Rain needles the alley as a sleek armored transport noses in under the cordon lights. The drone shadow thins overhead. Behemoth stands his ground beside the glowing service card and the offered credchip.
The rear door hisses open. A lone executive steps out, dry under a smartcoat that sheds the rain in glittering beads. The Fixer watches him with tight, measuring eyes.
The Executive
Behemoth. Hand over the decrypted data, and I erase every warrant, every bounty, every bad line in your history. Plus enough credits to build three more legends.
The Fixer
Too clean. Too fast. But that kind of money still buys a future.
Behemoth
The executive lifts one gloved hand, calm as a banker at a funeral. He keeps his other hand visible, empty, making the offer look almost polite.
The Executive
Take the slate. Take the fortune. Walk away before the corps decide to make an example out of you both.
The Fixer shifts half a step closer to Behemoth, still silent, waiting to see which number matters more than the rain.
✓ Quest Accepted
Reject the executive's offer
“with practiced ease of 75 years of showing displeasure with a gun behemoth shoots the executive in the head”
SUCCESS (Legendary Firearms, rolled +0)
Behemoth’s shot cracks through the rain. The executive’s head snaps back, and his polished calm goes slack in an instant.
He folds at the transport door, one hand slipping from the frame as the smartcoat twists around him. The credchip lies forgotten on the wet concrete.
The Fixer flinches hard, then freezes, eyes locked on the body and the gun in Behemoth’s hand.
The Fixer
That choice just burned the bridge.
Inside the armored transport, a dashboard display blooms red. The drone shadow above the cordon thins, drifting toward the alley mouth.
Rain hisses off the transport’s open door while the alley goes suddenly too quiet for comfort.
The Fixer
You just made this personal. Are you leaving, or are we both dead here?
Quest Complete
Reject the executive's offer