[Nepleslia] Pizza Delivery [JAM]

"PIZZA'S READY, FUCKFACE!â€

Across the street, a few shady-looking Nepleslian bikers stood by their parked motorcycles, smoking cigarettes and talking smack to each other. Their leader appeared to be a hulking, bald ID-SOL, who stood next to a sleek black motorcycle that had obviously been modified to accommodate his weight.

Their attention turned to Joey when he started his car. Their eyes gleaming like those of predators in the dying evening light.

"Care for a snack?" They chortled at each other as they mounted their bikes.

Either Joey's manager was a bit dim, or he just didn't care much for the welfare of his employee. Either way, "GALATIC PIZZA" was painted in giant block letters on both sides of Joey's delivery car.

Opposite the street to them there was another hungry group of Nepleslians, garbed in the leather jackets with metal ornamentation as such gangs had done since time immemorial, and indeed were poisoning their lungs in an identical fashion to those who had just driven out of the opposite alley. There were three differences however: One the leader wasn't an ID-sol, simply a mean looking guy with a half cybernetic face, second they had two more members, and three:

"I see fresh meet pack mates, let's ride!" The leader, whose name happened to be Charlie but who preferred to be called 'Slasher', howled. He wasn't referring to the Pizza.

The rest of his gang began to howl in a similar fashion as they started their own bikes and roared out of the alley brandishing weapons varying between chains, knives and indiscriminate pieces of piping.

Joey looked into his rearview mirror. Motorcycle gangs. Great. Fucking great.

As Joey's car peeled away, the smaller gang, led by the ID-SOL, chased after him on their bikes. The other, larger gang, led by Slasher, was in hot pursuit of them.

"Six against four? That hardly sounds fair," fretted the bald ID-SOL, turning his head to look at the other gang with a worried expression.

"You're right, boss! They should've waited for reinforcements! Ha!" exclaimed a young Nepleslian on the next bike. Strangely enough, the young man was neatly dressed in a business suit, while the rest of the gang was dressed in the standard biker gang uniforms: leather jackets and leather pants or jeans, preferably dirty. They all wore wrap-around sunglasses though.

The ID-SOL smiled. "You're all right, Sonny. Smoke'em. I'm getting hungry."

The young Nepleslian reached into his suit jacket, and pulled out a gray cylindrical canister with a pull-tab. He pulled off the tab with his teeth and tossed the canister behind him in an upward arc.

If Slasher looked up, he would see the gray canister traveling toward the general direction of his face.

Joey could see with his rearview mirror that one of the bikers threw something. He pressed down hard on the gas pedal. His car groaned in complaint, but accelerated.

"Shit!" Slasher yelled, swerving his bike at the last moment to avoid the canister which sailed behind him, hitting the road and skidding before releasing copious amounts of obscuring and nauseous gas. While most of the gang was travelling fast enough to be through the area without leaving the gas enough time to cause any significant effects the last two weren't so lucky - as the drove on they were rubbing frantically at their eyes. One of whom manage to come to a rather nice stop, the other of whom drove straight in to a pile of garbage - screaming rather loudly.

"Bastards!" Slasher yelled, "If they want to take it to the next level let's cook the meat!" He gestured to the biker behind him, who was assigned the name 'Two Teeth' for reasons that would be obvious if you met him grinned (a rather horrible sight) and pulled out a string of grenades and threw three of them, one after another doing his best to take in to account their velocity and so forth. He was good at this, not much else, but good at this.

Meanwhile the rest of the gang pulled out their various firearms from under their coats (one removed his from a built in holster in his bike, he felt special) and shot them in to mid air with whoops and so forth - hyping themselves up.

Not one but TWO gangs.

What. The. Hell.

It's only pizza, guys! Get off my back!

Joey wasn't particularly skilled in much of anything, really. He was, a pizza delivery boy after all. One thing Joey could do pretty damn well, however, was drive.

He'd put taxi drivers to shame trying to make a delivery on time. Nepleslians, oddly enough, tipped pretty well if you treated them like kings.

Joey heard the firing of guns and crouched over his steering wheel, clutching it until his hands turned white. His car was screaming as he floored it, Joey crazily swerving around pedestrians and parked cars on his way to the drug district.

Mojo was having a very very boring day, the walkie talkie brought exciting news laid silently on his desk. In his life there were many breath-taking moments, of course if one wanted to put a single bullet in a target's face a mile away one would have to exhale to stabilize the rifle.

Mojo fingered his ZA Precision Sniper Rifle. He loves it that it always hit the same dot on a faraway target precisely. Guns can be perfect, Nepleslians cannot, thich is why he always jumps at any oppurtunity for any target practice: A rival gang leader of his boss, or perhaps the rival gang leader's pet chicken if the boss just wants to send a warning.

But today it seems like he can breath easily...or not.

"BZZzz... The boss'es Pizza is getting intercepted! Do what you can do!" the walkie talkie shouted.

Mojo stood and picked up his hat. Street gangs were negilible against his training; but, if he could bring himself to shoot a common fowl, why not a dirty biker? He loaded his rifle and made for the staircase.

"It's practice after all," he muttered.

(OOC: Grammar fixed by Wes)

The ID-SOL had been keeping an eye on the gang behind him. "Look out! Incoming!â€

Slasher viewed the incoming gas canister with a combination of contempt and apprehension – mainly he wondered why this gang was using so many gas canisters. He would never use them – they completely destroyed a meats flavour. At the last moment he ducked, and since the gang had adopted a hollow arrow head formation with him at the head they largely avoided the effect (they also close their eyes and mouths for a rather dangerous but effective way of keeping the gas out, caustic effects would just have to be tolerated). Slasher now viewed a rather different target – the wounded Jackal, although he didn't know the bikers name it hardly mattered to him.

"Sharpshooter, Pie, cover me!â€

At the last moment, Iceman threw himself onto his motorcycle, exposing as little of his front profile as possible. He cursed as a sniper round pierced his left ear and another dug into his left shoulder. The third round harmlessly grazed his hair. Pie's submachine gun rounds struck the front of Iceman's bike. Several seemed to have struck bulletproof armor, but others caused bullet holes that immediately began to bellow wisps of smoke. Iceman returned fire with his pistol, aiming with admirable precision at Slasher's neck and upper torso. He also plowed his wounded bike full speed ahead at Slasher, apparently wishing to challenge him to a game of chicken.

What Slasher and his gang members didn't realize in all the excitement was that, while they had their eyes closed, Sonny had hastily sent two fragmentation grenades in a very high arc toward Sharpshooter and Two Teeth. The intended victims would have a hard time noticing the projectiles unless they happened to look almost straight up. Worse yet, Sonny himself was nowhere to be seen. He could've drove into any of the nearby alleyways.

Joey checked his rearview mirror again. It appeared that the ID-SOL was his only remaining pursuer. Up ahead on the road, a highway onramp was fast approaching. Screw it. I'll lose him on the highways. I can make my delivery faster on this route anyway.

Joey turned his car onto the steep onramp, and his car momentarily lost some speed. This gave the ID-SOL ample opportunity to catch up. Joey immediately noticed, to his horror, the round face of the ID-SOL staring at him across the driver's side window.

"You little bastard! Didn't your mother ever teach you to share?" The ID-SOL yelled, leaving spittle on the windowpane.

"You fucker! Stop chasing me!" Joey snarled in frustration, all his efforts to elude the attackers in vain.

He turned his car hard into the ID-SOL's motorcycle, trying to check him off the bike. His body rattled hard in his seat as the two vehicles collided.

The gang hardly knew what hit them as the two fragmentation grenades exploded sending shrapnel in all directions, instantly killing Sharpshooter, Two Teeth and Pie, and lodging a significant amount of metal in Slashers back.

"No ... not like this. I don't want to die, not yet ..." He said weakly as he felt his life fade away from him. But one last line of thought ran through his head as he lay through the unconscious or dead Jackel - a bit for the road. He dragged himself over and with one last humongous effort clasped his mouth around his throat, tripping through it before gurgling one last breath (through a great deal of blood, both his and Jackel's) and going on to whatever awaited him.

Slowly, carefully, Sonny peered out from behind an alleyway. He saw the scene of destruction his two grenades had caused.

"Shit."

Sonny checked underneath his jacket. Yep. Those are definitely frag grenades... quality ones, too. The problem was, they were supposed to be concussion grenades. The frag grenades were reserved for encounters with the local police. He must have picked up the wrong ones from the crates when he re-supplied this morning.

"Oh man. The boss isn't gonna like this at all."

Sonny rode his motorcycle up to Iceman, who was lying in a pool of blood. Slasher's body had blocked most of the shrapnel coming Iceman's way, but there were still quite a few metal shards buried in his arms and hands. Most of the blood, however, was streaming out due to Iceman's head injuries and the bullet hole on his left shoulder. His motorcycle, wounded and spewing smoke, was sprawled on the sidewalk.

Sonny got off his bike, and knelt down besides Iceman. "Iceman?" Sonny checked Iceman's pulse. It was very faint, but it was still there. Sonny took out some bandages from one of his pockets and patched up his fallen comrade's wounds as best as he could manage. "Hang on, man. I'm gonna check on Jackal."

Next, Sonny went up to Jackal and Slasher, who lied in close proximity to each other. There was blood everywhere. Sonny noticed that poor Jackal got his throat ripped out. The young Nepleslian shook his head, and examined Slasher's body with contempt. Sonny then removed his pistol, a gold-plated GP-13, from its holster, leaned down, and placed the gun up to Slasher's one organic eye.

BANG!

It was always better to make sure. Sonny calmly wiped away the blood splatters on his face with his one free hand. He stood up, and surveyed the carnage in the middle of the road. There weren't enough pieces left of Pie, Sharpshooter, and Two Teeth for them to be possibly alive.

Satisfied, Sonny walked back to Iceman and re-examined him. Iceman's injuries were too extensive for Sonny to safely transport him back to their hideout. Sonny shook his head as he began to hear police sirens in the distance. He didn't like the idea of leaving Iceman for the police, but it was Iceman's only chance of survival. Sonny got back on his motorcycle.

"Good luck, Iceman. Don't you dare die on me."

With a rev of his bike's engines, Sonny drove away.

Meanwhile, on the highway, the ID-SOL was busy being rammed by Joey's car. The ID-SOL swerved violently, and struggled to maintain control of his motorcycle. Suddenly, he heard the whine of a bullet as it whizzed past his face.

"Shit!" The ID-SOL began maneuvering his motorcycle behind Joey's car.

"Shit! Missed!" Mojo reloaded his sniper rifle. He wouldn't have missed if the pizza deliveryman didn't ram the ID-SOL's bike. Mojo lifted the rifle and re-aimed.

BANG!

A flash of crimson splashed against the warm pavement.

Via his rearview mirror, Joey watched with vague interest as the ID-SOL slumped against his bike, lost speed, and then crashed and burned. The car traveling behind him couldn't stop in time, and crashed into the ID-SOL's burning motorcycle. The resulting pile-up caused the car traveling behind that car to crash as well. A cascade of death and destruction ensued. Explosions lead to further explosions. A thick column of smoke rose behind Joey as he drove away.

I hate this place... but it has its charms. Joey thought to himself as he drove toward his destination.

(Nice writeup guys. Good place to end the first JAM session?)