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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Apr 24, 2007 6:03:59 GMT -5
OOC: Pelch, "Rectum? Those doctors, Damn near killed me!"
Pelch sputtering and blowing water climbed out of the water near dock 73. Not many would recognize the dwarf. Most of his hair, including his eyebrows, had been burnt off. His clothes were a disaster, not that they had ever been that great to begin with. His normal guns were missing in action at the bottom of said bay. He had been lucky enough to discover a floating seat cushion since he couldn't swim and the tide had eventually drifted him down the coast and back into the bay. He looked around but seeing none of the rest of the group in sight he shrugged and started to walk toward the bus to catch a ride, then realized all his Nu-yen was in the bottom of the bay as well. Broke, he suddenly remembered the 27,000 NuYen watch he had 'light-fingered' at the Star. {SAVED!} He thought with glee. Surely he could get enough to at least replace his losses! Time to get to Corndorks and get re outfitted. He trudged off down the street with a slight smile.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Apr 25, 2007 1:18:11 GMT -5
It's all about Survival!
It took me longer to get to Corndork's than it did to replace my losses! What does that have to say about modern society? After some heavy negotiation I managed to replace not only my clothes with a practically new selection of second hand apparel but was able to get two fine new weapons and about 4,000 in NuYen to keep me afloat for a bit. I even managed to get a meal and some booze from Corndork as part of the deal. Feeling almost sane I made my way back north toward Yesler Way. You never heard of Yesler Way? When you walk down Yesler Way toward Smith Tower, you will be strolling along the original “skid row.” The streets of Pioneer Square were raised as much as 14 feet after the Great Seattle Fire of 1889. Before the streets were raised, Yesler Way was often flooded and became known as Skid Road. The area became a center for vice and prostitution following World War I, and the term evolved into its current subtext. The Smith Tower is located at 202 Yesler Way, which is also home to the Pioneer Square Community Association. You can pick up their booklet, Pioneer Square Journey, which includes a detailed map and captions about related people, events and places for over 60 sites in Pioneer Square. Smith Tower, at 522 feet high and 42 stories, held the distinction as the tallest building west of the Mississippi River from its opening on July 4, 1914 until the Kansas City Power & Light Building was constructed in 1931. It remained the tallest structure on the west coast until the Space Needle was built in 1962, which also replaced Smith Tower as the symbol of Seattle. So much for the tour information. Yesler Way is still known as Skid Road. I felt the need to hide out for a bit. After the last dust up I had to reconsider my situation. Did I really want to make contact with Widow, Dom and the rest? Let's face it, I wasn't to sure Lone Star wasn't looking for my hoop as well. I recalled having run over several troopers recently. Skid Road seemed like just the place to go into hiding and scope out the lay of the land. The last I had seen of Mao, he was getting an impromptu facial reconstruction by some Lone Star goons. My old buddy, Wheels, had been elevated to the choir invisible by a series of hi grade explosives and the rest of the group had seemed to be at odds with each other. Can you think of a better reason to not make recontact immediately? As I moved East along Yesler Way from 1st Street past the Smith Tower to the Corner of Second Street I spotted what used to be the Seattle National Bank Building. On the north side of Yesler Way is the “Sinking Ship” garage. One look at it and you'll know how it got its name. If you are wondering why I do not suggest this as a parking option, the state Supreme Court recently ruled that the Seattle Monorail Project could use eminent domain to condemn the parking garage on the site. The garage is safe for now with the Seattle Monorail Project defunct, but the eyesore is a constant target of proposals to completely sink the ship. So why was I going there? The area had been turned into very low rent housing! For a couple of hundred nu-yen I could get a relatively safe place to doss down and get my ear to the street. It would be unlikely that anyone would be hunting for me there. The garage is not as ugly as it is made out to be. It draws the ire of local residents because it was formerly the site of the Seattle Hotel. Anger over the demolition of the historic hotel in 1961 spawned the effort that led to the creation of the Pioneer Square Historic District in 1969. On the other side of the street is the Interurban Building, formerly known as the Seattle National Bank Building. It had been changed into several eateries like the Stuffer Shack's, McBeast's and such ilk all surrounding an ancient holo theater. The current holo was a thriller called, Willard meets Rambo. I went to get a room. Later, I might even catch the movie.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Apr 26, 2007 2:59:42 GMT -5
I jandered into the Sinking Ship garage as if I didn't have a care in the world. The desk clerk was dressed in 'Mock Death Ranger' boots and faded-half-patched camo fatigues. I managed to procure a 'convenience' apartment with an actual door, it's own drekker, sink and stand up shower, and a hot plate for 500 NuYen for the month. The drekker was clogged up with drek, the old bed mattress had springs sticking out of it's stained surface, and the hotplate had enough burned crust on it to defy any attempts to clean it. Like I said, luxury accommodations. They didn't ask for ID, though.
There were no bars on the windows, because there were no windows. A time saver all around. A stained spittle laden rug was on the floor where lay a variety of stained needles and used condoms. I saw no sign of a trash can, broom or mop either. I decided that if I had to spend a month here I would need to do some creative house rearrangement. I dumped the mattress and hot plate on the rug, rolled it up and dumped it all out in the hall. The room was cleaner already. The bed slats that were left looked much cleaner and more comfortable than the mattress had.
With a little time and some creative 'borrowing' from the neighbors that were out or had no doors, I managed to acquire a plunger and get the drecker unclogged and working. The sink and shower actually did work, but were so stained with mildew and rust that the chlorine bleach I had deprived some hardy soul of hardly made a dent in it at all. I tabled that until I could acquire battery acid. I did remember to booby trapped my door with a loaded shotgun I found in another room. They had even had a box of double 0 shot to donate to the cause. The next big task was to scare the hell out of the devil rats and roaches. Mission impossible. I tabled that for later, too. I did get a nice big piece of plastic from one wall in a corner room though to set on the bed along with some second hand blankets and a couch pillow that wasn't too bad after I washed them in the shower.
I soon acquired a fairly good second hand hot plate from a little old ladies apartment. She had been dead for some time but I was the first to discover that fact. She didn't have much but what she did have was gratefully accepted as a donation. The only thing good about that is that she tended to attract the devil rats to her place on the upper level leaving my apartment relatively vermin free three floors down. I figured the stench didn't bother anyone there and it would be discovered when the landlord went looking for his rent. She did have a nice door though and a good lock on it, but I didn't need a door.
I also discovered a second hand old wood chair and table in the basement that had been stored there since the Great Seattle Fire. Bringing that stuff up helped me to furnished the room in splendid style.
I went out after my hard work to get some lunch, carefully locking the door and setting my trap to catch other possible salvage experts. Five minutes later I came back to discover a hole in the door and a dead body laying outside. No one had responded to the shotgun blast or the body. I took down the door and borrowed permanently the dead ladies door from her room. She wouldn't miss it. I took the key from her body but I had to shoot several of the rats to do it.
I reset my trap, checked the shotgunned body of the loser for valuables and then rolled it up in the mattress and dumped it in the dead ladies room. It would keep the rats busy for longer. I am sure they would both be discovered soon enough but no one would be asking any embarrassing questions.
It felt like home already as I sat in my new room and ate my take out food. I was sure the new neighbors would see the blood on the floor outside my door and the shotgun pellets in the wall. They would get the right idea. Isn't survival a wonderful thing?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on May 2, 2007 6:39:35 GMT -5
Jerk Alert!
So it's been a couple of days now. The neighbors, devil rats and bugs have gotten the idea that I am not a sharing type of guy. I managed to pick up a small portable holo tube and watched the news a bit. I didn't move around much and I haven't travelled far or looked up a lot of my contacts. As for that fiasco out in the bay it barely rated a five minute news report on any of the networks. There was some talk about explosions out in Pullyup but they blamed the garage owner there for his 'unsafe practices'. It was forgotten almost as soon as it was mentioned. That seems to fit with the entertainment biz where they think we all have the attention span of a cocker spaniel.
The best part of this whole sad mess was that the street word was quiet as well. No one seemed to be looking for any dwarves, hairy or burned. None of the old crew of 'partners' was searching around looking for a burnt out or up street warrior and if they had a bug on me it would have been at the bottom of the bay with all my other lost stuff. That is IF it was still working in all that industrial sludge. That left me where I started, mainly, needing another job. Preferably one that didn't involve corporate hit teams, bombs, and frag overs from my mates. It especially shouldn't involve 'Tonfa Tarts' Bomb Crazy leaders, hat adjusting novices or corporate hitty men!
Now I know what you're thinking. Why not use that handy SIN I got from the 'Spider Slut' and grab all my funds just sitting out in my account? Two reasons, chummer. First that SIN stick is at the bottom of the bay with my clothes and I suspect not in any better shape than my guns, clothes or any other electronic drek that might have gone with it.
Second, that would mean I would have to go back to the 'Boss Bimbo' to get a new one or go to the bank so they could establish who I was. NOT a smart move for someone trying to stay out of the light and deep in the shadows. Even if I could do it without them it would still let them KNOW I'm alive and the doctor with the deck that wanted to stick fingers up my hoop would be tracking me down in no time at all. That would mean the bad dudes with the bombs would be either ahead of them or right there with them! A really unsatisfactory situation to my way of thinking!
Let's face it. It looks like I am officially dead. My SIN would have been cancelled with the big 'D" that they use to mark SIN's when someone croaks. So I will have to look in new and innovative ways, to find some hard NuYen if I wanted to be able to hold onto my deluxe accomadations here at the Sinking Ship. The main problem I have in all this was where to go to get said high paying, low hazard, cushy job. I had been thinking about that while I was cooling my heels and waiting. I had a glimmer of a plan. That's probably when I am most dangerous, like a newly sharpened sword in the hands of a drunk.
What did I want in a job? Lot's of the easy money, or even medium or hard to get NuYen would satisfy me. One thing I had learned on the last job was that my life expectancy was right down there in drekker heaven. So why work for or with a bunch of yabo's all pulling in their own direction? Why not go into business for myself?
A fine idea I figured, but where in the Seven Hells of Curyic do you start? Rip off the Mafia? Take on a huge corp by stealing their stuff? You need resources and a heavy mob for a scene like that. Trust me when I say that one man with my capabilities isn't even going to get close to that type of action. That leaves me with considering the wrong side of the law. Rip off low level drones who have no protection? Which means with no protection they probably have nothing worth the risk of you getting blown out of your undies leaving some heavy 'duty' stains behind as a marker. Let's face it, I was up drek sewer and down to my hands as the only means of locomotion available. So what do you do when you need inspiration and can't afford a fixer to find you work? That's easy! You take the 'Ronilion' solution and go hit the bars! It was off to the orc underground for me, but don't expect me to be cheerfully going singing any dwarf working/marching songs about fixed income / low risk investments, bonds, corporate securities, t-bills, money market accounts, or stock futures. I don't do HI-HO well either. Matter of fact I shot the last fragger in the foot that suggested it with a smirk on his puss. I'll bet he don't smile now either especially when it rains.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on May 20, 2007 5:33:17 GMT -5
Or should that be Slam Drunken?
So there I was moving West up Yesler Way until I got to number eighty-eight, which is on the same Northern side of the street as the Smith Towers near Post Avenue. There you will find a bar called Marcus Martini Heaven. Back in 2005 and 2006 it was one of THE places for the singles scene and touted as a place for the Seattle Underground. The times they do be a-changing or the advertisements were a blatant lie.
The bar was supposed to combine that old world European style, or what UCAS people think is old world Euro style, with a +30 singles scene. What no dartboard, or a juke playing bouncy Irish melodies? How Euro could it have really been? Now? The street sign touts it as URCUS tin aven. Some dim witted razor guy tested his new mini missile rig against the sign when he was completely sauced and the sign lost the argument. It was patched together for the most part. Now back in those good old days you could be paying up to twelve US dollars for a single premium martini. Does this scream Yuppie hangout for aging, bald headed guys and shopworn girls looking to score a one nightie? Yeah, that made the place a little pricey even by today's standards. Let's face it, the bar is now in serious need of detoxification and maybe several sticks of dynamite for renovation improvement. I just knew I would feel right at home there.
I jandered into the bar where the aroma of several substances filled the air. Some potent enough to sky King Kong. The Salad Show was in full swing. OK, we all know what the slang for the salad show is. It usually means a stripper bar with a gynecology row. Well here they do it somewhat different. The models, and I use the term loosely, walk the runway sporting onions, lettuce, baguettes, and string beans in strategic places. What some people won't do to make a UCAS buck. Let's face it, the place fits right in to the street called Skid Road. This is the kind of place that if you want something, illegal, immoral, or perverted, you could get it or have it done to you here. The bartender was so ugly he could have stuck his face in dough and made gorilla cookies. The beer he handed me from the tap was everything I expected it to be. It was a Krass Lite. It smelled like the natural product of camels. I didn't dare drink it. I have my pride.
I slid a 50 Nu-yen piece across the bar and looked around. Then looked that bartender square in the eye and said, "Nice place you got here. What to the girls do with the veggies?"
The gorilla didn't miss a beat, "We auction it off and then fry it up for the customers who bid on it." He looked serious. I should have known. I nodded back, "I think I'll pass on the food. So what's the latest 'rickety' from the street side? I'm looking for a little action."
"I don't know you." He stated glaring at me. I had just known it wasn't going to be THAT easy to make a connection. The trick is to take it slow and easy and use plenty of bait. I looked back at him and smiled like he was fragging Einstein. "You're right. I never been here before. It's not that I'm asking you for anything special, or even to stick your neck out for a stranger but I have a 100 Nu Yen bill for any friendly chummer that can steer me toward a job that needs to be done. I might even cut said chummer in for a piece of the action if the action is big enough." I carefully flashed the bill so that only he could see it in the smoke and gloom. "Maybe you know someone who can put me in touch with a needy individual that needs some 'special' service?"
The gorilla looked at me a moment. I hoped that what he saw looked really dumb and stupid enough to earn his trust. Luck was on my side. I passed the harmless idiot test hands down. He handed me another beer and palmed the hundred in the switch. He also passed me an address written on the back of the card! I didn't dare tell him that I couldn't READ the fragging thing! I took the card and smiled and jandered out the door after leaving a tip. Information never comes cheap.
So now I had this card I couldn't read. So what did I do? I chose the straight forward method. I paid a troll kid on the street to tell me what it said. It's nice to see kids these days making use of their quality education resources. Anyway the kid stated I was to go to a building at 219 1st Ave S. So I jandered back east on Yesler way for half a block and then headed south for a couple of blocks on 1st Avenue. The nice part was that I didn't have to go far. Now according to the kid I was to knock at the door and hand whoever answered the card. Then if I knocked the devil rat drek from my shoes and looked like a responsible citizen, I might get a job. I practiced my responsible look on the way.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on May 21, 2007 2:00:46 GMT -5
Deja Frogging DUE!
OOC: Pelch: "Well-now, today I almost feel like a human being. ERM, that may not be a good thing."
I walked down 1st Ave as if I was window shopping. The shop security was outrageous. OK, so what did I expect? On Skid Road a lot of guys would be looking for targets of opportunity, just like me. This place was real close and so they had the bars on the windows, the razor and chicken wire, the alarms. They even had a large Lone Star City Master cruising the main street. I behaved myself. I finally got down to 219 and looked the building over.
Now I'm just below South Washington Street and a couple of blocks north of Quest Field. Slightly to the west is 99 the Alaskan Way Viaduct and Alaskan Way South which fragging parallel each other. I'm also just a little south of the Bremerton Ferry where it connects into Yesler way as well. Now once you get to South Main Street you turn West toward the ocean and there on your right on the corner is the New England Building. Now my stomping grounds are usually a lot farther East of here, but it doesn't mean I don't know the area. I was a little shocked when I discovered which building sits here. Why you ask?
I had been watching the reports about Krass's new endeavors in the Skagit Valley. It looked like a major gun battle was brewing between the Eco-Terrorist mobs and downtown. Propaganda had been flowing from both sides like the main line of the sewer system. Now way back when the plants were first being discussed and worked on by old WPSS the utilities people, they had branch offices in the New England building. When they went broke on the loans to build said plants the place was auctioned off and became various shops and offices. One such was a carpet shop. I began to smell a rat. I went into the lobby of the building and visited the receptionist. She was an orc girl but she had a nice smile and good personality. She looked at my card and sent me to the forth floor office. A security guard went with me though to be sure that a guy of my stature didn't get lost, or that any valuables didn't find there way into my new trench coat.
I knocked politely on the door and a voice invited me in. A no nonsense and business like secretary looked at me but showed nothing in her face but professional courtesy. She calmly took my card and then had me take a seat. I waited about 15 minutes and then was ushered into an office. By now all the alarm bells were starting to ring. This guy was a corp lawyer. I could smell the money. I waited until he motioned me to a seat. I stayed quiet and polite.
The man looked at the card and then referred to some stuff on his desk. Some kind of electronic drek and then smiled at me. He looked like a greasy, perfumed and well manicured shark. "Mr. Donald I. Moose?" He asked politely. I almost missed the cue, it was the alias from the papers I had gotten from Corndork in my deal, my new ident. How did this clown know that? I spoke quickly before he could get suspicious. "It's pronounced 'Muss'" I told him politely. "I'm surprised you know my name. I didn't give it to the recruiter." See I can deal with the best of them.
He nodded, "On the way here you asked a young troll how to get here, correct? Well, his accomplice picked your pocket and found out who you were and they phoned us. We did some background on you while you came this way. You walked." This clown was sharp and knew way to much. This was going to be a hot job and after the last bunch of bombs I was not so sure I wanted in that bad.
"You work fast." I commented as he tossed me my dreking ID papers. He smiled again and I was not comforted. "You will find nothing else missing." He said quietly, "Now let's get down to the biz. I represent a group of people who are very interested in what is happening in the Skagit Valley recently. Have you seen the newscasts?" I nodded affirmatively.
"One of the jobs at the facility is for a janitor/maintenance man. Nothing nuclear, it's cleaning offices, handling plumbing and electrical problems and standard building care. The facility is new so the workload should be very light except for the usual bugs which will crop up in anything this major. I am considering placing you in that job." He stated with a smile. I thought about it and smile back like I was eager for the job.
Sure I'm a dwarf and EVERYONE knows us dwarfs just fix everything. The ID I got from Corndork must have held up to a quick investigation and so I must appear qualified. That didn't mean though that I would be working for Krass as a janitor. It could be the other side hiring me. I was walking on thin ice here because I didn't know what I was dealing with! The guy smiled back like a shark. Now would come the loyalty test. I hate dealing with smart fraggers.
"So far you are the best qualified candidate we have found, to date. You have a solid employment record for fixing things, although you have no SIN. We can fix that for you if we hire you on. If we hire you we will expect certain extra duties to be accomplished as well. You will of course be well paid for this extra work. In your job duties you will examine carefully any trash for valuable information. When you are cleaning desks you will keep your eye's open. You will listen to conversations when possible. Do you get the point?"
OH Yeah! I got the point but not the answer I was looking for. This guy might be asking me to do some industrial spying OR he might be having me double check the people and security to see if they had holes. I was still on thin ice. "Does this mean you want me to back stop security?" I asked bluntly looking confused. Sometimes you have to act dumb to save your hide. The fragger was too smooth though to give me a clue.
"Possibly. Does this bother you?" He asked all concerned about my distress. Right! There goes a low flying pig! "Not at all." I told him brightly. Then I bet it all. "I am loyal to the people that pay me. Whoever they are." I stressed. "Now you're paying me and if you say that's the job then I do it and keep my mouth shut."
The shark sat back and steepled his hands. He looked like an undertaker measuring me for a coffin for a few moments and I thought maybe he wasn't going to bite. Then he nodded. "Good. Now let's talk details. We get you the job. It pays you 350 NuYen per day. You do what they tell you. Now if you find anything of interest to me we will set up a place where you can drop off the information. Are you familiar with the Ace Tomato Company on Z Street?"
OH FRAGGING NO! I thought in panic while keeping a straight face. I was tempted to bail right then and there! I almost did. "Yes Sir, I know the place." I stated keeping the panic out of my voice and a eager look on my face. At the last minute I had remembered that Widow had said that Krass and the others used it for hiring. Could it be I was working for Krass again as a different alias? I still didn't have enough information. Hadn't Widow mentioned something about a Smythe who was investigating Krass as well? Man! I was just getting deeper and deeper in the drek with every breathe I took. I must have been fragging Hitler or Rumsfeld in a previous life. I wondered if I should start shooting lawyers as a statement of principle.
"Excellent." He stated briskly. He handed me a fragging pass card like the one I had lost on my ocean voyage. Maybe they all used pass cards there and maybe I was about to get reaquainted with Dom's idiots again. I could only hope that he wasn't sending me back to Widow as a replacement for Pelch Gobwit. Now that would be real ironic but definitely NOT funny."The people there will give you further instructions, Don."He said with a friendly, false smile He waved me out of the office, no longer concerned.
As I left I considered bailing, again. I gave it some pause for brain scratching. IF this fragger had my pockets picked by professionals he just might have a tail on me that I hadn't spotted either! They might be watching to see if I followed orders like a good little boy. If I bolted I could end up very dead. I headed for Z street thinking and trying to spot a tail. My mind was racing. What the frag had I got myself into AGAIN?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on May 30, 2007 6:19:15 GMT -5
I walked into the facility on Z Street. It was old home week for me. The place I was supposed to go turned out to be the underground area. The interesting part is that with no hair none of the guards recognized me until they did the retina and brain scans. They seemed surprised to see me but didn't say piddly.
I walked into the Lair expecting Widow to be all in my face. That's when I got my first surprise, No Widow, no Mao, no Henri, no Quick, no Freddy, no nobody but BB. She seemed happy to see me and even had a beer and some food ready for me. Nothing like having a dutiful little woman around the place to welcome me home from a hard day at the office. If I had owned slippers I would have sent her to fetch them for me. Just to see if she would.
I sat and ate and then blurted, "Where is everyone?"
BB looked at me and shrugged, embarrassed, "After the chopper you were in was hit by the missile...." she began.
I interrupted, "Is that what hit the chopper? I must have been on the far side. They were getting ready to toss me out the door. The guys doing the pushing got fired up and I went sailing out. I guess my luck was holding that day. Lost my beard though."
BB waited till I ran down then continued, "Freddy looked around in the water for a while but found no sign of you. The rest just cut and run and went into hiding." BB looked embarrassed.
"So we never found out who did Wheels." I said disgusted.
BB looked surprised, "I forgot you were out of the loop. Wheel's wasn't killed. He managed to escape."
I looked at her, stunned, "He bailed too? I would have never have thought he would do that but I guess he had reason. So everyone made the smart move and went deeper in the shadows. Doesn't say much for a loyalty factor though does it." I thought for a moment. "What's Dom saying about this?"
BB shrugged, "I don't know. No one got paid or even asked for payment when Widow bailed. I didn't have money for my apartment so I moved in down here. No one objected and it's safe. I decided to freelance a bit and got a contract working for a Regan Savage out at Wildcat Lake. We are supposed to be getting information from that Nuclear Plant in Skagit Valley that Krass is building. I've got a new man coming in. You'll like this, it's a dwarf called Don Moose." She stated happily.
"OH Drek! You're my fragging Johnson?"
BB looked surprised for a moment and then she got this strange glint in her eye. She looked at me like a school teacher closing in for the kill. "You took an alias. You weren't coming back either. You were bailing too weren't you."
Man I just knew I was going to be in trouble trying to explain this one. BB tapped her foot, hands on her hips, just waiting for the explanation. The bombs were looking like a better deal already.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Jun 5, 2007 1:20:10 GMT -5
The Pelch Gobwit thought of the day:After everyone is done packing for Holiday, find their suitcases/backpacks and remove all their underwear and socks.
I did my best hurt and innocent look. "How can you think such a thing?" I whined, heartbroken. "I had to go undercover after the affair with the Star. I certainly didn't want to lead them back here now did I? Besides, I DID come back. I'm here now ain't I? The guy you had that hired me told me to come here didn't he? If I was hiding would I have come?"
See I didn't HAVE to lie. I mixed in some of the truth with a bunch of half-hoop questions that gave the impression that I would have been a fool not to return. BB was awfully naive. She obviously wanted to believe me. She relaxed. I didn't give her time to think it through.
"Now let's get down to business." I stated with a friendly smile. "I'm a facts kind of guy, so why would a slag like Regan Savage hire us without making himself a Johnson? C'mon. This guy has to be a total dork if he used his own fragging name. Second why is he so interested in Skagit Valley?"
"Regan Savage out at Wildcat Lake is a girl. Miranda Savage is her mother and she has a 12 year old girl called Regan, Pelch." BB stated in a matter of fact tone of voice, like that fact didn't mean diddly. Matrix Geeks and their reality blind spots, I think Mao said it best, "The more I C, the less I see."
"BB this is going to sound stupid but why is your Johnson a 12 year old kid? Why the heck is she even interested in the Skagit Valley? It's on the other side of the city from her enclave at Wildcat Lake?"
BB looked up from the facts on her deck. I could almost hear the gears turning. "It doesn't make any sense does it? The only thing I can think of is that someone stole her identity and is using it to make an extra effort to not be seen or known. You trace it back looking for a Johnson and all you come up with is a 12 year old girl. It's elegant in a way. You go to investigating Regan Savage and you come up with a girl who is squeaky clean with absolutely no connection to anything! It would send most teams buggy."
"Now that makes more sense. So Regan Savage is actually a dead end, so how are we supposed to get our info to the real Johnson?"
BB smiled, "We encrypt it and send it to fifteen different drop points, electronically. The Johnson can choose to show up at any of the fifteen drop points either electronically or physically and retrieve the data. Since you never know which one he will choose, or how he will do it, it is going to be nasty for anyone to catch him at the drop point. As far as we know a smart-frame could even be forwarding the messages to several places from there. You would have to be the Star or a major corp with a drek load of manpower to even have a chance to catch them all."
I should have known. Geek stuff. Complicated. So complicated that it would take a crack-dome to figure it out but pretty simplistic in operation. It would be hard to tamper with it and there would be guards against anyone trying to monkey with this mess. Probably a herd of matrix cowboys on line at the drop times just to be ready to deck it out with any intruders. It reminded me of Krass's latest book, Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. Computers are from hell. Somewhere there might be an ounce of truth there.
"BB? This, whoever, is taking a lot of pains not to be discovered. It tells me that he wants Skagit off the map. He's looking for a hook. We are going to have to make a major decision here. Do we still work for Dom? If so should we be looking for the rest of the team OR do we kiss off Dom, probably getting him royally P.O.'d and work for this other joker and stick it to Krass/Drassel with all that implies? Now I'm going out on a limb here but it looks like one of our old enemies is trying to turn us. Could our mad bombers or Nestle's or Dom's brother be a part of this mess?"
I could see that BB just didn't have the answers to that and she wasn't likely to have them quickly.
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Post by wolflet59 on Jun 9, 2007 18:54:43 GMT -5
splaguLLLahhh
the dolphin surfaces after ten minutes in the pollution filled sound.. and is collected by the inshore craft - once they recognise he who he is. Frag all is left- the sludge has obscured any immediate debris - but for snake's sake that could be over a dozen square mile.. frag, as they sy here in Seattle .. Friggin Bag of Shite says Freddy as he takes the oxy and the anti-whatever shots - Jeeze they sting..
Dead fraggin end
and another lost.. Fraggin no fraggin further ... no evidence anyoe was removed - smokeskreen or some reprisal shot - who fraggin knows..? Freg, a no-result, not too useful when you work for a guy who wants answers...
Well, after a few hot chocolates, Freddy has a couple of ideas, but they have to wait untill after this next job that has been pitched, the frozen bloody north, someone is extracting the Michael...?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Jun 14, 2007 0:49:18 GMT -5
Since it didn't look like any of those questions was going to get an immediate answer it seemed like a good time to get on with the job and see what else was going to shake out later. Now since I was supposed to be earning money by showing up at Skagit Valley ready to work, I figured I better get my hoop on the job before someone decided to sack me for tardiness.
Skagit Valley was the Home of the big Tulip Festival back in 2009. It sits out East of Seattle just south of Bellevue. The Euro-American settlement at Skagit Valley began in earnest in the early 1860s. After the first dike was built on the LaConner flats in 1863, the county began to emerge as a major agricultural center. Throughout the twentieth century the area’s reputation as a world leader in seed production increased along with its importance as a fishery and lumber producer and as an international destination for recreational salmon and steelhead fishing. Today? The tulip's are dead, the agriculture is gone and Krass's nuclear monstrosity stands like a nightmare brooding over the valley. The Greenpeace elves and Global warming fans are livid of course.
The funny thing about Global Warming is that they keep making the same prediction over and over but it never comes true. The idea of Global warming started in 1954! Yep that's when they were first using black and white TV. In ten years we were all going to be doomed was what they said. Then in the 70's they tried again. Ten years because the ozone was going. Well by 2000 they figured out the ozone was getting thicker not smaller and that cows caused more problems with green house gases than cars did. They came out with car's like the Prius and the new style light bulbs that was supposed to reduce the 'carbon footprint' of man. The funny thing about that was that a Hummer was more eco-friendly than a Prius due in large part to the Prius's highly polluting nickel battery and the new light bulb was more eco destructive due to it's mercury content! Talk about your scientific stupidity! It appeared that the eco crowd was just looking to make a fast dollar by selling high priced eco-unfriendly items while trying to scare the pants off the world. It turned out that Al Gore, yeah that Al Gore, was owner in several of these eco-developments. I always wondered if he was Krass's father. How could anyone be so brain dead as to actually treat a political hack like Al Gore as a REPUTABLE scientist?
Isn't it great to be a dwarf? You live for so fragging long that you get to see the same scams over and over again. That old saying, "Everything Old is New again?" A dwarf said that. Anyway here we are in 2060 and the word of the day is that we are all dead in ten years. All the bees are dying again, heard that one in 2007. We are all dying in Nuclear waste which is destroying the ozone in the air., they modded that one. The snows are too deep, the climate is too warm and we are all swimming in industrial sludge. Same as it always was. Now I had to figure out how to get out to the valley.
I almost wished Mao was still around with his new car. It was sitting out in the parking lot waiting for him. BB had the keys, but Mao had never come back. maybe I should borrow his keys. I did pretty good the last time I drove.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Jun 25, 2007 1:09:05 GMT -5
BB was giving me that look. You know how it is if you ever had to put up with a woman long term. I'm a dwarf. I know all about long term hell. It was that look that said, {I know what your thinking. What kind of brain dead stunt are you planning to pull now? You're an idiot and you never did a decent, correct thing in your whole life.} She was waiting to see what kind of bull drek I was going to feed her next. That's when my luck turned REALLY BAD!
Mao walked into the room adjusting his HAT!
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" I screamed in unimaginable horror at the Gods of the Rhyme in despair of any hope of redemption in this life or several others down the track. The Gods had always had it in for me. I must have failed to make the proper virgin sacrifices when I was a teenager a few hundred years ago. Maybe I should have taken up molesting goats like Krass. They might not have been so vindictive as to saddle me with this boob now.
Mao looked normal except for some bruising around his face from the loving caresses of the Lone Star goons. His clothes were a little rumpled, but he had on that same STUPID FRAGGING HAT and that same STUPID FRAGGING NON-EXPRESSION on his face!
Mao looked at me with that stupid steady dumb look he has. The no expression cow eyes that said, {I've seen it all and it don't mean drek.} "Who's the singing dwarf?" He asked BB.
BB smiled. It was the kind of smile that says; I'm about to job you Pelch. She did. "That's your new partner Mao, Mr Don I. Moose." She smiled at me. It was malicious. "Don, this will be your new partner, Mao. He's a highly experienced operative and I just know you two will get along famously." My trigger finger itched. I didn't know if I should kill him, her or myself just to end the misery.
Mao continued to look at me. "You're hairless." Bright boy noticed. What a fragging genius. "Some of us are born that way." I bald faced lied politely, "Just like some dogs and cats are hairless, some dwarfs are hairless. It's a genetic thing."
Mao nodded like I had told him some truth that everyone knew. He looked at BB and spoke quietly. I'll never forgive him, "I like the hairless variety better. It's smarter than the last one and certainly has better clothes and smells better. For a dwarf that is." He finished by adjusting his hat on his pointy dreky head. I smiled at him like the village idiot and plotted my revenge.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Jun 27, 2007 2:45:47 GMT -5
"Alright Gobwit, this is the game police! We know you've been ignoring the movement modifiers! Come out with your hands up!"
There was no getting around it. I was going to have to go out to Skagit Valley with the Scarecrow. Why Scarecrow you ask? A mow is a place where they store hay. Every good scarecrow is stuffed with straw and is dressed with a hat. I finished my meal while BB briefed Mao on the new job and gave him HIS papers so he could get into Skagit. Looks like we were going to be work buddies.
{Oh fragging joy.}
BB gave Mao the keys to an old battered truck to take us out there. I guess she thought that Mao's new car was a bit too expensive for a couple of janitors. Mao made his usual good impression on the road. He only caused half a dozen accidents on the way to the valley.
Mao was full of the usual dumb hoop questions along the way. He had time for it because he certainly wasn't worried about his driving or little things like concentration.
Mao looked at Don, "What do you know about magic?"
"Not much. I knew a girl once who could do a spell."
"What spell was that?"
"It was a charm that gives your horse not only the ability to fly, but the confidence to do so."
Mao thought about it for a bit. "Was she Amish? According to the news the Amish are mostly terrorists these days."
"Naw, she was hired by Dunkelzahn as a body guard when he was trying for UCAS president. Maybe that's why he's dead, he probably had too much confidence riding that flying horse."
Mao's face never changed expression. He thought some more. After a bit he looked at me and stated seriously, "That doesn't help much."
I was tempted to say, {I'm not trying to help, Nimrod. I'm trying to get you to concentrate on your driving before I become deep dish road pizza.}
I didn't though and shrugged, "Well magic is a strange thing. It's not like it's ruined your birthday, ran over your puppy with a semi, and burned your house down with napalm. If you really are giving birth to a rhinoceros because of this, stop thinking about magic immediately, wait a few months then think again when you can handle the answers and they will be completely mustache free. I promise. Unless Krass becomes Governor and takes up a hate you campaign because of all the complaining you're doing about what you don't know. Magic is a game that doesn't lend itself much to logic."
Mao sat for a while and thought again. He almost ran down a couple of workman. They shook their fists at us as we passed. I flipped them the bird and made a kissing motion. The shovel one of them threw almost landed in the bed of the truck. Mao never noticed. His driving instructor must have been from dimension K.
"You seem to be wiser than my last partner."
I looked at Mao. No mercy! "I'm deeply touched by your compliment. Maybe I can help. Can you say 'pleasant mother pheasant plucker' ten times real fast? It keeps the brain sharp and I heard it helps you to understand speaking magical spells better. Sort of like a primer for beginning students."
Mao decided to practice the rest of the way there. At least he didn't have more questions until we arrived.
We pulled into the parking lot outside the main fence. It was pretty fragging obvious they were NOT going to let an outside car into the facility. Mao's parking was as bad as his driving. I could see the parking lot guards discussing whether or not to give him the first prize for the Drek Parking Award. I heard it came with a manual labeled 'How not to Park like a Complete Dork!' How did Mao park? Street Fighter Style. After we got out he kicked the car into the parking space. Maybe that's why the parking guards decided not to bother him. We walked toward the heavily and I MEAN heavily guarded main gate.
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Post by Mao on Jun 27, 2007 23:11:06 GMT -5
As they moved towards the gate Mao began to shrink his stride and allow his partner take the lead. He also readjusted his hat so that the cameras about unless had their x-rays on would not be able to see his face.
Throughout the car-ride Mao had a weird perception of this person that BB has assigned him to work with. The body language that BB presented througout the conversation and in introducing this character seemed as if he was no stranger whatsoever. His speech patterns also was eerily familiar...especially his attitude in thinking that everyone around him were stupid compared to himself... Too much like another dwarf Mao thought to himself...but those questions best be left to some other time when the current mission isn't on their minds. Both of them had gone through hell and back once again...and they'ld leave it at that for now...
As they stood in front of the gate Mao in his usual cowboy drawl stated..."You're up pardner. Let's see what you can do eh?" He quickly took a look around and spat out the piece of straw he was chewing..masking his true intentions..which was to take a quick look at the surroundings in front of this gate...guards, cameras etc.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Jun 28, 2007 0:11:55 GMT -5
My first day in the Skagit Valley facility had much the same welcoming festivities as do other prisons. Mao and I were quickly uniformed, lined up by height and marched into our crowded cell block. Kathy Sullivan the new secretary became so nervous she sprung a leak that swam around her ankles.
We were ordered to sit and be quiet and were told the schedule of duties and behavior expected of us. Hulking Troll guards watched us in a menacing manner and cradled Atkinson Assault Shotguns. I got the impression that they liked pre emptive punishment.
Two or three recent arrivals broke under the pressure and their whimpering could be heard as the veteran Boss man finished our indoctrination. Kathy Sullivan became so nervous again that she sprung a leak that swam around her ankles. Mao was sitting next to her. I snickered.
The building itself was ancient. It had been partially constructed back in the twentieth century. In fact, I'm sure, Christopher Columbus slept there after he landed in the New World. Its eighty-foot high electrified iron fence with razor wire and Barghests that encircled the property made one gasp in fear, knowing that once inside there was no way out but feet first.
The orientation center was not part of the Nuclear building. It had five floors with the basement always locked and strictly off limits. I'm sure this is where Dracula's coffin was hidden. The tools and bathroom facilities were just as old. The management was still claiming the world was flat and strenuous bleeding was the way to cure disease.
The rules of learning were simple. Do as the BOSSMAN said or die the death of a thousand tortures.
Unfortunately, I did not grasp this theory immediately. I was never an honor student, class officer, hall monitor, or even asked to clap the erasers (a known privilege). In fact, my behavior seemed to warrant a monitoring of the sterling silver crucifixes which once had found their way into my trenchcoat for possible resale at a later date.
Disobedience to any of the ordinances was dealt with swiftly. The offender (mostly me) was to sit in a round two foot tall garbage can placed at the front of the classroom. The trolls used their shock sticks to bang on said metal trash cans. The moment was electrifying. I was glad I had no hair to get crisped.
The other workers giggled as the Boss man would point at me, the sinner of the day and explain that if I didn't change my ways I would go to hell. The trolls would help me to get there in case I couldn’t locate the direction myself. He relished the fact that I was a prime example of what not to be so that the others would quickly learn the routine and rules.
I set what was to become the record for the longest sentence in this cylindrical jail, two full days of 24 by 7 using three shifts of trolls and draining several hundred shock sticks. I accomplished this feat with a provoking comment made to Billy Johnson the mid level manager of maintenance. He was working hard at his favorite hobby, picking his nose, I leaned over and in a voice just loud enough for everyone to hear I remarked that if he kept digging with such vigor he would hit China.
The receptacle fit me like a glove and the garbage made a soft cushion compared to the wooden desk seats of the orientation center. I decided God created it for my benefit. I enjoyed this notoriety and ensuing popularity from the other workers very much and because of that, needless to say, overtime was removed from my agenda. Union antics were now my main priority. I think I became so popular because the Boss man would concentrate on me as a problem and they would get largely ignored. I’m a dwarf, I’m used to it.
The next level of punitive correction was banishment to the coat closet where the evil demons lived. After you entered, the door was shut behind you, as if it were never to open again. The door was about two feet thick of some heavy iron rusted type metal. It squealed hideously when it was opened. The sun would beat down mercilessly. I caught up on a lot of sleep.
Frankly, I felt quite relaxed in this dark room. I didn't have to do any work and with a little housekeeping (putting old lab coats on the floor for a bed) I could get some needed rest
Having an inquisitive mind I often asked many unwanted questions. My inquires were discouraged as evidenced by my Boss man’s trolls using my head as a battering ram to open the door of the oh-so-familiar closet; it became the site of many an unconscious nap. By this time, my fellow inmates refused to be seen with me, fearing recrimination by association. Especially Mao.
I decided against all further lines of questions until my head stopped throbbing from pain. Johnson probably wouldn’t be too pleased about that but sometimes survival does have to take a priority in your life over money.
As a special treat, nuclear instruction was supplemented with eco-terrorist movies mostly the one called; "AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH, which offered a passionate and inspirational look at one man's fervent crusade to halt global warming's deadly progress in its tracks by exposing the myths and misconceptions that surround it. That man is former Vice President Al Gore, who, in the wake of defeat in the 2000 election, re-set the course of his life to focus on a last-ditch, all-out effort to help save the planet from irrevocable change. This treat was to become such an annual event that we soon became indoctrinated with a severe hatred of eco terrorists and political hacks. Two days later I concluded that was why Charlton Heston (Moses) finally got tired of yelling at his people to hurry up though the desert and so founded The American Rifle Association so we would all feel more comfortable wiping the bastiages out.
The new teachings started to show signs of success in my character. I joined the Strike Breaker boys. On top of my duties as a wee-sized garcon serving the Boss man, I was expected to learn to not only beat the living crap out of the demonstrators outside the gates but to give them an extra whack in the gilhoolies just for the extra credit. I lasted two whole days. All the kneeling, running around, and polishing the Boss man’s hoop with my lips made me yearn for my bed in the coat closet. Still this work was satisfying and it did give me enough credit with the managers to ensure my graduation from orientation. I guessed they figured that anyone who liked to kick eco terrorist butt as much as I did deserved to be part of the team.
Shortly after my departure from the facility for the weekend it was confirmation time. The ceremony was conducted by the mid level manager and each worker was to pick a name of someone who was known to do good deeds for the company. This choice was blessed and given to you as your middle name. Most of my fellow workers picked the names of their various managers, one even chose the name Krass, I did not.
My first and only choice was Zorro. He saved villages with his sword and wits and I felt honored to be part of this heritage. I submitted my choice and after a brief meeting with the powers-that-be I was confirmed with the middle name of Farking Idiot. Mao became Mao Eon the Terrible. I always thought he was a bit of a poof. This only confirmed my feelings.
The work week passed and the end was in sight. What I worked so little for was upon me. I finally graduated the orientation course much to everyone's amazement. As my Boss man commented to my new Boss "If he was beaten any more times, we would have to make him part of Senior Management".
Well, the worst was over and I was on my way to back to Z Street for the weekend and freedom. I would be going back next week to start my new job, under strict guidance of course. Boy, was I in for a surprise. I quickly learned that my early education was merely a prerequisite for the horror that was before me.
BB had enrolled me in an all troll, no nonsense sweatshop run by a religious order of brothers for the weekend. In comparison to the orientation school it was like being transferred from a local jail to maximum security prison. There went my fragging weekend while I learned how to do the job as janitor. As for Mao? He got the weekend off, of course. Maybe he made love to his hat and invited Krass in for a threesome. Some things are just better left unknown.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Jun 28, 2007 3:11:36 GMT -5
To: Regan Savage (aka: Ms. Johnson)
From" Rainbow Group
This is the first report that you requested on the Skagit Nuclear Facility per your request. Two of our agents obtained jobs at the facility and entered it on 17 June 2060 to survey the facilities security posture. The results were found to be extreme.
The agents discovered that no unauthorized vehicles were allowed within ten miles of the actual plant. This is enforced by not only patrols by vehicle and air support but by magical spirits and specters as well. Workers arrive at an entrance parking lot, are medically screened and issued special uniforms which contain transponders. These not only monitor the movements of the individual but ensure they do not move into areas they are not cleared for. Their personal equipment is not permitted past this checkpoint. Anyone who moves inside the fence without the correct transponder is immediately eliminated.
One of our agents observed just such an occurrence. A Runner group using chameleon battle armor with an advanced ECM suite tried to make a night penetration. Our agent reported that the battle was fierce but short. Not only did several automated emplacements respond but the in house Security lead by General Stonewall Omar of Desert Wars fame quickly eradicated the interlopers ten feet inside the fence. None of the runners survived.
The entire Skagit Valley has been sealed off with only one entrance permitted. That entrance contains the parking lot where the workers disembark, are inspected and re clothed and then bussed into the facility. The bus is escorted by several vehicles known as 'Grasshoppers'. The Grasshopper is a Krass/Drassel design that is an uncommon combination of helicopter and automobile. The vehicles are armored and contain mini-missiles and a chain gun.
After a drive of roughly two miles the workers enter an 80' high iron fence strung with razor wire and it is electrified. The fence like the outside area is under constant patrol and electronic observation. Our agents noted not only mage astral patrols but Barghests and military patrols as well. Objects similar to weather balloons were suspended over the valley. Our agents surmised that these act as satellite spy eyes, radar beacons, cameras and deterrents against light craft like hand gliders, gliders and such. The patrols out here also use MILITARY GRADE Rocket Packs for Mobility. It was discovered that the airspace over the facility is interdicted due to possible terrorist activity. They have permission to shoot down any unauthorized craft approaching the facility.
Several hard emplacements like bunkers and watch towers with search lights and radar trip fields were also present. One agent inadvertently discovered that there were several pop up bunkers containing missile launchers. He was punished for this discovery but due to his technique and personality was not suspected of spying. He surmises that there is a considerable military presence and tunnels under the fence and what is seen above ground is only the tip of the iceberg. The facility seems fully capable of fighting a prolonged defensive engagement.
The first week for our agents was spent in Orientation. This process is extreme and more like an indoctrination and prison camp than anything seen in the corporate climate. The workers eat and sleep on the premises. They are inside a prison camp like building with guards, fence and search lights. They do not leave this area and they are not permitted in any other buildings. Workers are constantly monitored, searched, questioned and intimidated while being subject to various punishments designed to make them pliable and loyal. Our agents both managed to survive the process but reported that fully half of the Orientation Employees vanished mysteriously during the process. I have verified that none of their vehicles or personal effects have been returned, nor have they reappeared in the Seattle area. One of our agents who has some magical ability reported that the personal effects and vehicles are no longer at the facility and subtle questioning about this was met with extreme suspicion. No answer was forthcoming.
Our agents reported that the bottom of the five story Orientation building is sealed off. This lends credence to the idea that there is an extensive underground facility. The agents were unable to penetrate this area. They did report that the Computer Facilities in the Orientation Building are Tempest Shielded. No outside Decker will be able to get in.
The guards in the parking and Orientation area are armed with Atchisson Assault Rifles and are fully automatic. They wear heavy body armor and have combat training. Most are Desert War Veterans. The outside patrols while equipped with vehicles and rocket packs also use the new Ares Tribarrel pistols which can deliver an awesome amount of firepower in a very short time. One agent reports that there are various hidden sniper and observation posts. These posts are reached through underground tunnels from the main facility never from above ground. Several combat drones and small micro plane drones were also seen.
As of yet are agents have NOT been cleared for the Main facility. We hope to be able to add to this report when and if they are able to penetrate that far.
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