“So, uh,” you start, your unbandaged hand rubbing the back of your head. “Any way I could cash that favor in now and get my hand put back together?”

Monroe shakes his head sorrowfully. “Even if there was a CIA field hospital here, I don't have the pull to get you in. Sorry, Kowalski,” he says reading the name tag on your vest, “that’ll have to be done elsewhere.” He takes a quieter tone. “Between you and me, I wouldn't want that done on some mountain in Nepal anyway.”

You thank him for his time, and grab your cart-o-guns, and hand it off to Solomon, smiling like a jackass. He says something in Korean, and like usual, you assume it was meant to be offensive. You say something equally imaginarily offensive in Polish.

“If you two are done flirting, I’d like to get down to the plane,” Dunn says in his thick Boston accent. “So finish up here, and let’s get the fuck on with it.”

>Would you like to do anything else before going to the plane?

>>342060
Nah, let's get on the plane. Surgery's awful time sensitive.

Just noticed I have the complete archive on there twice. Weird. Wonder how long that's been up.

>>342060
Let's get on the damn . Maybe we will get some where quick enough to save the fingers

“I’ve got everything I need,” you say, and the five of you start down the twisting mountain road. You expected the way down to be easier. It was certainly not.

You arrive at the bottom, however, and get in the same type of canvas-topped truck that took you from the airfield.

The bumpy ride to the plane does your shoulder no favors, but it beats walking. You arrive at the plane in one piece, and stow your gear. It’s a bit of a challenge one-handed, but it gets done.

Scanning the seats, you see Solomon cleaning his M14, Dunn is going through another SoF magazine, Mikail is tinkering with his drones and his medical supplies, and Ty just ducked into the cockpit.

>Sit with someone (who? Also, what would you like to talk about?)
>Sit by yourself. You had a long day. (Time skip)

>>342158
>>Sit by yourself. You had a long day. (Time skip)
Don't have anything else on your mind other than getting those fingers reattached, and maybe wondering what prosthetics are like if the docs say they can't reattach them.

>>342158
> Sit by our self.
We are probably grouchy due to the pain or loopy from the drugs.

Man, fuck everything about today. You don't have the time, nor do you have the patience to deal with anyone right now. Two bullet wounds, just as many missing fingers, and a twelve hour hike down a dirt mountain road in full combat load? Yeah, no thanks.

You’d rather spend your time perusing your phone with your good hand, thinking about the bounties on Animal’s head, and praying you can get your hand glued back together.

Or, maybe, if they can't be put back together, you could get some experimental robot fingers. That’d be cool. Something with a bunch of sweet gadgets and features. You could be the world’s first cyborg gun for hire. Sounds like a bad 90’s video game, but that’s part of what makes it cool.

About an hour into your day dreaming and inward bitching, you’re about to fall asleep. ‘Perfect,’ you think to yourself. ‘I won't have to deal with anyone or anything, and when I wake up, I’ll probably be whisked off to surgery to be put back together.’ Nothing sounds better.

As you’re on the precipice of sleep, your phone rings. Of course. ‘Fuck that’, you think to yourself, and let it ring. On the second go around, you decide to actually check who it is.

God dammit.

You didn't want to talk to ANYONE right now, but this may be the worse. You aren't ready for the hell this phone call is about to cause in your life.

>Greet your mother.

>>342259
>Greet your mother
Mom? I can't take this call, I'm on a plane.

File: despair.jpg (714 KB, 1758x1681)

714 KB JPG

>>342259
>Greet your mother.

“Mom?” You begin, trying your hardest to sound like the reception was bad. “Mom, I can't talk. I’m on a plane.”

“Oh, don't you give me that gówno you little bachor. They’ve had reception in planes for fifteen years,” your mother shouts back through the phone. This isn't good. She only slips into Polish when she’s foaming-at-the-mouth angry. You haven't heard your mother speak her native language since you and your friends crashed the family car into Pitor’s house when you were sixteen. And you’ve been shot since then.

“Do you mind explaining why I just got a call from a man claiming you’ve been shot?”

“Well, you see-” is about as far as you get before your mother interrupts. She’s in full Polish, now.

“Oh my God it’s true. You have been shot. Why, I have half a mind to send your father over to drag you back to Poland by the ear!”

Your father is in his late fifties and guides fishing trips, but you feel now isn't really the time to bring up the difficulties he would have dragging his paid killer son back home. You realize she hasn't quit yelling at you, yet.

“- and I don't even know WHAT your grandma Aneila would say about this! You know she nearly -”

At that point you realize you don't really need the be listening. Looking around the plane, you see Solomon give you a look of sympathy, and Mikail motion that he would like to speak to you. You also absent-mindedly remember you need to text Bridget about the date the two of you had planned.

“WELL?” You hear shouted from the phone. You weren't really listening, so you’ll probably have to just guess an answer.

>Reply to your mother’s ravings

>>342445
Mom I cannot stop you from acting like an angry buffalo as it is your right to do so, what I can do is close this call and refuse to answer any other untill a few months pass in the hope that you have calmed down.

Is this the way you want your potential last conversation with your son for a long time to end?

>>342445
"Mom,I love you, and I have not had enough morphine for this. I took a round in hand and one in the shoulder. I'm fine, I will probably be going into surgery as soon I get back. "

“You know, mom, I have a very dangerous job. You’re doing your best to make sure we aren't on speaking terms. Do I have to spell that out for you?”

“...No. I suppose you don't,” she concedes. “But you still should have told me.”

“I hadn't been on the plane for an hour, mom. I’ve been shot twice, once in the hand, once in the shoulder. I’m sure I’ll be in surgery when we land. I’ll call you after, okay? The medic wants to speak to me.”

You say your good byes and hang up.Mikail wanders over and sits across from you.

“We need to change your bandages, and Doc Robinson wants a look at your wounds. Specifically the hand. You mind?”

>Nope, let’s just do it.
>Just the bandages. Doc Robinson can wait.
>Just Robinson. I don't want to see the hand.
>I was actually hoping to sleep.
>Write-in

>>342612
>>Nope, let’s just do it.

>>342612
>Nope, let’s just do it.
Lets get it over and done with.

“Might as well,” you reply to the medic. “Maybe Robinson will tell me if my fingers can get out back on.”

“I told you not to get your hopes up about that, dude.”

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do, Dove?”

He says nothing, and starts unravelling your bandages. When they’re completely off, he takes a look at the wound. He makes a ‘tch-tch’ sound, and calls the good doctor on a tablet.

He puts the camera up to the shoulder wound, and asks you to do a few things with it. It hurts, but you manage to move it all the ways he told you.

“Well,” he says after that particular examination. “As far as I can tell, your shoulder is okay. You know, minus the big hole in it. Nothing a surgery and a while off-duty won't fix. Let’s look at that hand,”

This examination doesn't go so well. You can't even try to move your hand or remaining fingers without screaming in pain or opening some wound. It gets worse when the doctor asks to see the severed fingers.

“I don't think those are going back on, Jan. The wound is too old and messy, and half the bones in your hand are broken or shattered,” he says sympathetically. He snaps his fingers and resumes speaking. “I have a colleague from my post-doc I kept in touch with. He’s been doing some promising research with a Greek company. I’ll make some calls. You’re not exactly what he’s looking for, but I think I can convince him you’re even better.”

With that, Dove rebandages your wounds, and takes the tablet to the cockpit to bother Ty Mitchell about his own wound.

You’re now free of obligation, you hope.

>Sit with Solomon or Connor (Talk about what?)
>Just sleep. (Timeskip)

>>342730
Oh, also.

>Text/Call Bridget

>>342730
>>Text/Call Bridget
She was the girl we were going to take on a date right?

Well, dates off. Then
>sleep

>>342749
Yeah, you made plans with her for after Nepal. What do you want to say?

>>342781
>ay yo bitch a nigga shot my ass
>you good for next friday

Sorry for the wait. Modifying >>342785 for polite company and writing

>>342990
Noice

You decide to text Bridget. In your line of work, it’s best not to just stop talking to people. They tend to assume the worst.

>To: Bridget ??? (Ask for last name)
>Hey! So I got shot… A few times. Nothing life threatening, but I don't think I’ll be in shape for a date. Mind rescheduling?

With that taken care of, you begin to sleep. A thought occurs to you, and you shut your phone off.

You fall asleep, smiling, knowing you won't be interrupted this time.

You awake several hours later to the intercom telling you that the plane will be landing soon. It sounds suspiciously like Mitchell.

You brace your hands on the armrest to help you stand, and immediately let out a yelp of pain as your shoulder and hand protest. That’ll take some time to get used to.

You pull your gear down from the bins, and settle in. It takes a lot of work not to drop them one handed, your other arm now truly stiff and sore from eight or ten hours of motionlessness.

You make your way off the plan after landing, all your guns and trophies in tow. Where now?

(You can make multiple choices here.)
>To Tiffany. Doc didn't sound to promising about your fingers, so better at least get paid.
>Store your gear in the armory. Don't want to carry around 6 rifles, an RPG, and a fire axe everywhere.
>The med wing. Robinson said he would make some calls, may as well see what came of those
>Check your phone
>Write-in

>>343102
>>To Tiffany. Doc didn't sound to promising about your fingers, so better at least get paid.
Paid first.

>The med wing. Robinson said he would make some calls, may as well see what came of those
Then med wing.

>>343102
>Store your gear in the armory. Don't want to carry around 6 rifles, an RPG, and a fire axe everywhere.
>>To Tiffany. Doc didn't sound to promising about your fingers, so better at least get paid.
>>>The med wing. Robinson said he would make some calls, may as well see what came of those

>>343102
>To Tiffany. Doc didn't sound to promising about your fingers, so better at least get paid.
>Check your phone
>Store your gear in the armory. Don't want to carry around 6 rifles, an RPG, and a fire axe everywhere.
>The med wing. Robinson said he would make some calls, may as well see what came of those

Stepping away for a moment. Will return soon. I'll let you know when I start writing

>>343171
Okay. Sorry for the delays, guys. Writing

You don't really feel like hauling all this shit around with you everywhere. You make a quick stop in the armory, dropping your stuff in your locker. You check out a second one for all the gear, but that’s life. Not like they charge you for them.

After dropping about a hundred pounds of weapons and other gear, you head to the HR offices. From the sound of it, getting to Med won't do your hand any good, but you did spend a good chunk of dough before leaving. Want some of that back as soon as possible if you won't be deploying for a while.

You knock on Tiffany's door as you enter, and take a seat across her desk.

“You look like shit,” is the only thing she says. Hand bandaged in a club, shoulder with a patchwork of gauze and tape, and arm in a sling, you can't disagree.

“It was a long couple days,” you respond. “Figured I’d get paid before going to med.”

She rolls her eyes. “All you contractors ever think about,” she mutters to herself. “Contract pay ways seven thousand, and looks like the client put in another four for the secondary. Grand total of eleven grand for Operative Kowalski. Put in your account now. Need anything else?”

“Not now. I’ll call you later if something comes up. I’m gonna go see what Robinson is cooking up for me.”

She waves you out as you leave, making for the med wing. It’s a short walk, and the receptionist watches wide-eyed as you make your way to Robinson's office. You must look worse than you thought.


You knock on the door with your good hand, and you hear some shuffling papers, as well as an invitation inside.

“Ah, Mr. Kowalski,” he says. “My friend is on a plane into Atlanta now. Coming all the way from Athens, you know,” he laughs to himself like it was some kind of joke you didn't understand. “He was very interested when I explained your… Position. He should be here in a few hours. He’ll want to speak to you right away, and get started as soon as possible.”

He still has yet to tell you what this is about, but you follow him to the examination room anyway. You doubt he’d tell you if you asked.

He sits you on the unreasonably uncomfortable bed/bench, and starts prodding at your shoulder.

“No broken bones or torn connective tissue. You’re a very lucky man, Jan. People have lost arms to wounds like this.”

“Guess that’s as lucky as I am, getting shot and all,” you reply to the man. He laughs, again. Seems to do that a lot.

He looks at your hand, next. He seems less optimistic.

“I was right to call Dr. Torres,” he says. “I couldn't have saved these fingers if you were shot in an operating room. I’m sorry, Jan. It’s just too messy.”

That makes you sick to your stomach. Having them off was one thing, but knowing they couldn't be put back on? That was another.

1/2

“Torres should be here soon. Stick around base, I’ll have Kaylee call you when he gets here.”

You thank the doctor as he wraps your wounds back up, and leave the exam room. Now what? Sounds like you have a few hours.

>Where would you like to go? Choose anywhere on base. Even places I haven't specified exist, within reason.

>>343419
Mess Hall for some food?

Food always helps pass the time.

>>343415
>Contract pay ways seven thousand, and looks like the client put in another four for the secondary. Grand total of eleven grand for Operative Kowalski. Put in your account now. Need anything else?”
And Animal's bounty?

>>343419
Check our phone first, to see if we got a reply to our text and to tell Mom, that we're alive, our arm is fine, and we're seeing a specialist about our hand.

Then let's to the mess hall and get some food.

>>343415
>Dr. Torres.
For real? I can't disagree that what she do in the series isn't godly...but still.

>>343441
Those will take time to go through. Talk to Tiffany for exactly how long.

Sorry for the wait again. Got dragged out for a Pokémon Go adventure. Writing for checking phone and mess hall.

You decide to open up your phone, and check any messages. Looks like two.

>From: Bridget ??? (Ask for last name)
>omigod r u ok? im good 2 reschedule. Let me know.


>From: Arne Olafsson
>Heard about the hand. Shit sucks. Buyer came through, come find me for your money. Home, base or lib. Depends on day.

Well, that’s nice. Bridget believed you and Arne has some Phat Stackz for you. Could be a worse day.

You also decide to text your mother. You feel like you owe her

>To: Statek Matka
>Just got out of doctors. They have some sort of specialist flying in. Will know more in a few hours.


You make your way to the mess hall, hoping some food will take your mind off the fact you only have eight fingers.

It’s burger day, which is nice. The mess always makes you feel like you’re back in grade school with the menus. They need to get the fast food joints up and going on base. Sounds like they’be been building since well before you worked here.

Anyway, you make your way into the mess, and go down the line getting your food, balancing the tray one handed. Looks like the usual array of employees. Yves Miller is sitting with a handful of other contractors you haven't met, a set of handlers are at another table, and it looks like there is a handful of the trainers at a third. There are also a number of empty tables around.

>Sit with Yves and the operatives
>Sit with the handlers
>Sit with the trainers
>Sit alone

>>343536
>Sit with Yves and the operatives

>>343536
>>Sit with Yves and the operatives
Hello fellow operators operating operationaly in operations.

Writing for Yves. What do you guys want to talk about?

>>343581
Shoot the breeze on recent missions they've been on. Any rumors on ISIS movements and logistics as well as the same of any other terrorist/criminal groups (what kinds of gear they're packing for their elites, has better equipment filtered down to their grunts, any changes in their standard protocols and tactics).

>>343605
Yeah just a bit of bants to keep our mind out of the fact that we lost some fingers and that a PKM talked to us

You bring your tray around, and sit with Yves and your fellow contractors. You get the introductions. A skinny Hawaiian guy with a full tattoo sleeve named Makuna, and a petite woman named Andrea Poole. Makuna was an explosives expert, you were told, and Poole is a sniper, tending to do VIP protection.

“Heard about the hand,” Miller says. “Funny thing, I just got cleared yesterday,” he continues. “Kowalski here was with me when I got hit,” he explains to the other two in his French accent.

“That’s rough, man,” Makuna says sympathetically. “What’s the diagnosis, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Two field amputated fingers, and a mother of a broken hand,” you reply, and both Makuna and Poole start rubbing their hand at the thought. “So,” you sat, turning to Yves, “if you’re cleared to deploy, where are you heading?”

“LA,” he replies. “Legal likes to give your first gig back a little easy VIP protection gig, make sure you really got it back. Me and Poole here are guarding some socialite’s movie premiere. Us and Wrecking Ball.”

You’d heard the name. Samuel “Wrecking” Ball was a former NFL defensive end turned professional bodyguard, gave Impact! a lot of press when he signed on. You had yet to run into him, though.

“Sounds… Pleasant,” you say. “Unlikely to get shot.”

“Unless I get so bored I shoot myself,” he replies, dramatically throwing his head back as he pulled an imaginary trigger. “Or ask Poole to do it for me.”

“Don't tempt me, Legionairre,” she says. You picked up a slight British accent.

“Well, either way,” you say, “I imagine your wife will be happy you aren't dodging bullets.”

“Exactly,” he replies. “That’s why it’s boring. The wife approves.”

“So,” you start, shifting the topic to a more professional capacity. “ISIS seemed particularly under equipped in Nepal. They having troubles?”

“I doubt it,” the tattooed Hawaiian replies. “I just got back from Egypt, and they were doing fine there. They probably just didn't send their A-squad to some temple just to make a statement. I’d bet they only sent Animal so the JV team wouldn't feel like they were getting fed to the wolves. I bet they’re pretty pissed they lost him.”

Poole and Yves nod in agreement.

Seems like the conversation is slowing. Better do something about that.

>Continue talking with Yves and the others (Choose a topic)
>Sit with the trainers
>Sit with HR
>Leave the mess (for where?)

I'm gonna get some sleep, and we'll pick this up in 8 or 9 hours. Thanks for playing, guys. Feedback and questions always appreciated.

>>343623
Thanks for running mang.

>>343618
>>Continue talking with Yves and the others
Ask them if they ever have a weapon talking to them after they sustained an injury.
>Egor's the real deal though.

>>343631
Always a pleasure

>>343618
>Leave the mess (for where?)
The locker to check on our XM8 and see if we need to get a replacement kit to change out parts.
We lost the scope and foregrip on it, so we'll need to re-purchase those.

Also check if Egor has the accessory rails, or if we're going to have to try to order a kit.

File: Ivan Chesnokov.jpg (119 KB, 600x650)

119 KB JPG

>>343640
>accessory rails
Oh boy, /k/ would have a field day with that one.

File: AK-47 Tacticool Version.jpg (9 KB, 350x238)

9 KB JPG

>>343661
You mean like this?
Though with all the replacement parts, I can't tell if it's a 47 or a 74, or one of the newer 100 series.

File: Bullpup-PKM.jpg (88 KB, 600x399)

88 KB JPG

>>343712
I don't even.

Can we get a roll call here?

>>343976
Present.

>>343976
Yo

>>343976
I'm here for a couple hours before sleep

>>343712
easy way to tell is the mag, 74 is the 5.45x39 version, that one looks like a modern AKM variant from the gas system, probably a murican made century or similar crap

>>343976
Here desu
Wanna see that hand fixed

>>343712
Look at the gas block. AKM47 pattern guns have a 45 degree block while the 100 series and 74 pattern guns use a 90 degree block.

Alright let's do this. Vote on the last option from this post

>>344021
finish our food then
>Leave the mess (for where?)
find Arne for our dosh

>>344021
>>344023
Sounds like the most sensible option. Don't know what we'd talk about with the others.

Writing to find Arne

Arne said he had some cash for you, so you finish up both the small talk and your meal, and politely excuse yourself.

It takes a bit of wandering, but eventually you hear the Swedish accent coming from the gym. Walking in, you find him - Jesus Christ, that’s a lot if weight on that bench press. You wait for him to finish his set, and cough softly to get his attention.

“Kowalski! Glad you could make it! Your money is in my locker, and lucky you, I just finished up”, he says, clapping you on the good shoulder with a massive hand.

You follow him into the locker room, and he hands you a wad of cash. Quite a lot, too. Counting it, it’s about four grand.

“You really screwed that guy, Arne,” you say, flipping through the hundred dollar bills. “He knows that was probably some forgery, right?”

“Eh, he may now,” he says with a grin. “But we've been paid, and he isn't too bright. Not our problem any more.”

Who knew Arne was so cut throat about the art business? In any case, you’re four thousand dollars richer, and expecting a call about some fingers.

>Where to now? Kaylee should be calling for Dr. Torres soon

>>344049
Go to the medwing.

>>344049
Is there any way to check on the bounty for Animal and his merry band of misfits?

>>344049
>>344056
this, maybe put a call in to tiffany about the bounties while we wait nearby the medwing and maybe get a drink to pass the time

Call Tiffany about Animal's bounties, then head to the medwing preemptively. Writing

Money in your hand puts money on your mind. As you leave the gym, you give Tiffany a call as you head to the med wing.

“Jan, how can I help you,” your handler says from her end of the phone.

“I was just wondering if there was any money coming my way from bounties put on Animal,” you reply

“Let me check,” she says “Looks like your share of any bounties will come out to… Holy shit. Fifty thousand. But, that will take time. People are always more willing to place bounties than pay them.”

“Well, damn,” you say, dollar signs dancing in your eyes. “I’m willing to wait a while for that chunk. How many is it split between?”

“The five of you from here, and the four gurkhas. Industry regs state anyone involved in combat at time of death gets an equal share.”

“Damn,” you reply. “May need to go bounty hunting with a smaller team,” you finish. Good money it bounty hunting, it seems.

“Wouldn't be a bad idea, as long as you don't get shot. Again,” she responds. “I’ll keep my ears to the ground for you.”

“Appreciate that, Tiffany. Talk to you later.”

You hang up the phone as you walk into the med wing, and the receptionist turns to you

“I was just about to call you,” she says. Miguel Torres just landed. He and his team should be here in a few minutes.”

You thank her, and take a seat. You can't bear to watch the bad soaps on TV this time of day, so you browse through an old Sports Illustrated while you wait.

After a few minutes, Dr. Robinson walks in with a short, mustachioed Hispanic man, who you assume to be Torres, and a handful of younger surgical techs.

>Greet the good Doctor

>>344092
Shake his hand with our good hand and ask if he will make us into the Million dollar man.

>>344092
"Hello, Dr. Torres. Would you mind informing me of this procedure?"

>>344092
Dr Robinson has been awfully mysterious and unforthcoming about your special expertise Dr Torres, mind letting me know what we're going to be doing to my hand?

Standard greeting, then ask him what's happening. Writing.

You rise to meet the group, shaking Torres’ hand.

“So, doctor, mind explaining what’s going on here? Robinson hasn't been particularly forthcoming about your work.”

“Yes, that’s partially my fault. I asked him to be vague. Other companies have gotten in a bit of hot water over promises like I’m about to make,” he replies to your questioning.

“And those promises are…?”

“I’d prefer not to get ahead of myself, Mister Kowalski. I’ll start at the top. My team and I do medical research for a Greek company called BioLetrics. Historically, we’ve done medical equipment and such -MRI machines, CTA scans, hearing aids, pacemakers, the like,” he explains, waving his hands emphatically. “We have recently decided to branch out, however, to more… Extreme equipment. That’s my specialty, actually - I head the Biolectric Cybernetics Research division.”

Well, that’s a bit of a shock. “And you to turn me into your million dollar man?”

Torres looks amused. “That show is well before even my time, Jan. But, yes, I suppose. We want to give you your hand back.”

“And what’s in it for BioLetric?,” you ask suspiciously.

“In return for our services, you would become the face of our company,” he replies. “A sort of… Industry endorser. You would use our products in the field, and do the odd commercial or appearance.”

>Reply to Torres

>>344142
If you can get my fingers back, I'll sell myself out to your company. The first Cybernetic Contractor

>>344142
when you say "our products" do you mean fixing my hand or going full cyborg, cause I'd rather not the latter unless its the only option left to me, I kinda like me

>>344155
This. The hand would be appreciated, but going full robut would be a little much.

Concern over the omonious use of "products"

>>344142
We might have to talk with Legal about this.
An Impact! employee becoming an endorser of another company's products could have legal implications.

>>344181
Seconding this, Impact! might wanna have some words about this first.

You step back a moment, mortified.

“And by ‘products’, you mean…”

Torres looks confused for a moment, then throws his head back in a deep laughter.

“Oh, no, nothing.. Sinister, I assure you. I simply meant our products. Communication equipment, weapon optics, drones, that sort of thing. No, I’m not trying to turn you into some comic book character. Your fingers are all I offer. That’s expensive enough, and you wouldn't believe the fight the board put up for even that much.”

Well, that’s comforting. You like the parts of you that didn't get shot off. You’d prefer to keep them as long as you can.

“Well, what do you say?,” he asks, interrupting your thoughts. “Coming back to Greece for the procedure, or staying here, and making due with eight fingers?”

“Let me make a call,” you say. “I don't know if legal wants me getting tied up with other companies.”

He nods, and you step off, ringing Tiffany again.

“No, Jan, no bounty has come through, yet,” she says l, patronizingly.

“No, I’m not calling about that,” you respond. “I got an offer to do endorsements, and was wondering if there were legal issues with that and Impact!.”

“Shouldn't be,” she says back. “Let me check.” You hear a few moments of paper shuffling and a remark about ‘just having the fucking thing’ before she speaks to you again.

“Nope, none at all. Technically, you, don't even work for Impact!, not in the conventual sense. You’re contracted to take contracts from them. It’s a legal mess, but taking an endorsement won't add to it.”

You thank Tiffany for the clarification, and hang up. Returning to the group, Torres has the question on his face, if not on his lips.

>Well?

>>344218
well the lawyers won't have any issues with it so when can I get me these new fingers and will they vibrate?

>>344218
We are good to go. I am ready to fly back to Greece after they fix my shoulder.

>>344218
"Alright then. Let's my ass on that plane.
"About how long will this take? I'll need to let my friend know to feed my dog, and I gotta tell a girl about rescheduling our date."

>>344228
Supporting.
"How soon do we leave and do the bionic fingers come with nifty gadgets? Will I be able to say Go-Go-Gadget Lockpick and open doors?"

>>344233
>my shoulder.
thats a good point, the doc had a cursory look at it, but do we need more work done on it?

Aksin' all dem quesshuns.

Writing

“Alright, I’ll come. But I have some questions. How long’s this going to take? I have to speak to a lady about a date,” you ask.

“If you’re in Athens more than a week, I’ll be surprised. The way we’re doing it, no rehab at all. Just calibrations,” Torres replies.

“Will these fingers vibrate? Have nifty little gadgets in them?”

He laughs at the joke, but becomes serious. “Yes, actually, and far more useful than vibrating. But that will be discussed back at the facility.”

“And what about my shoulder,” you ask. “Not like we can just let that sort itself out.”

“I’ve spoken to Dr. Robinson about that. It will be a simple enough procedure, it can be done while we attach the fingers.”

You do your best to come up with new questions while you text Charlie to feed Casimir and update him on the situation.

>Any other questions?
>after this post, we’ll timeskip to Greece unless you guys think of something needing done

>>344283
What about all the weapons we gathered? Were they just left there?

>>344298
They're sitting in our two lockers at base. We can sell them when we get back.

>>344298
>>344301
This anon is correct. You could only bring back so many. They're in your locker, and will be waiting for you to get back

>>344309
Egor-kun is going to need a thorough lashing and cleaning when we get back.
Am I the only one that wants to waifu the gun?

>>344320
Afraid it looks like the XM8 has already been raifu'd. Feel free to start a war though

>>344283
taimu skipu

>>344320
bitch please fishgun a best

>>344324
XM8 a shit, Egor is haunted and strong enough man to fulfill mercwife needs unless weakboy Extra-Mayo8

>>344345
Spacefish will kill drunk tractor with kraus magic lasers

>>344355
ur waifu a shit

>>344283
No other questions.
Just let Tiffany know how long we'll be gone so she can schedule our contracts appropriately.

>>344283
Just call roomie to take care of our pupper, text Bridget to let her know about unexpected trip and text Mom that we're getting free surgery to fix our hand and something better and we'll fill her in on better details when we can.

Alright. Time skip and a bit of housekeeping coming up

“Well, let’s go, then,” you say. “I’m excited for my new robot hand.”

Torres seems physically pained not to correct you, but he ushers you to the airfield in any case.

Once on the plane, before you get settled in, Torres points you to a contraption in the back of the plane. He explains it will scan your hand for the correct dimensions, and a similar machine at the Athens facility will 3D print the cybernetic pieces.

Once the scanning is done, and you were convinced this wasn't some ploy to cut the rest of your hand off, Torres sits on the plane with you.

“There are three different configurations,” he explains. “The first is the bare-bones prosthetic. Sort of a terminator-esque skeletal appearance. In that, you’ll have whatever add-ins you chose, as well as a complete three hundred and sixty degree field of motion,” he says, showing you a computer mock-up labeled CONFIG-A. “The second has ceramic plates. You’ll have the add ins, but only a slightly enhanced range of motion. They can come in any color dream up, and I’ve taken the liberty of pre-ordring Impact!’s blue and black meteor strike. Let me know if there are any other colors or designs you’d like,” he says, handing you a tablet with a color scale, labeled CONFIG-B FORM. “Lastly,” he starts, “the third is a rubber covering, designed to mimic skin. Close inspection will show it’s a fake, but strangers on the street will have no idea. You can switch between the three whenever you’d like.”

“Thank you, doctor. You mentioned add-ins?”

“Of course!”, he exclaims. “Each finger can have one, powered by a small battery in the hand section of the cybernetic. You can chose between -

>CHOOSE TWO
>Taser - can temporarily immobilize targets with physical contact
>Lockpick - Can pick traditional or electronic locks up yo a certain quality
>Screwdriver set - Has flathead and Phillips head
>Air-powered tranquilizer - range of 30 yards, holds 1 charge. Can be reloaded.
>USB port - Can upload data into a small HD in the cybernetic hand
>Key of your choice - Car, house, safe, etc.
>BANG! flag - will never stop being funny
>Retractable Punch - Robust enough to pierce flesh and soft armor

>Also, choose color combos for ceramic plating. Any number, any colors. One plate for each finger, and one for the hand portion for a total of three

>Be civil

>>344523
>>Lockpick - Can pick traditional or electronic locks up yo a certain quality
>USB port - Can upload data into a small HD in the cybernetic hand

I dig the taser upgrade and the screwdriver set too

>>344523
Well if we can switch to our rubber hand when ever we want, I say the usb and Bang flag. You can never go wrong with it

>>344523
>Lockpick - Can pick traditional or electronic locks up yo a certain quality
>Air-powered tranquilizer - range of 30 yards, holds 1 charge. Can be reloaded.

Depending on the dose and the actual formulation, the tranq can give us a silent takedown option.

As a tech specialist, I think we can come up with our own USB flash drive that'll automatically download everything on a computer.

>>344523
>Lockpick - Can pick traditional or electronic locks up yo a certain quality
>USB port - Can upload data into a small HD in the cybernetic hand
GOD it pains me not to select the BANG! flag or Retractable Punch but these fit Jan so much better.

>>344523
>Taser - can temporarily immobilize targets with physical contact
>Retractable Punch - Robust enough to pierce flesh and soft armor
less than and more than lethal enough

>>344559
forgot colors, we should have the impact colours, one of the polish flag, and a regular skin coloured one if we can

Looks like lockpick and USB port win. Also going with a red and white combo, and a flesh colored one. Feel free to come up with new color combos as I writr

>>344599
For a bionics company, is it possible to get haptic skin that switches from flesh coloring to the actual bionics when the bionics are in use?

>>344599
could we get a different add on for a different config?

like a general life prosthetic, a versatile one, and a combat one?

would that be something we could upgrade later?

>>344612
Sorry, friend. We're only in 2032 here. Maybe once you have enough swing with the company, you can demand a research team for it?

>>344614
Like interchangeable fingers, you mean? That's kinda what I was going for with the different coverings. As they become more human, they become less useful

>>344632
yeah, like each config could maybe have their own add ons, that we could swap when necessary, like coming back from an op, put away the terminator hand with the taser and punch, and put on the bang flag and car key ones with our fake normal hand

>>344625
Ah well! And I think >>344614 meant can we have the fingers be detachable from the hand so we can attach different configurations? I doubt it given I'm assuming the bionics work by connecting the existing nervous system to the fingers and thus would be painful as fuck to lose but it doesn't hurt to ask.
Like for a pure-combat mission we can slot on the Taser and Punch fingers, for a mission that requires some versatility, we slot on the Lockpick and USB and for day-to-day, we can slot on the BANG! and Housekey fingers.

>>344636
I'll address it in the post, but for a quick answer - not yet

>>344648
cool, I didn't think it would be an immediate thing, but worth looking into

With your tech specialty, you feel anything that will help you get more information, faster is needed. You check off the lockpick and the USB drive options, and also put in for a skin colored and a Polish flag ceramic, on top of the Black and Blue meteor strike Torres already put in for you.

“Say, is there any way I can just interchange fingers, depending on what I need?”

Torres shakes his head. “We tried that, but we ran into the same problem Combatix has been with their neural interface - it fries the circuits and melts the wiring. No, they need to be wired directly into your nervous system to work. I’m sorry, but we are looking into alternatives.”

You shrug, and are reminded you need shoulder surgery. It was a long shot anyway.

“What about some sort of covering that goes see-through when I use the fingers?”

He grins and chuckles. “As cool as that would be, Jan, we haven't advanced the technology that far. This is still little more than a prototype for right now.”

>Anything else to say to Dr. Torres, or do before surgery?

>>344728
Thanks for this, Doc. I can interchange these when I get back home, right?

>>344728
Won't the usb option risk fucking me up if I download something bad on accident?

>>344728
>>344745
this

>>344746
nah, its a closed system, it would only be within the USB HDD, not networked with the rest of the hardware, which would be fucking stupid

also fuck its 5am here, time for sleep

>>344746
Actually shit, that might be a good point.
Plus, now that I'm thinking about it, a Screwdriver finger might be useful in terms of accessing hardware as well as setting traps. Anyone up for setting a laser claymore trap in a vent?

Asking about firewalls, then waking up after surgery. Writing

“So, with this USB thing… I’m not about to get some sort of virus, am I?”

“No,” Torres replies. “Yet another advantage over not doing the neural interface. Really, I don't know why Combatix is pressing so hard for it. They’ve spent millions.”

“How do I change the coverings?”, you ask if the doctor.”

“The ceramics snap into place. The rubber coverings slide on. I’ll be honest, it looks like a real pain in the ass,” he replies. “Any other questions?”

“I don't think so,” you respond. Torres nods, and walks off to speak with someone on the phone. A young woman comes up, and begins prepping you for surgery. You sign a handful of papers, which you assume absolve Bioletrics of responsibility if this thing takes over your body, and other such disclaimers.

The tech finishes up after a few hours, and as the plane descends, you feel the anesthesia taking over, lulling you into a sleep.

--------

You wake in a hospital bed, unable to move your left arm at all. The nurse in the room notices you stirring, and says something in Greek before departing.

You take the chance your newfound privacy has given you, and use your good hand to move the sheets and raise your wrist.

The ring and pinky finger look like something straight out of Terminator, skeletal and robotic. A good chunk of your hand does as well, from the space between your ring and middle fingers, curving gently down to about halfway down your hand.

Looking to the desk next to your bed, you see the three sets of ceramic plates you had ordered, as well as the rubber coverings Torres had mentioned.

>Fuck around with your brand new hand and the coverings
>Wait patiently for Torres
>Write in

>>344968
>Fuck around with your brand new hand and the coverings

>>344968
>>Wait patiently for Torres
Let's try to not need surgery again that soon, shall we?

>>344968
>Wait patiently for Torres

Gonna pick this up tonight or in the morning. I'll be around for questions and feedback, though.

Thanks for playing

>>344968
>Wait patiently for Torres

Store list, character sheet, and known associates have been updated for your consideration.

You gained a point in LMG's for your work in Nepal

>>345764
Awesome

Sorry, guys. Woke up and got a to-do list as long as my arm. Gonna shoot for tomorrow morning

>>348195

No problem man, thanks for the heads up

>>348195
It's cool Sat are better

>>344968
>terminator hand
Fucking awesome.

Who's around?

>>352692
I'm here

>>352692
Present.

>>352692
Sup

>>352692
Yo

>>352692
Ay

>>352692
Here.

Some kinda record. Vote from this post for the last option, and I'll get writing

>>352739
>Wait patiently for Torres

>>352739
Let's wait for Torres and get a better look at your hand. Is it the Entire hand or just the fingers we lost?

>>352751
Pinky and ring fingers, as well as a chunk of hand beneath them. A gentle curve to the outside edge about halfway down

>>352754
Jeez. Gnarly.

>>352769
Contracting is a dangerous business.

>6 people answer roll call
>2 people vote
Guys.

>>352739
>Wait patiently for Torres

>>352774
also make that 7

Waiting like a good boy. Writing.

Just a warning, updates today maybe a little sporadic. I'm getting dragged around with the Fiancée's family.

Never get married, they make you do all kinds of shit

You decide you’re fucked up enough, and decide not to compound that by ruining your brand new hand.

Placing the sheet gently back over your arm, you wait for Dr. Torres to come in.

He doesn't take long, and walks in wearing corduroy pants and a sweater vest. Surgeons.

“Jan, glad to see you awake,” he opens. “I assume you’ve already taken a little snoop at your hand?”

You give him a look of exaggerated innocence, which earns a chuckle.

“Well, it doesn't matter. The hand is powered down, and I don't think the anesthesia has worn off enough for you to move it, anyway. Your shoulder was fixed while you were under. A hell of a flesh wound. But still a flesh wound. I wouldn't count on doing any work for a month or so.”

You groan, and attempt to say something vulgar, but between the cottonmouth and the drugs, it’s a bit of a slur.

“Relax, mister Kowalski. That’s the only wait you’ll have. When the drugs wear off and we turn the hand on, it’ll be like it was never gone. Another benefit of wiring directly into your nervous system. Now, if you’ll come with me, we’ll flush your system and begin to calibrate.”

You slide off the bed, and into the provided wheelchair, and are whisked off to a room full of machines and other tech.

After a while of grabbing different scales, and destroying one when the hand was turned up too high, your new robohand is geared up and ready for action.

Torres offers you a choice of what to work on next.

>USB tool
>Lockpick
>Neither, do something else

>>352852
>>Lockpick

>>352852
>>Lockpick
USB should be pretty straightforward, anyways.

Also, sorry for answering only the roll call, but sometimes shit just happens and doesn't leave you any choice.

>>352863
I feel ya holmes. No worries.

>>352852
>Lockpick

>>352852
Lockpick

>>352852
>Lockpick

>>352852
>Lockpick

Unanimous for lockpick. I'm out and about now, but I'll let you guys know when I'm home and writing

Sorry guys. I was led to believe that would not be a 7 hour ordeal.

We're gonna hit autosage any minute, so I'm gonna archive, and we'll start with lockpick training in the morning. Sorry again, folks.

>>354607
Press f to pay respects