Dec 14 15:06:10 107 PA - Insider Setup, Non-retcon
From Chronicles
Dec 14 15:06:10 107 PA. (non-retcon)
VIXEN'S STUDIO
Thursday afternoon, Vixen is settled in the makeshift broadcast booth she's set up over Cali's. The second floor of the building has been cleaned up to her liking and the corner that she has her relay set up at has lots of room for things. Her heavy coat is laid out over the back of the chair she's in. She's left her compliment of small weapons on herself, save for the tooth whip, which she's laid aside on the table. She's casually working on the computer that's part of the relay, a healthy meal from Happy Burger half devoured to the other side. The door downstairs, which leads from the garage interior, up is closed and locked as per usual.
A mild *thump*thump*thump* comes from the door below, the obvious international, three-tap sign of someone trying to garner the attention of the person, or people, plural, on the other side of the door. Looking out a peephole would reveal two men of mid-twenties, with tanned Caucasian complexion. The taller one is about six-foot-five, and built like a door. He wears a long leather trench coat that billows out toward the ground almost like a bell, and his head is topped-off with a shock-blue colored samurai-style top-knot. Other than his eyes being covered by sunglasses, your basic man you might find in the seedier parts of town as muscle. The shorter man, ranging a few inches below six-foot, is of moderate build, wearing somewhat of a patchwork of cloth and leather. With long dregs of alternating red-and-white hair and his own pair of glasses - with some rather obvious enhancements - he carries a large energy pistol, standard handgun and vibro-knife at his side. The energy weapon is just barely peace-tied enough to pass inspection from the local police. The taller one looks bored, the shorter one looks quite official, despite his rather odd physical appearance. Both are very confident about whatever it is that they're visiting for.
Vixen looks up when she hears the thump. Even if it were very mild, her ear would pick it out. She frowns faintly and rises. Unexpected visitors. She lifts her armored coat to slide it on, the weight settled for a moment before she heads to the stairs down. Listening a moment before she descends to the door itself to look through the peephole. After a moment she pulls her own pistol, but slips it behind her thigh casually before she cracks the door open enough to peek out. "What can I do you boys for?" Casually asked.
The taller man seems to turn for a moment and inspect the area. While he's busy with that, the shorter of the taller men speaks, and he is very blunt and to the point. In a deep baritone, deeper than really seems likely to come from his body, is asked, "You Vixen?"
"That's my name," Vixen replies simply, not at all bothered with the lean towards business. "Question is, what you boys are after." Her eyes flick towards the larger man. But as long as he's not making trouble, she leaves him be after that brief examination. She settles her eyes on the shorter man, waiting.
The larger man does indeed not make any trouble, save for "helping along" the very sparse concentration of humanity that happens to be in the area. Once again, the baritone speaks. "No, the question is, what are *you* after. Understand that you've a certain interest in, oh, 'plugging into' -" there's a hint of humor at that phrase "-a segment of society here in the city. Kind that people know about but don't talk about in polite company. You do, I'd like to talk to you. You don't, we'll be leaving." The shorter man turns his head, adding, "Ain't that right, Gus?" The other man just throws a thumbs-up in acknowledgment.
Vixen considers the fellow for a few moments of quiet evaluation before she dips back and opens the door further. She casually slides her pistol into it's holster before it might be seen and says. "Come in. Up the stairs, straight ahead, then take a right in the big room. Hit up the door there. My conference room."
Without so much as a nodding "thank you" the man with the colorful 'locks walks in, just tossing behind him, "Keep it up, Gus." Once again, a thumb is raised in acknowledgment. It doesn't take him long to make it into the room, though from his motions, it seems that he's quite the detail man as he moves through the building. Upon reaching the designated conference room, he makes himself extremely comfortable, dragging one of the chairs over near the table, leaning back, and kicking his feet up to rest on its surface. His hands, however, remain in his lap within easy reach of any of his weapons. "I've seen better," is grunted as a possible compliment or insult, depending on the way that the owner of conference room would want to take it.
Vixen closes the door before she turns to follow the man upstairs and to the conference room. She doesn't deny him his comfort, but his comment prompts a faint smirk from the young woman as she moves to the 'head' of the table and settles on the chair there. "Right, so.. let's get right down to business. I have no doubt you've got something for me to do. Only question is, what that is and what comes my way once I get it done."
"We've been told that you want in. Little action on the side, maybe some discounts of goods and services?" the man asks, without explicitly referring to who "we" may actually be.
"I'm looking to broaden my horizons," Vixen replies lightly. "Won't find many people that can do what I do with computers and software. Even some hardware work. Discounts would be nice. I do like my tech and it tends to cost. Might even play go between if you need a fresh face. Plenty I can do, if the price is right."
Across the table, the man shifts the position of his legs and nods. "Sounds like what our research turned up," he grunts. "Got a job for ya, then. Demonstrate your skills. Show us that you are who you say you are, and it's not just bloated public-relations shit out on the street. As a show of good faith of course, it comes out of your pocket." He coughs lightly into his hand, then returns. "Do something for us, we'll start thinking about doing something for you. After all -" a soft shrug "- you don't pay the whore until she proves that she can suck you off first."
Vixen's jaw tightens ever so slightly, but the smirk that curls her lips doesn't fade. "I'm real, but I'm willing to play the game," she murmurs, her eyes narrowed as they consider him. "Of course, you wouldn't have heard much of what I've done. I don't like making waves or attracting a lot of attention. So let's hear what it is I have to do. Then we can get this shit out of the way and get on to something more interesting."
"I like that," the other man finally lays out as a partial compliment. "We have somewhat of a presence in the 'Dregs. Different spots to do different things. Couple of weeks ago, we put in a new system out near the southwestern border. Kinda close to the city proper where all the fancy people like to go - and fool themselves that they're better than everyone while they use our products." The man's hand twitches, not toward anything, just some kind of tick. It soon passes. "Got a couple of gangs in the area who think that our new property is their property. Keep coming in and fucking things up. So we want a surveillance system installed, just to give us an eye out so we can send out people like Gus down there to take care of them before they become a problem." His thumb is hooked back outside. "We want it hidden, we want remote access, and we want everything encrypted so that the cops can't pick it up and be an annoyance. Not going to tell you how to demonstrate yourself to us other than that. I can take you out to have a look at the area if you want, or you can just bring whatever you think you need to bring with you." The man raises his right hand as a clear attention-getter. "We don't like what you do, it's still out of your pocket, and we stop considering what you're looking for in a partnership. Fair enough?" Despite his occasionally colorful language and grammar, it should be clear to the intelligent that the man is a fair professional at this kind of barter and contract dealings.
"I'll have to see the place before I decide what goes where," Vixen states, not batting an eye at the task. "If it's on Dregs side, the man shouldn't be a problem. If not, I suppose it might be. I can set up something like that. Motion, UV, video. Encryption, remotes. Done it before. You just want to know when someone steps in when you don't want them to?"
The man with the 'locks nods. "You got it. We want to know who wants in, and also, who wants out. It's just for good business, and of course, -" he raises his hands in a meaningful gesture "-the welfare of our employees." After clearing his throat, he moves his feet from the table and to the floor, then stands. "I do have another appointment today. Someone else in your line of work actually, if you need a little something to poke yourself in the ass with to do your best. Gus can take you down. He's not stupid, he's just strong and he knows the plan. He'll take you down." A quick reach into his pocket reveals a small communications device. "You have a question, tell Gus, he'll call me and ask. You need to call me with more than two questions, just walk back here and go on with your life. I don't like complications." Without waiting for any reply or acknowledgment, he turns and begins to go out and down back to the street. Then, just speaking to the air in front of him, he adds, "We'd be very pleased if all of this was finished by the end of the day. Midnight is the magic hour, ya know?"
Vixen snorts faintly at the note of possible prodding with competition. She rises and then arches a brow as he notes a time limit. "Takes time to go out and buy gear and install it," she notes. "More than a few hours if you want it to be discreet. It'll get done, but that kind of time frame ain't even close to reasonable. Or even possible. Two or three days would be enough."
As the man reaches the door and begins to open it, he shrugs and turns his head, looking both bored an unimpressed. "The faster it's done, the more credence we'll give to considering you." He then points a very important index finger the woman. "Anything that you want or need to buy, you buy from a documented source within the city itself. Nothing from us. It's all legitimate. Try to slip to another edge of our territory, try to buy it from another gang, and you're out." His eyes then narrow ever-so-slightly. "Not real pleased, either." With that, he walks through the door, obviously very confident that no one is going to jump him. Hands are cupped around his mouth, and he calls out, "Gus!" The big fellow with the long coat and blue top-knot hurries over. "Yeah?" comes as a grunt. The other man, the shorter of the two, instructs, "Take her in, show her what she wants, only show her what she needs." Top-knot grunts an affirmative and nods as the contract-worker walks off, tapping the communicator. "Remember, twice. Any more, you go home." He will apparently take no further questions.
Vixen shakes her head, frowning faintly before she follows him down. Snagging her drink cup along the way. The rest she can deal with when she gets back. She'll head down after, turning to close and lock the door. She doesn't bother with the small man now, content with him for the moment. Instead, she considers Gus. "Alright, man, let's get a move on. My truck's outside."
NEW 'DREGS LOCATION
The ride to the 'Dregs is completely uneventful, and then driving into the 'Dregs is no more unusual than is usual for the unusual. This area of the Black Market's operation has been carved out like an inverted Y. The connecting point of the mid-Y is the primary distribution center for goods such as weapons and equipment. Further, it is a transportation hub, helpfully neat and with clear areas (in terms of 'Dregs clarity at least) in all directions with a radius of around three-hundred feet. The two angled-legs delve even deeper into the 'Dregs, running a good half-mile or more each and not along happily geometrically-straight lines. The less-legitimate businesses of the Black Market, such as drug-running and prostitution operate at points on the ends of the separated legs. The avenues running from primary distribution center and the two smaller locations are not delineated with street signs and crossing-guards for Black Market use only. The final part of the Y runs as a slight crescent shape toward the legitimate area of Kingsdale proper for a distance of a good three-quarters of a mile or so. Nothing is visible directly from one point to the next point due to the normal collection of 'Dregs humanity and random junk. Gus is standing in the center of the distribution point, where there's quite a bit of activity going on, though much of it is security and construction as much as distribution. The top-knotted man grunts, indicating the four most interesting points and directions with thick but nimble fingers. Other than that basic information, he remains mute, though according to the other fellow, he does know what needs to be known.
"Alright, so this whole area?" After a cursory examination, Vixen looks to Gus. "I'm assuming you don't want anything fancy.. just video? I could set up some discreet motion sensors, wire those into some video mounts and get those remotely transmitting to wherever you'll have eyes watching." Her voice is kept low and light as he says this. "That would be simple and effective for you knowing who is coming around when you don't have guys everywhere. Can even set it up to record. Anything I'm missing here?"
The tall man nods and shrugs, bobbing in thought. "Well, if it sounds good to you, it sounds good to you. After all, it's you impressing us, right? Though personally," he states as if offhand to no one in particular, "I imagine that the higher-ups would like to hear what people are saying, too. You have two identical people walkin' down the road, one of 'em says, 'I'm gonna score me a diamond tonight,' the other says, 'I'm going to tear a new asshole into the guy who sold me the bad diamond tonight' you want to know the difference, right?" Another offhanded shrug states, "Very least have something watching each of the points, the center, probably the routes, both directions. But that's just me. I don't get paid to install security systems, I *am* the security system for when the regular security system fucks up." Top-knot sighs. "So, you good? Wanna call up Thran, see what he has to say about it?"
"Don't need to call him," Vixen murmurs, looking around slowly. "Just a lot of open space to cover. I'll walk around, check things out. A few spaced out motion sensors will do for a trigger. Anything moves that you don't want to move in the area, people know. Cameras.. they'll listen too. Just have to eyeball and see where and how many." She looks towards the man then and grins a little. "By midnight.. sure knows how to ask a hell of a lot. But we'll see how this goes. Then she starts to walk off and explore the area slowly, her hands in her pockets, eyes scanning quickly.
After about two hours of wandering the streets of the 'Dregs, recently cleaned by the Market - and accompanied by Gus - it seems that there are four good locations to set up cameras. Basically one on each street-limb, with an important circular-view camera at the central point. The end points where the dirty deeds are done have sufficient security to handle the normal kind of adversarial gang activity. It's really only the supply lines that are the weak points. Unfortunately, they are already well-trafficked enough that installing the systems without the knowledge of any of the adversary gangs is probably going to present a challenge. For what it's worth, Gus seems to nod his agreement as certain areas may appear to be scoped with somewhat more scrutiny than others. Back at the central hub, he states simply, "Unless you got another question, this is where we part, lady."
"I think I got it," Vixen replies, looking towards Gus. "You head along, I'll get this done.. I assume I don't have to call no one after, yeah? I'm sure he'll be back to pick at my work." A mix of amusement and annoyance in her tone when it comes to the subject.
Gus nods himself and begins to walk away, but then hurries over to speak softly and conspiratorially. "When you get back to install the system, see me before you do. I'll give you the remote frequency and encryption key that we'll be using." Apparently he feels that nothing more need be said, and does finally wander off into the normal gray mist common to the 'Dregs. It would appear that further work to be done is now free to be started.
TECHNOLOGY SECTOR
This is your basic Mom & Pop technology store out of Kingsdale's technical sector. In fact, it's actually called, "Mom & Pop's Technology Store-o-Rama" as per the neon sign over the door. It has just about everything that anyone could need. Completely legitimate, too, though some of the items may be looked upon the same way as people do when a man (or woman) brings a pornographic magazine to the counter. In any case, everything is there to be bought and sold.
Vixen will get back to her truck and go out driving. Given she's done this about three times already, she knows where to go and who to talk to to get the gear legit. And she doesn't have to linger long to find what she needs. Four video mounts are good to start. She picks them up. Each will have a 90 degree cover radius. Next, four motion sensors to key up to them. Each one can cover a good sixty feet in every direction. Finally, a small field radio with scrambler to tie it all in. "So that's 600 for the radio, 400 per motion sensor and 200 for each video mount," is quoted at her. And Vixen nods her head. She'll pay for the gear fine. She has plenty of credits. And with that done, she'll head home, getting her custom software for this, which she's already developed. A good thing, since that will speed things up a lot. And once that's done, she'll head back to set things up.
The chubby, elderly couple at the store is more than happy to sell that amount of technology to anyone, at any time. It's all top-of-the-line material, and the man who looks like he could be anyone's grandfather would help the young girl (at least in his eyes) out to her truck. The couple stands at the door and waves as the truck pulls away. Then, out of sight, they dance up and down at the day's windfall.
NEW 'DREGS LOCATION
Vixen won't waste much time once she gets back. With her portable tool set, she'll get to work. Stringing wire, setting cameras to cover just the right areas and setting motion sensors to trigger when people step wrong. The radio gets set up inside the building that looks best for it. If there is a security station, that'll be it. Otherwise an administrative building. Whichever fits the criteria. She'll do her best to conceal the cameras and the motion trackers, then set up the radio to transmit to their secure frequency. And she'll do it as cleanly as she can over the rest of the day.
It may be the weather, it may be the fact that the night is getting long in the tooth, it may just be plain bad luck. Whatever the reason, as the high-tech woman is setting up her final surveillance position, a teenage woman clad in black leather pants that leave nothing to the imagination, and a halter-top leather number that leaves even less to the imagination, rounds the corner as she stumbles through the trash looking for salvage material. Armed primarily with a heavy pistol, she shouts in an oddly accented American (perhaps heavy on the Spanish side), "Hey, whatchu doin' up there? Thaz our fuckin' area, bitch!" Apparently the young woman is no wilting flower, as is further evidenced by the fact that she draws her weapon and aims it at Vixen, with a finger already beginning to settle on the trigger. A heavy blast of white light shoots out from the hand-cannon at a distance that can't be more than one-hundred feet, if that. One of those, "How can you miss?" situations.
Vixen is just finishing up and glad to be done when the crazy woman comes out and shoots off at her. "God damn it.." Fortunately she's got her armored coat, but not too much more than that. The coat takes the shot with some left to take, though Vixen doesn't want to take too many chances. She snaps out a blinder from its pouch at her belt and pivots, heaving it towards the woman in a careful throw.
The gang-woman seems curious as to why a baseball is being thrown at her, and if she ever manages to recognize exactly what it is arcing toward her, it is much too late to do anything about it. The less-than-lethal weapon lands right at her feet and goes off exactly as the good people at Wilk's promised when they sold it for such an absurd amount of money. The girl lets out a cry of shock, surprise, and perhaps pain as her retinas are momentarily overloaded. Her trigger-finger manages to reflexively pull off another blast that is soaked up by a pile of 'Dregs debris, but then the pistol is dropped to the ground, impacting at roughly the same time as her knees. Judging by the string of expletives coming from her, she's in no position to put up much of anything save for a flailing hand-to-hand resistance.
Vixen has little care for why this strung out woman is shooting at her. Nor the claims that this is her turf. She was shot at, so she replies in kind, snapping out her own pistol with its nifty laser sight flicked on this time. She doesn't say a thing, she just points and pulls the trigger. The woman doesn't look like she has armor on. One shot ought to do it.
A large hole is blow just to the left of the woman's heart, tearing out just enough to visibly expose her innards if looked-on from the side. She manages to gurgle and scream for a surprisingly long number of seconds, but then with massive trauma and a hypoxic brain, she leans backwards and to the side, finally slumping to the ground, quite dead. Due to the nature of the 'Dregs, it's very unlikely that anyone noticed the brief shoot-out, and unless they knew the woman or are of a similar gang, even give a damn that there's a dead teenager laying on the ground.
Vixen isn't exactly pleased herself. "Messy," she mutters, glancing around with her head cocked. Listening for any other sighs of trouble. After a few moments she shrugs and steps towards the fallen woman. And her spent blinder. "Picked the wrong person to shoot at, chick," she murmurs. "Nothing personal, but I like living and I ain't stopping to talk while you're shooting." Simple, cold common sense. She'll snag the blinder, then check the woman out. Any ID.. gang colors or signs and, of course, any creds. Might as well defray some expenses and see what she's dealing with.
The dead teenager's mangled corpse yields just about nothing. Only enough creds to score some high-quality hallucinogens, food, and probably gambling money. Well, and a tight-fitting leather outfit to show off ass and bust that somehow escaped being punched through. The rest of the assembly of this particular surveillance area goes smoothly, finishing up slightly after an accurate wristwatch would indicate eleven at night. A dull and uncomfortably dense fog has descended, and brought with it the annoying type of rain that is neither too light to be ignored, nor to heavy to warrant a hat.
Vixen doesn't strip the girl. For a variety of reasons, but she pockets the credits. She'll leave the body there. Not her concern anymore as she goes back to finishing up the set up and once that's done, she takes her leave of the immediate area. She's not prepared for more trouble and, with the job done there isn't much reason for her to stick around. She'll look for Gus to get the final set up done for the frequency, casually reporting the encounter with a lone hostile. Not that the burn mark on her coat wouldn't say as much.
Perhaps not surprisingly, the towering Gus is found in the central hub, giving some very impressively intelligent orders on a number of different subject as the Black Market is on the verge of really solidifying its new territory. Vixen's presence does not go by unnoticed, as while she might not even be very remarkable to stand out of a crowd here in the 'Dregs, she is a new face that a security man wouldn't miss. With one last shouted, grumbling order to "do something about those fucking crates, we're not a goddam petting zoo" he makes his way over to the woman. The burnt patch, too, is evidently noticed. "Asshole get away?" is his briefly-phrased question.
"Nope," Vixen replies simply, leaving it at that. "Dead men tell no tales. So the set up is secure. Just need to mingle it with your shit and it's good to go. Before some other strung out idiot wanders by to shoot at me."
Top-knot seems to look at Vixen for a time, perhaps sizing up whether or not she can be believed. Apparently he decides that she seems trustworthy enough, because he says, "This never gets written or recorded anywhere but your brain." After another pause, he states, "We're using a very low-energy frequency modulator to slip beneath the regular comm chatter. Nobody ever looks this low. Can't carry much data, but plenty good for what you setup, assuming that fucking system works. Ninety-eight point seven, encoded with the PUFI-4 algorithm. You set it up, I'll enter the random encryption key. You do NOT need to know it." Gus is very clear on that point. He then walks over to the shack where the initial area system was established and pokes at the equipment. "All I know is that I've been told that this room has everything you need."
Vixen only looks offended when he suggests her work might not work. "I don't say it's done until it's done," she replies, her eyes narrowing. The rest she nods to, having no complaints about how they've decided to set things up. She follows him to the gear and looks in at it. "Yeah, this looks fine," she says. "Gimme a few." Said before she steps in and starts to get to work. Vixen doesn't say much as she works. Computers and radios are something she's worked on for years and this system doesn't have any surprises for her. She does slip off her coat to lighten her load as she casually works over the radio and computers backing up the system, setting it to the right low frequency before getting both ends connected wirelessly. And when it is done, all is green and the feeds are up. "Cake," she murmurs, smirking lightly.
Gus flips the door open right on cue, exposing what has now become a rising storm, complete with thunder in the distance. He stands over the woman, saying nothing, looking at all the equipment. "Before I key in the encrypting patch, prove to me that it works. Encrypting a dead system doesn't do me much fucking good." He glances at his watch. It is now 11:39pm on a Thursday.
Vixen is just getting her coat on again when he comes in. She smirks faintly and says, "Fine, fine.. hold on." She finishes settling her coat on, then turns to bring the system up. It's just on quiet standby and the monitors will snap to life with a feed, four angles on their property, with indicators of the motion sensors and their status. "I'll do everything you have the gear set up here to do. You can add to it later if you want, it's modular."
Many people might look at Gus and see a huge, giant piece of muscle, and they would be right. But those people would also often assume that he's an idiot, which he is not. In fact, his eyes glance perfectly over everything that has been set up. The biggest problem is that his fingers are rather too large for the keyboard. Somehow, he accomplishes it anyway, nodding as he does so. Monitors flip on as promised, then later as he continues his inspection, so do the microphones, which he expertly dials down to the desired level. A small box jumps onto the monitor, a long sequence of keystrokes is made - recorded on the screen only as black dots - and everything burps. The monitors pop off, the microphones fall silent. But after what is apparently just a quick reboot, everything comes back online. The man nods around, apparently satisfied. "Not bad. I would have done it a little differently, but it's good. I'm usually the guy to set up this shit, but they needed me elsewhere. Moving into new territory ain't real fuckin' easy, y'know."
"Well, next time if you guys tell me how you like it set up, it can get set up that way," Vixen notes, her head canted slightly. "But it ain't like you can't adjust it again." She sinks her hands into the pockets of her coat. "So is that it? Cause I'm eager to get home and put this mess behind me for now. Don't particularly enjoy getting shot at."
Gus looks at his watch and comments, "Yeah, good job. Got it done before midnight." He juts a large chin at Vixen and gives a rather abrupt goodbye: "Get outta here unless you wanna whore yourself out. You could do it. Good body. We'll contact you again." That said, as insulting or complimentary as it may be, is all that appears as is going to be said. Since the storm has driven people indoors temporarily, it's a good time for someone to make their way out of the 'Dregs.
Vixen snorts and shakes her head. "I ain't that poor and ain't no dirty fuckers that lucky," she replies. "Ain't never going to be that poor." She lifts a hand then and turns, going at once. The rain won't be a problem once she gets into her truck and once she has, she'll head home to settle.
Thursday flips over to Friday, and nightlife in the 'Dregs picks up, as others go out. For many, the night is done.
