11-30-2016, 05:19 AM
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.
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.
Quote: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)