Going Corporate (NukaPepsi Quest) [Complete]

[Kelly MacAryn]

The process of entering the city had turned out to be simple enough. The two storm-trooper guards ushered Kelly through the gate from the Nexus with only a brief welcome-to-Coruscant-please-proceed-to-customs-for-processing. After that it had just been a matter of waiting in line to be scanned and ID'd, which had given him time to plan his approach to PepsiCo. He would have to summon himself something nicer to wear, for one.
He'd given the Alan Mayhew alias, making a mental note that he would now have to use it whenever he dealt with Empire officials in any capacity, stated his reason for coming to the city as 'business', and been officially welcomed to Coruscant, Tier One.

[Kelly MacAryn]

Kelly didn't linger for long on Tier One. He didn't like it.

True, he couldn't deny that it was beautiful, nothing less than a work of architectural genius. Everywhere the traveler looked, stretching away to the far horizon, massive, gently sloping metal, glass and plastic towers shone, challenging the sky - and gave the impression they were winning, albeit graciously. Highways and skyways arched between them, and sleek, efficient vehicles flew in tightly controlled, uncluttered traffic patterns. At ground level, greenery was in abundant supply, whether in pots along the walkways and sidewalks, hanging from balconies or in one of the parks he kept walking past. There were museums, entertainment venues, hotels, and some quite appealing-looking restaurants.

To his discerning eye, even the layout was impressive. The color pallet of the place was too uniformly warm and placid not to be deliberate, and no matter what direction he looked, in spite of the all-conquering presence of the towers he couldn't find an angle where he couldn't see something miles in the distance, and didn't have a clear view of the sky. An entire legion of civic-planning savants probably went mad and wept themselves into early graves after construction started on Tier One, knowing they'd never do work this fine again.

No, the problem was with the people. They were plentiful, though remarkably uncrowded, which spoke to the place's sheer size. They seemed happy enough, but they were unusually quiet for a city this large. Nobody was yelling at anyone else. Nobody was making a scene. Nobody was littering, or loitering for long in one place. While these seemed like good things when taken individually, and to a less observant person would have seemed pleasant, to Kelly it added up to a constant, very low-level sense that everyone was walking on eggshells, probably without even entirely realizing it. 

It wasn't a great mystery why. There were armed soldiers everywhere. Storm-troopers walked regular patrols in groups of two or three. They stood guard at the entrances to public buildings, directed street-level traffic and loitered near the parks, talking in hushed tones. It took the traveler a little longer to notice the drones making regular passes overhead, and the tiny camera-bulbs mounted under balconies and awnings, and at every public dataverse terminal. 

This was even worse than his reading had led him to believe - not simply totalitarianism, but a very highly sophisticated and insidious police-state. Unable to stomach the feeling - correct, he knew - that he was being watched, he  took a high-speed elevator to Tier 2 as quickly as possible. 

The second level of Coruscant was almost as beautiful, keeping with Tier One's overall aesthetic, though the sheer sense of scale seemed muted somehow. As he stepped out of the elevator onto a skywalk about halfway up Tier-Two, Kelly exhaled, and then wondered how long he'd been holding his breath. He could see immediately that the military presence here was lighter, and it only took him walking a block to notice that the drone-surveillance was much less frequent. There were still the cameras, though, peering unobtrusively out of the shadows.

Kelly stopped for a moment to look up his location on his wristcom, calling a single holographic dataverse-window and using the address of a nearby commercial bank, nestled into the side of one of massive-towers, as a reference. He searched up a mapping application, and figured out quickly that if he wanted to get to PepsiCo in any decent amount of time, he was going to need a ride. 
The traveler frowned. He could summon a vehicle, but that would still leave the responsibility of navigation on him, and he didn't know the city yet. Better to delegate. He looked up a reputable-looking service, taking a moment to find one that advertised flexible payment options for tourists, and called a taxi. 

It didn't take long for Kelly's ride to arrive. It was sleek and silent and bright yellow, with a hologram on top that read in cheerful bubble-lettering "Tier Two Transport Skycab Synthetic Services." It descended on some kind of antigravity turbothrusters. As he climbed into the back, Kelly tried not to be reminded of a flying electric shaver. 

There was no driver. The entire interior was one big, plush passenger compartment. 

"Hello?" he said.

"Hi!" said the Taxi, its deep male voice full of bubbly enthusiasm. "I am Johan! Today, I am your Taxi!" Every time it spoke, a small LED next to the dome light flickered on and off. 

Robot Taxis? That makes sense, I suppose. More room in the passenger compartment makes for a more comfortable ride, makes for more repeat business.

"Hello Johan," said Kelly, "My name is Alan. Do you know where PepsiCo Headquarters is?" 

"Yes indeed!" said the taxi. "Please, be comfortable! Direct your eyes to the right, for an excellent view of our lovely city!"

The door slid closed behind him, and the enthusiastic taxi rose into the sky, weaving between the towers as it merged into an established sky-lane. Kelly gave only polite attention to the view, turning his focus instead towards summoning, and then changing into, a single-breasted pin-stripe suit. He was interested to notice it took him marginally longer to create the suit than it had the telescope he'd summoned in the Nexus, though nowhere near as long as his Wristcom.

"Johan," he asked, re-tying his ponytail and checking the fit on his jacket, "what methods of payment do you accept?" 

"An excellent question! Imperial currency, whether through digital transfer or in the form of cash, is always accepted! We also have a wide range of payment plans for the out-of-towner! However, as you are a Prime who is new to our lovely city, please enjoy this ride for free, complements of T3S3!" 

Kelly froze, paranoid suspicion his first instinctual reaction to the taxi's unexpected knowledge, but he calmed quickly. He'd been watched literally since he got here. There were dozens of perfectly reasonable explanations and several legitimate reasons for a taxi company to keep records of new arrivals on their patch. No, this wasn't suspicious - just tremendously unsettling. 

"Thank you," said the traveler, sounding every inch the grateful passenger. "I appreciate the courtesy." 

The rest of the trip was brief, and passed in silence save for the muted rush of the wind outside of Johan's synthetic-fiber hull.

According to wordcounter.net

First post: 115 words
Second post: 1053 words

Total so far: 1168 words

[Kelly MacAryn]

As it turned out, the PepsiCo HQ occupied the top one-hundred floors of a seven-hundred-story pale-blue obelisk. It wasn't the largest tower on Tier-Two, but it was still very impressive, and it was the only one with a giant soda-can on the top. 

Concessions had been made to Coruscant's overall civic brand: the HQ's color matched the rest of the building, and the corporate iconography was little more than a watermark two hundred meters across, but that didn't change the fact that the top of the tower was a one-hundred-story blue cylinder with a Pepsi logo stenciled on the side. In Kelly's estimation, it was undeniably a soda-can, and anybody who said otherwise was probably a lawyer. 

There was a four-lane entrance smack in the middle of the pale, wavy stripe that separated the two hemispheres of the Pepsi-globe. Johan broke from the sparse upper-level traffic of the city and plunged into the far left lane, gliding deftly down a twisting corridor and coming to a stop in a broad, ivy-lined interior tunnel. On Kelly's side, just beyond the curb, there was a wide, grassy terrace. A red marble walk bridged it, beyond which stood a pair of sliding, mirrored-glass doors emblazoned with the same familiar red-and-blue logo that adorned the side of the building. They were set deep into the wall, framed by the ivy, and in addition to being reflective, their glass was tinted a dark amber.

"Welcome to PepsiCo HQ!" said Johan. "I hope you have enjoyed your trip with Tier Two Transport Skycab Synthetic Services, Mister Mayhew, and wish you the best of luck with your business!" 

Kelly thanked the taxi and got out, adjusting his tie as he stepped onto the curb. He'd gone with a blue so dark it was almost black. It coordinated with his boots, and set off his eyes to best effect.

The walk to the doors was flanked by carefully manicured topiary. All of the plants were cut in the shape of Pepsi-products. The traveler was impressed in spite of himself - he had had no idea you could trim a bush to look like a bag of Doritos. He crossed at a brisk pace, pausing for a moment at the half-way mark to check his reflection in the doors. 

The suit had turned out well. It emphasized his broad shoulders, impressive height and athletic build. His hair was even behaving for once, probably because of some faint lingering dampness from his trip through the frozen fields. Not a strand out of place. 

Satisfied with his impending first impression, Kelly strode forward, and the doors slid open in front of him with a whoosh of climate-controlled air that smelled of tin and corn-syrup. As he stepped past them, he couldn't help noting the unusual thickness of the panes.

Unless I miss my guess, that's re-enforced glass. Bulletproof at least, and given the tech-level around here it's probably much tougher than that.

Interesting. 

He walked through a short entry-hall with a mosaic floor - the Pepsi logo, of course - before emerging into a large, circular lobby. 

The room was spacious, almost sixty meters across, with shining sliver walls rising up through the center portion of the top half of the HQ, and a floor made of what looked like actual amber with a plastic finish - a combination clearly intended to give the illusion one was truly inside of a Pepsi-can. There was a reception desk opposite the main entrance, a smooth blue semicircle - Pepsi branded, of course - with a tired looking young man in a Pepsi t-shirt sitting behind it at one of several holographic consoles.  On a red marble pedestal in the center of the room was a twelve-foot tall chrome statue of a completely featureless humanoid figure with Pepsi-themed highlights on his torso and legs. The figure had one arm in a golden sling, and one foot in a golden cast. There was a Pepsi-can in his good hand, raised to the heavens in defiance, or possibly just brand-loyalty. 

There was a plaque. It read simply, "Pepsiman: Our Crisp, Refreshing, Flavour Saviour".

That was all. No other people, no elevators. No potted plants. Just lots of chrome, lots of amber, one bored receptionist, an uncomfortable amount of empty space, and the statue. 

Okay... There were four traffic lanes coming in, and only one led here. Multiple entrances for different business, maybe? I guess this is the 'unknown and unaffiliated with Pepsi' desk.

Kelly crossed the lobby, skirted around the statue, and approached the reception desk. At swift walking-pace, it took around half a minute. 

"Welcome to PepsiCo Omniverse Headquarters," said the receptionist, who had straightened up, fixed his hair, put on a suit-jacket and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes in the time it took the traveler to arrive. "How can I help you, sir?" 

Kelly smiled. "My name is Alan Mayhew.  I'm here to see Pepsiman," he said.

The receptionist fiddled with his console, and frowned.  "You don't seem to have an appointment, Mr. Mayhew. Not just anyone can see Pepsiman, so unless you have other business I'm afraid you're going to have to leave."

The traveler's smile flattened out. "I'm here about the industrial counter-intelligence job? The listing said to apply in person." 

The recpetionist jumped, looking embarrassed and hiding it quickly. "Oh! You should have said." He manipulated an icon floating above the desk, and the shining metal of the wall nearby rippled and flowed, revealing an open elevator door. 

"Go on up. It's the top floor, executive suite. I've pre-programmed the elevator, so don't mess with the controls or it'll lock you out." 

"Thank you very much," said Kelly, nodding his acknowledgement and striding into the elevator. 

"Good luck!" called the receptionist, as the doors slid silently shut. 

Kelly waited. Nothing happened. Just when he was starting to wonder if he was stuck in here, lured here and captured for some kind of devious cola-related experimentation, the door slid open again. He hadn't felt the elevator move, but the scene which greeted the traveler now was very different than the lobby he had just left. 

It was shockingly mundane, for one: a well-lit, spacious executive office with plush tan carpeting and mahogany-paneled walls hung with framed pictures of various Pepsi products. There were potted plants in the corners, ficuses and ferns, which lent the place the pleasant scent of chlorophyll. There were chairs, for visitors, and an expensive-looking leather sofa. One wall, opposite the elevator, was composed entirely of a single curved pane of amber-tinted crystal, offering a beautiful panoramic view from on-high of Tier-Two.

And finally, seated at an extravagant wooden desk in front of the window, which must have been cut whole from a section of the trunk of a truly enormous tree, was Pepsiman himself.

The statue in the lobby was only partially accurate. Pepsiman was indeed featureless, with no eyes, or ears, nose or mouth - just a chrome bulb on top of his neck shaped vaguely like a human head. He was truly built like a veritable Adonis, even taller and broader than Kelly, though still within the normal human range rather than the twelve-foot titan depicted in the sculpture. However, this Pepsiman was uninjured, and instead of gadding about in nothing but a Pepsi-logo and the the silvery skin his syrupy gods gave him, with a single red stripe down the middle of his torso and inner thighs, he wore a quite tasteful business suit with matching slacks.

Double breasted tweed. Why do I know so much about men's fashion? 

The traveler ground his teeth.

Focus.

Kelly stepped out of the elevator. Pepsiman rose from his chair and clasped his metallic hands behind his back. 

"Pepsiman?" said Kelly, approaching the desk, "My name is Alan Mayhew. I'm here about the counter-intelligence contract."

The chromed executive didn't say anything, but gestured to a nearby chair, upholstered in brown leather. The traveler sat, steepled his hands in his lap and crossed his legs. 

Suddenly, Pepsiman exploded into action!

He whipped his hands from behind his back, pointing one at Kelly, and a mouth appeared on the formerly featureless metal face, a black oval of seemingly infinite depth. A hissing, bubbling, liquid cacophony filled the air.

"SLUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!"

Kelly sprang to his feet, his vision tunneling as the world slowed down. He juked to one side, out of the perceived line of fire as psychokinetic force rippled through his fingertips. He'd thought this all seemed far too strange, and now -

"Pop!" 

A can of ice-cold Pepsi appeared in Kelly's hand.  Pepsiman's mouth disappeared, and he sat back down.

Kelly stared, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked at the can, which was to all appearances perfectly mundane, then looked at Pepsiman, who gestured, calm once more, at the chair Kelly had just vacated. 

What just happened?

Thoroughly confused, and determined not to let it show, the traveler sat. Pepsiman folded his hands on the desk, evidently waiting for something. He had yet to say a single word. Cautiously, Kelly popped the tab, and took a drink. It was crisp and refreshing. He couldn't remember ever having had a better soda, though in his case that meant quite literally nothing. 

Roll with it.

"Thank you," he said, "it's delicious." Pepsiman shrugged, conveying satisfaction with a job well done.

"Now, about that job?"

Pepsiman nodded, and  reached under his desk. There was the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He brought out a tan file-folder with a pen clipped to the jacket and slid it across to Kelly, who put down his Pepsi and opened it. It was a non-disclosure agreement. 

Kelly read the document carefully.

'...Bounty upon signatory's life and/or banishment to be posted through corporate and Imperial channels if PepsiCo ™ proprietary information, including the contents of any and all discussion with Pepsiman ™ is released by signatory without prior PepsiCo approval and written consent of legal PepsiCo representative'? That seems harsh, but these people obviously take their cola very seriously... 

He signed Alan Mayhew's name, and placed the document back in the folder. Then he finished his Pepsi, placing the empty can on the arm of his chair. Pepsiman returned the folder to the drawer, and replaced it with another, slightly thicker folder marked 'Secret'. Kelly picked up the folder, and began to read. 

The folder contained information on 'Project NukaPepsi'. The abstract described it as "a revolutionary effort to combine the crisp, refreshing taste of Pepsi Cola with the unlimited power of the sun!"

Kelly looked up at Pepsiman, but saw nothing in that chrome face except for his own slightly incredulous reflection. He turned his eyes back to the folder kept reading.

Somehow, PepsiCo food-physicists had successfully developed a formula for NukaPepsi that tested amazingly well with focus-groups, outperforming normal Pepsi by almost two-hundred percent. It was also superior to early NukaPepsi prototypes in that it didn't immediately burn through its container, and could actually be consumed by a secondary without causing long-term health issues, so long as they read the warning label and took the anti-radiation drugs that came packaged with every can. PepsiCo had already begun an aggressive ad campaign hyping their new mystery-product, and their stock-price was through the roof on projected sales alone.

Kelly skimmed over several pages of chemical formulas and isotopic breakdowns, mildly fascinated by the bizarre chemistry, until he reached a stack of internal memos bordered by legalese to the effect of 'if you talk about this, we own your soul'.

Aha... So that's what this is about!

PepsiCo had been robbed. An unknown competitor had hired a group of mercenaries to infiltrate the NukaPepsi labs. They'd wiped the servers, killed the head of the project plus the two other leading scientists, and made off with thirteen liters of actual NukaPepsi. However, apparently their lack of subtlety had scared off their employer, because word had reached PepsiCo's corporate intelligence division that the thieves were putting the word out on the black market down on Tier-Four, trying to find a new buyer for their ill-gotten soft-drink. 

Kelly almost wondered why nobody had notified the authorities, but then he remembered the stock-projections. 

If word of this spreads, it will crater their price-per-share. No wonder they're playing it so close to the vest - but this is clearly time sensitive. They practically had to contract out because these people have been in their servers - if the thieves have any brains at all they'll be checking potential buyers against a roster of known PepsiCo employees... but why pay peanuts for something so important?

The traveler turned the last page of the folder, and he understood. They weren't paying peanuts after all. Some of what he'd just gone through must have been a test, including his willingness to respond to the ad in the first place.  

Taped in the back of the folder, on a page marked "In Return for Justice", was a red-white-and-blue chip-ID card. It had a space for a photo and no name - yet. The card read, "PepsiCo VIP: Executive Access" in serious-looking black letters. Provided this was what it looked like, it was far more valuable to Kelly than mere currency.

They ARE serious about this.

Kelly looked up at his prospective employer. The amber light streaming in the window reflected off Pepsiman's gleaming, bulbous head as he raised a tightly clenched fist and stared facelessly into Kelly's eyes. Tears of dark amber liquid streamed down his shiny cheeks.  It was remarkable how much hot-blooded yen for thirst-quenching Justice the superhero-turned-executive managed to project without any words or actual facial features being involved.

Now the strange job listing made sense. Pepsiman didn't want to hire a corporate mercenary - he had been deeply, personally wounded by this crime, and wanted someone who was willing to punish these soda-thieves for Justice, and for crisp, refreshing Pepsi.To such a paragon, who would come here with ideals so like his own, he would even offer access to his carbonated corporate empire.

Kelly closed the folder, nodded, and slid it back across the desk. The truth, was, he wasn't the man Pepsiman was looking for - he didn't feel a burning passion for Pepsi in his heart, and he knew his views on Justice were probably less black and white than those of a man who wore a symbol on his chest. Also, he thought the idea of NukaPepsi was frankly insane. These thieves, however, whoever they were, appeared to be just the right mixture of competent and incompetent to cause a lot of damage. They needed to be taken out of circulation, and the prospect of access to conglomerate-level information-gathering resources was far too good to pass up. 

Pepsiman put the folder away, and slid Kelly a stack of paper on corporate letterhead. It was the actual legal agreement to do the work, spelling the relationship out between Kelly and PepsiCo, and the conditions by which both sides would abide. The traveler read it through twice. 

... Payment upon completion ... VIP access in perpetuity barring malicious abuse of said access harming interests of PepsiCo, image of PepsiCo, or PepsiCo personnel... PepsiCo will cover all legal costs related to fulfillment of contract provided below conditions are met...

... no collateral damage... no drinking Coca-Cola products? ... return of PepsiCo property...Administer Justice...

Dead or Alive.

This is a bounty-hunting contract. Fine. These people need taking down. I can live with that.

Kelly signed, giving Alan Mayhew's agreement to abide by the contract's terms. Pepsiman countersigned. 

"I'll need all the additional information you have on the robbery," Kelly said, standing,  "and whatever you've got on the thieves' current whereabouts. " 

Pepsiman nodded emphatically, walked around to the front of the desk to shake his hand, and gave him a Pepsi.

Third Post: 2621 words according to Wordcounter.net

3789 words total so far

Meet with Pepsiman at PepsiCo HQ on Tier 2 (fullfilled)

[Kelly MacAryn]

The available data on both the robbery and the thieves was sparse, but it was enough to be getting on with. Pepsiman provided it in the form of a code-locked briefcase, containing both electronic and hard-copy information. There was a sticky note on the front, with a five-digit code on it. After using it to open the case, in order to  give the index of contents a cursory glance and check that everything was present, Kelly memorized the code. He then closed the case and tore the sticky-note into pieces, which he deposited into a recycling bin beside Pepsiman's desk, along with his empty soda-cans. Pepsiman clapped Kelly on the back, then ushered him back into the elevator, briefcase in tow. As the doors slid closed once more, the Chromed Cola Crusader flashed the traveler a thumbs-up and uttered the only actual words he'd spoken throughout the entire meeting:

"Best Luck!"  

His voice was deep and gravely, and he had a thick accent. 
 
'Bestoh Ruck?' 

Japanese, maybe? 

Huh.

Apparently I know what 'Japan' is. And earlier, I recognized Pepsi. There's the skeleton of more information here - some actual detailed background. I'll have to try to chase it down once this job is done. 

The traveler shook his head, returning to the task at hand. He manipulated a touch-screen panel on the wall for an embarrassingly long time before figuring out the elevator was actually voice-controlled when accessing the non-restricted floors. 

He cleared his throat, hoping, likely in vain, that nobody had seen that. "The Lobby, Please." 

A few moments later the door opened - onto a spacious, black-tiled general lobby at the ground floor of the kilometer-high tower. The pervasive smell of corn-syrup was replaced by that of recirculated air and floor-wax. It had taken the exact same amount of time as the ride to the top floor of the PepsiCo HQ, and just like before, Kelly hadn't felt the elevator move. 

It must have inertial dampeners on the interior... impressive. 

Before going about his business, Kelly spent a couple of minutes with his Dataverse link confirming his understanding of Empire currency. It turned out the entire Imperial financial system was a roundabout way of trading Omnilium, thanks to the twin wonders of Summoning and Extraction. That meant he could summon as many Imperial Credits as he liked with no legal repercussions - he'd only be adding value to the market. 

He smiled. It also meant he could break down any large stacks of cash he received into something far more useful, and still get them back if he really needed them. 

Armed with a newfound sense of financial security, Kelly called another taxi and went outside to meet it.  As he climbed into the back of his ride, sinking once again into slightly overstuffed leather seats, Kelly was greeted by a familiar voice. 


"Hello Mr. Mayhew! It is still Johan. I am your taxi again!"

"Hello again Johan," he said. "I'm not quite sure where I'm going yet, so bear with me for a moment. Does T3S3 offer a privacy guarantee?" 

"Yes sir! For just five percent added to your fare, you can purchase our business-traveler's privacy package! For just this small additional fee, any and all information related to private business activities will not be retained in my memory!" 

Kelly nodded. He wasn't sure he trusted a guarantee like that in a place like Coruscant, but he could also see how, precisely because of the invasive nature of the upper tiers, it would be a valuable service. All told, he would be willing to put money on there being government bugs in all the taxis, probably outside the control of the vehicles' AI. 

But I can't be too good at this right off the bat, can I? The Empire might think I'm a spy, and I'd rather not be questioned if I can avoid it. 

 "Thank you," he said.  "I'll take it. The contents of the briefcase I'm about to open and any electronic data displayed during this trip are property of PepsiCo, and therefor private. Now please, take me up to the top of the city and circle for a while." 

Johan took off, rising on silent engines, and Kelly keyed in the combination to open the case. 

There was only a small amount of additional information on the heist; a holo-cube containing a single twenty-second video-clip from the NukaPepsi lab that had survived in a shielded data-buffer, and still frame enhanced images of the thieves.

There were five of them: two stout men, one taller fellow, one who was more average, and one wiry woman. All were young, all looked fit, with the focused, hunted look about the eyes of professional paranoids who had been working too long. In the video they moved with discipline, not wasting any time as they broke into the server room and fried it with some kind of anti-tech grenade, ending the clip in a storm of static. They all wore black balaclavas and carried tactical shotguns. Their biometrics weren't on file anywhere, or if they were it was so far under the great Imperial thumb that PepsiCo didn't dare pry, so the thieves were assumed to be secondaries who had been summoned within the city and immediately gone underground. None had yet been identified by name. 

Kelly leaned back in his seat for a moment and listened to the murmur of the wind outside, letting his thoughts spin. There'd been a forensic play-by-play of the robbery in the materials he'd been shown earlier. The thinking was that they hadn't been intending to kill the scientists, just kidnap them, but the labcoats had resisted and one of the thieves had lost his temper. 

The traveler suspected the tall one for that - he didn't move quite like the others. He was twitchier. Filing that away for later use, Kelly turned his attention back to his homework.  

There was no solid information on their location - only that they had gone to ground on Tier-Four, and were moving within the underworld there, trying to offload their pilfered Pepsi product.  It wasn't all bad news, however: PepsiCo intelligence had managed to work up one solid lead, and that was where Kelly came in. As he wasn't a known affiliate of Pepsi, Kelly could pose as a buyer, and set up a meeting through the go-between handling the sale, who had been identified. The details, however, and the remaining legwork, were on him.

Kelly looked out the window. Tier-Two stretched out below him, towers gleaming in the light of an artificial sun, lesser structures little more than a distant, textured tracework.

There are several ways I could play this. All of them are risky, though. 

He smiled, put the various files and the holocube away, and closed the briefcase.

"Johan," he said,  "Please, take me to a turbo lift - preferably one that goes straight to the fourth Tier."

[Kelly MacAryn]

Nearly forgot!

According to wordcounter.net:
Fourth Post: 1154 words.

4943 words so far.

Meet With Pepsiman at PepsiCo HQ on Tier-2 (Accomplished)

[Kelly MacAryn]

Tier Four was a dramatic change. 

Kelly had stepped into the high-speed elevator on Tier-Two, where it was late afternoon. He'd had to change elevators at Tier-Three, and go through a security checkpoint manned by two storm-troopers with a hand-held scanner. It had been daylight there too, and while not quite as impressive as the first two tiers, it had still been in line with their general aesthetic. 


Not so on Tier-Four. The traveler stepped out of the turbo-lift and into a vibrant, roaring neon midnight. 

Dark obelisks and vaguely pyramidal towers butted up against the sable-black artificial sky, wrapped in electric billboards. Far from graceful slopes and a spacious aesthetic, these were blackened, kilometer-high monoliths, their no-nonsense lines and severe curves highlighted by brightly lit piping in every conceivable eye-stabbing shade. Instead of challenging the sky, they dominated it, and called it filthy names. The skyline here felt threatening and close, as though a mob of looming titans cloaked in gaudy advertisements was trying to press-gang you into buying weapons, and condoms, and beer, and toothpaste, and television, and Dataverse access, and life-insurance, and real-estate, and yes, Pepsi.

Weaving through this electric jungle, the aerial traffic was fast, loud, and furious, little more than ranks of shadows flashing past the neon lights. Sleek, dangerous-looking sport-flyers, hover-bikes, and mean-looking beaters driven by millionaires, miscreants and maniacs screamed past a hundred stories up, powered by turbojet fans and old, inefficient vector-impulsors glowing with cherenkov radiation.

At ground level, the windy, narrow avenues snaked between the malls and the housing projects, the casinos and betting parlors and bars, and the labyrinthine tower-foundations. They were crowded with people of every size, color, and species, and lined with stalls draped in charms, knicknacks and glowing chemical tubes, where street-level hucksters hawked their wares. The Imperial presence was light, the storm-troopers as lost in the crowd as everyone else, and the air smelled of unwashed bodies, desperation, and frantic, electric hope - the kind that said yes, you could buy happiness, but only if you bought everything else first. 

If the other Tiers were imitations of Tier-One, then this was its dark reflection.

Drifting through a sea of moving bodies, Kelly loosened his tie. He felt light-headed, and he was fairly sure it wasn't the crowd. 

Not now... 

Fortunately, it passed quickly, the wave of devastating fatigue he'd been expecting failed to materialize - but even so, he felt different. The buzzing under his skin, which he'd grown accustomed to in the - had it only been nine hours? - since he'd left the frozen fields, had abruptly changed to more of a soothing hum. The power was still there, the forces at his command didn't feel like they'd changed in magnitude, and he was still stuck with his basic, rinky-dink human senses. Now though, his psychokinetic potential felt more controlled, more responsive. 

Still no extrasensory haptic feedback. I can feel my own body though.

Pushing through the crowd, he smiled, and he shifted his mindset just a little bit. 

"Sussurusshhh...." 

It wasn't exactly a grand explosion of otherworldly power - more like a strong breeze. But oh, the difference it made! Kelly could feel the sudden tension in his body, the responsiveness, the solidity, the sheer force! His clothes and hair whip-cracked as he strode through the crowd, blown by a wind that touched nobody else. He felt stronger than any human being, tough as a block of concrete and probably fast enough that it wouldn't even be frustrating if he had to fight. Even the power itself felt stronger as it washed through him like the waters of a cool stream...

Somatic vector overlay - a psychokinetic enhancement of my own physical form.... I think I've done this before.

It was tiring though. Even though the overlay made him much more durable, the physical stress on his body was tremendous. 

He turned it off - no use wearing himself out sooner than necessary. 

Kelly looked around, suddenly self-conscious. He wasn't the only Prime, after all. Even though the surveillance on this level seemed practically non-existent, with this many people around, there was probably somebody nearby who'd been able to feel that. Nobody was looking his way, but that didn't necessarily meant anything. 

I don't want to draw attention to myself here. I have a job to do.

Doing his best to get lost in the crowd, Kelly hurried on his way. 

731 words according to wordcounter.net

5674 words total. Minimum word-count reached!

Meet with Pepsiman at PepsiCo HQ on Tier-2 (accomplished)
Travel to Tier 4 (Accomplished)

[Kelly MacAryn]

According to PepsiCo's background intelligence, the black-market intermediary fronting the illicit NukaPepsi sale was a lizard-man secondary named, appropriately, Bubbles. He looked like a giant, bipedal gecko, liked leather, gambling, and anything that smelled like money, and kept his 'office' on the top floor of an arcade in the sub-basement commercial zone of one of the larger towers. It took nearly five hours to get there on foot, including twenty-minutes time-out in a vacant tenement plastered over with animated billboards to summon some surveillance equipment, which he concealed in his jacket-pockets and his briefcase. Kelly navigated with the help of his Dataverse link, wending his way through unmarked pedestrian avenues, dipping into subterranean tunnels fronting every conceivable variety of shop, and crossing ground-level streams of vehicle-traffic on elevated walkways, but the traveler considered it worth the effort. Tier-Four was a lot more honest than the first three Tiers, wearing its darkness on its sleeve rather than hiding behind a utopian mask, and the street-level experience was an important part of understanding it.

Also, it gave him time to think.

He was dressed for the part of an acquisitions agent from a major conglomerate, and it was a part he could play, but it was going to be tricky. Through Bubbles, he had to discover the thieves' location, and it had to be done without the intermediary warning them off after he left.

He'd already decided he wasn't going to use threats - Kelly had no reputation to bank on, and even if the traveler did get the location out of the lizard-man that way, there was no way to guarantee that the information would turn out to be reliable. No, there had to be a genuine incentive! Fortunately, there was nothing in Bubbles' profile to indicate he was motivated by anything except greed. The promise of fat stacks of Imperial currency would probably be enough, as long as the scenario Kelly presented was believable.

He had it all figured out - the traveler would present himself as the agent of a rival Cola company, wanting to purchase the pilfered Pepsi. He would set up the sale for three days from now, and offer Bubbles an additional ten percent of the purchase price, negotiable up to thirteen percent, if he ensured that the sellers were also present at the exchange. The reason would be that Kelly's mysterious employer had need of their talents and wanted to negotiate a contract after business was concluded. Considering that the thieves would probably want to see to it in person that the sale went smoothly anyway, to Bubbles this would seem like free money - almost impossible to pass up.

While Kelly was in Bubble's office he'd use one of the audio/EM sniffers he'd made to bug the place, and after he'd arranged things he'd go gather information in the surrounding neighborhood, waiting for an opportunity and looking for a break. Ambushing the thieves at the exchange would be the backup plan: ideally, he'd be able to get the drop on them even earlier.



The approach went well enough. The Bubble's Arcade opened directly off of a pedestrian thoroughfare full of wall-to-wall food-stalls, and the air smelled like salt, grease, and fish, with just a hint of motor oil. Inside, it seemed like all the lights of Tier-4 had gathered in one place. There were pinball machines, video-cabinets, optical shooting ranges, virtual-reality headsets and even a bank of six full sensory-immersion tanks, nine feet high and full of bubbling green liquid. All of it was covered in minty blue-and-green neon and dully yellow-glowing marquees with dynamic anime-style art, featuring chesty women, dangerous-looking beast and improbably proportioned men. You couldn't walk two feet without something beeping, flashing, or bubbling at you, or a synthesized voice demanding that you test your might!

The traveler ignored all of it. He walked the aisles, maneuvering deftly through the motley assortment of VR-junkies, game-addicts, hotshots, punks, children and weekend escapists. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. Tucked away behind the VR tanks was a narrow stairway with a six-limbed man standing next to it, both sets of rippling arms crossed over his chest. He obviously worked out, and was even taller than Kelly. He had a single eye in the middle of his forehead, and wore a white muscle-tee that read 'staff' on the front. There was an intercom on the wall beside him.

The bouncer stopped Kelly with a single outstretched hand.

"Employees only, friend."

Kelly adjusted his tie, tightened his grip on his briefcase, and put his hand in his pocket, staring at a spot just behind the bouncer's right ear.

Time to find out who Alan Mayhew is when he's working.

"I'm here to see Bubbles," he said, "About his other business. I'm a buyer." The bouncer looked him up and down, rumbling "You EPD?"

Kelly snorted, and frowned just a fraction. "Please. I work for a living."

The bouncer hesitated, then grinned, hitting a button on the intercom. "Nice. Leave your jacket and your briefcase with me and you can go on up."

Crap.

Kelly didn't say anything for several moments, studying the four-armed mass of muscles in front of him, before coming to a decision.
He palmed one of the tiny, semi-transparent listening devices in his pocket, then put down his briefcase and took off his jacket. The bouncer also made him turn out his pants pockets, and patted him down before sending him upstairs. After ascending two extremely narrow flights of run-down stairwell, glowing under black-light, Kelly was confronted with a scratched wooden door, painted black, or possibly red. There was also another four-armed staffer, glowing in dark neon colors, who opened it.

Bubble's office was small, also black-lit, and wallpapered in concert-posters. Acts such as Five Day Creation, Motorface, The Thin Lizards and Metal Trilby Warfare (LIVE!) wailed on every available surface. There was a massive bank of humming servers pressed up against one wall, as well as one ancient filing-cabinet, and in the middle of the room, a chrome-steel desk with a built-in console. There was only one chair, and it was occupied.

Sitting behind the desk was bubbles, a man-sized lizard dressed in full biker-leathers.

"So who the fuck are you supposed to be, you hawk-faced bastard, and why shouldn't I have my boys throw you in one of the tanks?" he hissed.

"My name," said Kelly, putting his hand - and the bug - on the door-frame as he walked in, "Is Allen Mayhew. I'm here on behalf of my employer to arrange the purchase of some goods you're representing."

"Never heard of ya," said Bubbles. The traveler favored him with a tight smile. "You wouldn't have, no. However, it was you that put the word out that there was a sample of a certain company's new mystery product available, yes?"

"Mighta been," said Bubbles, scratching at a patch of peeling skin under one bulbous yellow eye, "What's it to ya?"

"Twenty milllion," said Kelly, "Plus a ten percent commission if the sellers are present at the exchange -  they're being considered for a contract."

"Ten percent, you say? Of Twenty million?" said Bubbles, sitting up and blinking - twice in each eye, vertically and horizontal.

It was then that things stopped going according to plan.

Bubbles' desk console buzzed, and he hit a button. "Charlie, what the fuck? I am in a meeting!"

The response he got was clearly not what he expected.

"Charlie and his pal have gone out, 'cause they knows what's good for 'em. Unlike you, Bubbles, you green shit! You said you'd have a buyer by now! We're coming up there, and you are either going to show us a path to financial solvency, or we are going to feed you your stupid leather outfit!"

The intercom cut out.

Bubbles sat frozen for a moment, as the sound of boots on the stairs  grew louder.

"And that was?" asked Kelly.

"The Sellers," said Bubbles meekly, as a vision of a ten percent commission withered and died before his reptilian eyes.

according to wordcounter.net


Post 6: 1341 words.

7015 words total.

Meet with Pepsiman at PepsiCo HQ on Tier-2 (accomplished)

Travel to Tier 4 (Accomplished)

Find the thieves (accomplished)

[Kelly MacAryn]

Only four of the five soda-thieves were present: the two stout men, who turned out to be bald, pug-faced, and practically identical, the average-looking fellow, who was even more average looking without a mask on, and the woman, who was red-haired with quite delicate features. All four wore heavy leather coats, and boots almost as intimidating as Kelly's. 

They're almost certainly armed under those coats... 

Fortunately, after a frantic few moments of shouting and confused explanation, they were positively thrilled to hear that Kelly was a potential buyer, and even more thrilled to hear he was interested in hiring them. The thieves hardly even hesitated before agreeing to let him inspect the merchandise. Bubbles made noises about his commission as they left, but nobody was paying attention to him anymore. The four, plus Kelly, went back down the stairs, the traveler retrieving his jacket and briefcase on the way out. 

This development made him very nervous - and maybe just a little disappointed. It was all going far too smoothly. 

As the four led him back into the maze of the Tier-Four underground, they braced him for details about the purchase. 

"Twenty million, you say?" said the redhead, after Kelly named his bid. Hers was the voice he'd heard on the intercom, surprisingly rough for a woman. "Not bad. We'll have to discuss it of course. Who'd you say you was representing again?"

"I didn't," said Kelly. "My employers prefer to remain anonymous. As professionals, I'm sure you understand." 

The woman nodded, giving him a fierce smile. "Of course."

The traveler kept his face carefully blank, standing in the middle of the group as they pressed through the crowd. Neon flickered from store-fronts and billboards, lighting all of them in koleidoscope colors.

The extremely average one spoke up next.

"What I'm wondering about," he said, "is the job. What's involved? Who's the target? And what does it pay?" 

All four thieves nodded their agreement, and the two pug-faced men made encouraging sounds, the first words they'd spoken since Kelly had seen them. 

The traveler talked them in circles for the next twenty minutes. Yes, twenty-million. No, the price wasn't negotiable. No, he couldn't tell them about the job until he knew for certain he was going to hire them. No, not yet - he'd know when he'd seen their entire team, and confirmed they had the merchandise. 

They were impressed that he knew there were more of them. It seemed to make them stand a little straighter, thinking that they'd been noticed. Having spent a little bit of time around them, Kelly couldn't help but notice that in spite of their swagger, and the easy grace of their movements, there was a certain lack of confidence in all four.  

They've never done this before. Ex-soldiers, not used to running a business? Or maybe just some Prime's enforcers, dreamed up out of nothing and left to rot?

When they reached their destination, Kelly felt a little bit stupid. It was an abandoned block of ground-level storage-lockers, nestled at the end of a short tunnel underneath a ground-level traffic exchange. Its marquee had gone dark, neon tubing stripped away, leaving only a plastic backboard with metal fittings in the vague shape of words. Kelly had walked right past it on his way to Bubbles' Arcade. 

"This way," said the redhead, having to yell to be heard over the roar of traffic, leading Kelly past rows of rusted roll-away garage doors set into low, concrete buildings with numbers spray-painted on them in green, florescent paint. The only light down here was reflected off the towers in the distance, spots of glowing rainbow in puddles of oil and filthy water, but the sheer volume of light pollution meant that vision posed no problem. In comparison to the rest of the fourth tier, it was remarkably subdued. 

Kelly adjusted his tie and frowned. It seemed like the kind of thing Alan Mayhew would do. He noticed that the other three had spread out behind him as they walked. 

Habit? Or are they boxing me in? 

It didn't take long before they stopped in front of one of the lockers - number 036-6. The redhead pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door, rolling it back easily with one hand.

She's strong. Presumably they all are.

Inside was a make-shift living-quarters with three bunk-beds, a work-bench covered in guns and tactical gear, and a computer-setup that looked like it was cobbled together from nine or ten different machines. In one corner there was a sofa with a broken spine, facing and a single gray plastic shipping crate about a meter square - the kind with a pressure-seal and handles on each side. A dehumidifier hummed beside it. The place smelled of cheap coffee, axel-grease and burnt electronics. 

There was a tall man in black fatigues on the sofa. He had a shotgun, scraggly hair, and three-day-stubble, and his eyes were watery and wild, moving about the room slightly too fast. 

That's five. I've got to do this fast. 

The redhead put a hand on his shoulder, leading him towards the couch. The other three filed past them, the two stout ones on Kelly's left and the average one beside the woman on his right. 

Except for the one on the couch, none of them were looking at Kelly. This was the moment - talk or fight. Since taking the contract he'd been assuming this would have to be a violent takedown, but now he had a suspicion it didn't have to be.

Only there was the twitchy one on the couch with the shotgun...


Pausing only a moment to form a plan, the traveler made his move. 

Post 7: 947 words according to wordcounter.net

 7962 words total. 

Meet with Pepsiman at PepsiCo HQ on Tier-2 (accomplished)

Travel to Tier 4 (Accomplished)

Find the thieves (accomplished)

Deal with the thieves - FIGHT BEGIN!

[Kelly MacAryn]

The sad fact was, if Kelly had been planning to talk this out, he would have had to set it up differently. As much as he'd prefer not to fight, there was little way around it at this point: He'd offered them twenty-million credits that didn't exist. No matter what he said now, that would be a rather large sticking point in the negotiations - the kind that got smart-ass corporate contractors shot. 

Which meant that the biggest concern was Twitchy.

Kelly threw the briefcase at him, winging it underhand in a straight line as the traveler shifted his neural processing speed into a high gear. The shotgun-blast went off in slow-motion, blowing the case to pieces with a deafening crash!  Shocked expressions flowed like syrup over the faces of the other four thieves as they began to react, but before the redheaded woman could pull away from him, the traveler had already reached over his shoulder grabbed her by the wrist.   

The pace of events snapped back, and Kelly powered up, the pressure and tension of the vector-sketch overlay hitting him like an epiphany or a stiff drink. He used his own collarbone as a fulcrum to break the woman's elbow, eliciting a shocked scream of pain. One of the pug-faced men tried to interfere, and received a swift side-kick in the hip for his trouble, the metal heel of Kelly's hob-nail boot cracking the bone and dropping him in his tracks. The twitchy one surged to his feet and fired again, but the traveler swung the redhead towards the couch, a two-handed grip on her ruined arm giving him all the control he needed - just in time to intercept the shotgun-blast. It didn't blow her apart like it had the case, but she collapsed with a surprised crimson cough, leather coat flapping as she spun to the floor amidst the echo of the shot.

The rhythm of events came to a pause. Kelly exhaled, setting his guard. The lull only lasted a fraction of a second before their six-way run-away train of violence crested the rise and sent them all plunging into another screaming valley.

The pugs, both the one Kelly had crippled and the one who was still standing, pulled shotguns out of their coats - though the one on the floor was waving his all over the place, woozy from shock. Meanwhile, Mr. Average produced a pair of wickedly curved knives and moved in, making quick, expert slashes at the traveler's face and arms.

Kelly deflected rapidly, taking several deep cuts on the thin flesh over the bones of his forearms, sidestepped, ripped off his jacket, wrapped it around the man's hands, and punched him in the jaw so hard that his mandible ended up inside his ear.

As soon as their comrade went down, the remaining three thieves fired, a series of echoing booms, deafening in the confined space. Kelly was already accelerating, pushing through the strain as the world slowed down around him. He wove towards the pugs, the one he'd dropped firing wildly from where he'd fallen and the other crouching on one knee. 

Between them and twitchy, it was a cross-fire. Kelly was good, but he'd overplayed his hand, and now he was paying for it. The first volley ripped his shirt to tatters, shredded his trousers and the skin underneath, punching tightly clumped holes in his stomach and thighs, lodging in psychokineticaly fortified muscle. 

Then he was on them. 

As events caught up with him, Kelly sidestepped the uninjured one, kicking the stocky thief in the side of his head as the man tried to roll away, sending him sprawling across the concrete floor. 

The traveler's power-up failed. His joints were threatening to pop, his muscles were screaming at him, and he just couldn't sustain it any longer. He felt the strength leaving him, and he dove for the work-bench, the nearest solid piece of cover.

Twitchy shot him in the ribs.  

Flesh tore, bone exploded, and Kelly went down sprawling!

To his mild surprise, he was tempted to get up again. There was a hole in his side the size of a melon oozing purple goo, but while the pain was intense, it was more of an academic fact than an all-consuming neuro-physical scream. He wasn't even bleeding as much as he thought he probably should be. 

The traveler lay still. The blast had shredded his diaphragm, which meant holding his breath wasn't an issue, but it just didn't seem urgent. His thoughts were calm and clear, no hint of shock or detachment, and he had a plan.  

Twitchy waited a moment, watching Kelly for any sign of movement, then shouldered his weapon and began to check on his allies, retrieving a first-aid kit from a chest at the base of one of the beds. 

Kelly waited for nearly fifteen minutes while the tall, rheumy-eyed thief tended to his comrades, biding his time until the stocky, pug-faced men got their turn. Then he charged a psychokinetic force-bolt, counting to two while the power coalesced in his hand, a tennis-ball sized fish-eye distortion in the world.

The blast caught twitchy in the middle of his chest as he bent over the pug-face with the broken hip, shattering his sternum with a crunch like a giant stomping on a pile of glass bottles. He hit the floor like a sack full of sand. 

Kelly grabbed onto the work-bench with one hand, using the other to hold his organs inside his body as he pulled himself to his feet. His clothes hung in tatters, barely preserving his modesty. His arms were cut, wounds crusted with thick purple ichor, and dozens of lesser puncture-wounds oozed violet fluid. The air was hazy and smelled like gunpowder, and the sticky, copper scent of blood. The roar of the traffic exchange overhead, so deafening when he'd arrived, seemed quiet after the sound of gunfire. 

He surveyed the carnage. All thieves were down, either sedated or crippled - the redhead might be dead, although if she was wearing a vest under her coat it was possible she'd survive yet. 

Mentally, the traveler was exhausted. He'd accelerated twice in under a minute, and between that, the force-bolt and the vector-sketch, he'd reached his limit. Physically, he felt like he'd been run over by a freight train - a stupid freight train. 

"Well," he whispered bitterly, barely able to move any air through his lungs, "I could have done that like I knew what I was doing, but I guess this works too." 

It had fallen apart when he'd let them pull the shotguns. He should have addressed the pugs as soon as the redhead went down, used them to get close to Twitchy. He'd known they must have been armed, hadn't he? And they were closer together - he could have gotten them both with little effort, used one as a shield...  

But he'd let himself get distracted by the knives. Something about blades made him more nervous than guns. 

I wonder where THAT comes from? 

Kelly staggered over to the couch, flopping down in the spot where Twitchy had been sitting. From here, he could see that the big crate, positioned like a coffee-table, had the words, "PROPERTY OF PEPSICO" stenciled on one side. 

In spite of his frustration, Kelly permitted himself a smile. He activated his dataverse link and called up a communications window, remembering Pepsiman's office contact info off the letterhead of the paperwork he'd signed.  

He had some calls to make. 

Post 8: 1246 words according to wordcounter.net

Final word-count: 9212/5000 words minimum. Under 10000 word maximum (barely! )

Meet with Pepsiman at PepsiCo HQ on Tier-2 (Accomplished)

Travel to Tier 4 (Accomplished)

Find the thieves (Accomplished)

Deal with the thieves - (Accomplished)

No collateral Damage (Accomplished)

All requirements cleared! Cue Theme!