Ty Durrant worries about the kind of world his kids are going to live in. He sits and watches the TV news, and all he sees is crime stories and "Mayor Derren reassures the people of San Paro..." this, and "Police Chief August Carter promised to..." that, and it doesn't make a lick of difference to what he sees going on outside his own front window. The other week, some guy down the block from him got carjacked and shot to death. The week before that, some cracked-up nutjob took potshots at his kids' school bus.
A school bus. We're living in a world where a school bus is just another item on a moving target practice challenge.
Durrant used to sit with the other guys down at the local bar, drinking away their welfare checks and bitching and moaning about the state of the city and how somebody - the cops, the mayor's office, the federal government, anybody - should do something about it. But that's all they did. Bitch and moan, and wait for somebody else to do something about it all.
But no-one ever does. No-one ever will. If you want something done, Durrant finally realised, you have to do it yourself.
He'd seen that Justin Teng guy interviewed on Kiki Monroe's show, but didn't pay too much attention at the time - too busy checking out that Monroe chick's rack. He'd seen the billboard posters round the city, and heard those talking recruitment ad posters on the subway trains, but one day it all suddenly came together for him, and he walked into the recruitment office - "one in every neighbourhood in the city", just like the ads said - and signed up with the Praetorians. His military experience - four years picking sand out of his ass in some Middle East shithole - put him on the fast track through their training program.
So now he's patrolling Havalynd and already earned most of the money he needs to move his family out into a better neighbourhood. That's all that matters. Well, that, and a chance to get back at the scumbags who've turned San Paro into what it is today.
"We don't start trouble, but we sure as hell stand ready to stop it!" Commander Linklater used to say that at the end of his tac briefings, and someone somewhere picked up on it and started using it in those public service ads for the organisation. Durrant and some of the other guys in his unit always get a laugh at that, sitting in the bar and drinking way their hard-earned pay checks. Him and some of those guys, they're only too happy to start trouble, 'cos they know who the targets are and where they're hanging out.
"Threat identification and assessment, with a view to final elimination" that's what they used to call it in the military. "Do it to the fuckers before they do it to you", that's what it translates as. Durrant and some of his buddies, they got no problem with any of that.
A little extra-curricular R&R, cruising around town and taking care of problems before they happened. Against the rules, but who really cares, especially if you insulate yourself from any comeback. "Damage limitation" - another phrase he remembers from his army days.
Find some patsies. Get them to do the dirty work for you. Sounds like a plan to Durrant.
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Subject whassup buddy?
you made the right choice hooking up with the Ps. were the ones know how to get things done. when praetorians do something they do it right and it stays done right.
i been in combat before. i been in fucking wars man! These crim shitheads think im going to just watch them take over this city after what ive been through? FUCK THAT.
I know you know what im talking about buddy. you done the right thing hooking up with me too. DO OR DIE TY thats what they called me. LOL.
Looking forward to seeing what you can do for us.
that was some cool shit you just pulled. me and you should definitely hook up and sink some beers. sound good to you? got a place in my neighborhood keeps the free beers coming all night if you walk in wearing enforcer tags. no kidding!!
stuff like that shows what this wars all about. good people out there who need us and respect us for what we do fighting the crims.
last line of defense
praetorians got all the best ordnance and supplies. guess those corporate assholes finally turned out useful for something huh?
still too much bad stuff going on out on the streets. we got to get out there buddy and make a difference. last line of defense thats us. Too many people depending on us for us to fuck it up now!!
go get some
Heads up buddy
Good work dealing with the shitheads. been hearing your name mentioned more and more and in all the right places. the right people are starting to know who you are and thats good for all of us.
want proof? heres something new for you. have fun. i told them you would be the right person to give it too make sure they see Ty dont lie. LOL
things are changing. i can feel it. with Ps like you out there no crim shitheads are gonna be popping off rounds at my kids school bus no more!!
you made a difference buddy
you are the fucking exterminator! we had more like you and there wouldnt be enough crim shitheads for the rest of our people to waste. i got some streets a lot safer now than before you showed up. we make a difference, pal. thats the proof right there. crims and normal people really know were out here now.
going to be looking out for your name now. dont dissappoint me and when you get to the top dont forget us poor mutts still in the trenches LOL
next time i see you beers are on me buddy. believe it.
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Subject Biography: San Paro
When the first humans left their prints in the wet, white sands of Nantego Beach, they thought they had found a paradise. At the meeting of two rivers, where the Makoda subsumed itself into the shimmering span of the Nantego in its final rush to mother sea, they abandoned their journey and sank their roots in the land. A settlement quickly established itself, propelled on by an abundance of natural resources. The rich soils of the river basin supported a variety of crops. The warm winds blew across from the gulf, and from the crystal waters the fishermen reaped the treasures to feed a growing population of craftsmen and traders. And all the while the town spread its tendrils further inland, reaching out for the wider world, eager for contact. As centuries passed, the deep river channels were perfect for the ships that sailed in from all points of the compass, bringing silks and spices, pottery, cloth, wine and rare metals. San Paro became a maritime hub, a launch point for explorers, a thriving international port.
Of course, that was then.
Sirens cut through the night. The turbo whine of tuners careering headlong through the neon alleys. Uptown, the air is alive with the pepper-rattle of small-arms. The sky is clear but there are no stars, only a jaundice haze bleeding into black space. The broiling boulevards, the leviathan scrapers; a lattice of electric light stretching in every direction, obliterating heaven.
Sunrise comes, and the banks of smog roll over from Cortland Point, retched from the hundreds of chimneys which form a thorned carapace across the western edge of the tributary. On a still, hot day, the glass and concrete spires of Havalynd disappear into the grey mire; a debased Olympus, built with the blood of men and inhabited by corporate gods.
The Nantego is a great brown slug, squirming uncomfortably between the quay walls and the rotting banks. Its stench rolls over the docks and the coastal districts, permeating everything. Nothing has lived in there for thirty years.
The gunfire has subsided now. The gangs are sleeping. Only the occasional crackle and burst as the cops try to pick up the stragglers. Already, blank-eyed medics sift through the bodies. Soon the citizens will emerge, their broken sleep painted in tiny fracture lines around their eyes. They crawl in gridlock along the arterial roads, tired or scared or empty.
Welcome to San Paro.
Biography: Jane Derren (Part 1)
Mayor Jane Derren keeps a drawer in her desk locked. Sometimes, when she's alone in her office at City Hall, when San Paro's problems just seem completely insurmountable; when everyone's looking to her for answers and all she's got are questions about her own ability; when the sanest thing to do would be to run away again and leave the city and its madness behind her, she unlocks the drawer and takes out the object inside it. She carefully unwraps it and looks at it, which is all she needs to do to remind herself why she needs to keep on doing what she's doing, why someone has to be where she is to protect the good people from the monsters.
The object inside the drawer is a young girl's party dress, its years out-of-fashion ribbons and frills now stiff with dried blood. It's the dress she was wearing the day her father died.
Everyone still remembers that day. For the people of San Paro, the news of Mayor John Derren's assassination remains the city's most indelible "where were you" moment. Jane Derren isn't likely to ever forget it, either. She was standing right beside her father, at the top of the steps of City Hall where he was announcing to a public rally that he would be officially running for a third term in office, and holding his hand when Luke Waskawi stepped forward and, at close range, fired five shots into her father's chest.
She remembers her father suddenly trying to push her behind him, then the sound of the shots, then her father falling to the ground, his hand still gripping her. Then there were screams and angry shouts, and sounds of a violent struggle. She heard someone - Einehower, she knows now - shouting "Don't shoot! It's only a kid!", and first of all she thought they meant her, and she burrowed closer into her father's dying form for protection. She was still clinging onto him, not even aware of his blood soaking through her clothes, when one of his aides finally managed to prise her away to allow the paramedics to futilely try restart his heart.
She remembers it all, although she spent most of the next ten years of her life trying to forget it.
Her mother - not a native San Parian - had never really liked the city. Now she hated it. For years, she had watched it sometimes almost drain the life out of her husband as he struggled to bring its many problems under control. Now, it had finally succeeded in killing him. She moved away after her husband's death, putting half a continent between her and her daughter and San Paro. It had killed her husband, but now it wouldn't be able to kill any more Derrens.
So Jane Derren grew up far from the city of her birth, in a place where few people would always think of her as the blood-splattered young child in the famous photographs of the immediate aftermath of Derren's assassination. Her father had taken measures to ensure that his wife and child were well provided for in the event of his death, and Jane Derren's upbringing was far removed in social and geographical terms from her father's own humble San Paro roots.
The distance still couldn't keep the nightmares away, though. They came regularly. The gunshots. The screams. The memory of the failing strength in the grip of her father's hand. The sensation of his blood soaking through her dress. Her mother sent to her to a series of expensive child therapists. Jane Derren lied, and told her mother that the therapy had worked, and that the dreams had stopped. They pursued her through her teenage years, through high school, and into college, where she eventually discovered that alcohol, soft drugs and a long series of one-night stands weren't the answer to ever completely blotting them out.
Biography: Obeya Corps. Armory
Obeya (Obeya Corps. Armory (OCA))
Obeya is a government-owned munitions manufacturer developing a wide array of products used by armies and law enforcement agencies around the world. The OCA have recently opened a new headquarters in Concession in response to large orders taken from the new San Paro Vigilante groups. As part of its civil diversification program, the OCA teaches Community Policing to San Paro citizens under the auspices of the City Security Act. The OCA also works with corporate bodies, to provide security consultancy and anti-terror training. Along with other intensive courses at the OCA headquarters - some running up to four or five months - the OCA now offers a Master's degree in Community Coercion and Homeland Security, in partnership with the Metropolitan College of San Paro. For those with more extensive funds, OCA specialists can also be subcontracted to provide protection for VIPs and high-ranking individuals.
Name Stages Final Stage CHINA BLUES 4 MovingTarget WORKIN' LIKE A DOGGI 3 MovingTarget DEALER BUSTS 6 MovingTarget SHOW OF FORCE 5 Escort GET THE LOOK 5 Delivery SIGNAL TO NOISE 4 AntiGraffiti ENEMY AT THE CRATES 3 Delivery CRIME DOES PAY 6 Escort OPERATION: NO JUNKIE 5 Escort ECONOMIC RECOVERY 5 Delivery GETTING ON THE BALANCE SHEET 5 TerritoryControl ORGAN GRINDER 7 MovingTarget PRAETORIAN STARTS WITH PR 3 AntiGraffiti BOGUS BURGLARY 6 Delivery EXPLOSIVE INVESTIGATION 4 MovingTarget BANKROLL COLLECTION 7 TerritoryControl GAME COPY CRACKDOWN 6 Delivery BRUSH WITH THE LAW 6 Delivery ROUGH DIAMOND 6 Delivery
Level Name 10 Meat and Potatoes (5 Joker Tickets)
Hey. Put your best boots on, it's time to kick someone's shit in. Get out there and kill <col: Yellow>5</col> Criminals.
Kill <col: Yellow>5</col> enemies.