08-11-2017, 11:12 PM
Eric Clapton (no relation), creater of the most modern Imperial Survelliance system, is reclining in his hoverchair in his mansion in Tier 2, sipping scotch and watching several floating screens at once.
Many of the screens show the most mundane things; empty streets or apartments. Some of them show people having sex. Some of them show crimes being committed.
One of them, a new hyper accurate x-ray echolocation heat sensing camera, is positioned directly in front of Eric’s massive driveway, and it is this camera that has his attention. In this camera, he can distinctly see five individuals, and a bear, packed into a large white van. After about twenty minutes, a strange black and white duo emerge. They are holding vaccums and smiling brightly as they push open Eric’s electronically locked gate with superhuman force and begin walking up his driveway.
He watches them step up to his doorbell, creepy eager smiles on their faces, and watches his butler answer the door, and then close it.
He watches his butler on the way up to his room on the third floor. He watches the butler knock on his door.
“Come in,” Eric calls, a friendly and youthful tone to his voice, despite his greying hair.
The butler enters. “Sir,” he says in a voice dry enough to parch the voices of other butlers. “There are criminals at your doorstep again. These ones claim to be selling vaccum cleaners. Shall I invite them to dinner?”
“Yes, please, Mortimer,” Eric says offhandedly, his eyes on his screens. “I’ll be down shortly.”
“Ineeeeeeeed,” Mortimer says, as he bows so low his stupid mustache touches the floor, and exits.
Eric watches Mortimer descend to the dining room and invite his excited guests inside.
After a moment, he turns his hoverchair around and glides after his butler.
***
Many of the screens show the most mundane things; empty streets or apartments. Some of them show people having sex. Some of them show crimes being committed.
One of them, a new hyper accurate x-ray echolocation heat sensing camera, is positioned directly in front of Eric’s massive driveway, and it is this camera that has his attention. In this camera, he can distinctly see five individuals, and a bear, packed into a large white van. After about twenty minutes, a strange black and white duo emerge. They are holding vaccums and smiling brightly as they push open Eric’s electronically locked gate with superhuman force and begin walking up his driveway.
He watches them step up to his doorbell, creepy eager smiles on their faces, and watches his butler answer the door, and then close it.
He watches his butler on the way up to his room on the third floor. He watches the butler knock on his door.
“Come in,” Eric calls, a friendly and youthful tone to his voice, despite his greying hair.
The butler enters. “Sir,” he says in a voice dry enough to parch the voices of other butlers. “There are criminals at your doorstep again. These ones claim to be selling vaccum cleaners. Shall I invite them to dinner?”
“Yes, please, Mortimer,” Eric says offhandedly, his eyes on his screens. “I’ll be down shortly.”
“Ineeeeeeeed,” Mortimer says, as he bows so low his stupid mustache touches the floor, and exits.
Eric watches Mortimer descend to the dining room and invite his excited guests inside.
After a moment, he turns his hoverchair around and glides after his butler.
***
![[Image: V4Dvvfy.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/V4Dvvfy.gif)