Mar 28 04:45:36 109 PA - Tell Me About Michigan
From Chronicles
Mar 28 04:45:36 109 PA.
TRADEWINDS COFFEE SHOP
Early, early for most people, with the sun not even being up yet. It's right on the edge of being late enough that the early crowd will start making its way en masse into the local coffeehouse. Gabriel though is an odd fellow. Old fellow, too. He's currently seated off to the side - the eastern side, where the sun will eventually rise - clad in his normal casual blacks and grays. A small mug of coffee and a little dish of pastries sit before him, half-eaten which may belie the amount of time that he's already been here. There is an open notepad before him, along with a simple four-function calculator. Gripped in his fingers? A wood-graphite, yellow, pink-eraser-tipped number two pencil that he's using to punch the keys on the advanced abacus.
Max enters the establishment, slightly bleary eyed. He's drawn by both the smell of caffeine and by Gabriel's summons, asking to meet him here. Spotting the older man he makes his way instead to the counter, ordering a large straight black cup of espresso, or the nearest closest equivalent. He pays for his coffee and moves around a few fellow early risers to join Gabriel at his table. "Mornin.." He says.
"...ead a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; 'As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal;' Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel, Since God is marc..." Gabriel sings quietly to himself as he punches in his numbers and makes notes. Max's voice brings his eyes upward. "Good morning, Max. Not up too early, I hope? You look better than you did the other night!" He allows a quiet chuckle, then motions to the seat across from him. The only other seat at this two-place table. "Thanks for swinging by."
Max looks at the man through his one open eye. The other is closed to ward off steam as he takes a rather large gulp of the nasty brew in his mug. His faces screws up as he puts the mug down and he shivers involuntarily, his eyes going wide. "Damn that's nasty.. but it does the trick... I'm up now.. So what's up big man?" He asks, waving off the thanks.
Gabriel smiles and takes a sip of his own drink. "Back on the subject of faux citizenship, Max. I know that for papers, I need a forger. I figure I can find someone to get me something. Would I need anything to cross Northern Gun or that Mantistique-whatever place?" He directs the eraser-end of his pencil across the table in a short poking motion. "What can you do to make me legal over the computer networks?"
"Ishpeming.. the locals there used to call it Michigan. As for the Imperium... you'd need Coalition identification. They work pretty heavily with each other. But NG.. is a bit easier, I can probably get in and create a short lived citizenship registry for ... us.. but I'd need one of two things. Of of the few hand-held scanners the patrols carry, the acquisition of which will pretty much mean we're enemies of the state we're trying to become citizens of. Even if it is fake. That or.. I need to get within range of a network hub with a powerful enough transmitter to talk to their network and get myself in. Do it remotely." He tells the man but shakes his head. "But right now.. I have NONE of the equipment for a job like that.
"Okay, well let's just ignore that, then. What are the basics that I would need - not *we*, but *I* - to get across general Coalition or Coalition-aligned territory without being hassled too much?" Gabriel leans back and gets comfortable. "Can I get by on some paperwork? I've done some sensitive work in Whykin, never needed to show any papers or anything. But that's Whykin, not traipsing through Iowa or Illinois, or crossing Michigan and Canada."
Max sits back in his seat, raising a hand to count off on his fingers. "First off is a complete lack of Psi or magic. From what I know, they persecute the shit out of anyone possessing either, implementing either implants and registration like the one I mentioned, or literally removing the hands and giving basic bionic replacements. Second.. is to simply be open and forward with the grunts, don't act like you belong, actually belong. A friend from my old merc company told me once.. be patriotic, if they start to question you, hurl some slurs about magic types or demons.. thank them for defending humanity. Third, would be identification of some kind, just to prove you are supposed to be there. And that unfortunately.. I'm fuzzy on, I remember there being checkpoints scanners everywhere. If you are going by yourself which I don't advise... they will probably let you in with a day pass. My suggestion is to claim to be there shopping, or passing through but not wanting to risk the evils of the open road, instead seeking the protection of the CS army. Make something up."
Gabriel smiles at some of Max's warning points, but only in, well... a knowing way. "Don't worry about the magic stuff. I'm odd, Max. Not a drop of that psychic potential whatever in me. Go ahead, try to sense it. None, period." Indeed, anyone who can sense that type of thing will find nothing. "Fitting in is what I do, so that won't be a problem. I've been at the library reading up on the basics, and man... these guys are easy. Particularly if you aren't trying to break into a military base. Which... I did in Whykin." He shrugs it off. "Not a boast, just so you know who you're going to be with. But your third point, there are some kind of papers I should ask for? Are they going to be different to all the Coalition and Coalition-aligned, or is there something general I can get. You know, maybe something longer than your day pass, if I can find it."
Max thinks on this. "Well.. I heard mention of extended passes, but it was two days at most. Any longer and they'd probably require you to submit for registry. You could make up a story about visiting family to get a longer pass, but they might verify your claims. Anything rings false and they'd boot you out and make you go around at best. At worse, they shoot you in the forehead and point blank range and burn the body."
"Gotta catch me, first," Gabriel winks. "Okay, well, I guess I'll go hit the underground and see what I can dig up as far as fake legit papers. Maybe a worker's pass, transient pass... all I need is something to get me by easily if someone's curious, or if I need to pop into a town or something for supplies. Nothing fancy. Thanks for the information, Max." The older man offers a smile, then moves enough to crack his back. "Ah, there we go. Mind if I ask what the arrangement is with Bart? He's an interesting guy. We're very different, but so far we've always come out on top when we've worked together."
Max shrugs. "I needed a job and Bart gave me one. I work with or for him for as long as I want and he provides the equipment. If I meet the five year mark, I keep the equipment when he dies. Pretty much it." He answers.
"Ah, got it. Self-imposed death sentence. Weird one, if you ask me. But like I said," Gabriel offers with a shrug, "We're very different types. How about you, Max? I admit that I'm not exactly cosmopolitan when it comes to psychics and their subdivisions, but I've never met one that denied their abilities as much as you. Bit of a history that I should watch for on the journey if someone makes you angry? The flaming version of the Incredible Hulk?" He lays his palms on the table. "I just like to know who I'm with on an operation that could mean my life, as I'm not ready to throw it away like Bart did."
Max shakes his head. "He's not weird.. well he might be.. but not all juicers are. Some have very noble intentions. I worked with a paired team when I was a merc. Twin brothers who volunteered for the procedure to gain the power to protect themselves and their family when others would not. Some company paid for it, and they served the company for 2 years after they dealt with the issues their family were having. But with their new powers they weren't content to be farmers.. even super fast super strong ones. So they said their goodbyes and became mercs.. sent a full half of their pay back home, their family live comfortably now, because of the boys sacrifice." He says smiling at the memory of the twins. "As for me...I dunno.. I was trained in the use of my powers by a couple of Bursters who recognized me for what I was when the company found me running from NG. Long story that is.. but they found me, trained me.. taught me this and that and the other. But they were typical of people like me.. they enjoy destruction, flinging handfuls of flame hot enough to melt armor in the face of their foes. I don't simple as that. And though I possess the power to snuff flame, my power can get seriously out of hand if I'm not careful, as fires spread." He tells the older man, giving him a blank look at the mention of the Hulk. "I was happy being normal finding out I'm actually a master level psychic only made me a target."
"Yes." There's a pause. "Lots of words get tossed around these days. Everyone seems to have a title. Like asking someone, 'Hi, who are you?' and getting the answer, 'Machinist's Mate First Class.' It's a strange place." Gabriel looks down into his coffee, then takes a draw. The issue of family versus money isn't argued, though his face twitched very obviously when it was brought up. "However... you didn't quite answer. If you get mad, et cetera, are you going to start throwing fire?"
Max smirks. "No.. I didn't did I. I'll admit, my temper is a bit... shorter than it used to be, but I can control myself. You just may not want to stand right next to me, as the air temp tends to get uncomfortable for those without my immunities. I'll control myself, I promise. Besides I shouldn't see combat, I'll be sitting in Bart's van working my magic over the airwaves. If it comes to that."
Gabriel offers a nod to the polite admission. "I'm not sure we'll have Bart's truck. That's going to be based on what quality shifter they find to take us to Tolkeen. Might not be big enough to take a truck through. But I hope so. Although on the other hand, I don't know how many small traveling groups move around on a nuclear-driven hover vehicle. I'm looking at this as a LRRP, but with people who don't know how to do it. No offense," he winks off. With 'lurp' being the odd sound made to indicate whatever it was that he tried to indicate.
Max looks at Gabe curiously. "What the hell is a lurp? Or did you burp and not excuse yourself?" He asks of the older man. "Oh.. another thing you may or may not find useful.. is I'm a telepath in addition to my fire powers. So even if we lose radio we can still communicate. Food for thought as it were."
"Got it. I had a friend here a few months back who was a telepath. Used it so we could talk quietly. He's.. off somewhere, though. Don't know where he went. Left town with some shady characters, never came back." Gabriel shrugs, unknowing. "As for a lurp, it's an acronym. Not a good one, but it's an acronym. Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol. Small groups of five or six men - or women - sometimes a few more, head out on a mission. Long way from any form of support whatsoever. Have to fend completely for yourself. Wounded? Patch it yourself. Ammunition runs dry? Be 'entrepreneurial' as I like to put it. Sleep where you can, avoid everyone... the key being no support and no contact. Total self-sufficiency." He taps his temple lightly with his pencil. "Unless we end up in that stupid group of thirty-plus, that's what this is."
