She could have killed him if she had wanted to. Daniel Brahm was sure of it, as sure as he had ever been of anything. That she hadn't was a good sign-he hoped.
He made a show of holding his hands at his side, to make sure she knew he was unarmed-he didn't care to match reflexes with her. Brahm knew she was faster. He turned his body automatically, squaring off, but still keeping the one and a half position-commonly known as the interview postion. He was still at least two arm lengths away, which hopefully would be enough of a reactionary gap.
He spoke slowly and delibrately, articulating each word. "My name is Daniel Brahm. I am a private investigator." He paused and turned his right hip towards Bly. "My identification is in my right hip pocket, can I reach in that pocket with right hand and pull out my identification?"
With a nod from Bly, he slowly reached into hispocket and retrieved a cred stick that also acted as his ID. He tossed it underhand to Bly, who easily cuaght it.
"My employer would like to offer you a job. You're quite difficult to track down."
He waited quietly as Bly scanned his papers. They were solid papers, she would never know the difference. Who he really was didn't matter-what did was that Bly believed him and his goals were met.
"My partner is behind you right now, at the mouth of the alley. He has a retainer fee. One thousand Nuyen. Its yours whether you take the job or not. All you need to do is be present at the meet."
He lowered his hands, she had relaxed her stance when he had mentioned the money. he still kept his posture neutral. "The meet ison the fourth,about a day from now, at Sky Point. 2100 hours."
He waited until his partner had handed the retainer to Bly before finishing. "There will be aa reservation for you, and some others. Thats all I know."
Danial Brahm waited until Bly had cleared the alley, and then counted to a thousand quietly. As he finished a black Nightsky pulled into the alley. It glided silently beside him, coming to a halt. A window rolled quietly and Brahm quietly spoke.
"She is enroute sir. All the arrangements have been made. Ms. Johnson is enroute with Blackfoot. Arthur has been contacted, and appears to be cleaning himself up. The only one we are unsure of at the moment is the Hunter."
Thirty Days of Night.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
For the last half of the century Lighter Than aircraft have been a part of public transportation, this was not always so. Clear up into the first part of this century they were simply not profitable. Design was limited to corporate projects, unique designs and experimental projects. All that changed with the resource rush-cheap hydrogen made the public out cry for mass transit a reality.
It was not long before someone saw that LTA craft could also serve esoteric purposes. they were not just floating billboards.
Sky Point was one of the first restaurants, and as such, it was held in high regard. The staff was culled from applicants worldwide. Chen Kenichi was a master chef, and his staff was well trained. Each flight was a unique dining experience that left passengers and diners alike breathless.
Excerpt from Seattle Weekend Magazine, June 2063
As the Nightsky pulled to a halt Simon Blackfoot could easily spot the craft, they would be boarding. he was glad to be out of the luxurious confines of the limousine-it had been a bit discomforting, , even when he added in Ms. Johnson's company. His equipment had been safely stowed in the spacious trunk-for safety of course.
As the limousine came to a halt, the driver quickly opened their doors, allowing Simon to catch one last look at Ms. Johnson's very firm backside before he stepped out onto the City Street. The sidewalk was crowded with vendors of all sorts, hawking everything imaginable. Pedestrians were hurrying this way and that, talking on cell phones, wrist phones, tranced out on chips, gawking at the goods, or marking targets. Vectored thrust vechiles, LTA drones and conventional vechiles clogged the streets; smog filled the air. Simon could see vechiles of all sorts, alongside traffic drones, and vending drones. Seattle was home to everything and everyone imaginable.
Simon Blackfoot was dressed in a comfortable suit, which almost made him invisible in this part of Downtown. He did not bother checking his gear, it would be there when he got back….
Derrick Arthur was clean shaven, well dressed, and smelled of expensive cologne. He tipped the cab driver an extra five percent, and stepped on to the curb. Derricks shoes were glossed to a high shine, and matched his suit perfectly. It was a Brioni, if he remembered correctly. As he strode forward, he pulled a Dunhill from his breast pocket. He had purchased a mini-humidor, which held four cigars. He had purchased a Dunhill, a Canaria d’Oro,a La Gloria Cubana Series R, and a Partagas Black Label. Not a bad purchase he thought as he lit up the Dunhill.
He stood for a moment savoring the flavor. This could all be an elaborate hoax, or worse a trap. He thought about all of this as he took a long puff off of the cigar. He eyed the crowd searching for anything that would give him a clue as to what to expect. Somewhere in the distance, some one was playing a rather upbeat tune on a saxophone.
“Fuck it.”
He dropped the unfinished stogie in the gutter and strode into the building…
Bly was dressed simply. She did not happen to own many dresses, and the few she had-well seemed a bit dingy for this. In the end, she settled for a black suit-a silk, Mandarin collared jacket with matching silk trousers and a gabardine silk shirt with matching Calzatura shoes. She had left her weapons behind, which only troubled her slightly her body had always been her best weapon.
As she made her way up the stairs-elevators were too dangerous; they confined you, imprisoning you in a cubed space, from which you were isolated from the world. She preferred to walk, it was good for her soul. She was glad however; she had worn comfortable shoes.
As she made her way up the twenty-story building, she took careful note of the cameras and security guards. She had spotted at least two disguised pressure sensors, and could only guess as to what they were linked too. The building security was formidable-not the place to start a firefight. Bly was glad she had been invited.
As she cleared the last flight of stairs, she could see the large waiting lounge that passengers and diners alike had to endure before boarding the massive Zeppelin. There would be several last minute scans and checks, and although the lounge was comfortably appointed, she was glad she had only arrived fifteen minutes early….
It was not long before someone saw that LTA craft could also serve esoteric purposes. they were not just floating billboards.
Sky Point was one of the first restaurants, and as such, it was held in high regard. The staff was culled from applicants worldwide. Chen Kenichi was a master chef, and his staff was well trained. Each flight was a unique dining experience that left passengers and diners alike breathless.
Excerpt from Seattle Weekend Magazine, June 2063
As the Nightsky pulled to a halt Simon Blackfoot could easily spot the craft, they would be boarding. he was glad to be out of the luxurious confines of the limousine-it had been a bit discomforting, , even when he added in Ms. Johnson's company. His equipment had been safely stowed in the spacious trunk-for safety of course.
As the limousine came to a halt, the driver quickly opened their doors, allowing Simon to catch one last look at Ms. Johnson's very firm backside before he stepped out onto the City Street. The sidewalk was crowded with vendors of all sorts, hawking everything imaginable. Pedestrians were hurrying this way and that, talking on cell phones, wrist phones, tranced out on chips, gawking at the goods, or marking targets. Vectored thrust vechiles, LTA drones and conventional vechiles clogged the streets; smog filled the air. Simon could see vechiles of all sorts, alongside traffic drones, and vending drones. Seattle was home to everything and everyone imaginable.
Simon Blackfoot was dressed in a comfortable suit, which almost made him invisible in this part of Downtown. He did not bother checking his gear, it would be there when he got back….
Derrick Arthur was clean shaven, well dressed, and smelled of expensive cologne. He tipped the cab driver an extra five percent, and stepped on to the curb. Derricks shoes were glossed to a high shine, and matched his suit perfectly. It was a Brioni, if he remembered correctly. As he strode forward, he pulled a Dunhill from his breast pocket. He had purchased a mini-humidor, which held four cigars. He had purchased a Dunhill, a Canaria d’Oro,a La Gloria Cubana Series R, and a Partagas Black Label. Not a bad purchase he thought as he lit up the Dunhill.
He stood for a moment savoring the flavor. This could all be an elaborate hoax, or worse a trap. He thought about all of this as he took a long puff off of the cigar. He eyed the crowd searching for anything that would give him a clue as to what to expect. Somewhere in the distance, some one was playing a rather upbeat tune on a saxophone.
“Fuck it.”
He dropped the unfinished stogie in the gutter and strode into the building…
Bly was dressed simply. She did not happen to own many dresses, and the few she had-well seemed a bit dingy for this. In the end, she settled for a black suit-a silk, Mandarin collared jacket with matching silk trousers and a gabardine silk shirt with matching Calzatura shoes. She had left her weapons behind, which only troubled her slightly her body had always been her best weapon.
As she made her way up the stairs-elevators were too dangerous; they confined you, imprisoning you in a cubed space, from which you were isolated from the world. She preferred to walk, it was good for her soul. She was glad however; she had worn comfortable shoes.
As she made her way up the twenty-story building, she took careful note of the cameras and security guards. She had spotted at least two disguised pressure sensors, and could only guess as to what they were linked too. The building security was formidable-not the place to start a firefight. Bly was glad she had been invited.
As she cleared the last flight of stairs, she could see the large waiting lounge that passengers and diners alike had to endure before boarding the massive Zeppelin. There would be several last minute scans and checks, and although the lounge was comfortably appointed, she was glad she had only arrived fifteen minutes early….
"This had better be worth it," Derrick muttered to himself as he stared at the floor in the elevator, as was common practice for those who weren't flirting with their dates. He tended to notice them now, and he hoped to god he was never like that. He gagged on a particularly trite comment and started going through his pockets thinking that the cigars might not be so bad, at least it would give them something /else/ to talk about.
He itched at the collar of his suit. Sammy had said he would need it, and he wasn't sure if he believed him. He hated these things, more so after the squalor of the past week. They were so tight, and moved in the wrong places, if this was a trap...he waved the notion away. No trap, this will be fine, I'll just pay attention...I just need to pay attention.
The elevator dinged.
He itched at the collar of his suit. Sammy had said he would need it, and he wasn't sure if he believed him. He hated these things, more so after the squalor of the past week. They were so tight, and moved in the wrong places, if this was a trap...he waved the notion away. No trap, this will be fine, I'll just pay attention...I just need to pay attention.
The elevator dinged.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Mr. Johnson smiled, and why not? He’d chosen the perfect site for the meet. He had learned early on in this business that the meet was the second most dangerous part of doing business in the shadows. Typically it left you exposed, possibly with confidential information. In this day and age you never know exactly whom you are dealing with, what motivates them or why they worked the business. He had meets go sour on more than one occasion- twice with deadly results for the potential employee’s.
The environment was one of many factors that made meets so dangerous. People in this business often insisted in utilizing a variety of dangerously stupid venues to conduct business-abandoned warehouses, alleys, the barrens and a half billion dead end night clubs. Uncontrolled environments filled with sociopath sand psychotics who’d as soon gut people like him as spit on him. His security details often labeled these venues “duck galleries.” More than once he had questioned his chosen line of employment after a particularly stressful meet. More than once he had queried the sanity of the men and women he had hired.
In this instance he was very confident things would proceed with out a hitch. He had carefully chosen his team, even if he reflected he still hadn’t managed to make contact with the fourth man, and more importantly he had selected the meeting site. A definite advantage.
Sky Point was a five star restaurant and a Zeppelin. Unlike traditional locales it had no fixed location-it roved on a constantly changing flight pattern. This prevented missile strikes, enhanced overall security, and made for a pretty decent view of Seattle, and the Sound. Its carefully screened manifest was pulled on Mr. Johnson’s pocket secretary-he had access to an enormous amount of information at his fingertips. He could access the passenger manifest-names, ages, height, weight, home address and emergency medical conditions. He also had the advantage of through security screening-passengers were searched for weapons, scanned for offensive magic and all carryon luggage was specially screened.
Mr. Johnson sat back and sipped his coffee. There were three modules mounted under the Zeppelin. The forward module, and the smallest was the command module were the pilot ad his crew were stationed. By separating the pilots from both the kitchens and passengers the chances of hijacking were reduced. The second module was the kitchens. Food preparation was facilitated by the most advanced kitchen equipment money could buy. Freezers allowed fresh food storage, and each flight was stocked for any contingency, any whim that might strike their diners. The second and the third module were linked by a single passageway that was removable by a single quick release handle. The third and largest module was the actual restaurant-a two story glass encased super structure gave it the appearance of a large glass box lit from the inside. Passengers were quartered during the flight in eight to twelve man staterooms that ensured their privacy.
Mr. Johnson had specifically selected the rear most cabin, closest to the engine. This meant the ambient noise level prevented any passive listening devices from intruding into their conversation. He had the cabin scanned repeatedly to prevent any implanted devices from finding their way into his meet. He had everything he needed, and in twenty short minutes he’d be making his presentation. Mr. Johnson reviewed the material one last time-he was a perfectionist by nature, and more succinctly by necessity.
Simon was used to the stares as a matter of fact. The fact was they were simply a part of every orks life. Even as mild as his own features were compared to most of his metatype, he could still feel their stares. He had learned to deal with most of the stereotypes people, heaped upon the Ork race. He was more than equal to the task. He was shook down by the security staff, as they finished he smiled, baring his tusks slightly. He was a professional, this sort of thing was routine.
As Simon and Ms. Johnson made their way aboard the Zeppelin he made note of various security equipment-cameras, pressure sensors, and at least two types of scanners, most likely one for metal, and the other for cybernetics. He smiled. Who ever these people were they had spent quite a bit of money on this meet, and that meant more money for him in the end.
Ms. Johnson led him into the rear most portion of the module and opened a door into one of the several cabins.
Bly had thought she would never clear security. She had been searched several times, but she would swear that the moron who had pat searched her had been copping a feel. She grinned and snatched one of the apples off the table. They were real, and fresh; as she bit into it a bit of the juice ran down her chin. As she wiped her chin with one of the real cotton napkins.
The cabin was probably the largest aboard the module, measuring fifteen feet across and twenty feet in length; another ten feet high. She had walked the room three times, each time she had found nothing that interested her beyond the fresh fruit bowl, and the carafe of iced cider, another surprisingly wonderful treat. She wondered how much both of these items had cost. She knew fresh fruit was always expensive, and cider-well she’d had the soy version once or twice, and after having a glass of the real deal she wondered how she’d lived her whole life with out ever managing to try a glass.
It was the small things she thought. The small things that made life precious. She smiled and took another bite off the apple. Soon the meet would be under way, and the time to enjoy apples would be over. She took another bite and stared out the large window. The city sprawled out below her, sky-rakers cluttered the sky line, each emblazoned with corporate logo’s like medieval standards each was the symbol of the new breed of corporate lords and ladies. They were their own lands, empires unto themselves, each with their own laws, and their own chrome clad knights. No not knights, Samurai…
The environment was one of many factors that made meets so dangerous. People in this business often insisted in utilizing a variety of dangerously stupid venues to conduct business-abandoned warehouses, alleys, the barrens and a half billion dead end night clubs. Uncontrolled environments filled with sociopath sand psychotics who’d as soon gut people like him as spit on him. His security details often labeled these venues “duck galleries.” More than once he had questioned his chosen line of employment after a particularly stressful meet. More than once he had queried the sanity of the men and women he had hired.
In this instance he was very confident things would proceed with out a hitch. He had carefully chosen his team, even if he reflected he still hadn’t managed to make contact with the fourth man, and more importantly he had selected the meeting site. A definite advantage.
Sky Point was a five star restaurant and a Zeppelin. Unlike traditional locales it had no fixed location-it roved on a constantly changing flight pattern. This prevented missile strikes, enhanced overall security, and made for a pretty decent view of Seattle, and the Sound. Its carefully screened manifest was pulled on Mr. Johnson’s pocket secretary-he had access to an enormous amount of information at his fingertips. He could access the passenger manifest-names, ages, height, weight, home address and emergency medical conditions. He also had the advantage of through security screening-passengers were searched for weapons, scanned for offensive magic and all carryon luggage was specially screened.
Mr. Johnson sat back and sipped his coffee. There were three modules mounted under the Zeppelin. The forward module, and the smallest was the command module were the pilot ad his crew were stationed. By separating the pilots from both the kitchens and passengers the chances of hijacking were reduced. The second module was the kitchens. Food preparation was facilitated by the most advanced kitchen equipment money could buy. Freezers allowed fresh food storage, and each flight was stocked for any contingency, any whim that might strike their diners. The second and the third module were linked by a single passageway that was removable by a single quick release handle. The third and largest module was the actual restaurant-a two story glass encased super structure gave it the appearance of a large glass box lit from the inside. Passengers were quartered during the flight in eight to twelve man staterooms that ensured their privacy.
Mr. Johnson had specifically selected the rear most cabin, closest to the engine. This meant the ambient noise level prevented any passive listening devices from intruding into their conversation. He had the cabin scanned repeatedly to prevent any implanted devices from finding their way into his meet. He had everything he needed, and in twenty short minutes he’d be making his presentation. Mr. Johnson reviewed the material one last time-he was a perfectionist by nature, and more succinctly by necessity.
Simon was used to the stares as a matter of fact. The fact was they were simply a part of every orks life. Even as mild as his own features were compared to most of his metatype, he could still feel their stares. He had learned to deal with most of the stereotypes people, heaped upon the Ork race. He was more than equal to the task. He was shook down by the security staff, as they finished he smiled, baring his tusks slightly. He was a professional, this sort of thing was routine.
As Simon and Ms. Johnson made their way aboard the Zeppelin he made note of various security equipment-cameras, pressure sensors, and at least two types of scanners, most likely one for metal, and the other for cybernetics. He smiled. Who ever these people were they had spent quite a bit of money on this meet, and that meant more money for him in the end.
Ms. Johnson led him into the rear most portion of the module and opened a door into one of the several cabins.
Bly had thought she would never clear security. She had been searched several times, but she would swear that the moron who had pat searched her had been copping a feel. She grinned and snatched one of the apples off the table. They were real, and fresh; as she bit into it a bit of the juice ran down her chin. As she wiped her chin with one of the real cotton napkins.
The cabin was probably the largest aboard the module, measuring fifteen feet across and twenty feet in length; another ten feet high. She had walked the room three times, each time she had found nothing that interested her beyond the fresh fruit bowl, and the carafe of iced cider, another surprisingly wonderful treat. She wondered how much both of these items had cost. She knew fresh fruit was always expensive, and cider-well she’d had the soy version once or twice, and after having a glass of the real deal she wondered how she’d lived her whole life with out ever managing to try a glass.
It was the small things she thought. The small things that made life precious. She smiled and took another bite off the apple. Soon the meet would be under way, and the time to enjoy apples would be over. She took another bite and stared out the large window. The city sprawled out below her, sky-rakers cluttered the sky line, each emblazoned with corporate logo’s like medieval standards each was the symbol of the new breed of corporate lords and ladies. They were their own lands, empires unto themselves, each with their own laws, and their own chrome clad knights. No not knights, Samurai…
The doors slid open and Derrick stepped out into the bright lights of the Sky Point "passanger waiting area and arrival dock." It sounded better than security checkpoint and loading dock, so the corporation had determined that it was the most pleasing to the greater public. Derrick felt "Cattle Pen" would've been a better name, what with the suits, and the dresses, and the diamonds and the cocktails. He felt out of place, this was more upscale than any meet he'd been on, even when Reagan managed to get him into the Cross 5 Star, now if he could only remember that place's name, he could at least drop it as the only thing he could associate this place.
Derrick took his place in line behind another half-dozen suits and skirts. He turned his gaze skyward though. Sky Pointe had been smart, reinforced glass as far as the eye could see, and against the bright spots, the zepplin itself was floating, moored to the roof. It was an impressive thing to see, all that canvas and glass and luxury. Derrick wanted to spit, or vomit, or something. This was a waste, he knew a couple decades of people who would kill just to get their hands on the nuyen it would take to spend one night here.
He popped his wallet into the x-ray dish, and stepped through the detector, nodding to the guard as he walked by. A bowtied maitre'd was waiting on the other side, "Reservations?"
"Well yeah, I don't think I belong here."
"No, Messer, I meant, do you have a reservation? Are you meeting someone?"
"Oh yeah, Arthur, Derrick Arthur, someone's expecting me. And if you could tell me who, I'd greatly appreciate it," he grabbed the wallet off the x-ray tray, "Greatly, appreciate it." He pulled out a 500, the only one he had, and hoped it might be enough.
Derrick took his place in line behind another half-dozen suits and skirts. He turned his gaze skyward though. Sky Pointe had been smart, reinforced glass as far as the eye could see, and against the bright spots, the zepplin itself was floating, moored to the roof. It was an impressive thing to see, all that canvas and glass and luxury. Derrick wanted to spit, or vomit, or something. This was a waste, he knew a couple decades of people who would kill just to get their hands on the nuyen it would take to spend one night here.
He popped his wallet into the x-ray dish, and stepped through the detector, nodding to the guard as he walked by. A bowtied maitre'd was waiting on the other side, "Reservations?"
"Well yeah, I don't think I belong here."
"No, Messer, I meant, do you have a reservation? Are you meeting someone?"
"Oh yeah, Arthur, Derrick Arthur, someone's expecting me. And if you could tell me who, I'd greatly appreciate it," he grabbed the wallet off the x-ray tray, "Greatly, appreciate it." He pulled out a 500, the only one he had, and hoped it might be enough.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
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The Maitre'd smmiled politel but firmly slid the bill back into Derricks hand, he spoke softly as he scanned the passenger manifest, "We respect all our clients privacy sir."
After a moment he looked up and said, "Ah here we go. Yes you are expected. Please sir, come aboard. It is our pleasure to serve you."
After a moment he looked up and said, "Ah here we go. Yes you are expected. Please sir, come aboard. It is our pleasure to serve you."
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
The Zeppelin was much more spacious than it looked, Derrick reflected as he boarded the craft. The lounge area was a split level affair that was cleverly laid out. It gave the illusion of space. Of openess, of vastness-but mainly wealth. The finish was real Teak, and Oak. Trmmed with silver and gold it made the craft seem regal. The tables were bolted to the floor mission style, and the table itself was a glass plastic mix. Very sturdy.
Faux Chandelers lit the room, but the Seattle skyline made those lights seem dim. The large windows allowed an almost unrestricted biew of the twenty story building they were docked to.
As Derrick walked past the idling diners he grinned. This place was something else. He was past security at this point, so he could light up another cigar, which he did. As he took his first puff, he surveyed the general dining area.
He took his time, making sure to denote a variety of things, fre extinguishers, alarms, cameras. As he finished he turned and headed towards the meet. It was nearl y time to begin.
Faux Chandelers lit the room, but the Seattle skyline made those lights seem dim. The large windows allowed an almost unrestricted biew of the twenty story building they were docked to.
As Derrick walked past the idling diners he grinned. This place was something else. He was past security at this point, so he could light up another cigar, which he did. As he took his first puff, he surveyed the general dining area.
He took his time, making sure to denote a variety of things, fre extinguishers, alarms, cameras. As he finished he turned and headed towards the meet. It was nearl y time to begin.
Last edited by Serious Paul on Sat Jan 10, 2004 2:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
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Passing up usual gentlemanly courtesy, Simon figures he is the invited guest and he enters the cabin ahead of his Ms. Johnson. He then steps aside and pauses, waiting to see if Ms. Johnson is staying and allowing her to find a seat before him. Simon takes advantage of the small pause to catalog the appointments and occupants of the cabin.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
Bly took a small step back, away from the window, and retreated herself back into the cabin. The voices stirred quietly behind her. She did not recognize the voices, and truly didn't care whether she became familiarized with them, or their faces. Instead of facing them and attempting to make idle conversation, Bly used her free moments to toss the apple core into the nearby trash can and pour herself another drink. Dinner had not been served in any manner and yet she was already feeling the knotting of her stomach getting full.
Taking a small sip, savoring the taste of the favored cider, Bly glanced over her shoulder to see some people standing towards the other side of the room. Her eyes glanced and glued to them momentarily, but as she caught notice of one of them looking her way, she quickly returned her gaze back the other way towards the window of the Gods. She waited patiently and savored her precious cider.
Taking a small sip, savoring the taste of the favored cider, Bly glanced over her shoulder to see some people standing towards the other side of the room. Her eyes glanced and glued to them momentarily, but as she caught notice of one of them looking her way, she quickly returned her gaze back the other way towards the window of the Gods. She waited patiently and savored her precious cider.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
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Simon takes a moment to gaze out the longest window-wall and raises an eyebrow in appreciation. Simon then places himself in a chair on the west side of the table and waits quietly to see what happens, taking stock of the room and his companions. As he waits, Simon casually picks cashews from the mix on the table and pops them absently into his mouth one by one.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
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- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Ms. Johnson smiled pleasantly at Derrick Arthur as he stepped into the cabin, and in a pleasant voice she said, " Mr. Arthur I presume?" With a nod from the man, she continued," Make yourself at home, as it were. There are refreshments and drinks, please help yourself."
"Mr. Johnson will be joining us shortly."She didn't add that they were also expecting one more runner.
"Mr. Johnson will be joining us shortly."She didn't add that they were also expecting one more runner.
"Of course, thank you." He gazes about the posh surroundings, a younger fish still trying to find his gills. Sure, he'd made connections before, but nothing like this. With one foot on the low hanging, highly polished gold railing surrounding the bar, he waves a hand at the bartender and orders up a gin and tonic. A pause, and he thinks better of himself and wanders off to look out the window and the whole of the sprawl layed out before him. The drink left unattended on the bar. Another pause and he walks back to the appointed table, the cigar held purposefully in his left hand. A nod is offered and a faux-casual glance at Simon, and Derrick slides into his seat stirring at the crytstal water goblet and taking a small puff on the cigar.
Chocolate sauce on a buttery nipple. *Bliss*
The room was a box of glass and air, on top of a tower of steel. It was so far beyond his ability to comprehend that it was beyond his ability to react. He behaved as if the carpet were ice and the sky open and blue, but his gaze continually wandered to the windows, to the true sky beyond, to the view of the towers stretching to the horizon.
He smelled. His skin bag was full of dried meat and he had not bathed in memory. The blood of his kills covered his furs, their meat stuck in his teeth. No person spoke to him; he wondered if their chief had ordered them to silence. He wondered if they knew he was coming.
Inuk walked to into the final room, and the tension in his gut eased for the first time in four months. The invisible thread went slack, and he leaned forward to grip the edge of the table for support. The others looked at him; he ignored them and straightened, walked to the windows and looked at the sky.
He smelled. His skin bag was full of dried meat and he had not bathed in memory. The blood of his kills covered his furs, their meat stuck in his teeth. No person spoke to him; he wondered if their chief had ordered them to silence. He wondered if they knew he was coming.
Inuk walked to into the final room, and the tension in his gut eased for the first time in four months. The invisible thread went slack, and he leaned forward to grip the edge of the table for support. The others looked at him; he ignored them and straightened, walked to the windows and looked at the sky.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
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- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Mr. Johnson stood outside the door. He took a deep breath and reviewed what he was going to say one last time. He had received word from the ships security detail that all his potential employees had made it aboard.
He hadn’t expected the last, Inuk, to arrive at all. In fact he was surprised that the people at Assets had even put Inuk’s name in the list of available personnel.
Mr. Johnson straightened his tie and stepped through the door. He saw Inuk standing in front of the window on the west side, Bly stood not far to the north of the Eskimo. Seated at the table were Blackfoot and Arthur, as well as Ms. Johnson as she had taken to calling herself. Mr. Johnson walked to the chair at the head of the table and sat down.
As soon as he was seated Mr. Johnson set his leather attaché case next to his right leg, and opened it. He set his pocket secretary to his left, the tin of breath mints to his right, and sat up straight in his chair.
Smiling Mr. Johnson spoke “Good evening, I hope everyone finds the accommodations acceptable?” He paused for a second before continuing, “You may address me as Mr. Johnson. My assistant,” He motioned towards the woman sitting at the opposite end of the table, “Ms. Johnson will assist me with the briefing. If we are ready I will begin.”
He hadn’t expected the last, Inuk, to arrive at all. In fact he was surprised that the people at Assets had even put Inuk’s name in the list of available personnel.
Mr. Johnson straightened his tie and stepped through the door. He saw Inuk standing in front of the window on the west side, Bly stood not far to the north of the Eskimo. Seated at the table were Blackfoot and Arthur, as well as Ms. Johnson as she had taken to calling herself. Mr. Johnson walked to the chair at the head of the table and sat down.
As soon as he was seated Mr. Johnson set his leather attaché case next to his right leg, and opened it. He set his pocket secretary to his left, the tin of breath mints to his right, and sat up straight in his chair.
Smiling Mr. Johnson spoke “Good evening, I hope everyone finds the accommodations acceptable?” He paused for a second before continuing, “You may address me as Mr. Johnson. My assistant,” He motioned towards the woman sitting at the opposite end of the table, “Ms. Johnson will assist me with the briefing. If we are ready I will begin.”
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Serious Paul
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Sylvio relaxed, sinking into the planes leather seat. He was flying first class, a first for him, and so far, it was proving to be very enjoyable. Unlike a number of his kind he preferred to utilize the many advances, the rest of humanity had managed in the last thousand years. He marveled at how the world had changed, even in his short time in the shadow of their world.
His flight was what they called a “Red Eye” flight, meaning it flew at night, which for some one as sensitive to the suns harmful rays as he was, well amazing he thought. He stared out the window, across the wing of the small plane. His short flight would take him from Italy to Moscow. From there he had arranged ground transportation to Ekaterinburg.
Ekaterinburg had once been were the Tsars had spent their summers, named after Peter the Greats wife. It had been built to be an iron-working center, an industrial showpiece for his empire. Ironically Sylvio thought, it was here that the last of the Tsars had met their end at the hands of the Bolsheviks. He had been there the day the fools had shot down the American spy plane, in 1960 and he had left when they had closed the city off to the world, something that had lasted for forty years. He hadn’t been back in over a hundred years now, and he thought it would be good to see how that city had changed.
He turned away from the window and turned his thoughts to the upcoming gathering. It wasn’t the first of its kind, although from what his minions had been able to discover it was the first in over five hundred years that this many of the ancients, his peers, would be attending. And that was something to take note of.
His flight was what they called a “Red Eye” flight, meaning it flew at night, which for some one as sensitive to the suns harmful rays as he was, well amazing he thought. He stared out the window, across the wing of the small plane. His short flight would take him from Italy to Moscow. From there he had arranged ground transportation to Ekaterinburg.
Ekaterinburg had once been were the Tsars had spent their summers, named after Peter the Greats wife. It had been built to be an iron-working center, an industrial showpiece for his empire. Ironically Sylvio thought, it was here that the last of the Tsars had met their end at the hands of the Bolsheviks. He had been there the day the fools had shot down the American spy plane, in 1960 and he had left when they had closed the city off to the world, something that had lasted for forty years. He hadn’t been back in over a hundred years now, and he thought it would be good to see how that city had changed.
He turned away from the window and turned his thoughts to the upcoming gathering. It wasn’t the first of its kind, although from what his minions had been able to discover it was the first in over five hundred years that this many of the ancients, his peers, would be attending. And that was something to take note of.
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Serious Paul
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The Meet
Mr. Jolnson smiled and carefully jacked his pocket secretary into the tables display screens, which would allow him to make this a multimedia experience.
"I represent intrests which hope to gainfully employee each of you. As way of compensation for your valueable time at the conclusion of this briefing whether you accept the task at hand or not we will enumerate each of you for exspenses."
"The following events are the basis for your employement and therefore deemed relevant as back ground information. First let me say the following: Operational Security dictates that I may not be able to tell you everything, I will however not intentionally endanger you or more specifically the mission by my own omission, if we don't share it with you, its because we, the employer, honestly feel it is irrelavent to your success or safety."
"That having been said we also realize that at times situations can be fluid, and what you need to know can change. We therefore would like to ensure that you realize the channels are open for communication."
"Approximately three days ago on the first of November it was discovered that certain items were missing from inventory. After standard security protocol was followed it was determined that the items taken were of greater than average value, and that it was statisticall unlikely that they were misplaced or miscatalouged. Further investigation determined that certain emergency security protocols had been bypassed, which was only possible if it were inside job. A check of immediate personnel showed that although it was an employee it was someone outside the immediate routine persons with access to this particular area. At this point it was determined that several of the security subsystems were tampered with, and that an employee from Resource Allocation had been missing for three days as well. When his personnel file turned up missing, and his SIN deleted we realized we had our culprit."
Mr. Johnson paused, stood up and walked over to the wet bar. After pouring himself a shot each of the three wisemen, he slammed his drinks, and stood behind his chair with his hands on the back of the chair.
"Samuel Smith, age 33, caucasian human male." A picture of Smith appeared on the screens at the sound of Mr. Johnsons voice, "Brown hair, blue eyes, weight 180 pounds, height five feet ten inches. Mr. Smith has several distinguishing marks and scars, but no tattoos that we know of. The SMTs are included in what we salvaged from Mr. Smiths personnnel file. We will of course make that available to you."
"At this point we do not know Mr. Smiths where abouts, but we do have access to his corporate provided residence, which again, we will make available to you. What we want for you to accomplish as follows:
1. Locate Mr. Smith and any associates who might have aided him.
2. Locate the material he misappropriated and either retrieve it to be returned for monetary enumeration, or dispose of it per instructions. The first is prefered, the second of course is available.
3. Apprehend Mr. Smith and any associates, and return them to our custody.
Its essential that if you are unable to recover the material, Mr. Smith and any associates are captured alive. In fact we'd prefer that this mission maintain a low profile on the whole."
"This seems like a good spot to see who is in, who's out, and to answer questions."
"I represent intrests which hope to gainfully employee each of you. As way of compensation for your valueable time at the conclusion of this briefing whether you accept the task at hand or not we will enumerate each of you for exspenses."
"The following events are the basis for your employement and therefore deemed relevant as back ground information. First let me say the following: Operational Security dictates that I may not be able to tell you everything, I will however not intentionally endanger you or more specifically the mission by my own omission, if we don't share it with you, its because we, the employer, honestly feel it is irrelavent to your success or safety."
"That having been said we also realize that at times situations can be fluid, and what you need to know can change. We therefore would like to ensure that you realize the channels are open for communication."
"Approximately three days ago on the first of November it was discovered that certain items were missing from inventory. After standard security protocol was followed it was determined that the items taken were of greater than average value, and that it was statisticall unlikely that they were misplaced or miscatalouged. Further investigation determined that certain emergency security protocols had been bypassed, which was only possible if it were inside job. A check of immediate personnel showed that although it was an employee it was someone outside the immediate routine persons with access to this particular area. At this point it was determined that several of the security subsystems were tampered with, and that an employee from Resource Allocation had been missing for three days as well. When his personnel file turned up missing, and his SIN deleted we realized we had our culprit."
Mr. Johnson paused, stood up and walked over to the wet bar. After pouring himself a shot each of the three wisemen, he slammed his drinks, and stood behind his chair with his hands on the back of the chair.
"Samuel Smith, age 33, caucasian human male." A picture of Smith appeared on the screens at the sound of Mr. Johnsons voice, "Brown hair, blue eyes, weight 180 pounds, height five feet ten inches. Mr. Smith has several distinguishing marks and scars, but no tattoos that we know of. The SMTs are included in what we salvaged from Mr. Smiths personnnel file. We will of course make that available to you."
"At this point we do not know Mr. Smiths where abouts, but we do have access to his corporate provided residence, which again, we will make available to you. What we want for you to accomplish as follows:
1. Locate Mr. Smith and any associates who might have aided him.
2. Locate the material he misappropriated and either retrieve it to be returned for monetary enumeration, or dispose of it per instructions. The first is prefered, the second of course is available.
3. Apprehend Mr. Smith and any associates, and return them to our custody.
Its essential that if you are unable to recover the material, Mr. Smith and any associates are captured alive. In fact we'd prefer that this mission maintain a low profile on the whole."
"This seems like a good spot to see who is in, who's out, and to answer questions."
Inuk turned from the sheet of sky and shrugged. "I go."
He looked back out the window, over the strange city below. He wondered what the people down on the streets were like, if he could recognize them as people at all, any more than a bear might realize that Inuk was a person. Truly, he had more in common with the bear. All of this...it seemed like such an epic, tragic, incomprehensible waste. If the people who lived there were put in the middle of the forest that must have been here just 200 years ago, how long would they live? What good would all this glass have been then?
He went on thinking, ignoring the others for the most part. He would listen if anything surprised him, but he didn't think anything could, at this point. He didn't think he'd be surprised if the whole room floated off into the sky, at this point. Nothing here made any sense.
He looked back out the window, over the strange city below. He wondered what the people down on the streets were like, if he could recognize them as people at all, any more than a bear might realize that Inuk was a person. Truly, he had more in common with the bear. All of this...it seemed like such an epic, tragic, incomprehensible waste. If the people who lived there were put in the middle of the forest that must have been here just 200 years ago, how long would they live? What good would all this glass have been then?
He went on thinking, ignoring the others for the most part. He would listen if anything surprised him, but he didn't think anything could, at this point. He didn't think he'd be surprised if the whole room floated off into the sky, at this point. Nothing here made any sense.
Bly stared out the window, carefully taking in the delicacy of the cloud that was lowering itself down. Bly tried to calculate how long it would take it to lower down enough to fog the city streets. Or if it even would go that far.
She did not turn around when Mr. Johnson came in the room. She, however, opened her ears to the information he dispensed. As he finished and awaited a response, the Eskimo to her South agreed quickly. Bly turned her head slightly and raised a quick eyebrow at the man. So quick to agree? Possibly he may have worked with Mr. Johnson before? Possibly he may care sincerely for the capture in question and be eager to contribute his assets? Or perhaps, that stench that had drifted over slowly that could have only been produced by him, signified the need the man had for money, and would have gone into such an agreement blindly if it paid well enough?
Bly snapped her gaze back to the window, paused and slowly turned around. Looking at Mr. Johnson, he matched her gaze and lifted his chin, as in inviting her to comment. Bly recollected to the briefing Johnson had just covered and stepped three steps closer to the table where the other men and the woman sat.
"Smith." She said in a stern, but curious voice. "Does he have a history? Prior record? Skills we should know of? Any other information other than significant scarring that can help us better assess this man you want us to go after?"
She did not turn around when Mr. Johnson came in the room. She, however, opened her ears to the information he dispensed. As he finished and awaited a response, the Eskimo to her South agreed quickly. Bly turned her head slightly and raised a quick eyebrow at the man. So quick to agree? Possibly he may have worked with Mr. Johnson before? Possibly he may care sincerely for the capture in question and be eager to contribute his assets? Or perhaps, that stench that had drifted over slowly that could have only been produced by him, signified the need the man had for money, and would have gone into such an agreement blindly if it paid well enough?
Bly snapped her gaze back to the window, paused and slowly turned around. Looking at Mr. Johnson, he matched her gaze and lifted his chin, as in inviting her to comment. Bly recollected to the briefing Johnson had just covered and stepped three steps closer to the table where the other men and the woman sat.
"Smith." She said in a stern, but curious voice. "Does he have a history? Prior record? Skills we should know of? Any other information other than significant scarring that can help us better assess this man you want us to go after?"
"Such as who he knows," Arthur cut in, finishing his own thoughts as they paralleled Bly's, "Who he talks to and who he associates with at the company? I'm certain that even though he deleted his records that people still remember their dear coworker. Certainly we don't need to know the motive but that will give us another place to look. How much access do we have? And I'm sorry, but SMT's? I'm unfamiliar with the term. If you can give us more than, "A crime happened, we know who did it, you need to find him," I'd be happy to help you out."
He took a sip from the water glass and leaned back. Something felt lighter, even if he had shown poor judgement talking to Mr. Johnson. His hand went up to the nape of his neck and rubbed, the other idly stubbing out the cigar into one of the ash trays on the table.
He took a sip from the water glass and leaned back. Something felt lighter, even if he had shown poor judgement talking to Mr. Johnson. His hand went up to the nape of his neck and rubbed, the other idly stubbing out the cigar into one of the ash trays on the table.
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Serious Paul
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As the Zeppelin pulls away from its Moorings, the meet had gotten under way. As Mr. Johnson had given his briefing they had ascended well above the city, for a second he wondered just how high up they were. As he spared a glance at Bly and Inuk, who stood at the window, he could also see the Mitsuhama Sky Raker project that had begun construction in Bellevue-the super structure was visible even at this distance.
As Bly covered the distance between the table and the window in three liquidly smooth steps, Mr. Johnson concealed his astonishment-he had known she was wired, but not to such a degree. As she fired off her questions, and Arthur added his own, Mr. Johnson punched a few keys on his pocket secretary, pulling up the Smith file.
"By history I assume you mean criminal record, of which Smith ahs none. Mr. Smith was a carefully screened, and until recently he was believed to be a loyal employee."
“SMT’s stands for Scars, Marks, and Tattoos, I apologize, I should have made that clear.”
"He was educated in southern Ohio as a child in a corporate enclave; his parents were sari man for Universal Omnitechs DeBeers division. He was an honor roll student at a Corporate Accelerated School, graduating at the age of fifteen. He started working for Universal Omnitech the following summer as a low level computer technician, where he showed some skill in Matrix Interface Operations, and was enrolled with corporate sponsorship at the University of Ohio in Computer Theory and Technologies, graduating with honors in three years instead of the standard three and a half. He was immediately hired into Universal Omnitech's Computer Security Division, and spent three years in New Jersey working at low level tech assignments, before at the age of 22 being accepted into UO's Resource Allocation Division. He was transferred to Cape Town, Azania where he spent a year. His excellent work record earned him a promotion to a regional controller and a transfer to Lisbon, Portugal. Again his excellent track record of solid performance, good attendance, and proper political loyalties earned him another promotion, and in three years he was transferred again this time to Seattle. He has been here in Seattle working as a Resource Allocator, an actual demotion, but a pay raise compared to his last position. He has been in Seattle for seven years now"
"Smith is a 33 year old Caucasian human male. His weight is well within acceptable height-weight ratios. According to our records Smith has no known existing medical conditions, and has rarely had the need to receive medical treatment. We unfortunately are unable to recover any portion of the files that would have allowed us to speculate on his habits, as far as recreational pharmaceuticals and alcohol.”
“Smith has no living relatives, both his parents died in a car accident when he was 21, and he had no siblings. His nearest blood relative is a cousin of is fathers. We spoke with him, and it seems he hasn’t ever been close to Samuel, having last seen him when he was a newborn child.”
“We are still interviewing Samuel’s childhood and college friends and associates, but it seems with one glaring exception none of them have any idea what Samuel has even been doing since his college days. The exception is one Samuel Verner, whom we seem unable to locate at the present moment.”
“We have been able to ascertain that Smith’s dating life was pretty limited until recently. Smith has no children that we know of, as a side note. Smith, according to his apartment supervisor and some of his neighbors has recently been seeing a Japanese woman, that we believe is this woman.” Mr. Johnson tapped a key and picture of a Japanese woman who definitely had some European features that softened her harsh angles. The picture showed the women dressed in black leather, exiting what looked like a bar. “Her name is Emiko Noguchi. We believe it is an assumed name, and as yet have we have not been able to positively identify her. This picture was lifted from as security camera at Preston’s, a local bar.”
“Smith didn’t generally associate after working hours with his fellow employees, which is not unusual for people in the tech departments, we will however allow you to look at our files on the interviews we conducted with his coworkers.”
“Does that start to answer your questions?”
As Bly covered the distance between the table and the window in three liquidly smooth steps, Mr. Johnson concealed his astonishment-he had known she was wired, but not to such a degree. As she fired off her questions, and Arthur added his own, Mr. Johnson punched a few keys on his pocket secretary, pulling up the Smith file.
"By history I assume you mean criminal record, of which Smith ahs none. Mr. Smith was a carefully screened, and until recently he was believed to be a loyal employee."
“SMT’s stands for Scars, Marks, and Tattoos, I apologize, I should have made that clear.”
"He was educated in southern Ohio as a child in a corporate enclave; his parents were sari man for Universal Omnitechs DeBeers division. He was an honor roll student at a Corporate Accelerated School, graduating at the age of fifteen. He started working for Universal Omnitech the following summer as a low level computer technician, where he showed some skill in Matrix Interface Operations, and was enrolled with corporate sponsorship at the University of Ohio in Computer Theory and Technologies, graduating with honors in three years instead of the standard three and a half. He was immediately hired into Universal Omnitech's Computer Security Division, and spent three years in New Jersey working at low level tech assignments, before at the age of 22 being accepted into UO's Resource Allocation Division. He was transferred to Cape Town, Azania where he spent a year. His excellent work record earned him a promotion to a regional controller and a transfer to Lisbon, Portugal. Again his excellent track record of solid performance, good attendance, and proper political loyalties earned him another promotion, and in three years he was transferred again this time to Seattle. He has been here in Seattle working as a Resource Allocator, an actual demotion, but a pay raise compared to his last position. He has been in Seattle for seven years now"
"Smith is a 33 year old Caucasian human male. His weight is well within acceptable height-weight ratios. According to our records Smith has no known existing medical conditions, and has rarely had the need to receive medical treatment. We unfortunately are unable to recover any portion of the files that would have allowed us to speculate on his habits, as far as recreational pharmaceuticals and alcohol.”
“Smith has no living relatives, both his parents died in a car accident when he was 21, and he had no siblings. His nearest blood relative is a cousin of is fathers. We spoke with him, and it seems he hasn’t ever been close to Samuel, having last seen him when he was a newborn child.”
“We are still interviewing Samuel’s childhood and college friends and associates, but it seems with one glaring exception none of them have any idea what Samuel has even been doing since his college days. The exception is one Samuel Verner, whom we seem unable to locate at the present moment.”
“We have been able to ascertain that Smith’s dating life was pretty limited until recently. Smith has no children that we know of, as a side note. Smith, according to his apartment supervisor and some of his neighbors has recently been seeing a Japanese woman, that we believe is this woman.” Mr. Johnson tapped a key and picture of a Japanese woman who definitely had some European features that softened her harsh angles. The picture showed the women dressed in black leather, exiting what looked like a bar. “Her name is Emiko Noguchi. We believe it is an assumed name, and as yet have we have not been able to positively identify her. This picture was lifted from as security camera at Preston’s, a local bar.”
“Smith didn’t generally associate after working hours with his fellow employees, which is not unusual for people in the tech departments, we will however allow you to look at our files on the interviews we conducted with his coworkers.”
“Does that start to answer your questions?”
Bly listened to Mr. Johnson intently. Her suspicious and curious nature was peaking. Glancing over at this 'Arthur' character a few times, Bly could tell that she wasn't the only one with lingering mixed feelings. The other man had been so quick to agree. The question of why still pierced at her. Was he a daredevil? Or had he worked with Johnson before, trusting him.
As Johnson finished his background information on Smith, she nodded slightly. Pausing, she crossed her arms, bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them, "Smith sounds intelligent. Obviously not too much, though, or he would have known that leaving the company as a ghost was going to be a significant red flag to authorities. Unless that was calculated as well, though that wouldn't make sense at this point. So, I am taking the impression that Mr. Smith might be intelligent, but not the sharpest knife in the shed. Seeming so, how do you know Smith is even still alive?"
Bly paused to gather her thoughts, "Basically what I mean is - is there others in pursuance of Smith or is this a securely confidential matter within your company, Sir?" She poked and prodded, as she knew that, though her thought were scattered currently, she would think of every appropriate question the moment the meet was over. At that point though, it might be too late.
Bly paced around the table, her eyes fixed on Mr. Johnson, waiting to hear the decisions or further questions of the others - whomever they were.
As Johnson finished his background information on Smith, she nodded slightly. Pausing, she crossed her arms, bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them, "Smith sounds intelligent. Obviously not too much, though, or he would have known that leaving the company as a ghost was going to be a significant red flag to authorities. Unless that was calculated as well, though that wouldn't make sense at this point. So, I am taking the impression that Mr. Smith might be intelligent, but not the sharpest knife in the shed. Seeming so, how do you know Smith is even still alive?"
Bly paused to gather her thoughts, "Basically what I mean is - is there others in pursuance of Smith or is this a securely confidential matter within your company, Sir?" She poked and prodded, as she knew that, though her thought were scattered currently, she would think of every appropriate question the moment the meet was over. At that point though, it might be too late.
Bly paced around the table, her eyes fixed on Mr. Johnson, waiting to hear the decisions or further questions of the others - whomever they were.
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Serious Paul
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Mr. Johnson was impressed, they were proving to be every bit as perceptive as he had hoped. Good, he thought, they'll need to be quick on their feet.
"You're very right in guessing that so far this is a company secret. Mr. Smith is a very intelligent man, too smart to just randomly snatch and run. We believe this is premeditated, and that Mr. Smith intends on selling the material to one of our many competitors or to any one of a number of rival nations. Thats why we assume he is alive. It is possible that he is deceased already, but we reason to believe he has yet to meet the buyers, or that he may be looking for buyers. I doubt the last. I think he will have had a buyer in mind from the begining, a plan from the start. Which is why we are moving so quickly. We believe it may be possible for nonstandard assets to track and recover Smith with a speed we may not be capable of for a variety of reasons."
"As to whether anyone else is attempting to recover this asset, well I would think it would be prudent toassume that he is indeed the target of any number of opportunist's, just to be safe. We have no way of speculating accurately as to whom or why."
"Rest assured we wil compensate you whther you find him alive or dead, as long as you aren't responsible for the latter if at all possible."
"You're very right in guessing that so far this is a company secret. Mr. Smith is a very intelligent man, too smart to just randomly snatch and run. We believe this is premeditated, and that Mr. Smith intends on selling the material to one of our many competitors or to any one of a number of rival nations. Thats why we assume he is alive. It is possible that he is deceased already, but we reason to believe he has yet to meet the buyers, or that he may be looking for buyers. I doubt the last. I think he will have had a buyer in mind from the begining, a plan from the start. Which is why we are moving so quickly. We believe it may be possible for nonstandard assets to track and recover Smith with a speed we may not be capable of for a variety of reasons."
"As to whether anyone else is attempting to recover this asset, well I would think it would be prudent toassume that he is indeed the target of any number of opportunist's, just to be safe. We have no way of speculating accurately as to whom or why."
"Rest assured we wil compensate you whther you find him alive or dead, as long as you aren't responsible for the latter if at all possible."
Last edited by Serious Paul on Sat Jan 10, 2004 3:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
Arthur was still skeptical. It seemed unlikely that no one was aware of where this disgruntled employee took off to, but of course, that was his job. They'd done their part as far as they could go to keep this hush hush. It was time to do some digging, Arthur just hoped that they would make it easy for him, "Would it be possible to get a copy of not only the interviews but some contact information as well? I'll probably have some questions of my own to ask..." Just tell me so we can get this all straightened out as quick as can be.
Chocolate sauce on a buttery nipple. *Bliss*
Inuk continued to ignore the progress of the conversation in favor of staring at the incredible view below. He didn't need to know any of this. His job was clear, or would be when it began. Until then, this view was so much more compelling that the background offered by the man at the head of the table; this was something he would only be able to experience once. He could listen to men speak whenever he chose. Besides, so far, nothing the man had said made any sense whatsoever.
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Serious Paul
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"Of course, we will make nearly all of our files available to you-as you might expect they will be sanitized somewhat to protect our intrests, and security." Mr. Johnson smiled, they had to know that there were limits to how far even he could go "We will also be happy to provide you with contact information-howevr we would like you all to accomadate a single request in this regard: That you present yourselves as Corporate Investigators, and not freelance talent, and that we are kept appraised of anything significant that should develop from these talks."
"Corporate Investigators." Bly repeated the fancy term as she cast a quick glance over to the man and woman seated at the table who had seemed to be abosorbing the situation thus far. The man sat staring intently at the cashews, but Bly had a feeling he was aware of everything that had been discussed thus far.
"Hmm." She moved her gaze over to the man who had just finished his cigar. He still seemed indecisive as well.
She could use the money. She definately could use the cash. And she always loved a challenge. However, she made certain not to let on any eagerness. If she was going to partake in this "manhunt", it was going to have to be because these men took her seriously. She was, after all, an asset. And she knew she was. Bly had never been the cocky type, but confidence was a whole other venue.
Bly took a gentle stride back to the window and faced out momentarily, taking in the beauty of the sky she had disassociated herself with for the last few minutes. Turning back to the table, she grinned ever so slightly.
"Hmm." She moved her gaze over to the man who had just finished his cigar. He still seemed indecisive as well.
She could use the money. She definately could use the cash. And she always loved a challenge. However, she made certain not to let on any eagerness. If she was going to partake in this "manhunt", it was going to have to be because these men took her seriously. She was, after all, an asset. And she knew she was. Bly had never been the cocky type, but confidence was a whole other venue.
Bly took a gentle stride back to the window and faced out momentarily, taking in the beauty of the sky she had disassociated herself with for the last few minutes. Turning back to the table, she grinned ever so slightly.
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FlameBlade
- SMITE!™ Master
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- Contact:
"No see, it doesn't work that way, we say 'corporate investigator' and they clam up. Not because they don't love their company, they may be the company's son, but they got that way by staying low profile. Say something that makes a wave, and you get the ripples. I can't agree to that, not unless I get something sweeter."
Arthur stretched back with the water glass in hand, it wasn't contempt, but there was something about this challenge that seemed to argue with his sensibilities. He needed this, he needed to dig his claws into it and do it, but there was that voice that lingered, people do disappear.
Arthur stretched back with the water glass in hand, it wasn't contempt, but there was something about this challenge that seemed to argue with his sensibilities. He needed this, he needed to dig his claws into it and do it, but there was that voice that lingered, people do disappear.
_I'm a nightmare of every man's fantasy.
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Serious Paul
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- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
His eyes widened, and his amazement was complete: the entire room, the whole structure, began slowly and ponderously to raise from the top of the building. The metal railing beneath his hands vibrated in time with the quiet groaning of the metal structure of the room as its weight shifted from being supported from beneath to hanging from what he now realized was some sort of balloon, like the weather machines he'd seen in the skies of his home.
His hands clenched yellow-white on the rail and he resisted the urge to jump through the glass onto the roof beneath before this kitchen floated off into the sky entirely. The others ceased existing for him, and his world became the railing and the ground seemingly miles beneath him. He had stood on the tallest peaks of home, but this was different: here there was scale, something to compare distances by besides trees and rocks whose size was always indeterminate from a distance.
For the first time, he doubted his conviction. He did not belong here! This was a world beyond his comprehension in nearly every way. But he stood, motionless save for the shaking of his hands against the railing, wishing he were home again.
His hands clenched yellow-white on the rail and he resisted the urge to jump through the glass onto the roof beneath before this kitchen floated off into the sky entirely. The others ceased existing for him, and his world became the railing and the ground seemingly miles beneath him. He had stood on the tallest peaks of home, but this was different: here there was scale, something to compare distances by besides trees and rocks whose size was always indeterminate from a distance.
For the first time, he doubted his conviction. He did not belong here! This was a world beyond his comprehension in nearly every way. But he stood, motionless save for the shaking of his hands against the railing, wishing he were home again.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Inuk continued to ignore the man; he had no head for numbers larger than one would find in a herd of elk, and without context, the man's words continued to hold no sense. That was okay; the realm of men and words was not his. His job came later.
With wonder, he looked at the mountains of steel and glass, the glaciation of roadways; this is what it was to be the eagle, he realized, and with that thought of familiarity, he relaxed, just a little, under his worn leather clothing.
With wonder, he looked at the mountains of steel and glass, the glaciation of roadways; this is what it was to be the eagle, he realized, and with that thought of familiarity, he relaxed, just a little, under his worn leather clothing.
Derrick did his best to stifle that sharp intake of breath that comes with most surprises. He did, however and unsurprisingly, fail miserably. He just wasn't read to comprehend that sort of paycheck, this sort of game...He reached for his water and took a trembling sip. Any chance he thought he had to find this man seemed to fly out the window, he was a fish out of water and about a mile straight up. He took a moment to compose himself and asked what was probably going to be his last question, "Fine, I accept if you tell me this, Why me?"
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Simon spit cashews all over the table at the figure, and tried to cover up with a not-entirely-feigned coughing fit. A quarter million? For one fugie? And expenses? Jesus, he could buy a damned house for that. A nice house. He could buy a Eurocar. He could buy cute girls, for gods' sake.
Something wasn't right about this, and he knew it, had known it inside since Honey showed up. This was the wrong group, the wrong job, the wrong odds, and everything he heard made it sound worse. But he'd already agreed, and anyway, the chance, the difference that money could make...it was worth the risk.
He swept the cashew fragments into one large hand and said quietly, "Ah, sorry."
Something wasn't right about this, and he knew it, had known it inside since Honey showed up. This was the wrong group, the wrong job, the wrong odds, and everything he heard made it sound worse. But he'd already agreed, and anyway, the chance, the difference that money could make...it was worth the risk.
He swept the cashew fragments into one large hand and said quietly, "Ah, sorry."
Bly cocked a slight grin at the man who had spit the cashews on the table. He, obviously, was taken aback by the proposition. Bly thought about the proposal once more. Two hundred and fifty thousand. On the streets, Bly would melt for that kind of cash, but what this 'Mr. Johnson' had been talking of - what could be at stake with this mission, well - she started to wonder whether that was a reasonable amount. The men all seemed in agreement, so Bly nodded her head slightly to herself.
Strands of hair tickled her eye and Bly pushed a chunk of bangs off from her face and looked at Johnson.
Straight faced, she asked "Any command center for those of us agreeing to participate? If so, where? And when shall we begin?"
Strands of hair tickled her eye and Bly pushed a chunk of bangs off from her face and looked at Johnson.
Straight faced, she asked "Any command center for those of us agreeing to participate? If so, where? And when shall we begin?"
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
"We've established a teleporting SAN and an anonymous drop box online for your use. Simply access the SAN at the appropriate time, leave a message and a method of contacting you. This ensures that you control the flow of information to us, and protects our desire for privacy."
"As for when you begin, well now would be good." Mr. Johnson smiled rakishly.
"As for when you begin, well now would be good." Mr. Johnson smiled rakishly.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Mr. Johnson was obviously not finished, and as he began to speak again, each of the runners kept their cool. They'd be good on this job. "One other thing. Ms. Johnson will be accompanying you. This is nonnegotiable. Its part of the reason we are paying you so damned much."
"Now before any of you ask it, I will simply say that Ms. Johnson will prove to be quite the assett. She is very skilled in expediting any number of problems, and will also provide you with access to corporate areas that you'd otherwise be denied, and maybe even throughly discouraged from pursuing."
Ms. johnson sat unmoving, her gaze was still on the window, and the city below. "She'll also prove invalueable should it become necassary to dispose of the materials."
"Now before any of you ask it, I will simply say that Ms. Johnson will prove to be quite the assett. She is very skilled in expediting any number of problems, and will also provide you with access to corporate areas that you'd otherwise be denied, and maybe even throughly discouraged from pursuing."
Ms. johnson sat unmoving, her gaze was still on the window, and the city below. "She'll also prove invalueable should it become necassary to dispose of the materials."
Bly glided back to the window and faced out, seeing the ground get more and more distant as it seemed. The room seemed to have a short silence sweep over it, while those in attendance took in what had just occured and what was to be. Bly bit her lip and contemplated even asking the question that weighed on her mind. She knew at least some of the others must be curious though, and she figured if they did not find out now, they surely would eventually. Bly bit her lip. The delicious cider had left a bittersweet taste in her mouth.
Bly turned slightly, her feet still facing the window. Glancing over her shoulder at Mr. Johnson, she asked cunningly, "So we've established that as far as you know, no one in this room is an eager bloodthirsty asshole. You have familiarized us with yourself, and Ms. Johnson." She glanced over and nodded to the woman sitting at the table and continued, "Yet, I have one concern that remains. You have put a seemingly attractive deal upon the table, but it is obvious there are risks involved. My question to you is, whom are each of these people standing to each side of me? If I am going to work with any or all of them, possibly have them watching my back or a reverse situation, I would like to have some sort of idea as to whom "we" are."
Bly gently turned herself back facing the table, crossing her hands at her hips and awaited the man's response.
Bly turned slightly, her feet still facing the window. Glancing over her shoulder at Mr. Johnson, she asked cunningly, "So we've established that as far as you know, no one in this room is an eager bloodthirsty asshole. You have familiarized us with yourself, and Ms. Johnson." She glanced over and nodded to the woman sitting at the table and continued, "Yet, I have one concern that remains. You have put a seemingly attractive deal upon the table, but it is obvious there are risks involved. My question to you is, whom are each of these people standing to each side of me? If I am going to work with any or all of them, possibly have them watching my back or a reverse situation, I would like to have some sort of idea as to whom "we" are."
Bly gently turned herself back facing the table, crossing her hands at her hips and awaited the man's response.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Mr. Johnson nearly smirked at those first two responses. Instead he took a calming breath and spoke slowly in his best calming tone. "I understand your fears. I believe based on each of your individual profiles and work history that there is a much lower risk of that sort of thing occuring. One of course, can never rule that possibilty entirley out, however its my opinion that all of you are professionals in your fields, even if you aren't pubicly recognized as such."
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Simon grabs another handful of cashews and chews them slowly as he thoughtfully brings his attention to the table. Simon is still lost in his own head and all the possibilities that 50 grand up front can buy, but his awareness of the rest of the group visibly rises, until he is ready to speak.
He addresses his erstwhile teammates, "Where do we go when we hit the ground, people?" He has on his warmest orky smile, trying to look collected while his head jumps randomly from point to point, "If anyone's gonna need some alone time, best to speak up now. Otherwise, be putting together your needs list for our 'expiditer' here, and then we can talk about starting points."
He addresses his erstwhile teammates, "Where do we go when we hit the ground, people?" He has on his warmest orky smile, trying to look collected while his head jumps randomly from point to point, "If anyone's gonna need some alone time, best to speak up now. Otherwise, be putting together your needs list for our 'expiditer' here, and then we can talk about starting points."
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
"I want to hit the ground running, but as to specifically what I need...that's going to take some more time," Derrick sips at a glass of water and shrugs, "The lists of people that you've already interviewed regarding flew-the-coop would be helpful as a starting point and I can tell you more about what I need from there. As to your question, m'am," he turns to Bly, "I try my best to know people. That's about the only way to describe it."