Jan 30 09:06:03 108 PA - A Whykin Plan Detail

From Chronicles

Jan 30 09:06:03 108 PA.

CALI'S GARAGE: ATTIC

Vixen is not at all busy this morning. At least, not yet. She has her coat off and is settled at her broadcasting station. Though she's laid back in her chair, feet crossed on the edge of the workspace. She has a small book settled on her belly, easily within her line of sight without having to do more than lower her eyes towards it. Downstairs, the door is, of course, locked.

A *Thumpity*Thumpity*Thump*Thump*THUMP* comes a different knock at the door. A little creative beyond the standard three-pounding announcement. Almost as if someone was using the door as the speed-bag at Harry's Gym. At any rate, there it is. Looking out the peephole will show Gabriel standing outside, somewhat sheltered from the weather. His woolen cap in hand, and gloves slowly coming off. His coat is already open. Eyes slowly scanning the area inconspicuously, but apparently satisfied with whatever they're looking for.

Vixen frowns faintly at the knock. Interruptions. She closes the book and stuffs it away into a drawer before she gets up, getting her coat on. Gun in hand as she gets down to the door itself, though after considering who is outside, she shoves it into its holster and opens the door. Her expression more relaxed. "Yeah? What's up?" Simple, to the point.

"You said to come back here if we needed to talk. Well, I need to talk," Gabriel states simply.

Vixen nods her head and moves aside for him to come in. "Business or you just here to gab?" Casually said as she waits for him to come in before closing up the door behind. Locking it, of course. "Just go on up and have a seat wherever."

The older man nods his thanks, and latches the silent hook on the larger pouch-pocket along his right thigh. "Business first. Pardon me," Gabriel states as he does his best to knock snow and slush off of his boots before entering. Once inside, he turns and asks, "You been hearing anything more?" Then he's up the stairs and into the noise-cancelling safety of the conference room, neatly settling into a chair along a long-side of the table. Near the head, but not on it. His cap and gloves are put in the chair on his other side, and his light coat is removed, draped over back of his own chair.

Vixen follows him into the conference room, speaking after she gets there and starts taking her heavy coat off. "I've been looking some, not enough yet for a good place to secure Leo yet. But we'll see." She motions to him. "Your turn." Then she rounds to her favored chair to settle down lightly.

With a soft chuckle, Gabriel leans forward to use the conference table lake a snare, ending with a loud *pop,* rather unusual for the usually laid back fellow. "It's my cover. As you know, or I hope you know, I've only been here since late September. I have a good grasp of the major political players, but not much else. Wouldn't matter, except I'm putting together my cover for our little trip to Whykin. Mind if I toss out what I have for your critique?"

Vixen tilts her head slightly, then shrugs and says, "Sure, go ahead. Though I don't expect we'll need real deep cover. The less complicated the better we can adjust to needs. But go ahead. Better to know what you've got going on in your head than not."

Gabriel clears his throat quietly, then rotates his chair to look over at Vixen, his hands tee-peed before his chest. "My name's Conway Twitty, originally from the town of Santo Poco, along the boundary between Lone Star and the Pecos Empire. I've gotten sick of life down there, with all of the chaos of Pecos, so I'm heading to the civilization offered by the Coalition States, principally Chi-Town itself." He pauses only long enough to twitch his nose. "As a merchant dabbling in small wooden sculpture, I'm stopping at Whykin only for a rest, avoiding Kingsdale because I personally don't appreciate that kind of living and because someone stole my goods, some bastard beyond CS territory. I am illiterate, I have been injured by D-Bees, and a blow to the head knocked my American out of whack for common accent, bringing in this damn drawl that I just can't get rid of. Moving along in a few days." He opens his hands for suggestion. "Obviously no one needs to know all of that, but I figure detail is good to have, instead of improvising. But I need to know if there are obvious holes."

Vixen chuckles and shakes her head slightly. "Probably ninety percent of that won't be worth all that much," she opines. Then she shrugs faintly as she adds, "What sort of holes? A bit much to remember. Don't figure bored or overworked guards will be asking that many questions of some drifters. Me? You won't know much about me because I don't say much about me. And I don't ask much about you. That's my whole thing. If I need a little detail, I'll deal with it."

"No, no, I agree. I like my anonymity, with everyone save for very close friends. Just things like, *if* it were to come up, is it reasonable that someone like Conway would actually be making the trek north to civilization? Being a small-time merchant but also completely illiterate? Presumably grew up in Pecos, but harbors a resentment against D-Bees?" Gabriel shrugs. "These are things that I've yet to nail down about 108 PA, North America."

"Some traders don't know how to read or count much past basic numbers," Vixen says. "Credits ain't the only way business gets done. Outside of big cities and kingdoms, lots of barter goes on. Even goes on here. Credits only mean much when they mean something to other people. Living out in mess out there, plenty would be worth more than a full up cred card. Not caring for D-Bees will get you further with the deadboys than anything else. Lies work good."

Gabriel nods and asks only two more questions. "Is there anything notable or common that I should be wearing, or look like, if I'm moving north from Pecos? Second," he holds up two fingers, "You'd buy the speech impediment"

Vixen grins and says, "How you talk won't much matter, it's fine to me. Got plenty of people that talk different ways. Way I hear it, growing up in this little place or that can have you talking different. Never been down to Pecos, so I couldn't tell you what's normal down there. But the way of things would probably make it rare to have anything odd unless you were in with some gang or merc group."

"Okay, okay, good. Final question, and very important, Miss Vixen." Gabriel pauses. "Best way in and out is to just be in and out. You have an escape plan, you have a hiding place, you have a second disguise that's good enough to stand up to minor scrutiny after you change out of the one that's been compromised. I've done this before, numerous times. But again, there are two ways to do it." Again, he holds up two fingers. "One. You go in bare-assed naked like the day you were born, and pray to God that you can just walk out. Two. You conceal a weapon on yourself. A pistol, a knife, something small and quiet. You still pray to God that you can just walk out, but you're ready, at least a little bit, if things really hit the fan." Once more, Gabriel raises a questioning hand. "What's your plan?"

"Travelers walk armed and armored," Vixen states simply. "We go in like what we're being. Travelers. Shouldn't take anything you ain't willing to lose. They may want to confiscate shit going in. Me, I have some little extras." She slips a hand into her pocket and pulls out a very small, black energy pistol that's no larger than her hand. "Even military detectors will have trouble finding this baby. Though it is illegal most places." She smirks casually, slipping it back into her pocket. "I'll be going without the coat. My black armor is common enough, won't be real distinctive. And I plan to have a wig. My hair is too distinctive."

Gabriel smiles awkwardly. "Sebastien tells me that I'm at least a decade longer-lived than most humans. Is that true, and if so, would it bring up questions that I need to answer? The only thing that makes my hair distinctive is that it's graying. Wasn't planning on doing anything more than wearing a hat." He nods a chin in the direction of what is presumably a hold-out weapon. "Nothing I have right now that I'd be happy to part with. Suppose I'll get looking, huh?" A sideways head-motion may indicate that he's already made a decision about the hair. "I'm not going to wear any EBA unless we need it to get there. Got something to wear underneath."

"If you're not armored, you might get questions. The only ones that come out of the wilds without armor are stupid people or people that don't need armor. Which usually means magic or mental shit. Or they're d-bees. You'll want armor. As to how old you are.." She shrugs. "People get old. Just not most of them. Easy to die around here."

"Fair enough." Gabriel starts to gather his winter gear, without getting up. "You heard anything more about the problem since we all met?"

Vixen shakes her head and says. "Just some guy getting killed. Still waiting on some feelers to come in. May not get much, but that's alright. I'm fine improvising when I have to. Worse to worse, we get a sense of what we need to infiltrate later and try again. One thing is for sure... deadboys won't be going nowhere. We ain't that lucky."

Gabriel lets out a soft sigh. "Guess I'll have to take the detail off my armor. Paint job's probably fine. Identification is not. Thanks for the information, Miss Vixen, I appreciate your unique expertise." As the Kentuckian begins to rise, he asks, "Incidentally, how are we getting there, anyway? All of us. Just taking your truck east, you and I, maybe dropping the others along the way."

"I have a new ATV, we'll be using that because I don't want to have my truck IDed," Vixen replies. "Pretty lucky I got it off those idiots from Tolkeen." She smirks casually. "We'll drop of Cel and Sage, keep in touch with them. And Leo. A good thing to have extra armor when you want to have a distinctive set and one that ain't. I'd offer up my old Urban Warrior, but I dunno if it will fit you. Kinda light too."

There a heavy chuckle. "Yeah, I'm not the shortest person in the world... but I certainly lean strongly that direction. I'll take my suit, figure it's common enough - I got it from a dead guy, anyway." Gabriel makes an odd motion, making a gun of his finger, putting the muzzle beneath his chin, and pulling the trigger. "Nice to have something heavy. I can make it up to look real battered, though. New paint. You might be well known around these parts, but I'm not. Not worried about it." He winks and starts to pull on his gloves. "Guess I'll be leaving you to your peace and transmissions, or whatever it is you do here." Gabriel sketches a sloppy salute that a military man throws off to a civilian who has absolutely no sway over him whatsoever. "Tell Leo that I said, 'hello.'"

"You want help with that, you can always ask Cali. She's good with mechanical things." Vixen offers as she leans back in her chair. A hand is lifted in a casual parting gesture. "See ya. I'll let you know when there's anything worth knowing."

After his cap is pulled on, Gabriel starts down the stairs and exists with a simple, "Stay safe, stay warm, Miss Vixen." Then he's gone, out into a fierce Missouri winter.