over. He explains why. He is right. |
| 2 | The section gives while the crew is inside and Marun is the only person who knows the other route. |
| 3 | Frequency arrives in person. Nobody has ever seen Frequency in person. |
| 4 | Theo's receiver resolves the Section 11 transmission and it is a distress loop that has been running for eleven years. |
| 5 | The people squeezing Frequency are already at the shaft, politely, with a vehicle. |
| 6 | The cache is empty. Marun emptied it in year three and has been guarding a box of paper ever since. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Handed it to Frequency | +2 / +1 · you get the fact. It is true and it is bad. |
| Gave it to Marun | +3 / +0 · Frequency is finished within a month, and never says a word about it |
| Destroyed it | +2 / +1 · both of them survive and neither forgives you |
| Kept it | +4 / +0 · you now hold leverage over the best-informed person in Lost Angeles |
| Refused the job | +0 / +0 · Frequency stops answering, permanently, and the crew loses their best source |
Pay: one true fact about the crew, delivered whatever they decide. The Warden chooses which wound it opens, from the five on the File pages, and it should be the one the table has been circling.
6 crates + 1 passenger. Barricadia to Low Coast. Overnight. Passenger travels with the load, not with you. Passenger does not get out at either end where anyone can see.
Fare paid on delivery by the passenger. Crates paid by me now.
Six crates of legitimate haulage and one person who has paid to travel inside the load. It is a routine arrangement in the tunnels and everybody involved has done it before, and the only unusual thing about this run is that the passenger is paying more than the freight is worth.
The passenger will not give a name, will not be photographed, and has asked twice whether the crew films their work.
Open. A haulage operator with six crates and a margin problem, who is grateful, straightforward and slightly too keen for the crew to take the passenger as well.
Sealed. The client does not know who the passenger is. They were paid a flat fee to attach a person to a legitimate load, and they took it, and they have been quietly sick about it for two days.
The passenger is Ilke Vantroyen, the assessor who filed recovery orders on eleven Barricadia accounts last quarter, two of them Dr. Silk's patients. She is defecting, and the case she will not put down holds enough of her employer's files to end a recovery contractor's licence. If the crew place the face before the Low Coast, they will want to leave her in a tunnel.
Land it when somebody recognises her, in the middle of the run, in a confined space, at speed. She filed on people the crew has met. She also carries the only evidence that would stop the next eleven. Both are true and neither cancels the other.
| d6 | At the Low Coast end |
|---|---|
| 1 | The buyer is a recovery contractor and intends to bury the drive, not use it. |
| 2 | She asks the crew to take the drive and leave her. She has already decided she does not get out of this. |
| 3 | One of Dr. Silk's patients is waiting at the far end. Somebody told them. |
| 4 | The crates are searched by people who were not looking for her. |
| 5 | She offers the drive as the fare. It is worth more than this whole cluster. |
| 6 | Dawn. Nobody leaves the vehicle for eleven hours, and the argument finishes in it. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Delivered her as contracted | +1 / +0 · the drive is buried; eleven more orders file next quarter |
| Took the drive, delivered her | +3 / +1 · she knew you would, and is fine with it, which is worse |
| Took the drive to Dr. Silk | +3 / +4 · Barricadia gets a year of warning |
| Left her in a tunnel | +1 / −2 · she is found, she talks, and she names you |
| Drove her out instead | +4 / +2 · a defecting assessor now lives somewhere, and it has to be somewhere |
Pay: 2,400 cr for the crates, and a fare the crew may not want to collect. Non-money: the drive, which is a Volume Two asset disguised as a Band 3 payday.
Half industrial ruin, half whatever grew back. People live along the north edge because the rent is nothing and the ground is free, and salvage crews work the craters, and nobody official has surveyed any of it since the forties.
A private remediation contract cleared this ground in the forties and was abandoned mid-schedule when somebody deleted a line item. The machines were never decommissioned. They are still working.
Tyres, and patience. The ground eats undercarriages, the water table moves on a timetable everyone local knows, and nothing out here is where the map says it is.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | A drone unit is working a treeline, slowly, and does not react to being watched. |
| 2 | A crater lot has two salvage crews in it and one deadline. |
| 3 | The water table comes up on Thursday and everybody is working late. |
| 4 | Somebody is burning something at the industrial edge and the smoke is the wrong colour. |
| 5 | A harvest is moving. Three trucks, the same three trucks, at the same hour. |
| 6 | A household on the north edge has lost another dog and has stopped reporting it. |
| 7 | A survey stake has been driven into ground nobody has surveyed in thirty years. |
| 8 | Children are playing on a machine that is dormant and charging. |
| 9 | The co-op's kitchen is feeding forty people and four of them are strangers. |
| 10 | Nothing at all, for two hours, which out here is a warning. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | It takes animals and it does not eat them, and nobody will say what that means. |
| 2 | The cheap produce on the Barricadia stalls comes from out here and it is better than the licensed stuff. |
| 3 | A High Top family's name is on the machines and they have spent thirty years not mentioning it. |
| 4 | The line is moving forty metres a week and it is going to reach a house. |
| 5 | Petrina's father told her which ground never to walk on and she has never repeated it. |
| 6 | There is a decommissioning code. Somebody has it. |
The Raze cluster is one situation told four ways. GROUND TRUTH p.92 explains the machines, WHAT GREW BACK p.98 explains the ground, THE VIEW p.112 explains who stopped paying, and THE CRATER LOT p.94 is the funny one. Any order works.
Eleven dogs in six weeks off the north edge. Two goats. Nobody has seen it. It takes them at the treeline and there is never blood on the ground, which is the part that is wrong.
We have all put in. There is also a set of tyres, barely run, which we are told matters to one of you.
The Raze is cratered ground on the city's edge, half industrial ruin and half whatever has grown back, and it is where Lost Angeles puts the things it does not want to look at. People live along its north edge because the rent is nothing and the ground is free.
Something has been taking animals at the treeline for six weeks. No blood, no drag marks, no remains. The households have decided it is a predator. Everyone who has looked at the ground knows it is not moving like a predator, and nobody has said so out loud because the alternative is worse.
Open. Four households who cannot afford this and a scrap dealer who can, and who quietly covered most of the fee. They want a body brought back so people can stop being frightened.
Sealed. Petrina already knows roughly what it is, because her father dealt salvage here in the fifties and told her which ground never to walk on. She is not withholding it to be mysterious. She is withholding it because saying it out loud commits her to a version of this place she has spent twenty years not believing.
Not a predator. A reclamation drone swarm — eleven surviving units of a pre-Upheaval remediation system, still running a contamination protocol on a grid that stopped meaning anything thirty years ago. They remove biomass along a survey line because a decommissioned database says the line is hot. Slow, patient, nearly silent. They do not distinguish between a goat and a person. They have simply not reached a person yet.
Land it when Cas reads a unit's schedule and finds the line runs through the north edge, through Petrina's gate, and out the far side — eleven weeks from a district of four thousand people. The contract stops being about eleven dogs.
| d6 | On the line |
|---|---|
| 1 | A unit is mid-procedure on a dog when the crew arrives. It does not stop and it does not hurry. |
| 2 | There are not eleven units. There are nineteen; eight are dormant and charging. |
| 3 | Destroying units accelerates the rest. The line moves a week's distance in a night. |
| 4 | Petrina walks out to the treeline herself, at night, to find out if her father was right. |
| 5 | A child from the north edge has been following the crew for an hour. |
| 6 | One unit's schedule holds a decommissioning code. It can be told to stop, and it takes all night. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Stopped the schedule properly | +0 / +4 · the north edge is safe for good and nobody understands what you did |
| Destroyed the units | +1 / +3 · it works for four months. Volume Two opens with a line moving faster. |
| Brought back a chassis and an explanation | +0 / +1 · half the clients are relieved and half feel cheated |
| Posted it as a monster hunt | +1 / +4 · enormous clip. The Raze fills with people looking for a creature. |
| Left it | +0 / −3 · the line reaches a house in three weeks and everyone knows you were asked |
Pay: 1,800 cr and a set of barely-run tyres Danka will value above the credits. Non-money: Petrina, the north edge, and the first hard proof the Raze is running something nobody switched off.
Interceptor-pattern chassis, north crater, went in during the March rains and has been dry since. Water table comes up Thursday and after that it is nobody's.
Seven hundred flat or forty percent of weight, your choice, and I will know if you weigh it somewhere else first.
A crater in the north Raze with a genuinely good vehicle chassis in the bottom of it, forty percent buried, and a water table that comes up on a schedule everybody local knows. It is a straightforward salvage job with a deadline, which is the most honest contract in this book.
It is also the single most desirable object Danka has been within a hundred metres of this year, and Ozzy has already priced it out loud, twice, in front of the client.
Open. Petrina, twenty years at the scrap gate, pays cash, never haggles twice, and offered the crew the percentage option because she thinks they will take the flat fee and she is being fair about it.
Sealed. She knows about the other salvage crew. She has posted this to two crews on purpose, because a contested lot gets stripped faster than an uncontested one, and Thursday is Thursday.
The Interceptor chassis is not abandoned salvage. It went into the crater during the March rains with a Jaguario runner in it, and the runner walked away and the vehicle did not, and Jaguario have not claimed it because claiming it means explaining what it was doing on the north Raze in March. The moment it comes out of the ground where people can see it, that becomes a question with an audience.
Land it when somebody clears the mud off the chassis number. It is a bad number. The correct play stops being get the vehicle out and becomes get the vehicle out before anyone else reads that, and the crew now has two hours and a rival crew who are about to have the same realisation.
| d6 | In the crater |
|---|---|
| 1 | The water comes up early. Everyone finds out at the same moment, at the bottom of a crater. |
| 2 | The other crew's vehicle goes over on the soft side with two of them under it. |
| 3 | A Jaguario runner arrives, alone, and does not want the chassis. He wants the plate. |
| 4 | The chassis is better than advertised. Danka stops being a professional. |
| 5 | One of the drone units from GROUND TRUTH p.92 arrives on schedule and begins removing biomass from a crater with eight people in it. |
| 6 | Theo's footage of the recovery is spectacular and the plate is legible in three frames of it. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Chassis out, plate destroyed | +0 / +3 · a clean payday and a joke the district repeats for a month |
| Chassis out, plate legible | +3 / +3 · Jaguario now has a reason to look at this crew |
| Split it with the other crew | +0 / +4 · the Low Coast owes you, and that pays out in SLACK WATER p.122 |
| Lost it to the water | +0 / +1 · Petrina pays a kill fee and tells the story for years |
| Somebody got hurt in the mud | +1 / −1 · it was avoidable and everyone watching knows it |
Pay: 700 cr flat, or forty percent of weight, which is between 400 and 2,600 depending on how much of it comes up. Non-money: whatever Danka quietly keeps, and Petrina, who is the Raze's only real institution.
A bonded storage depot on the Raze industrial edge. Empty of anything anyone will miss. I need it to have burned, thoroughly, in a way that reads as electrical, before the end of the month.
Twenty-six thousand. I am not going to explain, and if you take this you should not ask, and I am telling you that because you are going to ask.
A bonded depot on the Raze edge: concrete, forty years old, half-empty, and insured. An adjuster is offering more than the crew has ever been paid to make it burn convincingly, and is being unusually honest about the fact that she will not explain why.
It is the cleanest, best-paid, most professional job in the cluster and it is arson for an insurer, and everyone at the table will feel the shape of that immediately.
Open. Mid-forties, precise, tired, and completely in control of the conversation. She has done the risk assessment on hiring this crew and she will say so if asked.
Sealed. She is not defrauding her employer. She is destroying her employer's evidence — the depot holds recovered augment hardware from four years of repossessions, stored off-manifest, awaiting resale, and its existence would end the recovery contractor her firm underwrites. She has decided that burning it is the only version of this that ends with nobody being prosecuted and nobody being killed, and she has thought about it longer than the crew will.
The forty off-manifest pallets are stripped augments, catalogued by account, some of them belonging to people still alive in Barricadia. Burning the depot destroys the only physical record of four years of recovery — and also the only chance any of those people have of ever getting their hardware back, which is not a chance, but is not nothing either.
Land it in the racking, when somebody reads a pallet label aloud and it is a name — a person, a lineage, a date, and a serial. Forty pallets. The crew is standing inside the inventory of everything Volume Two is about.
| d6 | On the night |
|---|---|
| 1 | The watchman is early and does not run, and asks them what took so long. |
| 2 | The catalogue is not paper. It is on a terminal, and the terminal is networked, and copying it is loud. |
| 3 | One pallet is labelled CASELINE. |
| 4 | The adjuster is in the building. She came to do it herself and lost her nerve at the door. |
| 5 | The fire reads as electrical perfectly and the building does not burn, because concrete does not burn, and now there is a scorched depot full of evidence. |
| 6 | Somebody outside is photographing the crew arriving. Not police. A rival. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Burned it, took the catalogue | +4 / +0 · paid in full, and holding the worst list in Lost Angeles |
| Burned it, catalogue destroyed | +3 / +0 · clean, professional, and four hundred people never learn what happened to them |
| Refused | +1 / +0 · she does it herself in nine days and the watchman is inside |
| Gave the catalogue to Dr. Silk | +5 / +3 · Barricadia finds out. All of it. At once. |
| Posted any of it | +6 / +4 · do not. The fallout is Volume Two and it is not survivable in this one. |
Pay: 26,000 cr, cash, staged, and it is the largest payday in this volume by a factor of two. Non-money: the catalogue, if they take it, and an adjuster who will answer a call for the rest of her career.
Produce entering the Barricadia and Center Point markets at forty percent under floor price, at volume, year-round, with no declared growing site. We have tested it. It is not merely cheap. It is good, and it should not be possible.
Locate the growing operation and bring us documentation sufficient to have it closed. We will not be pursuing this through the district boards.
Someone is growing food on the Raze at commercial volume and selling it forty percent under the floor, and it is better than the licensed produce, and it has been on Barricadia stalls for two years including the ones the Okonkwo-Cruz family works.
A factoring house wants it shut down. Their laboratory report says the produce is clean. Their complaint is not that it is dangerous. Their complaint is that it is cheap.
Open. A factoring house, entirely legitimate, that finances half the licensed produce in two districts and is being undercut into insolvency by something it cannot find.
Sealed. Their laboratory report is honest and their motive is not. They know the produce is safe. They have known for eighteen months. They commissioned three more tests hoping for a different answer and are now buying an enforcement outcome because they could not buy a scientific one.
The growing operation is the Raze co-operative: about ninety people, mostly orphanware and mostly unemployable, farming remediated crater ground that the drone units have been cleaning for three decades. It is unlicensed because licensing requires a land title and nobody can hold title to the Raze. They are not undercutting the market to be predatory. They price at forty percent under because that is what people on the north edge can pay, and the surplus is what they sell to the stalls.
Land it at the growing site, when the crew sees the scale: hectares of cleared crater ground, ninety people working it, children, a kitchen, a school of sorts. They were hired to document this so it could be destroyed, and the documentation is already in Theo's camera.
| d6 | At the site |
|---|---|
| 1 | The co-op offers the crew the documentation themselves. All of it. They are done hiding. |
| 2 | The drone line reaches the best field during the visit and begins removing the crop. |
| 3 | The client has already filed. Monitor Central clearance is nine days out and nobody told the crew. |
| 4 | A co-op member recognises Cas's lineage markers and asks, in front of everyone, whether she is orphanware too. |
| 5 | Ozzy's mother is at the site. She has been coming for a year. She buys direct. |
| 6 | The client offers double for footage of anything unsafe, and there is nothing unsafe, and they know that. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Delivered the documentation | +2 / −5 · 38,000 credits and ninety people cleared off the Raze. Barricadia works out who did it. |
| Refused and returned the brief | +1 / +1 · the client hires the next crew within a month |
| Used the client's own lab report against them | +3 / +4 · the complaint dies. The factoring house does not forget. |
| Got the co-op a title | +3 / +5 · the hardest outcome in Volume One and it takes two sessions |
| Stopped the drone line for them | +1 / +4 · not what anyone hired you for, and the only thing they actually needed |
Pay: 38,000 cr on delivery of proof, and the crew should read the fallout table before deciding how they feel about that number. Non-money: ninety people, a food supply, and a factoring house that now knows the crew's name.
The Ring is a raid-race circuit and a working road at the same time, and the people who race it earn on it. A vehicle here is not a possession; it is a livelihood, and every dispute in this cluster is ultimately about a title.
It is also thirty cars at speed on any given night, which is the best moving cover in Lost Angeles, and more than one institution has noticed.
A car, and a reputation for driving it well. The Ring does not care where anyone is from and cares enormously how they take the seawall cut.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | A vehicle has been taken off somebody at the cut and the whole Ring knows whose. |
| 2 | Kavast are broadcasting an open purse for the sixth day running. |
| 3 | A recovery firm is parked at the Ring Road cut, waiting, legally. |
| 4 | A new driver, first season, very good, and nobody knows who backs them. |
| 5 | A section has been resurfaced and no one asked for it to be. |
| 6 | Thirty cars on the grid and one of them is not racing. |
| 7 | Somebody is filming the mid-field instead of the leaders. |
| 8 | A jockey is asking, publicly, for help, in the crew's replies. |
| 9 | Two crews who have history are gridded together. |
| 10 | It is dry, it is dark, and everyone is going to go too fast. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | Kavast do not want to win the race. They want the road. |
| 2 | Half the vehicles out here are running on titles that would not survive an afternoon in an office. |
| 3 | Somebody is being paid to arrive ninety minutes late, once a week, and nobody knows why. |
| 4 | The recovery firms have started taking cars from the cut directly, which used to be off limits. |
| 5 | There is a driver on the Ring who has been in Service and came back. |
| 6 | The Salt Wake committee has known about the four-minute car for months. |
Every contract in this cluster is a question about who owns something. TITLE AND DEED p.108 is the quietest and the worst.
they took my car off me at the Ring Road cut on tuesday. four of them. i know exactly where it is and i cannot go and get it because i am one person and they are four.
i have five hundred. i know that's nothing. i also have every route on the Ring memorised and a favour is a favour.
A jockey lost their vehicle to a four-person crew at the Ring Road cut, and instead of going to anyone who could help, they posted it into Warranty Void's replies, publicly, where the whole district watched the crew read it.
The car is thirty minutes away in a yard everyone can find. This is not a difficult contract. It is a test with an audience, and the audience is the actual client.
Open. Twenty-two, broke, and out a vehicle, which on the Ring means out of a livelihood. Knows every route on the Ring Road and is offering that, correctly, as worth more than the credits.
Sealed. The car is not theirs. They have been running it for eight months on a handshake for an owner who went into Service in March and has not come out. They are not lying to the crew; they simply think of it as theirs now, because the alternative sentence is one they cannot say.
The four who took it did so because one of them is the sister of the man in Service, and as far as she is concerned the jockey has been driving her brother's car around the Ring for eight months while he sits in a facility having his hardware assessed. She is not a thief. She is next of kin with no legal standing whatsoever, which is the entire body economy in one vehicle.
Land it on the registration. The name in the door pocket is neither the client's nor the sister's, and once it is read out loud in a yard in front of two parties and a camera, the contract stops being about a car.
| d6 | At the yard |
|---|---|
| 1 | The sister explains, in one sentence, and the client cannot answer it. |
| 2 | The client arrives, uninvited, having followed the crew, and it goes badly in public. |
| 3 | The car will not start, and fixing it in the yard takes an hour with everyone standing around. |
| 4 | One of the four films the crew for their own channel. It is a better angle. |
| 5 | Someone offers to buy the car on the spot for more than either party has ever had. |
| 6 | Danka refuses to hand a car to somebody who cannot produce a title. Nobody expected this and everyone should have. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Returned it to the client | +0 / +2 · fast, clean, popular, and wrong, and the sister posts her side |
| Gave it to the sister | +0 / +1 · correct, unpopular, and the district argues about it for a month |
| Got both parties to an arrangement | +0 / +4 · the hardest ninety minutes in this cluster |
| Kept it pending the owner's release | +1 / +3 · the crew now stores a car for a man in Service |
| It became a fight | +2 / −2 · nine thousand people watched a splice crew beat up four civilians |
Pay: 500 cr and a Ring Road favour that is worth considerably more. Non-money: whichever party the crew did not choose, who now has an opinion about them, publicly.
Standard parts run, Ring Road, depot to depot, one pallet. The pallet is genuinely parts and you may inspect it.
The delivery must arrive between 90 and 110 minutes after the scheduled slot. Not later. Not earlier. Ninety minutes is the number. The fee reflects the difficulty of doing something badly on purpose without it looking deliberate.
A pallet of legitimate parts and an enormous fee to arrive with it ninety minutes late, in a way that reads as ordinary bad luck on the Ring Road, which is the most credible thing in Lost Angeles.
The client has been honest about everything: the parts are parts, the route is a route, and the only unusual instruction is the lateness. They have not said why and have made it clear the fee is for not asking.
Open. A logistics coordinator with a staff badge and a personal phone, paying a fee that is obviously not theirs, and doing a very poor job of appearing calm.
Sealed. The fee is not theirs. They were approached three weeks ago, they said no twice, and the third approach mentioned their daughter's clinic account. They are not a conspirator. They are being leaned on and they have decided the least harmful thing they can do is hire competent people and hope the competent people notice.
During the shift handover, the receiving depot's augment-scanning gate runs on the outgoing shift's credentials and logs nothing. A ninety-minute delay creates a documented, blameless reason for a specific vehicle to be in the receiving yard during the only unlogged window of the week — and it is not the crew's vehicle they need in there. It is the one behind them.
Land it when somebody works out that the contract has been designed so the crew cannot fail. Late is paid. Early is paid, technically, at a penalty. The only outcome that is not paid for is the crew understanding what the delay is worth, and the fee is sized to make sure they do not bother.
| d6 | At the receiving yard |
|---|---|
| 1 | The vehicle behind pulls in while the crew is unloading, and nobody looks at anybody. |
| 2 | The coordinator is at the gate, having driven out to watch, which was not the plan. |
| 3 | The crew arrives on time and the window closes, and the vehicle behind simply drives past and away. |
| 4 | The unlogged gate is not for cargo. Somebody walks out through it. |
| 5 | The pallet is inspected at the gate and it is exactly what it says it is, and that is somehow worse. |
| 6 | Danka can make ninety minutes look like an accident, and can also make it look like a message. She has to pick. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Delivered late as briefed | +3 / +0 · paid in full, and the crew is now part of a standing arrangement |
| Delivered on time | +2 / +0 · half fee, a broken window, and somebody very calm asks for a meeting |
| Cleared the daughter's clinic account | +1 / +1 · the coordinator quits within a month and sends nothing but a note |
| Followed the vehicle behind | +5 / +0 · you now know what came through the gate and you cannot unknow it |
| Told the depot | +4 / +1 · the window closes permanently and the coordinator is fired first |
Pay: 9,500 cr for a 400-credit delivery, which is the loudest fact in the contract. Non-money: a coordinator who owes them, and knowledge of a weekly unlogged window in a scanning gate.
GRAVA PACK INVITES ANY UNAFFILIATED CREW OF LOST ANGELES TO A SANCTIONED DEMONSTRATION OF PACK DOCTRINE ON THE RING ROAD. PURSE: 40,000 CREDITS. NO ENTRY FEE. NO CONDITIONS.
COHESION IS NOT A STYLE. IT IS A RESULT. WE WILL DEMONSTRATE THIS AGAINST WHOEVER ATTENDS.
Commander Ilya Vroza's Kavast pack has posted an open purse for a Ring Road demonstration and has spent a week not naming Warranty Void, which the entire district has correctly read as naming Warranty Void.
It is a recruitment advertisement with a race attached. Kavast do not need forty thousand credits' worth of publicity from beating five freelancers; they need footage of mono-type doctrine beating a splice, and they have built an event to obtain it.
Open. There is no client. The purse is real, escrowed publicly, and Kavast will pay it, because paying it is cheaper than the footage is worth.
Sealed. Vroza does not expect to win the race. She expects to win the cut: Kavast public affairs has a production crew on the route, and whatever happens will be edited into a recruitment spot by Thursday. She has already commissioned the voiceover.
The resurfaced section is not resurfaced. It is instrumented — Kavast has laid a sensor strip and a comms overlay under a Ring Road section on a municipal permit, and the demonstration exists to give them a legitimate reason to run six vehicles over it at speed with everyone watching. The race is the cover. The road is the objective, and after Thursday Kavast will have a live telemetry corridor through the middle of the Ring.
Land it mid-route, when somebody realises the pack is not racing the crew. They are running a formation pass over one section, repeatedly, at speed, and the placings do not matter to them at all.
| d6 | On the instrumented section |
|---|---|
| 1 | The crew can win the race or expose the strip. Not both. The timing makes it exclusive. |
| 2 | Vroza pulls alongside Danka and says one sentence about her litter. |
| 3 | The Ring's independent jockeys pile in uninvited and the demonstration becomes an actual race with thirty cars. |
| 4 | Kavast's production crew is filming the road, not the race, and Theo notices where the lenses are pointed. |
| 5 | The purse is paid mid-event, publicly, before the finish, which is a message the crew will take a week to decode. |
| 6 | Ozzy is on the Kavast channel. He got on it four hours ago. Nobody knows how. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Won the race | +3 / +5 · enormous, and the strip is live by Thursday |
| Exposed the strip | +6 / +4 · Kavast loses the corridor and Vroza now has a personal file |
| Both, somehow | +6 / +6 · Volume Two opens with a pack at the garage door |
| Did not attend | +0 / −3 · a week of Kavast content about a crew that would not come |
| Took the purse and said nothing | +2 / +2 · forty thousand credits and a telemetry corridor through the Ring |
Pay: 40,000 cr, publicly escrowed, paid on attendance rather than placing, which nobody notices until afterwards. Non-money: the Ring's independents, and whatever Theo's receiver caught.
Account in arrears 14 months. Secured against one vehicle, Ring Road registered. Debtor has not disputed the debt, has not responded to eleven notices, and has not moved address.
Recover the vehicle. If the vehicle is unrecoverable, obtain a signed acknowledgement of the balance. Physical force is not authorised and will void the fee.
A fourteen-month arrears account, secured against a Ring Road vehicle, with compliant paperwork and a debtor who has not disputed anything. It is the most legally clean contract in this book and it pays fairly.
It is also the first time the crew has been hired as the sharp end of somebody else's ledger, and the fallout table is the only one in Volume One that opens with a Clout penalty printed on the card.
Open. A finance house with a licence number, compliant paperwork and a reasonable fee structure. They have done nothing wrong at any point and will say so, politely, with documents.
Sealed. The ninth notice was a settlement offer at forty percent, sent in error by a junior, and withdrawn by phone two days later. He accepted it in writing. The acceptance is in the file, unactioned, and nobody at the finance house has looked at the file in eleven months because the account is automated.
Ruben Casta accepted a settlement he was legally entitled to accept, in writing, and has been driving on the Ring for eleven months believing the matter closed. He has not answered the notices because he thinks they are an error, and he is right, and he has no idea that the automated system has been accruing interest on a balance he settled. The debt is real, the paperwork is perfect, and he does not owe it.
Land it on the ninth notice. Somebody reads all eleven because they are being thorough, finds a settlement offer in the middle of the run, and the entire moral position of the contract inverts while the crew is already parked outside his flat.
| d6 | At the door |
|---|---|
| 1 | He invites them in and produces a folder with everything in it, filed by date. |
| 2 | The vehicle is already gone. A different recovery firm took it three hours ago. |
| 3 | He signs the acknowledgement without reading it, because he trusts them, before anybody can stop him. |
| 4 | The compliance desk answers, listens, and asks the crew to put it in writing, which takes a week he does not have. |
| 5 | His daughter answers the door and knows exactly who the crew are from the channel. |
| 6 | The finance house offers double to take the vehicle tonight and stop asking questions. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Took the vehicle | +1 / −3 · full fee and ten percent, and Ruben loses a livelihood he had already paid for |
| Got the settlement honoured | +0 / +3 · no fee, three weeks of paperwork, and one man keeps his job |
| Got the signed acknowledgement | +1 / −2 · legally clean, technically correct, and the worst thing in this cluster |
| Escalated to compliance and stayed on it | +1 / +2 · half fee as a kill fee, and the finance house audits eleven other accounts |
| Walked away | +0 / −1 · reassigned within the week to a firm that is authorised |
Pay: 2,900 cr plus ten percent of recovery, and every credit of it is contingent on doing the wrong thing. Non-money: a compliance desk that now knows this crew reads files.
The High Top is money: funds, holdings, freeholds, and the people who administer them. It is not a fortress and it is not hostile. It is a set of rooms where things get decided by people who are pleasant to the crew and will remain pleasant afterwards.
There is almost no violence available in this cluster. Every contract here is won or lost in conversation, in paperwork, or in the four seconds after somebody reads a name on a document.
An invitation, or a very good reason. The High Top is not gated; it is simply somewhere nobody arrives by accident, and a hot pink car parked in a High Top street is an event.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | A car has been parked outside a residence for two hours with somebody in it. |
| 2 | An evening is being held and the guest list has been augmented. |
| 3 | A courier is waiting for an answer and will wait as long as it takes. |
| 4 | Somebody's adult child is watching the street from a landing window. |
| 5 | A private security patrol is running early, which they never do. |
| 6 | A heritage review has begun asking who commissioned something in the forties. |
| 7 | An offer is being made in a room somewhere and it is generous and it is honest. |
| 8 | A household is being politely relocated and nobody has used the word eviction. |
| 9 | Somebody is having a plinth unbolted from a stair hall at four in the morning. |
| 10 | Nothing. It is very quiet. It is always very quiet. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | A fund up here has been buying the Low Coast freeholds for a decade. |
| 2 | Somebody paid for a whole evening just to get five names onto a list. |
| 3 | A family name is attached to the machines on the Raze and they are trying to lose the paperwork. |
| 4 | The recovery contractor is underwritten from up here. |
| 5 | There is a covenant that would cost somebody four hundred thousand a year and nobody can find the second copy. |
| 6 | They do not want to hire the crew. They want the crew booked. |
PATRON p.116 is the highest-Band contract most tables will play and it has no fight in it. Run it late, when the crew is broke.
I own a thing I no longer wish to own and cannot be seen to sell, give away or destroy. I would like it stolen. Convincingly, on a night when I am at home and visibly elsewhere in the building, by people whose reputation makes the theft plausible.
I will pay you and you may keep it. My only conditions are that the security is genuinely defeated and that nobody in my household is frightened.
A High Top residence, a private security contract, and a client asking to be robbed of something he legally owns, on a night when he will be at home, with the household present and unaware.
It is a beautifully paid job with a client who has thought of everything, and the only genuinely hard part is that it has to be real: a defeated system, a plausible entry, and five people who are already famous for exactly this.
Open. Sixty-ish, wealthy, courteous, and enjoying this more than he should. Will answer every question except the one about why.
Sealed. The theodolite was used to survey the Raze remediation grid in the forties. His father operated it. It is the only object that physically links his family name to the survey line in GROUND TRUTH p.92, and a heritage review has begun asking who commissioned the remediation and who was paid for it.
He is not disposing of an heirloom. He is disposing of evidence of a lie his family has told for thirty years — that the Raze remediation was a public work. It was a private contract, badly done, abandoned mid-schedule, and the machines were never decommissioned because decommissioning them was a line item somebody deleted. The drones in GROUND TRUTH p.92 are still working because his father's firm stopped paying.
Land it on the brass plate. The theodolite is worth nine hundred credits and the client is paying fourteen thousand, and Ozzy will have said so out loud twice before anybody wipes the plinth and reads a name and a date that connects a High Top family to a machine that has been eating dogs on the Raze for six weeks.
| d6 | In the stair hall |
|---|---|
| 1 | A member of the household comes down for water and the crew has nine seconds to be furniture. |
| 2 | The off-site monitor calls the house phone. The client has to answer it in front of them. |
| 3 | The plinth is bolted through to a joist. It was never meant to leave. |
| 4 | The client's adult daughter is awake, has been watching from the landing, and is not frightened at all. |
| 5 | Theo's camera is running and the plate is legible, and the client asked for the theft to be posted. |
| 6 | The security contractor's patrol is early, and Danka is parked in a High Top street in a hot pink car. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Stole it clean, posted the clip | +1 / +4 · fourteen thousand credits and the best burglary the Feed has seen |
| Kept the plate and its meaning | +2 / +4 · the crew now holds the Raze's origin document |
| Frightened the household | +3 / +0 · full fee withheld, and the client is genuinely, quietly devastated |
| Gave the plate to the heritage review | +4 / +3 · the family name is in the record and the drones become somebody's legal problem |
| Sold it back to him | +0 / +2 · he pays. He is not even annoyed. He expected slightly better of them. |
Pay: 14,000 cr and a theodolite worth nine hundred. Non-money: the plate, which is the single most useful object in the Raze cluster and which the client did not know he was handing over.
Protected witness, currently held under a private security arrangement on the High Top, due to give evidence at a closed hearing in nine days. Our client requires the witness removed from that arrangement and delivered to a neutral party of the witness's own choosing.
The witness is willing. The arrangement is not a prison and the people running it are not criminals. This is a contested custody of a person who has changed their mind.
A witness in a closed hearing is being held in comfortable protective custody by a private security arrangement, and wants out, and has instructed lawyers, and the lawyers have hired a crew because the arrangement will not release a person on a letter.
Everything about the contract is clean: the escrow is real, the firm has a door, and the witness is willing. It pays more than everything the crew has earned this volume combined.
Open. A legal firm, licensed, with a real address and real people who will meet the crew in a real office and answer procedural questions precisely and substantive ones not at all.
Sealed. They represent the witness. They are not lying about anything. They have simply not been told by their own client what the neutral party is for, and they have decided that not asking is the professional position.
The witness is Halvard Ness, and he is not a witness to the thing at issue. He is the person who did it. The hearing is a licensing review into a recovery contractor's conduct, he is scheduled to give evidence that will end it, and he has changed his mind because ending it also ends him — his signature is on four years of recovery orders. The neutral party of his own choosing is the recovery contractor's counsel. The crew is being paid eighty-five thousand credits to deliver the only witness in a licensing review to the people being reviewed.
Land it at the handover, or one scene before it, when somebody reads the sealed instruction. Everything up to that point has been a clean, well-paid, morally simple extraction of a willing man, and the name on the paper reframes every hour of it.
| d6 | At the handover |
|---|---|
| 1 | The neutral party is waiting, polite, with a vehicle, and greets Halvard by his first name. |
| 2 | Halvard tells the crew the truth himself, in the car, unprompted, because he cannot stop. |
| 3 | The security staff followed. They are not there to recover him. They want to know what he is. |
| 4 | The hearing is moved forward. It sits tomorrow. The crew has one night to decide. |
| 5 | The legal firm calls, having just worked it out themselves, and asks the crew to stop. |
| 6 | He asks to be delivered to the review instead, and means it for about four minutes. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Delivered as instructed | +3 / −4 · eighty-five thousand credits, the review collapses, four years of orders stand |
| Delivered him to the hearing | +6 / +4 · escrow breached, a recovery contractor loses its licence, and the crew is now in litigation |
| Let him choose, honestly, with everything on the table | +4 / +2 · he chooses the hearing about half the time and it is the best scene in the volume |
| Walked away mid-contract | +4 / +0 · breach. Another crew completes it in four days. |
| Took the money and told Dr. Silk everything | +5 / +3 · the names get out even though the review does not |
Pay: 85,000 cr, escrowed, released on delivery, and it is the largest legitimate sum in this volume. Non-money: whichever institution the crew did not choose, which will remember.
You are invited to discuss a standing arrangement. There is no job attached and no obligation, and the invitation does not expire.
We have watched the channel for eleven months. We are not interested in changing what you do. We are interested in paying for it.
A fund with High Top money has spent eleven months watching the channel and is now offering the crew four hundred thousand credits a year to keep doing exactly what they do, with no notes, no branding and no scripts.
It is more money than every contract in this volume combined. Nothing is being asked. That is the contract.
Open. A fund principal, forties, extremely good company, who has read everything the crew has posted and can discuss it intelligently and without flattery. Will answer any question directly.
Sealed. The fund holds positions across four districts, including the redevelopment in SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 and the factoring house in WHAT GREW BACK p.98. They are not buying the crew's work. They are buying the crew's unavailability — a retainer means a right of first refusal, and a right of first refusal means that when somebody in Barricadia needs five people, those five people are booked.
The offer is entirely genuine and entirely honest and there is no trap in the paperwork. The trap is the arithmetic: a crew on four hundred thousand a year does not take Band 1 contracts, and every Band 1 contract in this book is a neighbour. The fund does not need the crew to do anything. It needs them to stop being available to the district, and it is willing to pay a great deal for that, and it will never once ask them to refuse a job.
Land it when somebody maps the fund's positions and finds the factoring house from WHAT GREW BACK p.98 and the redevelopment from SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 in the same portfolio — and realises the fund has never once asked the crew to do anything, and never will have to.
| d6 | When an answer is expected |
|---|---|
| 1 | The principal, asked directly about the first-refusal clause, explains it honestly and it is worse explained honestly. |
| 2 | One crew member wants to say yes, out loud, in front of the others, with a good reason. |
| 3 | The fund offers to fund the recycler repairs in THE STANDPIPE WAR p.68 as a gesture, with no conditions, and means it. |
| 4 | Marisol says her sentence. |
| 5 | The offer is raised, once, calmly, at the exact moment the crew is closest to refusing. |
| 6 | They are told they may take open-board work whenever they like. It is true. It changes nothing. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Accepted | +2 / +6 · the campaign changes. Band 1 and 2 contracts stop arriving at the door. |
| Refused | +1 / +2 · the principal is gracious. The invitation does not expire. It will be made again. |
| Refused publicly, on the channel | +4 / +5 · Barricadia knows exactly what the crew turned down and why |
| Took the recycler funding and refused the retainer | +2 / +4 · the fund gets a photograph and the district gets water |
| Split | +2 / +3 · one of them takes it. That is a Volume Two campaign and it is a good one. |
Pay: 400,000 cr a year, standing, paid quarterly, with no work attached. Non-money: everything.
You are invited to an evening at the High Top. Dress is what you wear. Attendance is the entire obligation; there is no performance, no speech and no photography by anyone but yourselves.
Seven thousand credits, paid in advance, for the pleasure of your company. We are aware how that reads.
Five engraved invitations, five correct legal names — including Caseline-9, which is on almost nothing — and seven thousand credits in advance simply to turn up at a High Top house for an evening.
There is no job. There is a room with sixty people in it, drinks, and an evening to get through. The crew are the entertainment in a way that is not about performing.
Open. The host paid, the host invited, and the host is delighted they came. He is exactly what he appears to be.
Sealed. His evening has been sponsored. Someone offered to cover the entire cost in exchange for five names on the list, and he took it, because sixty-person evenings on the High Top are expensive and he is not as wealthy as this house suggests.
The evening is a soft interview. Four people in that room have been briefed to have one conversation each with one member of the crew, in an environment where nobody can reasonably refuse to answer, and the questions are unremarkable individually: where do you live, who holds your lease, what is your lineage, who services your augments, who taught you to drive. Assembled afterwards it is a complete operational profile of five people and one building, obtained legally, at a party, for seven thousand credits.
Land it when two crew members compare notes and find they were asked the same question from different angles by different people — or when Cas realises her invitation used a name that exists on three documents, one of which is held by a liquidation shell she checks every week.
| d6 | Late in the evening |
|---|---|
| 1 | One of the four asks Cas directly about the recall option, kindly, as though it were small talk. |
| 2 | The host makes a toast that includes the crew by name and the room applauds and it is genuinely warm. |
| 3 | Theo's receiver catches the four coordinating on a private band from the next room. |
| 4 | Somebody offers Danka a drink and a job in the same sentence and the job is Kavast. |
| 5 | The sponsorship correspondence names an entity from PATRON p.116. |
| 6 | Nothing happens at all. The crew leaves having learned nothing and the profile is complete. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Gave nothing away | +1 / +3 · they leave with an incomplete file and a lot of respect |
| Profile clock reached 5 | +4 / +2 · somebody now has a full operational picture of the crew and the garage |
| Turned it around and interviewed them | +3 / +4 · the crew learns who commissioned it, which is a Volume Two name |
| Exposed it to the room | +4 / +1 · the host is destroyed socially and it was not his fault |
| Left early | +1 / +0 · rude, safe, and the four simply attend the next thing the crew goes to |
Pay: 7,000 cr in advance for turning up, which is the most honest fee in the book and buys the least honest evening. Non-money: a host who owes them, and four faces that will appear again.
The seawall failed in stages and was never repaired, and two hundred households along it live in buildings that are dry for four hours at a time. The people here know the water better than anyone in Lost Angeles and have organised their entire lives around a timetable.
Everything in this cluster is about paper: deeds, covenants, tenancy records, abandonment certificates. The physical danger is real and it is never the actual obstacle.
Local knowledge, which cannot be bought. The tide table is public and the reading of it is not. A crew that turns up without a mooring is a crew that gets stranded.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | Slack water. Four hours, and everyone on the coast is working. |
| 2 | A van and a locksmith are parked outside an annexe with a paper. |
| 3 | The archivist is posting her notice again. Fifty-first week. |
| 4 | A race meeting is on and there are thirty cars on the seawall road. |
| 5 | Somebody is diving a basement that has been tidal for eleven years. |
| 6 | A boat is at a collapsed section of wall and it is not a fishing boat. |
| 7 | Forty former residents are in a street and nobody organised it. |
| 8 | The tide turns early. It does that here. |
| 9 | A strongbox that eleven salvage passes could not move is being moved. |
| 10 | A Center Point vehicle is parked where no Center Point vehicle has ever parked. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | There is a covenant from 2039 that makes the wall somebody's legal problem and one copy is missing. |
| 2 | The Harrow strongbox has been opened once already and put back. |
| 3 | One car in the Salt Wake field is not racing. |
| 4 | The abandonment certificates cover the whole parcel, not just the empty flats. |
| 5 | Something is being landed at the collapsed section on race nights. |
| 6 | The archivist lives in one of the two hundred and has never mentioned it. |
This cluster is a chain: SLACK WATER p.122 finds the deeds, WHAT THE SEA FILED p.126 finds the covenant, THE LAST TENANT p.128 is why it matters this month. SALT WAKE p.124 is the one that connects the Low Coast to the rest of the book.
Third and fourth floors of the Harrow building are dry at low water for about four hours a day. There is a strongbox on four. It has been there since the wall went.
We can get you in and we cannot get it out. Two thousand one hundred and you can use our moorings whenever you like, which if you knew this coast you would understand is the better half of the offer.
The Low Coast floods twice a day. Buildings along the old seawall are dry for four hours at slack water and underwater for the rest, and everything in them has been sorted through eleven times by people with better local knowledge than anyone in Barricadia.
A strongbox on the fourth floor of the Harrow building has survived eleven passes because nobody has been able to move it, and three separate parties have asked about it this month.
Open. Four people who work this coast, know the water, and are honest that they need outside muscle and a vehicle. Straightforward, warm, and slightly amused by Barricadians.
Sealed. They have already opened it. Two years ago, at slack water, with a cutting torch, and they closed it again and left it exactly where it was because of what was inside, and they have been hoping somebody else would deal with it since.
The strongbox holds the Harrow building's tenancy records — original, physical, pre-Upheaval, and unreproduced. Down this coast, physical tenancy paper is the only thing standing between about two hundred households and a property agent's claim that the buildings were abandoned. It is not treasure. It is the deeds to two hundred people's homes, and everyone who wants it wants it for a different reason.
Land it when the box is open, on a fourth floor, with ninety minutes of window left, and it is paper. Two hundred addresses. The contract becomes a decision about who gets handed the deeds, made in a flooding building, on a clock.
| d6 | At slack water |
|---|---|
| 1 | The agent's people arrive with a boat and a lawyer and are entirely within their rights. |
| 2 | The box will not go down the silted stair intact. It opens or it stays. |
| 3 | The tide turns early. It does that here and everyone local knows and nobody mentioned it. |
| 4 | The archivist is already on four. Has been since dawn. Has no way down. |
| 5 | One of the Low Coast crew tries to destroy the records rather than let them leave the coast. |
| 6 | The records name the Harrow building's freeholder, and it is the fund from PATRON p.116. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Records lodged with the archivist | +2 / +4 · two hundred households have paper. It takes years to matter. |
| Sold to the property agent | +1 / −4 · a clean fee and the Low Coast finds out inside a month |
| Left in the building | +0 / +0 · the water gets them within two years and everyone knows they were reachable |
| Destroyed them | +1 / −2 · nobody can claim the buildings. Nobody can defend them either. |
| Copied everything first | +2 / +5 · slow, unglamorous, and the only answer that survives Volume Two |
Pay: 2,100 cr and standing use of Low Coast moorings, which is a logistics asset the crew will use for the rest of the campaign. Non-money: two hundred households, or a property agent, and the crew has to pick.
Someone is using our race. Every meeting for five months, one car in the field is not racing: it runs the coast road at pace, in a pack of thirty, with every camera in the district pointed at the leaders, and it leaves the circuit at the seawall gap and rejoins four minutes later.
We cannot police thirty cars at speed. You can be one of them. Entry is arranged. Find out which car and we will handle the rest, and if you happen to win we will not object.
Salt Wake is a Low Coast raid-race circuit that runs the seawall road, and for five months somebody has been using the race as cover: a single entry that runs with the field, drops out at the seawall gap for four minutes, and rejoins.
Thirty cars at speed is the best moving cover in Lost Angeles. Nobody watches the mid-field. The committee has worked out that it is happening and cannot work out which car.
Open. Six committee members who love this circuit, are furious about it, and have no ability to do anything themselves. Entirely straightforward.
Sealed. One of the six knows. He has known for three months, he is being paid, and he voted to hire the crew because refusing to would have looked strange, and he has been sleeping badly ever since.
The four minutes are a transfer. Contraband comes in by water at the collapsed section, and a car in a thirty-car field is the only vehicle on this coast that can arrive, load and leave at speed without any of it looking like anything. What is moving is not drugs or weapons: it is stripped augment hardware, coming back out of the Low Coast toward buyers inland, and it has been running since about four months after the depot in BURN NOTICE p.96 started filling up.
Land it at the gap, when the crew sees what is being loaded. Not crates. Cases, the size of a forearm, catalogued, and Cas will know what they are from twenty metres because she has spent her whole life looking at that packaging.
| d6 | At the gap |
|---|---|
| 1 | The car is the committee member's own. He is not driving it. His son is. |
| 2 | The boat is early and the transfer happens with the crew still four hundred metres out. |
| 3 | The new driver follows the crew off-circuit, thinking they are the ones cheating. |
| 4 | The tide comes in over the service road with vehicles on it. |
| 5 | The cases are addressed. Individually. With account numbers. |
| 6 | Winning the race and stopping the transfer are ninety seconds apart and the crew cannot do both. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Identified the car, told the committee | +2 / +4 · the circuit is clean and the route reopens somewhere else in a month |
| Followed the hardware inland | +4 / +2 · you now know who is buying, which is a Volume Two name |
| Won the race | +1 / +5 · enormous clip, and the transfer ran while everyone watched you |
| Took a case | +4 / +1 · you are holding somebody's arm in a box and it has a number on it |
| Said nothing | +1 / +0 · paid, quietly, and it runs for another five months |
Pay: 6,400 cr and a standing Salt Wake entry, which is a Clout engine for the rest of the campaign. Non-money: the case, if they take it, and what the number on it opens.
I am looking for the second copy of the Low Coast Maintenance Covenant, executed 2039, which obliges the freeholder of the seawall parcels to maintain the wall in perpetuity. The first copy is in my hands and is not sufficient; a covenant of this class requires both executed copies to be enforceable.
I have been asking for a year. I have eleven hundred credits. I know what that is.
The Low Coast floods because the seawall is not maintained, and the seawall is not maintained because the obligation to maintain it sits in a covenant that cannot be enforced without both executed copies, and one copy has been missing since 2039.
An archivist has been posting the same notice every week for a year. Nobody has ever answered it. The crew is the first.
Open. Fifty-something, unpaid, working from a room above a fish market, and the single most competent researcher in this book. She has done everything correctly for a year and nobody has helped her.
Sealed. She lives in one of the two hundred households. She has never mentioned this and never will, and if a crew member works it out and says so kindly she will be unable to continue the conversation.
The second copy is in the absorbed practice's deposit boxes, in a basement that has been tidal for eleven years, and it is legible. The freeholder, traced through three reconstitutions, is the same fund that made the offer in PATRON p.116 — and the covenant, once enforceable, obliges them to maintain the seawall in perpetuity at a cost that is roughly four hundred thousand credits a year.
Land it when the covenant is out, dry, and legible, and somebody traces the freeholder through three reconstitutions and arrives at a name they were offered four hundred thousand credits a year by, in a nice room, by a person who was polite to them.
| d6 | With the document |
|---|---|
| 1 | The fund makes an offer for it. Openly, fairly, and for more than the crew has ever been paid. |
| 2 | The basement gives while they are in it, and the archivist is the one holding the box. |
| 3 | The document is executed but unstamped, and unstamped may or may not be enough, and nobody in the room is a lawyer. |
| 4 | The freeholder's search team is at the practice's storage the same night, politely, with a court order that is genuine. |
| 5 | Lodging it publicly starts a process that takes four years, and the archivist says so, and asks them to do it anyway. |
| 6 | The crew is offered the retainer from PATRON p.116 again, that week, at double, with no mention of the covenant. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Lodged the covenant | +5 / +5 · the seawall becomes somebody's legal obligation and the Low Coast changes |
| Sold it to the fund | +1 / −5 · the largest fee available and the coast floods forever |
| Gave it to the archivist and walked away | +3 / +4 · she does the rest herself. It takes four years. She manages. |
| Lost it in the basement | +1 / +0 · she starts again. She has already started again once. |
| Copied it and sold the original | +3 / −2 · clever, profitable, and a copy is not an executed copy and she will have to tell them so |
Pay: 1,100 cr, which is everything she has, and the crew should not take it. Non-money: the covenant, the archivist, and a direct collision with the most powerful client in this volume.
Nadja is 74 and the last one in the Harrow annexe. The agent's people come Thursday at eight with a van and a locksmith and a paper that says the building was abandoned in 2059, which it was not, because she has been in it since 1998.
She does not want anybody hurt and she does not want to be carried out. She wants somebody standing there so that it is not just her.
A seventy-four-year-old woman is the last resident of an annexe a property agent has certified as abandoned, and the certification is legally sufficient, and the van comes Thursday at eight.
There is no trick in this contract and no hidden villain. There is a paper, a schedule, and one person who has decided to be in the doorway when it arrives.
Open. Seventy-four, entirely lucid, has made a plan, and the plan is to be in the doorway. She has thought about what happens after and will not discuss it.
Sealed. She has somewhere to go. Her son has been asking for two years. She is not staying because she has no options. She is staying because leaving means agreeing that the annexe was abandoned, and two hundred other households' claims rest on the same certificate. She has worked this out entirely on her own.
The abandonment certificate covers the whole Harrow parcel, not just the annexe, and it is the instrument the agent will use for the other two hundred. Nadja is the only person still physically present, which makes her the only counter-evidence that exists. She knows. The neighbour knows. Nobody has said it to the crew because saying it out loud sounds like using an old woman.
Land it when somebody works out that this is not about one flat. Nadja has been holding a doorway for two hundred households for eleven months and has never once said so, and the crew was hired for three hundred credits to stand next to her for a morning.
| d6 | Thursday, eight o'clock |
|---|---|
| 1 | Forty former residents are in the street. Nobody organised it. The neighbour made calls. |
| 2 | The challenge is filed at 07:40 and the van comes anyway because nobody told the driver. |
| 3 | The agent themselves turns up, reasonable, and offers Nadja a rehousing package that is genuinely generous. |
| 4 | Theo goes live. Not a cut. Live, unedited, which the channel has never done. |
| 5 | Her son is there. He drove all night. He wants her to take the package. |
| 6 | The locksmith refuses to open the door. He is from this coast. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Challenge filed, van turned away | +2 / +5 · the certificate is contested and two hundred claims survive |
| Stood in the doorway, no paper | +3 / +4 · they win the morning and lose the building by Friday |
| She took the package | +0 / +1 · the certificate stands and the parcel clears in six weeks |
| It became physical | +4 / −2 · a splice crew fought a locksmith on camera and it is the only thing anyone remembers |
| Did not come | +0 / −4 · she stood there alone. The clip of that exists and it was not filmed by Theo. |
Pay: 300 cr and a meal Nadja cannot afford to cook, and the crew should eat all of it. Non-money: forty households who came back to a street once and would do it again.
Monitor Central is the city's administrative presence: notices, assessments, sweeps, and a procurement process that decides which districts get visited how often. It has no headquarters the crew can reach and no individual who decided any of this.
These are the last three contracts in the volume and they are where every thread in it terminates. There is almost no opposition in this cluster and almost nothing that can be solved by being good at violence.
Everything the crew has banked. This cluster cannot be played by a crew with no relationships, and that is deliberate.
| d10 | What is happening as the crew arrives |
|---|---|
| 1 | A public service notice has gone up in eleven locations. |
| 2 | An assessment is being conducted in a street, in front of a queue, and it takes four minutes and it is humiliating. |
| 3 | A van with an assessor in it is parked outside an address on a list. |
| 4 | A procurement officer is having a bad week and would like somebody to ask why. |
| 5 | Dr. Silk has closed the clinic for the afternoon and given no reason. |
| 6 | Somebody the crew warned has already gone. |
| 7 | A recruitment letter arrives at the garage with all five names spelled correctly. |
| 8 | The queue at the standpipe is smaller than it was last week. |
| 9 | A string wall in a garage has stopped looking like a joke. |
| 10 | Nothing happens for nine days and then it all happens at once. |
| d6 | What people are saying |
|---|---|
| 1 | Barricadia gets assessed four times a year and Center Point once, and it is not about risk. |
| 2 | The assessors are contracted, not staff, and the contractor is paid per finding. |
| 3 | There is a depot somewhere with four years of recovered hardware in it. |
| 4 | Somebody has a catalogue with names in it. |
| 5 | The whole thing is one line and it always was. |
| 6 | They are not trying to beat the crew. They are trying to hire them. |
Do not run THE WHOLE QUEUE p.136 before the table has played twelve contracts. It is built entirely from banked relationships and a crew without them will find an empty board where the leverage should be.
SCHEDULED AUGMENT STANDING ASSESSMENT — BARRICADIA DISTRICT. Residents holding leased or licensed augmentation are reminded that standing certification must be presented on demand to an authorised assessor.
Assessment will be conducted at fixed points and by mobile team. This is a routine public safety measure. NO ACTION IS REQUIRED OF COMPLIANT RESIDENTS.
Monitor Central has scheduled an assessment sweep of Barricadia for the end of the month. It is routine, it is published, it is legal, and it is the fourth this year.
Dr. Silk has come to the garage. She has never come to the garage. She treats somewhere between eighty and four hundred orphanware patients in this district depending on how you count, and she has a list, and she has done the arithmetic on how many of them survive an assessment.
Open. Dr. Silk, unlicensed and better than licensed, who has never asked the crew for anything, who has forwarded them work, and who is now sitting in a garage asking for help with nothing to offer.
Sealed. She has already decided that if the crew cannot stop it, she will close the clinic and destroy her records the night before, which protects her patients and ends the only functioning medical service in the district. She has not told them that and will not.
The sweep is genuinely routine and genuinely lawful, and it is also commercially sponsored: the recovery contractor supplies the assessors at below cost, because every default they find is inventory. Barricadia has been assessed four times this year and Center Point once, and the difference is not risk. It is yield. Nobody made a decision to target the poor district. A procurement process did.
Land it on the procurement document, when somebody reads the per-assessment rate and works out that Barricadia is assessed four times a year because Barricadia is profitable to assess, and that no individual in the chain chose that.
| d6 | In the ninth day |
|---|---|
| 1 | Procurement suspends the contract pending review. The sweep is postponed, not cancelled, and postponed is nine weeks. |
| 2 | The contractor substitutes its own staff at full cost, out of spite, and the sweep runs anyway and smaller. |
| 3 | Four hundred people leave Barricadia for three days. The district empties. It is the most frightening thing in the book. |
| 4 | Dr. Silk starts burning records early because she has not been told anything. |
| 5 | A crew member is assessed, in the street, in front of a queue, on day one. |
| 6 | The register is published anonymously by someone who is not the crew, and everyone assumes it was. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Killed the procurement, sweep postponed | +5 / +5 · nine weeks, and the same fight in nine weeks |
| Warned the register, district emptied | +3 / +3 · almost nobody is found, and Barricadia knows what it had to do |
| Sabotaged the mobile team | +6 / +2 · effective, criminal, and the contractor now has a crew to find |
| Nothing worked | +2 / +1 · eleven accounts go into Service and the clinic closes |
| Did not take it | +0 / −4 · Dr. Silk closes anyway and never says a word about it to anyone |
Pay: none. Dr. Silk has nothing and the crew will spend money running this. Non-money: the clinic stays open, or it does not, and that decides what medical care exists in every subsequent contract in this book.
We are expanding our field recovery capability in the Barricadia and Low Coast districts and are recruiting experienced independent teams on a contract basis.
Work is lawful, indemnified and supervised. Teams accompany a licensed assessor, secure a location, and support the recovery of leased hardware from accounts in default. No team member is required to perform a clinical procedure. Sixteen thousand credits for a two-day rotation, paid weekly.
The recovery contractor has offered the crew a job. Not a one-off: a rotation, weekly, indemnified, lawful, well-paid, and requiring nothing of them except that they stand in a doorway while somebody else does the procedure.
It is sixteen thousand credits for two days. It is more reliable money than anything else in this book. And it is the machine that four of the five of them are one missed payment away from.
Open. A recovery contractor with a licence, an indemnity policy and an HR process, recruiting the way any firm recruits. Professional throughout, and slightly puzzled by hesitation.
Sealed. They approached this crew specifically. A splice crew with district standing and a channel makes recovery in Barricadia dramatically easier, because the doorways open. They are not buying muscle. They are buying the crew's reputation, and they know exactly what it is worth and exactly what using it will cost the crew.
Every address on the rotation is a person the crew could have met in this book. One of them is on Dr. Silk's list. One of them is a Ring Road jockey. One of them is a name from the register in GOOD PRESS p.66 — somebody who bought a forged certificate for four hundred credits and believed it worked. The contract is not testing whether the crew will do harm. It is testing whether harm arranged into a rota, with paperwork and an indemnity and a decent colleague in the van, still reads as harm.
Land it at the fourth door. Three have been strangers, and it has been a job, and the money is real, and then somebody opens a door and says one of the crew's names because they have watched the channel.
| d6 | At the fourth address |
|---|---|
| 1 | It is somebody from THE FILTER JOB p.64. They are pleased to see the crew for the first four seconds. |
| 2 | The assessor asks the crew to hold someone. It is the first thing she has asked for and it is not in the contract. |
| 3 | The account is in default by ninety credits. |
| 4 | The hardware is a child's. The lease was signed by a guardian. It is entirely lawful. |
| 5 | Somebody in the crew realises their own upkeep is two months behind. |
| 6 | The client asks, on the spot, for the rotation to be filmed and posted, and doubles the fee, and means it as a compliment. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Refused the offer outright | +0 / +1 · they hire another crew, who are worse, and the rotations run |
| Took it, warned every address first | +3 / +2 · four empty flats, a full fee, and a contractor who will not use them twice |
| Ran the rotation | +0 / −5 · sixteen thousand credits. Barricadia knows by day two. So does Dr. Silk. |
| Ran it and filmed it | +1 / −8 · the channel does not recover from this in Volume One |
| Took the addresses and gave them to Dr. Silk | +4 / +4 · no fee, no indemnity, and every one of them gets a month's warning |
Pay: 16,000 cr per two-day rotation, weekly, indefinitely, which is more stable money than this crew has ever seen. Non-money: nothing. There is no non-money in this contract and that is the tell.
FILTER PLATES → LEASE CERTIFICATES → REGISTER (400 names) → SWEEP SCHEDULE → RECOVERY ROTATIONS → DEPOT (40 pallets) → SALT WAKE TRANSFERS → BUYERS INLAND
FUND HOLDS: redevelopment (C08) · factoring (C17) · Harrow freehold (C26/C28) · underwrites recovery contractor (C16/C23/C30/C31)
IT IS ONE LINE. IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN ONE LINE.
Somewhere around the twentieth contract, the string on the garage wall stops being a joke. The filter counterfeiter, the certificate register, the assessment sweeps, the recovery rotations, the depot, the transfers off Salt Wake, the covenant nobody could enforce, the co-op that had no title, and a fund that once offered five people four hundred thousand credits a year to be busy.
None of it is a conspiracy. Every link is a separate lawful commercial decision made by a different person for a defensible reason. That is what makes it unbeatable and that is what the crew has finally understood.
Open. There is no client and there is no fee and nobody asked for this. It is the first contract in the book the crew gives themselves.
Sealed. If the crew refused the retainer in PATRON p.116, the fund has spent the volume being patient. If they accepted it, this contract is about getting out of it, and it is harder and better.
There is no keystone. The line is genuinely distributed and genuinely lawful and cannot be destroyed. But it has four load-bearing links, and each of them is reachable by a crew this size: the procurement rate that makes poor districts profitable to assess, the covenant that puts four hundred thousand a year of unavoidable cost onto the freeholder, the catalogue that turns four years of recovery into a public record with names on it, and the co-op's want of a land title. Breaking any one of them changes Lost Angeles. Breaking any one of them also identifies the crew, completely, to everybody.
Land it when the crew accepts they cannot have all four. Whichever link they break, the other three continue, and the people attached to the other three are people they have met and have names.
| d6 | When the crew commits |
|---|---|
| 1 | The fund offers the retainer a third time, mid-contract, and it would solve everything for five people and nobody else. |
| 2 | The covenant is enforceable and lodging it takes four years, and the archivist says she will spend them. |
| 3 | The catalogue goes public and four hundred families learn what happened to their hardware in one afternoon. |
| 4 | The procurement rate is corrected and Barricadia is assessed once a year instead of four times, quietly, forever, and nobody ever knows why. |
| 5 | The co-op gets a title and ninety people stop being trespassers on ground they cleaned. |
| 6 | Vroza arrives, uninvited, on the crew's side, for her own reasons, and it is the worst possible time to owe her anything. |
| Outcome | Heat / Clout |
|---|---|
| Broke the procurement | +6 / +4 · the quietest win in the book and the one that saves the most people |
| Lodged the covenant | +7 / +5 · the seawall gets an owner and the Low Coast has a future |
| Published the catalogue | +8 / +6 · Burned, certainly, and four hundred families finally know |
| Got the co-op its title | +5 / +5 · ninety people, one field, and the Raze becomes somebody's home on paper |
| Took the retainer | +0 / +2 · the line runs. The crew is comfortable. Volume Two is a very different book. |
Pay: none, ever, from anyone. Non-money: whichever link they broke stays broken, and it stays broken in Volume Two, and Service opens with the crew already known to everyone inside it.
Rival crews are the connective tissue that turns thirty-two contracts into a campaign. They take the jobs the crew refuses, they arrive at the same warehouse on the same night, and when an institution finally decides Warranty Void is a problem, it does not send police. It hires one of these.
Each rival has one method, one philosophy and one signature, and all three should be legible in a sentence. If a player cannot describe a rival to an absent friend in ten seconds, the rival is not working.
Thirteen contracts in this volume are built to be refused. Every one of them has a Fallout row that says somebody else takes it. Name the somebody. Use this part. A refused contract that comes back wearing a rival's face is the single most efficient consequence in the book.
No rival in this part is evil, and none of them can be solved by killing. Every one of them is a crew doing a job, the way this crew does jobs, for reasons the players would find sympathetic if the book had been written from their side.
Commander Ilya Vroza's pack is a state instrument on a public road: six vehicles, six wolf-lineage operators bred and trained in the same programme Danka walked out of, running cohesion doctrine at a level no freelance crew can match.
They are not criminals and they are not here to fight. They are a recruitment campaign with a motor pool, and they have been embarrassed by Warranty Void twice before this volume opens.
Formation. Grava Pack does everything as a unit, at the same time, with no discussion, because they were bred to and it works. A pack action is not a tactic; it is a demonstration.
Cohesion is not a style, it is a result — and a splice is five people pretending that mismatched parts are a choice rather than an inability to be issued a matching set. Vroza believes this sincerely and it is why she is dangerous.
They never chase. They arrive where the crew is going, already parked, already formed up, having worked out the route. Twice in a volume; the third time it should be somewhere the crew thought was private.
| Stat line | |
|---|---|
| Six operators | FIGHT 2+ · MOBI 6" · AR 2 · FW 3 · MW 2 each |
| Pack Bonus | +1 to any roll made while three or more are within 6" of each other |
| Vroza | FIGHT 2+ · TACT 2+ · GUTS 2+ · AR 3 · FW 4 · MW 3 · and she is never in the first vehicle |
| d6 | Their first move |
|---|---|
| 1 | Six vehicles arrive at once from three directions and nobody gets out. |
| 2 | One pack member approaches alone, unarmed, and is extremely polite. |
| 3 | They have already spoken to whoever hired the crew. |
| 4 | A broadcast goes out naming the location before the crew has left it. |
| 5 | They do the job the crew came to do, correctly, and leave the client happier. |
| 6 | Vroza speaks to Danka directly. This is always the worst option for everyone. |
| d6 | When it goes badly for them |
|---|---|
| 1 | The formation breaks and they are visibly worse apart. They know it and hate it. |
| 2 | They withdraw as a unit, immediately, without covering anyone. Doctrine. |
| 3 | Vroza does not withdraw. Twice this has nearly killed her. |
| 4 | They call it a demonstration and post it as a win, and the edit is good. |
| 5 | One of them stays behind to help someone. It is not in doctrine and nobody reports it. |
| 6 | They come back within the week. They always come back within the week. |
Proof that a splice loses to a pack, filmed, and Danka's return. Vroza has an open offer for her and has never once made it as a threat, which is what makes it work.
Kavast will not be hired against anyone. They can be pointed. A rival who tells Grava Pack where the crew will be on Thursday costs nothing and is the cheapest way in this book to put six wolves in a street.
They arrive early, take the position, and make the crew's contract impossible rather than dangerous. Nobody is hurt. The job simply does not happen, and it happens on camera.
A legitimate contract security firm working the same districts: four operators, a supervisor, full insurance, and every permit Lost Angeles issues. They take the same contracts as the crew and they file returns on them.
They are the most frequent rival in the book because they are the version of Warranty Void that said yes. Two of them are gene-forged with current leases, and their upkeep is paid by the firm, and they will mention this.
Documentation. The Bonded arrive with authority: written instructions, a licence number, an indemnity reference, and the calm of people who cannot be prosecuted for what they are about to do.
Freelancers are a liability to their clients and to themselves. Everything Warranty Void does could be done lawfully, with cover, for better money, and the only reason they do not is vanity.
They serve paper. Before anything else happens, one of them hands the crew a document, and it is real, and it is correct, and reading it takes ninety seconds the crew does not have.
| Stat line | |
|---|---|
| Four operators | SHOOT 4+ · TACT 2+ · AR 2 · FW 3 · MW 2 each |
| Supervisor | TACT 2+ · OPINT 2+ · never engages · carries the paperwork |
| Indemnified | They will do anything lawful without hesitating, and nothing unlawful at all |
| d6 | Their first move |
|---|---|
| 1 | A document is served, politely, before anyone has said hello. |
| 2 | They are already inside and have been since before the crew arrived, with permission. |
| 3 | The supervisor asks the crew for their licence number. |
| 4 | They have hired the crew's own contact for the same evening. |
| 5 | They offer to split it. The offer is genuine and the terms are fair. |
| 6 | They call Monitor Central and wait, which is devastating and entirely legal. |
| d6 | When it goes badly for them |
|---|---|
| 1 | They stop immediately. The indemnity does not cover improvisation. |
| 2 | The supervisor withdraws the team and files a report naming the crew. |
| 3 | One of them keeps going anyway and is fired within the week. |
| 4 | They escalate to their client, who escalates to lawyers, which is slower and worse. |
| 5 | They ask the crew for help. It has happened twice and both times were sincere. |
| 6 | Their gene-forged operators get assessed on the spot by their own firm as a formality. |
Nothing. They do not think about Warranty Void at all, which Ozzy finds more offensive than any threat in this book.
They can be out-documented. A crew holding a compliance complaint, a filing, or a challenged survey can stop them cold, and it takes an afternoon in an office instead of a night with a vehicle.
They will do it lawfully, thoroughly, and on schedule, and there will be a written record afterwards proving that everything they did was permitted.
Three operators, none over twenty-one, running a channel with better numbers than Warranty Void's and roughly a third of the competence. They took the name from a defunct courier firm and they think it is hilarious.
They are not a threat. They are a mirror, eighteen months earlier, and every time they turn up the crew has to decide whether to help them or beat them, and both feel bad.
Volume. Sunset Delivery take every job, post everything, and fail publicly and often, and their audience loves them for it in a way Warranty Void's audience never quite loves Warranty Void.
Nothing is serious and everything is content. They have not yet had the session where somebody they know gets hurt, and the whole crew knows it is coming.
They post first. Whatever happens, Sunset Delivery's cut is up within the hour, it is badly edited, it is very funny, and it names locations Warranty Void deliberately did not.
| Stat line | |
|---|---|
| Three operators | SHOOT 5+ · FIGHT 5+ · MOBI 6" · AR 1 · FW 2 · MW 1 each |
| Enthusiasm | Once per scene, one of them attempts something no professional would. It works on a 6. |
| The channel | Anything they witness is public within an hour, always |
| d6 | Their first move |
|---|---|
| 1 | They are already there and have already made it worse. |
| 2 | They ask the crew for advice, sincerely, at the worst possible moment. |
| 3 | They underbid the crew by ninety percent and the client took it. |
| 4 | One of them is filming the crew rather than the job. |
| 5 | They have brought a completely inappropriate vehicle. |
| 6 | They are doing it correctly, for once, and it is unsettling. |
| d6 | When it goes badly for them |
|---|---|
| 1 | They run. All three, immediately, without shame, and they are fast. |
| 2 | One of them is genuinely hurt and the other two do not know what to do. |
| 3 | They post the failure and it does better than any of their successes. |
| 4 | They ask Grigor for help and Grigor gives it, which costs the crew a whole session. |
| 5 | They blame Warranty Void publicly and half the district believes them. |
| 6 | They stop posting for two weeks, which is the most frightening thing they do. |
Approval, and to be taken seriously, and eventually a collaboration. Ozzy has been quietly managing this relationship for months and has told nobody.
They cannot be hired against anyone. They can be encouraged, which is worse, and any rival who wants Warranty Void embarrassed can simply tell Sunset Delivery a location.
Nobody hires them. They turn up anyway, on the wrong side, having been told a version of events by someone who wanted exactly this.
Ferzana and Yasmin Hallim, sisters, twelve years in field recovery, and the team the contractor calls when a rotation needs somebody who will not hesitate. They are extremely good and they sleep fine.
If the crew refuses REPOSSESSION p.134, these two run it, and they run it that week, and every address on that rotation is a person the crew could have met.
Speed and courtesy. The Hallims are in and out in eleven minutes, they never raise their voices, they explain each step as it happens, and people thank them afterwards, which is the most disturbing fact in this part of the book.
The debt is real, the law is the law, and somebody is going to do this job. Ferzana genuinely believes that people are better off with her doing it than with someone who enjoys it, and she may be right.
They knock. Always. Every time. They wait for the door to be answered and they have never once forced one, and the district has learned that a knock at that hour means it is already over.
| Stat line | |
|---|---|
| Ferzana | TACT 2+ · GUTS 2+ · FIGHT 4+ · AR 2 · FW 3 · MW 2 · never improvises |
| Yasmin | OPINT 2+ · SHOOT 2+ · AR 2 · FW 3 · MW 2 · covers, does not talk |
| Eleven minutes | If uninterrupted, any recovery they start is finished in eleven minutes |
| d6 | Their first move |
|---|---|
| 1 | They are already at the door and it is already open. |
| 2 | Ferzana explains what is about to happen, kindly, to everyone in the room. |
| 3 | They have the paperwork and they offer it for inspection before anyone asks. |
| 4 | They recognise the crew and greet them by callsign. |
| 5 | They pause. Genuinely pause. Something about this one is wrong and Ferzana has noticed. |
| 6 | Yasmin is on a roof and has been for an hour. |
| d6 | When it goes badly for them |
|---|---|
| 1 | They withdraw and reschedule. There is always another Thursday. |
| 2 | Ferzana asks a question she is not supposed to ask, out loud, in front of her sister. |
| 3 | Yasmin covers the withdrawal and is very good at it. |
| 4 | They complete the recovery anyway, faster, and it is uglier than either of them wanted. |
| 5 | One of them is hurt and the other stops being professional entirely. |
| 6 | They file. Everything. Including the crew's names and what the crew did. |
Nothing, until REPOSSESSION p.134. After that: to be understood, which Ferzana will never ask for and Yasmin would find humiliating.
They can be bought out of a specific address, once, for money, and Ferzana will honour it exactly and will never accept a second offer from the same buyer.
They will find the crew inside a week, knock, and serve a lawful instrument, and there will be no way to fight it that does not make everything worse.
Grigor has outlasted two units. Four members of the second one are alive, working Lost Angeles as a crew, and have been for six years without ever once contacting him.
They are not hostile and they are not friends. They are the answer to a question he has spent a decade not asking, and they have their own reasons for the silence, and those reasons are the best material in this part of the book.
Persistence, exactly as he runs it: absorb, endure, outlast. Watching them work is watching Grigor from the outside, and every player at the table will notice within one scene.
The unit ended and they did not, and the only way any of them stayed intact was by agreeing never to look at it again. Contacting Grigor would break that, and one of them has wanted to for six years.
They do not acknowledge him. Not once, not by name, not by look, in any scene they share, until the scene where one of them does.
| Stat line | |
|---|---|
| Four operators | FIGHT 2+ · GUTS 2+ · AR 3 · FW 3 · MW 2 each · Hardened |
| Anchor | Same doctrine bonus Grigor has. They do not know they do it either. |
| Attrition | They cannot be moved off a position by force. Neither can he. |
| d6 | Their first move |
|---|---|
| 1 | They are holding the position the crew needs and they were there first. |
| 2 | One of them is cooking. The crew notices before Grigor does. |
| 3 | They take the contract at a lower rate specifically so the crew does not get it. |
| 4 | They are hurt, badly, and have not stopped, and will not accept help. |
| 5 | One of them speaks to Cas instead of Grigor, which is a decision. |
| 6 | They leave without engaging, and afterwards Grigor is quiet for a session. |
| d6 | When it goes badly for them |
|---|---|
| 1 | They hold. They do not withdraw. This has killed people in their unit before. |
| 2 | The youngest breaks formation to help a civilian and the other three cover it without comment. |
| 3 | One goes down and the other three do not react at all, visibly, which is the doctrine working. |
| 4 | They accept help from Warranty Void, wordlessly, and it changes everything. |
| 5 | Their leader says Grigor's callsign. Once. This is the only time it should happen. |
| 6 | They disappear for a volume and come back with one fewer. |
Nothing they will admit to. One of them wants to tell him what actually happened at the end of the unit, and has been carrying it for six years, and is running out of time to do it.
They cannot be hired against Grigor. They can be hired against the crew, and have been once, and took the contract specifically so that nobody worse would.
They will do it thoroughly and they will not enjoy it, and at the end of it somebody will have to explain to Grigor why they never called.
A solo operator with a reputation that is entirely secondhand: nobody agrees on her lineage, her age, or whether she is one person. What is verifiable is a decade of contracts completed with no witnesses and no footage.
In a city where the crew's whole identity is being seen, Hearsay is the argument for the opposite, and she has been doing it longer and getting paid better.
Absence. Hearsay is never in a scene. She is in the scene before it and the scene after it, and the crew's experience of her is entirely archaeological: a door already open, a target already gone, a client already paid.
A face is a liability and a channel is a confession. She has watched Warranty Void's rise with what Frequency describes as professional bewilderment, and she has never once been tempted.
She leaves the job finished. If Hearsay took the same contract, the crew arrives to find it complete, correct, and impossible to attribute, and their client has already been invoiced.
| Stat line | |
|---|---|
| Hearsay | Do not stat her for combat. She does not have combat. |
| If cornered | MOBI 8" · TACT 2+ · OPINT 2+ · one action to be gone, no roll |
| The rule | She is never in a scene the players can win. If they meet her, she wanted it. |
| d6 | Their first move |
|---|---|
| 1 | The job is already done and the client has already paid somebody. |
| 2 | A route the crew planned is closed, cleanly, in a way that helps them. |
| 3 | A message. Not to the crew. To one of them, by name, about something private. |
| 4 | She takes the half of the contract nobody wanted and leaves the profitable half. |
| 5 | Theo's footage has a four-second gap that no edit accounts for. |
| 6 | Nothing. Ever. Some tables should never meet her at all. |
| d6 | When it goes badly for them |
|---|---|
| 1 | Nobody has ever seen this happen and there is no table on this page for it. |
| 2 | — |
| 3 | — |
| 4 | — |
| 5 | — |
| 6 | — |
To know how they do it in public without being destroyed. She has been watching the channel for two years and has never left a comment, and she is the reason THE BOOTH p.78's ritual exists in the form it does.
She cannot be hired against anyone. She takes contracts, and if the crew are on the far side of one, they will not find out until afterwards.
They will not know it happened. Something will simply have gone wrong three weeks earlier in a way nobody can trace, and the crew will spend a session investigating themselves.
| Verb | Contracts |
|---|---|
| RETRIEVE | WHAT THE TUNNEL KEEPS p.86 · THE CRATER LOT p.94 · RENTAL SOUND p.102 · SLACK WATER p.122 · WHAT THE SEA FILED p.126 |
| DELIVER | THE FILTER JOB p.64 · DARK TRANSIT p.82 · ONE-WAY FARE p.88 · THE LONG WAY p.104 |
| EXTRACT | NOBODY'S KID p.62 · ONE-WAY FARE p.88 · CLEAN HANDS p.114 |
| COLLECT | TITLE AND DEED p.108 |
| BREAK | SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 · GRID FIRMWARE p.84 · BURN NOTICE p.96 · SERVICE NOTICE p.132 · THE WHOLE QUEUE p.136 |
| HOLD | THE WASH p.60 · THE STANDPIPE WAR p.68 · HOUSE RULES p.72 · PATRON p.116 · THE LAST TENANT p.128 |
| TRACE | THE WASH p.60 · THE FILTER JOB p.64 · THE BOOTH p.78 · GROUND TRUTH p.92 · WHAT GREW BACK p.98 · PACK FREQUENCY p.106 · THE INVITATION p.118 · WHAT THE SEA FILED p.126 · THE WHOLE QUEUE p.136 |
| LIFT | GOOD PRESS p.66 · THE VIEW p.112 |
| RUN | DARK TRANSIT p.82 · RENTAL SOUND p.102 · THE LONG WAY p.104 · PACK FREQUENCY p.106 · SALT WAKE p.124 |
| CLEAR | THE FILTER JOB p.64 · GROUND TRUTH p.92 · WHAT GREW BACK p.98 · SALT WAKE p.124 |
| PERFORM | THE ARM p.74 · SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 · PATRON p.116 |
| REPOSSESS | REPOSSESSION p.134 |
| E | Contracts |
|---|---|
| E1 | NOBODY'S KID p.62 · THE BOOTH p.78 · GRID FIRMWARE p.84 · BURN NOTICE p.96 · CLEAN HANDS p.114 · SERVICE NOTICE p.132 · REPOSSESSION p.134 |
| E2 | THE WASH p.60 · WHAT THE TUNNEL KEEPS p.86 · ONE-WAY FARE p.88 · WHAT GREW BACK p.98 · THE LONG WAY p.104 · TITLE AND DEED p.108 · WHAT THE SEA FILED p.126 |
| E3 | GOOD PRESS p.66 · DARK TRANSIT p.82 · GROUND TRUTH p.92 · THE VIEW p.112 · SLACK WATER p.122 |
| E4 | THE FILTER JOB p.64 · THE STANDPIPE WAR p.68 · HOUSE RULES p.72 · THE CRATER LOT p.94 · RENTAL SOUND p.102 · THE INVITATION p.118 · THE LAST TENANT p.128 |
| E5 | THE ARM p.74 · SIX MINUTES OF FAME p.76 · PACK FREQUENCY p.106 · PATRON p.116 · SALT WAKE p.124 · THE WHOLE QUEUE p.136 |
Know the shape of the night you want and use the verb index. Know how big it should be and use the band chart on RATE BANDS p.40. Know where the crew already is and use the cluster list on CONTENTS p.4.
DANKA IVEL p.14 · THEO ASHE p.18 · GRIGOR TAM p.22 · CAS p.26 · OZZY OKONKWO-CRUZ p.30
Marisol Vega p.35 · Frequency p.36 · Dr. Silk p.36 · Marco Cruz p.37 · Razborki p.37 · Bonzer Kabesh p.37 · THE ORBIT p.36
GRAVA PACK p.140 · THE BONDED p.142 · SUNSET DELIVERY p.144 · HALLIM & HALLIM p.146 · THE SECOND UNIT p.148 · HEARSAY p.150
THE GARAGE p.34 · BARRICADIA p.58 · CENTER POINT p.70 · THE MUSK TUNNELS p.80 · THE RAZE p.90 · RING ROAD p.100 · THE HIGH TOP p.110 · THE LOW COAST p.120 · MONITOR CENTRAL p.130
The Board p.39 · RATE BANDS p.40 · HEAT p.42 · Clout p.43 · THE BODY ECONOMY p.44 · THE CLIP p.48 · Downtime in the Wash p.49 · COMPLICATIONS p.50 · And then? p.51 · THE GENERATOR p.52 · BURNED p.54