ARC

<big>Emma Ashevak</big>

Emma distracts the others with the prospect of weed. That always does it. It's starting to dawn on her that Kayla might be more dangerous as an ally than as a rival. "Just hang on, kiddo," she says, with a touch of condescension. "It's dangerous going it on your own. Trust me. I'll be good in a couple of days. My foot's still fucked."

<big>Kayla Flanagan</big>

Kayla listens, nods, and tries not to cringe when Emma refers to her as 'kiddo'. She walks home, hand on the grip of her knife. The Youngstown shanties are sketchy at night, especially for a colonist. She slips in through the back door, tiptoes over to the bedroom that she and her sisters share, and falls asleep with her mind racing. Tomorrow, she'll try to scope out some likely targets and maybe even some accomplices.

Larry Walker and Maria Tibrus

"Oh?" says Maria, "and what might that be?"

Mychal is still bugging her. She pretends to scratch at the back of her ear, but she manages to thumb the little earbud on without Gardner noticing. He doesn't seem like the perceptive type. "This is a big deal, sis. This guy wants us to take out WPM at his speech in Youngstown next week."

Maria suddenly knows what she needs to do.

<hr />

Kayla Flanagan

Kayla doesn't have much luck finding accomplices who are up to her standards, but she *does* pick out a few likely targets. There's the old man who takes the daily sales of the farmers' collective to the bank from the fruit market. She could hit the lady who collects the change from newspaper boxes.Then, there's Emma herself and the cash that Kayla *knows* she hides. Maybe she can come over more often, hang out, and do some searching.

Kayla starts scoping out the fruit market.

THAT struck some kind of nerve and Larry was suddenly sure it was a bad note to have stuck. His mind was racing so fast he thought he might be moments away from some kind of aneurysm.

Keep it together Larry, any small hope you have of getting out of this shit hangs on you getting your goddamn mind right NOW&#33;

"Look I wanna talk completely straight here for just a moment, no bullshit" Larry said, keeping his voice as calm and business-like as he could possibly mange. "I heard our mutual friend Willard mention that name. Fuck if I know why though. What I can tell you is that I know he wasn't being very quiet about it so can be sure there's other people in the area that know. And something like that could make Willard very unpopular to the wrong person. I probably don't need to tell you how fast news can travel."

Somehow Larry managed a disappointed, slightly disinterested expression. Waffling about Willard had also giving him a few more moments to think.

She has to have had parts of this hotel under surveillance and probably with help a little smarter than Willard. And you usually don't find people more paranoid about being spied upon than those that spy on others. Giving her something to be paranoid about might just buy him a small amount of leverage, and realistically there was probably nothing to lose.

"Anyway if we can be open with each other here, reason I'm here in the first place is that some friendly contacts of mine seemed familiar you and suggested that there was decent chance you could be in the market for some freelance help. I suppose we won't be able to work anything out now, but they're VERY good about keeping their eyes and ears open, so maybe another time?"

"Sorry if I wasted your time. But if nothing else, be sure to keep a close eye on Willard."

Zane is further confused

"I do not fight food"

he thinks for a bit, finally lowering the chair as he exerts his mind... this man seems interesting enough. certainly less confusing than the woman










"I did hit someone with an ostrich once though. so I could probably fight those" he says, attempting a smile, while making a facial expression even a mother (or sister?...) would struggle to love. it's not a joke, mind you, but he does think it's funny regardless

"Rose?"

Jack Smith

When Jack still doesn't respond, the finely uniformed officer turns, draws his pistol, and shoots Ethan in the head. As he turns and points the gun at Jack, he watches carefully for any sign of reaction.

Emma Ashevak

Ronnie stumbles into Kayla while she's scoping out the old farmer's route to the bank, and he's quick to tell Emma when he arrives back at their apartment. The more success that Kayla has on her own, the less she'll want to work with Emma and the higher a price she'll demand, though her doing her own thing might be for the better. Emma contemplates getting involved, leaving it be, or tipping off the police.

Kayla Flanagan

Kayla notices that the old farmer's route takes him through some very heavily trafficked areas where there are often big crowds. However, he also cuts through an abandoned townhouse complex where there are almost no people. Which approach should Kayla take? quick hit-and-run in a crowded place, or back alley mugging?

Larry Walker and Maria Tibrus

Maria takes out her gun. "So we're putting all of our cards on the table, huh?"

She doesn't point it at him quite yet. If anything, she hesitates. Larry is pretty close to the door at this point, as he's subconsciously backed his way over there. Larry, old buddy, this is one helluva mess you've gotten yourself into. why'd you have to be honest for once?&#33; She's acting like she has all of the power, though.

"You followed me here," she says, twirling her pistol, "didn't you?"

It's pretty cavalier, really. Larry's not exactly a Greek god or anything, but he knows how to handle himself. He could probably grab her gun if he really went for it, and there's a good chance he could slip out the door. It's heavy oak and would probably stop her bullets. Shit, shit. His mind is racing. Maybe he should just keep talking. It hasn't worked so well for him so far, but Larry's always been a good talker, and she looks like she might be willing to listen?

Crazy Zane

Frank smiles back, although his grin is that of a good Italian-American mamma's boy who just got an 'A' on his term paper. he even throws in a perfunctory chuckle that somehow seems genuine. "Haha, trust me when I say they're starting to become more than food. Dare I say we'll be their food before long if we don't do something&#33;" Frank tosses Zane a juicebox and starts heading for the door. " It's great to hear you're on board. Man, with you helping us, we just might win, and I promise that we are gonna make you amazing&#33;" Frank pauses with his hand on the doorknob. Evelyn still looks at him resentfully and distrustfully. "If you'd like to follow me," he chirps, "I've got a golf cart waiting outside. Sorry it's not a car, budget cuts and all, haha."

Ulysses Walk

Rose is nowhere to be found. In fact, nobody is. As Ulysses' eyes adjust, he notices that the room is both large and completely empty save for a large, blocky shape in the dimness. There are pipes running along the ceiling and vents on the walls. It smells like mildew and that weird plastic-like concrete that older sections of the wall are made of. Ulysses realizes that he must be very deep down - deeper than anyone would be likely to look.

"Citizen", orders a voice so crisp and sudden that he wonders if it's recorded, "why did you resist the procurement of that ship?"

Then there is silence again. Nothing else changes, save for the fact that Ulysses Walk may be under interrogation.

"I fight the violence inherent in the system&#33; That man was being repressed&#33;"

"Now tell me where Rose is before I have to mark this down as my worst date ever. I feel I can still salvage it."

Ulysses Walk

"Citizen, what is your name and place of birth?"

Tough crowd.

"Do not interrupt the date of Ulysses Walk from the Netherlands&#33;"

Phineas Marlowe

Phineas Marlowe is walking home from the university. He's decided to take the promenade if only to avoid the trouble he's been getting himself into lately. There are few other people out at this time, but it's hard to to eye each of them suspiciously. Two large men in pressed suits have been with him for the past ten minutes, never closer than about ten years and never further than twenty. This isn't a movie, he reminds himself, but they're almost comically suspicious.

Up ahead are the main lifts for Falmouth Sector. He makes as if to enter them, per his usual routine, but turns off at the last moment to head for one of the cargo lifts. The black-suited men don't follow him any further. God, Phineas, just how paranoid were you there for a second? He begins whistling a little tune. It echoes through the empty waiting area, incongruously cheerful. Annoyingly, the lift takes quite a while to reach him. They must be running only one at this ungodly hour. Finally, with a peppy little 'ding&#33;', it opens. Phineas strides inside, two pairs of strong arms restrain him and cover his mouth before he can scream, and he feels a prick in his neck. Oh just fucking wond...erf...

He wakes up in a pitch black room. There are no sounds but for the humming of machinery and a persistent drip. The irascible old professor is seated on an uncomfortable chair. His wrists and ankles are bound to its legs.

"Citizen, what is your name and place of birth?"

Ulysses Walk

"Citizen Walk of Rotterdam Sector, what is your relationship to Rebecca Rose and Seamus McQueen?"

She seemed a bit thrown by the comment about being watched. Not nearly enough for him to think he had hit a home run with the gamble by any means, but now that she had pulled out the gun Larry decided he'd settle for a fucking foul tip.

For a moment he considered answering her question. It took about half a second for him to think better of it. Strike one had been agreeing to meet her in the first place. Strike two had been continuing the conversation long after it had held any relevance to him. He felt pretty damn sure that if he tried talking any longer and it would be strike three you're out&#33; And off to riding the pine in that great dugout in the sky&#33;

At this point being anywhere in the world but in this room seemed like the best damn idea in the world. Game called in the bottom of the first, rainout. Makeup date to be determined when that crazy bitch wasn't holding a gun on him. It would hurt to leave behind most of his stuff, but he still had his table winnings from earlier on him (and his lucky card deck for that matter) and all in all he'd be happy to leave with that much.

It was time to make a break for it, find the nearest access stair, and get the hell out of dodge&#33;

Larry Walker

With surprising speed, Larry flings the door open and into Maria's face. She staggers backwards, one hand clutching her nose and the other bringing her pistol around to end his life. Just as quickly, he slams it shut. Then he's running down the stairs. The door is opening. Maria is firing. her bullets burn hot and close. Larry swings over the bannister and lands in a crouch. People start screaming. He weaves through the panicked crowd.

Then... everything stops. The bullets, most of the shouting, Maria shouting something into her two-way in Spanish. Larry rounds the corner from the gambling hall into the reception area and he's almost at the door when suddenly, a strong arm comes out of nowhere, grabs him by the collar, and hauls him bodily into a door that shouldn't exist. Larry's world swims. Is it... that little Frenchie receptionist from before?&#33;"

The hidden door - this place is all about the doors, isn't it? - shuts behind them and Larry and his rescuer/assailant are plunged into darkness.

Larry wasn't thrilled by this new pitch darkness, but on the whole it was an improvement over dodging bullets. And this new guy hadn't just killed him, so just maybe this would turn out slightly better than the meeting he just run out on.

"Okay, I appreciate the help, but I'd really love to know what the fuck is going on."

the juice box hits Zane's chest and bounces to the ground



"what is a golf cart"