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>>4892835

“Nobody’s working, Antoine. Just trying to stay out of homelessness, or at least look like they aren’t homeless so Civil Patrol doesn’t come for ‘em.” The girl sighs, shaking her head. “Know what? There’s not really anywhere for them to go.”

“There’s plenty of places. They needed a clerk at the Schaffer down the street not too long ago. What about one of the bars, or the clubs—Black Hole, maybe, or Domino?” You squint, pushing yourself to come up with possibilities. “Gotta be somethin’, right? Just as a temporary fix. Anything has gotta be better than drowning out here, right?”

“Have you ever had an actual job, Antoine? These places you’re talking about just walking into can barely afford to take anyone else on, and anywhere else, you have to actually apply. These people don’t have phones, or computers, or tablets—they don’t have education or training and can’t get any.” Luna looks away, pausing before she continues. “Even if they had credentials, they’d just end up in a fulfillment center or something. The kind of place that tears you down rather than brings you up.”

“Mh.” You grunt. That’s the other side of the 25. On these streets, anyone who isn’t completely SOL is either a klepto or a joygirl—or a dealer, runner, or collector for the Quarters or some other gang. The only people out here that could get into a job if they tried would never punch cards for less than they could make boosting cars. No one on the block, it seems, is ever more than a degree of separation from one of the anonymous gangbangers. You wonder what it’s like to be a kid out here these days. Quay’s half your age, right? If he’d been born in your time instead, he might have been in one of the organizations with you: in another life, he might have been one of the Phreaks. But you’re the gifted one in this here-and-now. You can use your talents to come up, and set the record straight. You built the tools to do so with your own hands. You rest your weight against the back of the bench without properly sitting down, looking solemnly down at Luna. “Well, you’re too tough for this place to tear you down, at least. What are you gonna do, then? I remember you talkin’ about how you were tryna help folks on the block get connected, start some kind of initiative. Maybe buy some burner datapads? I know a guy—”

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>>4892839

“If you’re gonna hook me up with one of your Phreaks, forget about it. Know what?” Luna snerks. “I really wanted to try and help people, but I ended up having to save what little money I got. M’trying to get a real job myself, and I needed to front the application fee.”

“Where?” You ask. “What kind of job makes you pay them to apply? You ain’t trying to go corporate, are you?”

“I am.” Luna nods. “Avalon.”

“No way.” You squint. “Fuckin’ hypocrite—”

“Antoine, listen! If I can make it there, I’ll be able to give something back to my familia and the rest of the 25. People like you and me and Quay are going to be responsible for making sure this block has a future. I have to try. M’setting an example. Mira,” Luna says, and turns her phone around to hold it up to you. “I’ve been working on some designs that I’m going to show off during my interview.”

It’s fashion work. Luna’s patterns are imagined as worn by models drawn in her artistic hand. It reminds you of today’s corporate sharks, but ahead of the curve: tall collars, no lapels, hidden fasteners rather than buttons. You brush through her notes on materials and details regarding the fabric: though it looks stiff, it’d be made to maximize comfort and luxury during sixteen-hour work days. The girl’s designs pay close attention to accentuating the best features of their wearers. You could see a manufacturer like Avalon promoting this as the next step in executive fashion. But you see something else, too, in your mind. You imagine which of these textiles could be substituted for impact-resistant materials and stress-resilient fabrics; you imagine where you could conceal holsters and trauma plates. Avalon’s designers don’t work by hand: they design and draft like engineers, and machines do the fabrication. Could your nanofabricator—?

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>>4892842

> [ Developed Theory: Textile Printhead — A customized printhead would allow nanofilament rods to be spun into advanced textiles. This modification enables the creation of clothing and similar such equipment with the nanofabricator. ]

“What do you think?” Luna asks, drawing you out of your thoughts. “If you were an exec, I mean? Do you think I’d have a chance?”

“It’s good stuff,” You reply, earnestly. But it’d be cooler if she were working for you instead. You don’t say as much—but maybe it won’t hurt, for her to see how far she can make it up the ladder. Knowing this city, it isn’t far. You don’t ruminate overlong on whether or not it’s terribly cruel to let her find out for herself. “You’ve always been good at this kinda thing. I think you could probably take it places."

Hell, she should probably be working for you.

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>>4892849

> [ Archive ]
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=IDB

> [ Character Info ]
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1siFndSuwajrBeKDTsuXVl30rgV11Hb0rX1_875JMuP0/edit

.. inner district blues

Your name is Antoine Washington, but more dangerous folks call you the Stingray. Born and raised in Freeland District, you are set apart from the other beleaguered faces in the crowd only by your status as a Phreak: one of seven people gifted, under suspicious circumstances, with incredible technological acuity. In a place where corporations operate with more autonomy and power than governments, you’re fighting a battle to protect what belongs to you and preserve the culture of your home. With your weapon—a nanofabricator, rebuilt by hand fron scavenged technology—you finally have what it takes to engage them on even terms. But on these streets, there’s always another talent trying to stand in your way or trip you up.

> [ To-Do ]
• Research and replicate Spectre technology.
• Your nanofabricator consumes incredible amounts of power, drawing attention from municipal authorities. Find a way to get off the grid.
• You have an address that belongs to the father of your mentor: a link to the Spectres that you know the supercorporation Excelsis is also searching for. Find more information, or try to beat them to it.
• A Phreak called the Pattern—a former employer, and the leader of a gang known as the Quarters—is attempting to take you back under his wing. Comply with his orders by researching and building subverted drones, deny his request, or attempt to negotiate with him or Obediah, his lieutenant and your childhood friend.
• An informant, a Phreak called the Worm, has given you three locations where Spectre technology may be found. Investigate to further your research goals.

> [ resources ]
> cash: $490
> scrap: 490
> circuits: 27
> nanofilaments: 5
> spectre technology: 0
> spectre research credits: 0

“Thanks, Antoine. I’m glad you understand,” Luna says. “Know what? I’m really trying my hardest. I hope you are too. So, what are you gonna do now?”

Your gaze drifts up in thought, and you reply…
> “I’m trying to touch base with Obediah. You seen him anywhere?”
> “The Quarters have been trying to fuck with me again. Any idea where they’ve been hanging out?”
> “No clue. Any interesting news from the streets?”
> “Heading back to my pad. Got a big day today.”

>>4892855
> “No clue. Any interesting news from the streets?”
Neutral choice.

>>4892855
>No clue. Any interesting news from the streets?”

>>4892855
> “The Quarters have been trying to fuck with me again. Any idea where they’ve been hanging out?”

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>>4893040
>>4893657

“Got a lot on my plate, but not sure where to start.” You reply with an impassive shrug. “You had your ear to the ground lately? What’s good on the streets?”

“Lot of stuff. You know Maria? From down on Alabaster? Know what? I heard she’s having her daughter’s birthday party at the Melrose,” Luna says, leaning over with a wide gossip-girl grin. “Apparently her ex-boyfriend is an exec in the HR department at Citadel, and he’s got an in at all of the social clubs. But they’re not gonna let anybody from the 25 in there, you know? And what are a bunch of school-kids going to do at a place like that, right? So - what do you think? Are they trying to cover up something? Ana thinks Maria’s just trying to squeeze her way into the upper echelon, but I say it’s a total waste of—”

“Luna? I meant something useful,” You frown.

“Ugh. Antoine! You mean like your kind of street shit.” Luna replies. “You don’t care about anything that doesn’t have to do with beating people up or people getting beaten up.”

“Don’t act like you’re innocent. I’ve seen you scrap,” You leer, and Luna looks away with a flushed expression that somehow marries innocence to indignance. “Anything going on I need to know about, or just the usual business?”

“Well, okay. I stopped by Anaya’s for breakfast on the way here,” The girl begins.

“Do I know Anaya?” You squint.

“The bakery, Antoine.” Luna rolls her eyes. “I overheard some people talking, and apparently there’s a branch of Los Verdugos bleeding into Freeland. They’re trying to recruit people off the streets for something. Maybe something big.”

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>>4894419

“Can’t be that big if I’ve never heard of them,” You say, folding your arms.

“Son cabronazos, Antoine. They’re the biggest badasses on the block - they take names and cut people’s heads off ‘n shit. You’ve never heard of them because they’re from the barrens, and you don’t give a shit about anything that happens outside of Freeland.” Luna says. “Whatever they’re doing is big, because they’re testing people’s loyalty. You know that Civil Patrol car that got blown up lastnight?”

“I didn’t catch it on the news,” You frown. “I was busy most of yesterday.”

“Well, that happened. It’s up at the Triangle; you can go look for yourself, but they’ve got the whole block barricaded off while they investigate. I heard that was a recruitment task.” Luna says. She’s aware enough of the sensitivity of her discussion topic to be checking her corners as she speaks, as though Civil Patrol could be watching right now.

“They had one of their new members do that,” You infer. “To see if he was ride-or-die.”

“It’s bad.”

“I don’t get it. Why would someone want to join up with these guys, exactly?” You ask. “Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that has a happy ending.”

“Know what? Just speaking personally? It’s hard here, to feel like you’re a part of something.” Luna says, lips curling into a frown. She looks away from you and sighs. “If I felt like I didn’t have any other options and they rolled up on me, maybe I’d roll with them too.”

“I know why people join gangs, Luna. But it seems like it’d be dangerous to start flying an unknown flag so close to someone else’s territory. The Quarters got eyes on this block, and if you go downtown it’s gonna be someone else.” You nod as if assuring yourself. “So why would—”

“Antoine, I don’t know. Maybe they’ve got more money or more protection or they’re threatening people. Maybe you can go check it out; go to the Triangle and do your detective thing or whatever. But all I know for sure is that there’s gonna be some new players on the block soon, and they’re serious.” Luna nods. “That good enough for you?”

> “Plenty. I’ll pay you back somehow later, Luna. I gotta get going.” Get back to business.
> Bring up Obediah and the Quarters. If you get her to do a compare-and-contrast on the gang situation, she might spill some useful info without you having to play your hand.
> Ask Luna what she’d think about designing gear for you instead of designing clothes at Avalon.
> Recall information about a given subject. (Write-in.)

>>4894423
> Bring up Obediah and the Quarters. If you get her to do a compare-and-contrast on the gang situation, she might spill some useful info without you having to play your hand.
> Recall information about a given subject. (Write-in.)
We might have a tiny pinch of doubt that her social designer job won't try to drain her creative juices dry before toss her away, but we'll always be here for her. If we're wrong, then we'll owe her I'unno a party or something.

>>4894423
> Bring up Obediah and the Quarters. If you get her to do a compare-and-contrast on the gang situation, she might spill some useful info without you having to play your hand.

I'm not sure how to play the gang situation. We didn't create a character who was good at brawling during the first few posts of last thread, so we can be coerced. Obviously we want our independence, to do our own shit, but the Quarters probably aren't gonna take "no" for an answer. On the other hand, letting some foreigners come in as the new kings of the block is just as bad, if not worse. Maybe play them off each other or support the weaker of the two so they are both weakened, while trying to do our own shit in parallel, hopefully by then we'll have researched and manufactured enough that we are ready for either of them or whatever comes next.

Hope the job goes well for Luna. That being said, I hope going corporate doesn't change her too much, making it big or going management can really change a person. I dunno how politics work or who controls zoning in this setting where corps have such autonomy, but I'd hate for her to suddenly be an advocate for gentrification or start up a business that dominates the block and influences whatever board is responsible for our street or district in a way contrary to our goals.

Also, welcome back Chairman Phreak. Didn't think I'd ever see a second thread.

>>4894423
>Bring up Obediah and the Quarters. If you get her to do a compare-and-contrast on the gang situation, she might spill some useful info without you having to play your hand.

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>>4894513
I've had a lot going on, but I'm glad to be here! If I'm lucky I'll be able to push a post or two while I'm at work today. We'll see.

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>>4894442
>>4894513
>>4894547

“Maybe,” You reply, and let a touch of feigned sympathy color your legitimate concern over the potential outcomes of the increasingly-complex situation. “I’m worried about Obi. He ain’t gonna be happy about any of this—some new wannabe kings of the block rolling into the District means bad news for him.”

“He was around here earlier, and he kinda looked mad. Maybe tha’s why,” Luna replies. “I guess maybe that means the Quarters might know more about this than I do.”

You nod. They might—or Obediah might have just been mad looking for you. You don’t add anything about your role in the situation to the discussion. It’s not that you don’t particularly trust Luna, just that it’s safer not to give the chismosa any more ammunition than necessary.

“You think Verdugos are trying to upset the power structure? You make it sound like these are the kinds of guys that thrive on chaos,” You add, looking over to gauge Luna’s expression. Her gaze is drifted up as though she’s giving it legitimate thought rather than distracting herself with her phone as per usual. “I ain’t keep track of their every move, but I know the Quarters are pretty deeply entrenched.”

“Quarters have their roots dug in, but Verdugos have firepower. They got their start running guns in the barrens—and they got familia inside the prisons too. I think they’re just trying to extend their network. But tha’s what I’m worried about. This block doesn’t need to get caught up in the middle of a turf war. Anything that went down would be close to home, since the Quarters have apparently been playing games around the old event center near the 31.” Luna replies.

“That’s where they’re working at?” You quirk a brow. Tattered childhood memories drift through your mind: she’s talking about the building where the organizations’ classes were held. “You seen ‘em?”

“In that area, si. So they say, anyway.” Luna shrugs.

“I doubt the streets are right about this one,” You assert. “That doesn’t seem like a particularly well-hidden spot to do business.”

“Know what? I’d bet you’re wrong,” Luna replies, before her gaze falls back to her phone. “It’s just another burnt-out spot waiting for a buyer or a demolition crew. I bet everyone’s forgotten about that place except you—and tha’s because you went there for your weird phreak school or whatever when you were a kid, right?”

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>>4895125

“Not just me.” You nod, thinking. “The Pattern, too. He’d remember. Maybe you’re on to something.”

“The Pattern?” Luna asks.

“Oh. The guy running the Quarters. That’s his name—or what people call him or whatever,” You reply. “It's like a sobriquet.”

“Uh huh.” The girl rolls her eyes. “I'd be careful with whatever crazy idea you're having. That sounds like the name of a badass.”

“Somethin’ like that,” You nod.

> Chat with Luna about something else. (Write-in.)
> Recall information regarding a given subject. (Write-in.)
> Head out. You’ve got places to be: back to your pad or elsewhere.

>>4895130
>Head out. You’ve got places to be: back to your pad or elsewhere.

>>4895130
boop her on the nose

>>4895130
> Head out. You’ve got places to be: back to your pad or elsewhere.

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>>4895149
>>4895760

“Anyway, I’m gone. It’s nice talking to you, Luna.” You offer her another wave as you push your weight off the bench and begin your egress. “Got another day ahead of me.”

“Cuídate, Antoine.” Luna says, affording you a solemn look in return. She’s smart enough to know you’re probably up to no good, from a certain frame of reference: the kinds of things that always have some level of risk associated with them.

“Siempre,” You reply, turning and nodding. “Good luck with Avalon. They’re gonna love you.”

You aren’t exactly done with your run by distance, but you are by time. Now that you’ve had a moment to catch your breath, your better judgement informs you that you should probably save plenty of energy for later. You keep your head low as you dip back into the streets, heading for…
> Your place. You’ve got work to do and things to research before the evening.
> One of the places the Worm told you about. You might be able to case them in daylight, or even get in if any of the three locales are especially low-security.
> The junkyard. You have a connect that should be able to get you some scrap and stock parts on the cheap.
> The Triangle. It’s off the path, and you probably won’t be able to get past the police line, but you might be able to learn more about Los Verdugos with a look at that crime scene.

>>4895867
> The junkyard. You have a connect that should be able to get you some scrap and stock parts on the cheap.

>>4895867
> The junkyard. You have a connect that should be able to get you some scrap and stock parts on the cheap.

We need a surplus of scrap and parts for after we build the reactor. Though we'll need fissile material for the reactor. After all that, I'd prefer to get personal equipment rather than stuff for the hideout or exotic variations of firearms, we need to be ready to deal with our immediate problems before worrying about spectres or corps

>>4895867
>The Triangle. It’s off the path, and you probably won’t be able to get past the police line, but you might be able to learn more about Los Verdugos with a look at that crime scene.

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>>4895877
>>4895910

Junkyards are controlled and regulated indirectly, through nonspecific policies regarding zoning and city beautification. Locations for salvage and scrap processing have few controls that limit how they operate and how their private owners acquire and value wreckage; instead, acts regarding how they affect the District’s superficial qualities control their locations. An unsightly thing cannot be tolerated within a certain distance of a street, and should not be seen from the window of a corporate office; if it is required to exist, it must exist elsewhere. But standing protections mean that corporations must pay compensation for the removal or relocation of any scrapyard that violates existing policies based on new developments. Thus, scrapyards in modern Districts lie in far corners or near docks or District limits: vast labyrinthine sprawls of refuse that extend into the barrens, swept into the city’s peripheral vision where they will not offend elegant sensibilities or upset future corporate interests.

It’s mid-morning when you arrive at the gates. If there’s a black spot on the map of Freeland District, it’s near here. Gravel gives way to dirt with rusted metal embedded, a veritable causeway between mounds of junk. But the adage—one man’s trash—holds perhaps more truth here than in any other place. You spent hours sifting wreckage for the proper pieces, or things that would do in a pinch: forgotten electronics from abandoned or broken-down vehicles and obsolete exoframes, components from trashed phones and computers, and simple machines from junked appliances. Medical augmentations were among the luckiest finds; you imagined health codes prevented them from being repurposed, and tried not to ruminate on thoughts of their decedent owners as you dissected them. Once, you found a small shipment of nanofilament rods meant for some fabrication facility, and you wondered what sort of mistake led to them ending up here. The familiar sounds of scrap processing linger in the air—automated cranes hauling machine husks, metal creaking and groaning in vises and crushers.

There’s a touch of buzzing underlining the ensemble, though, and as you cross the threshold into the junkyard you spot the unfamiliar sight of rotor drones scanning the trash heaps. A light flickers across your face, and you wince instinctively; there’s gnats in the air, presumably with cameras equipped. There usually isn’t any sort of surveillance out here, and as such you can’t help but feel a bit unnerved as you head inward toward the trailer. A slender figure is maneuvering through the yard in the direction opposite you, and he stops in his tracks at the sight of you, looking up from a datapad with his brow quirked behind thin-framed glasses.

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>>4896575

“Hello, there.” The guy looks to be about your age, skin tone warm if a touch sallowed; his features are sharp as his collared attire, silken hair maintained in a tidy ponytail. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m lookin’ for Skip.” You reply. You try not to regard him with too much suspicion, but you can’t help but leer. “Big guy? You really can't miss him. He’s usually workin’ here around this time of day. You seen him?”

“Ah! Yes. Skip is on leave. He's in the hospital, I’m afraid.” He frowns, tucking the datapad away beneath the cut of his jacket.

"In the hospital, huh?" You ask. “With what?”

“Well, I’m not sure. I’m simply repeating what I’ve been told. My name is Shen. I’m working at the recycling facility here until he’s able to return to work.” He replies, with an impassive look and a little tilt of the head—as though what he’s saying is simply the way of things rather than news. “Were you a regular customer of his? If there’s something you need, I’d be happy to help you in any way I can.”

> “I need to buy some scrap. Can you schedule me a delivery for today?”
> “I need to dig around for some parts. Is all of this stuff still for sale?”
> “You don’t look like a junkyard dog, Shen. Who are you working for?"
> Other. (Write-in.)

>>4896577
>“I need to dig around for some parts. Is all of this stuff still for sale?”

>>4896577
> “I need to dig around for some parts. Is all of this stuff still for sale?”
Oh shit, this is back!
Nice nice nice!

>>4896577
> “I need to dig around for some parts. Is all of this stuff still for sale?”

I'd be legit surprised if he gave an answer other than 'I work for *whatever the firm's name is that owns this scrapyard*'.

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>>4896590
>>4896652
>>4896880

“I’m just a scrapper, but yeah—Skip and I were tight. I need to dig around for some parts, if that’s cool.” You reply with a firm and reassuring nod. “All of this stuff is still for sale, right?”

“You’re welcome to peruse the yard, or if there’s something in particular you’re looking for, I’m presently making an effort to take an inventory of some sort and make sure everything present is fit to be recycled.” Shen replies, casting his gaze over the junk heap with a frown. “I can see why Skip never bothered: it’s quite a task. Before you go looking, I should say—I’ll have to honor standard valuations for anything you find.”

“That so?” You quirk a brow. “I give y’all a lot of business, y’know. Skip usually gives me the hookup, especially ‘cause a lot of this stuff isn’t gonna move.”

“You might think that, but I know we’ve got some gems here. A lot of people blowing through try to pull one over on us: hoping, no doubt, to snare something that they can resell for a quick buck.” Shen adjusts his glasses, fretting briefly with the fit of his jacket as if to make sure his datapad is still safe in its folds before nodding back at you. “Most anything you’ll find here is worth the same coming as going. It’s not as though you’re losing anything by paying a fair price.”

Your reply is a subdued snerk, but you don’t raise a fuss. As long as you’re in broad daylight with gnats watching you, it’s probably best to play by the rules.

> Search the refuse for drone parts. You could carry scrap and circuits on hand in a compact form; despite the small amounts, they’d prove more than worth their weight if you planned to build and refurbish drones.
> Focus on looking for salvageable circuits and electronics. You can get scrap anywhere, but will still need cheap electronics in large amounts to manufacture anything of use or value.
> Ask Shen if any fabricator filaments have showed up in the yard recently. It’s important to get the more difficult and expensive things squared away first if possible.
> Other. (Write-in.)

>>4896933
>Search the refuse for drone parts. You could carry scrap and circuits on hand in a compact form; despite the small amounts, they’d prove more than worth their weight if you planned to build and refurbish drones.

>>4896933
> Ask Shen if any fabricator filaments have showed up in the yard recently. It’s important to get the more difficult and expensive things squared away first if possible.

These are rare and we have only a few, this should be a priority.

>>4896933
I'll switch my vote so we can move on.


> Search the refuse for drone parts. You could carry scrap and circuits on hand in a compact form; despite the small amounts, they’d prove more than worth their weight if you planned to build and refurbish drones.

>>4896933
> Search the refuse for drone parts. You could carry scrap and circuits on hand in a compact form; despite the small amounts, they’d prove more than worth their weight if you planned to build and refurbish drones.

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>>4896941
>>4898733
>>4898842

Your favorite finds, when you ran with the Quarters, were scrapped fulfillment drones, which ended up in landfills or scrapyards after recovery from the streets by sanitation services. Excelsis drones were the most numerous, and the ones that the gang chose to subvert back in your time: clandestine activities were carried out in public by simply blending into the crowd. Profit-focused and consumer-first, the corporation seems to accept drone crashes as a cost of operation rather than focus funding into preventing said crashes. This, in addition to lost enthusiast drones, drones disabled by vandals or other criminal activities, or simply the intangible presence of obsolescence, means that there is no shortage of drone scrap.

> [ Salvaged drone parts provide significant amounts of materials for refurbishing projects. ]
> [ These parts will yield less materials overall if dismantled for other purposes. ]
> [ However, delivery charges are avoided as the parts are light enough to carry on hand. ]

> [ resources ]
> cash: $490
> scrap: 490
> circuits: 27
> nanofilaments: 5
> spectre technology: 0
> spectre research credits: 0

It seems like what you find is in unusually good condition. The hardware might not be current, but much of the damage seems superficial. Drone tech is not your specialty; it’s just something you ended up with a hand for after working with it for a time. Inspection of the husks here suggests that they could be back in the air without too much hassle—which makes you wonder why they’re down in the first place. Regardless, this could help you with your current predicament, or just allow you to walk with spare parts on hand.

> [ Discovered: Drone Husk x2 (Refurbish: 280 Scrap, 10 Circuits) (Dismantle: +140 Scrap, +??? Circuits) ]

You…
> Purchase the discovered drone parts. [ -$196 ]
> Ask Shen about having some things delivered instead.
> Keep sifting through this heap.
> Other. (Write-in.)

>>4899489
>> Purchase the discovered drone parts. [ -$196 ]
Damn that's expensive.

...Sylvetican is that you?

>>4899489
> Purchase the discovered drone parts. [ -$196 ]

Well, at least we can use this or be ready to oblige if the Quarters come knocking.

>>4899642

Who? Was that that MMO quest QM or someone else?

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>>4899604
>>4900160

“You’re really trying to squeeze charity out of me.” Shen sighs, squaring away facts and costs on his datapad. The myriad gnats buzzing about overhead appear to be making a crude attempt at cataloguing inventory in addition to their surveillance activities. You wonder how well that’s going. It’d probably take proper AI, rather than just some algorithm, to sort this stuff out by just looking. “Ten to one the main boards in those aren’t even damaged too heavily. Enthusiasts pay hundreds for these things just so they can have the chance to fix them up—those aren’t worth a cent less than 185.”

“Where’s the enthusiasts?” You squint, looking around the scrapyard. The drone husks have affixed rather neatly to your belt; were it not for the damage, they really would look just about ready for an appealing take-off.

“...Perhaps they’re buying direct, or kits.” Shen looks away. “You know, there’s some search requests I haven’t checked off just yet. There’s a good chance I’ve got a better offer already.”

“The minute I put these down and walk out of here, they’re going in the crusher,” You reply. “And then you’re going to have to pay to get the little metal cubes shipped off somewhere just to take in half of what I would have given you.”

Shen frowns. He lowers his pad, and his hand comes up to adjust his glasses, finding itself combing back through his hair the very next second.

“180.” Shen replies.

“I can do that.” You nod.

“Really? Causing me stress is worth sixteen dollars to you?” He quirks a brow.

“It is.” You afford an impassive shrug. “Means I get to eat another day. Now, so do you.” (cash: $310)

Speaking of hassles, it seems as though you’ll have to find another source of printer filaments. The Worm might be able to help; likewise, if you’d rather not purchase them on the market and none of the spots that you’ve already got on your radar seem particularly ideal, maybe you can scout out spots that used to be fabrication labs for locating loot that was left behind. If the Quarters really are holed up in the spot that the orgs used to run courses in—you remember they had a testing laboratory there, but that would have been years ago now.

You’ve spent enough time at the scrapyard that the situation at the Triangle is probably taken care of; likely there’s nothing worth finding there besides a citation for loitering around a crime scene. You get Shen’s contact, noting you’ll call for a delivery if you need anything else. With all that aside, you…

> Head back to your place.
> Cut past the 32 on the way to your pad. You’ll be able to scope out the Quarters’ base of operations.
> Investigate one of the places the Worm told you about. You might be able to case them in daylight, or even get in if any of the three locales are especially low-security.
> Other. (Write-in.)

>>4901197
>> Investigate one of the places the Worm told you about. You might be able to case them in daylight, or even get in if any of the three locales are especially low-security.

>>4901197
>Investigate one of the places the Worm told you about. You might be able to case them in daylight, or even get in if any of the three locales are especially low-security.
Time for plot.

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>>4901208
>>4901230

They trained in broad daylight, or just outside of it. That’s what amazes you most: a normal facility by day could have been training hyper-competent federal agents when no one was around to watch. Where have you walked that they have too? Regardless, regimes have changed in many of these locales since the program became defunct. Not even federal agendas are immune to the simple fact that there is always something left behind. And discovering things left behind might well be a specialty of yours: it’s how you came about the main boards for the nanofabricator, as well as the expensive office chair you sit in while you work. The Loki AIS, sitting in your pocket, is proof that even a wafer-thin layer of Spectre technology is capable of doing incredible, nigh-impossible things.

The first address the Worm sent you is to the Virtual Palace. The arcade was a much more popular spot when you were younger; wealthier kids from the organizations used to talk about having birthday parties there. Arcades like these have taken myriad measures to stay relevant, touting immersive group experiences in simulations not available anywhere else. But over the years, DNI—Direct Neural Interface—hardware became gradually more affordable in the consumer sector. The market capitalization of virtual reality entertainment venues gradually diminished, and as the Virtual Palace’s core demographic grew older, you imagine they came to find the opulent fantasy castle motif of the place a little bit tacky. You’re pretty sure you would have, besides. With a core of VR tech like an arcade’s available, however, members of the Spectres who worked together in the field could coordinate team-building exercises in simulated environments; anything from hostage situations to rescue missions to infiltrations in foreign territory could be recreated, as could the exquisite technology that they used. Digital simulacra of Spectre technology could afford you valuable research credits; if any of these sim programs remained, you might be able to recreate some of the tech at home. At this moment, though, the Palace should be closed, or setting up to open; a time ago, policy dictated such venues stay closed until the evenings to curb an epidemic of kids from the disappearing middle class cutting school to play games.

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>>4901314

The Marion Center is a fitness and health hub favored by the new generation of Freeland’s elite and some of the lower-ranking execs on the corporate ladder. There aren’t too many hotels in Freeland District, and you’re pretty sure some of the ones that are around are just fronts for someone’s organized crime operation. Nevertheless, there’s an average hotel beside the Marion, which touts the health club as part of its facilities. The place is modern. It’s not mind-blowingly high-tech, but they over time the Marion came to tout myriad innovations tailored to the upper-class, offering premium members access to personalized assistants: low-grade, learning artificial intelligence trained to guide individualized fitness and nutritional routines. In a facility like this, though, a fledgling agent could undergo extreme conditioning routines and martial arts training; likewise, the prodigious swimming pool and rock climbing wall likely afforded opportunities to get hands-on experience with analog technologies for missions in aquatic or highly-vertical environments. If there’s records, data, or even tools left behind—anything could be of great value, especially when it comes to beating someone from Excelsis to discovering it. There’s shops and a few eateries at the Center; you can imagine there’s probably surveillance, plus the fact that the fitness center is open twenty-four hours a day means there’ll likely be more than a few pairs of eyes somewhere on the grounds at all times. The Worm warned you that security would probably be higher at night.

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>>4901315

The last checkmark on your list is the most dangerous: the Melrose, a social club for Freeland’s old blood and old money. You don’t know a ton about it, save for the fact that it’s one of the only places in town where you’ll find wood furnishings in every room. Members pay monthly dues as a formality that also does the duty of keeping undesirables—and people who don’t know anything about how to correctly appreciate rare potted plants—out. The Worm informed you that there’s also a steep initiation fee, which can be refunded upon severing one’s membership, an option only available to an individual if there are more people in the club than when they joined. The facility is under the joint ownership of a constellation of corporations that have likely forgotten their initial stakes or no longer care about who owns what beyond playing with their money and collecting fees. There’s a golf course, multiple high-end restaurants, and a firing range where rich folks with guns go to play with them. This is where firearms training and live fire exercises were conducted, according to the information you’ve received. You don’t know how you’d get in, though. They’ve got private security teams: masked-up guards patrolling with fancy PDWs after hours, plus surveillance drones in the air. Someone who looks like you would get stopped at the gate on the best day and ventilated on the worst. But if you could? The value you could walk with is digits even before you factor in the possibility of Spectre combat technology.

You…
> Slide by the Virtual Palace and maybe peek through the windows.
> Take a trip through the Marion Center campus on your way home; probe for weaknesses.
> Make a quick loop around the Melrose’s fence and see if anything speaks to you.
> Try messaging the Worm by phone. (Write-in.)

>>4901317
>Take a trip through the Marion Center campus on your way home; probe for weaknesses.

>>4901317
> Take a trip through the Marion Center campus on your way home; probe for weaknesses.

>>4901317
> Slide by the Virtual Palace and maybe peek through the windows.

It's closed, no mention of much security, prep probably won't take much time, whereas with our last outing we had to prep something beforehand which may or may not have taken more than a day of prep. May as well take the easiest research credits first while it is closed. The others have surveillance and one has private security, I'd also rather not fuck with the staff or customers of The Marion Center, if I recall the first threads initial choices correctly, we didn't choose to be a brawler.

Out of town for a few days, apologies. More to come when I'm more available.

>>4901317
>> Slide by the Virtual Palace and maybe peek through the windows.

So...uh...is this quest dead or did QM just forget about this quest after leaving town?