Act 1-2: Roger the Negotiator

[Roger Smith]

Eventually, the drive came to an end. Roger was glad enough that it did. All this introspection was starting to get to him.

He parked and exited the Griffon after shutting it off, taking a moment to adjust his tie before shutting the door and pocketing the keys. Hands in his pockets, he strode around the car toward the building, looking up at it. It seemed unassuming enough, but there was... There was something about it. Something which tugged at his memories from the time he had first joined the Military Police. If he'd had any money on his person to bed, he'd bet it all that this was going to end with them trying to recruit him for something. Might not have been an actual recruitment center, but... Even in Paradigm City he hadn't gone to a recruitment center to join up with the Military Police. Sometimes things really were as they appeared, sometimes they weren't.

With a sigh, Roger approached the doors of the building to make his way inside, raising an eyebrow curiously at the lack of any sort of handles he noticed.

Briefly he was startled by the scene of the doors sliding open at just his approach. Then he was surprised all over again as he stepped inside. Brightly lit, and as immaculately clean as the rest of the city had been so far. And it wasn't the weak, yellowed illumination from ancient, dusty glass bulbs flickering in their sockets. No fizzing, popping electrical hum of energy barely sufficient to keep things running, flowing through sometimes-exposed wires visible through cracked and peeling walls.

This wasn't a building like any Roger Smith had ever seen before. Even his own home, perhaps the most immaculately clean and pristine building he had ever had the pleasure of setting foot in — save perhaps for the headquarters of the Paradigm Corporation, though setting foot in that place had never been anything approaching a pleasure — hadn't been this clean or well-kept. Despite keen attention and care, the old bank-turned-mansion had shown signs of age, sporting scars of a battle with time and clear signs of wear and tear. Even Paradigm's headquarters had been marred by the occasional scuff and stain, rust on the tracks of its elevator cars and clouding in its windows.

But this place...seemed flawless. Even with the multitude of people in and out, and working here daily, it somehow managed to maintain an air of cleanliness and presentability that was baffling to the negotiator. For nearly a full minute, it left him struck nearly dumb, staring and slowly scanning the place as he could see it in wonder. Only here a few hours, and already so many things which stood out so strongly and strangely...