Vaylar Rising — IC

[Namelessjake]

The voice pauses again apparently weighing John's words. "It is but he's not here right now," it says curtly, breaking its silence after a moment. Despite the admission the gate to the property remains closed.

[BartNL]

"I need to confirm this is indeed mr. Coltan's place of residence. There is an error in some of his files. Protocol is to revoke all travelling privileges immediately until the issues have been resolved and report mister Coltan for residence fraud and residential tax fraud to the bureau of civil registration, and for vehicle registration fraud to the department of personal vehicle registration if I cannot confirm his place of residence. Could you please show me in, so I can confirm this is indeed mister Coltan's place of residence?" John asks calm but sternly.

Mechanics

Talk check: [2d6+1]=8+1=9

[Namelessjake]

"Oh I see. Come on up to house, I'm sure there's some documentation some where," the voice replies, still clearly nervous.

A moment later the intercom emits a shrill buzz and the gate unlocks with a loud click. It slowly slides to the left opening the way to the house. The driveway is sparsely lit however the surrounding lawns and vegetation is shrouded in darkness.

"Should we sneak in too? Some of us will need to get in and look for the tickets," Jin asks, looking at the others stood back from John.

[BartNL]

"Better not to sneak around outside. This place is most likely guarded. One of you who is halfway presentable looking, should follow me inside. It's protocol to have a partner accompany you when making most types of personal visits. The rest of you could prepare to stall Coltan if he arrives when we are looking for his invitation." John replies.

[ratwizard]

Antoine listens to John's encounter, holding back a shudder as he hears the man speak in bureaucratic threats. Can't believe this guy's with us. All signs point to a fucking plant.

"I'll hang back," Antoine says, knowing he's not much of a schmoozer. Besides, I got other ways to get in if we need.

[Fialova]

"I'll stick back too," Em responds, not keen to enter the home of their target in her usual attire. Maybe I can seem like someone looking to salvage Tug. I imagine these rich folk throw away a lot of stuff that gets scavenged off the streets by poorer folk.

[FinalTemplar]

Tristan flexes his fingers as he thinks about getting into Coltan's house. I mean, shit... it wouldn't be the first time I've been in a richie-rich's house... He squints his eyes, looking up at it. I'm sure there's stuff in there he wouldn't miss. He looks down at himself suddenly, then at the others. "I mean, I don't look the part, but I feel like it'll either be Sven or I. I don't mind volunteering."

[Scratcherclaw]

Sven shrugs. "Either, or. Not my first rodeo with rich assholes, won't be the last." He takes a step forward, running a hand through his hair to tidy it a bit. "But I guess I know a bit more about schmoozing and bureaucratic bullshit." He ponders for a moment, letting out an audible hm. "Could see what kind of security we're dealing with while inside too. Maybe it's crap and someone else can sneak out back."

[ratwizard]

"Sven, wouldn't this clown be able to ID you? Maybe you should hang back too," Antoine warns. "Whoever goes, get a headcount of who's home if you can."

[Scratcherclaw]

Sven shrugs again. "If he even remembers me. But guess we can play it safe and have Tristan go," he says, gesturing for the other volunteer to step forward.

 

[BartNL]

John nods at Tristan, and walks towards the driveway.

[Namelessjake]

The house's gate begins to automatically close after the delay with your conversation, however Stamps and Tristan step past it and begin making their way up the driveway towards the building as the gate closes behind them.

John & Tristan

As you approach the A frame house, its floor to ceiling glass front reveals a man stood by the door awaiting you, a large dog sits further back from the door also watching your approach. It's size and markings are that of an Escriosian hound.

As you reach the end of the driveway, the man opens the door to greet you. "Larris Kerr," he says.

"I don't think I caught your name over the intercom, you are?" Larris asks extending a hand. He is still visibly on edge, no doubt worried by a visit from the authorities, despite Coltan's privileged position in society.

Everyone Else

"I guess now we just wait," Jin says as the gate closes, apparently not entirely happy with being unable to do anything to help.

"Has anyone had any thoughts as to your plan once you're inside the museum?" He asks.

[Fialova]

Em shrugs in response to Jin, having put little thought into how she will manage to make herself fit in at the event. "Not really," she responds, eyeing the others for their own responses. "Certainly ain't my comfort zone, that's for sure. You don't learn a whole heck of a lot about fine dining and fancy balls when you grow up on fishing trawlers," she continues, hoping some of the others can relate to her discomfort with the job. I joined up to help fix the vehicles and weapons of a rebel group, not schmooze with some rich assholes at a museum. Hopefully this is the last time I need to think about looking nice while on the job.

[ratwizard]

"No," Antoine admits, still grappling with the details of the larger plan. Firing pins, old gun exhibit, kill Vibol and any other Diktat shitbag conveniently in the way.

"Getting inside is more than half the battle. With the firing pins, we'll have some heat on our hands and the rest should fall into place. Even so, some of us don't even need a gun." He nods toward Jugs, thankful to have the VI on this op. Don't envy whatever bastard ends up on the other side of those massive, metal hands.

[BartNL]

"I am John Kasi'Mela of the bureau of personal travel." John repeats as he shakes the man's hand while pulling out his official ID with his other hand and showing it to Kerr.
"This is my personal escort, outside hire, he is here to ensure my personal safety. I travel by public transit you see." As John takes out his compad and starts scribbling some notes he continues: "How do you spell Kerr? double r? Now as I was saying, there are some issues regarding mr. Coltan's residential registration." John looks around, steps closer and shows the man the land registration act and the Diktat database on his compad to reinforce his point while whispering so Tristan can't hear: "Let's cut the bullshit. I am here today to make this issue go away. I'll be in serious trouble if I were to revoke a Coltan's travel papers and report him but I'll also be in even more shit if any enemy or competition of the Coltan's find out I've ignored this issue. Better for everyone involved that way." John squints at Kerr as he finishes his sentence and then steps back and continues speaking in his normal volume: "It would be very helpful of you, if you could show me evidence this is mr. Coltan's actual place of residence. Official mail confirms both identity and residence, so that's usually the easiest way. Then we'll be out of your hair."

[Scratcherclaw]

Sven sighs, absentmindedly looking towards their quarry's potential house as he listens to the other speak about their upcoming plans. "Tons of speeches at these kinds of things. Full of self-important assholes who love to hear themselves talk, so they go on for minutes listing people they're supposedly thankful for," he chimes in, cocking his head back toward the group. "Should give us time to swipe it with all the distractions, clinking champagne glasses, blah blah blah." Least it's free booze. Would need to be three glasses in to actually give a damn about those fucks.

[Namelessjake]

John & Tristan

Larris nods in greeting as John shakes his hand, glancing at his id and then at Tristan in turn, the latter's prescence doing little to calm his nervousness. "Yes two R's," he confirms looking back to John. He listens intently as John talks, nodding along in agreement.

"Yes, better for everyone," he affirms. "Um... I'm sure there's some documents somewhere, I don't actually live here you see," he says, turning from the two of you and making his way over to a wooden credenza that sits against the nearest wall.

"Just a moment," he says, beginning to rummage through its drawers, his back turned to you.

[BartNL]

John follows the man, and while keeping as little distance as is socially acceptable stands behind the man, trying to scan for the invitations he is after.

[FinalTemplar]

Tristan follows John inside but stands near the door for a moment. Unsurprisingly, Tris is very good at playing the silent bodyguard type. He looks around the inside of the house trying to hide his giddy joy - Everything he's ever wanted. As he sees Larris lead John down another hallway, Tris breaks off and takes a different path, looking for anything of interest - Stuff that looks like mail would be a good start.

Mechanics

Attempting to notice/wis if there's anything shiny that stands out to me, and then he attempts to sneak away (sneak/dex) once he breaks sight of Larris.
Notice/wis: 2d6-1: [2d6-1]=3-1=2
Sneak/dex: [2d6+1]=10+1=11

[greysigil]

"Wordplay off of Tone: Correct, I need no firearms when I have got steel arms that work just as well." they say, releasing the slight pressure they had built up in their arms with a hiss to punctuate their sentence.

"Response to Jin: Stay inconspicuous as long as possible, try to not get shot when all hell breaks loose. Forethought can only carry one so far." they state, their body settling into a shut-down looking position, their glowing blue eyelights and voice the only indication that they are still active.

[Fialova]

"Pretty neat trick there, Jug," Em responds, finding it difficult to hide her discomfort as the mechanoid feigns being powered down. They all capable of 'pretending' to go off like that? If so, these things are even more dangerous than I thought. Why humans ever thought making thinking machines was a good idea, I will never know.

[ratwizard]

Antoine allows himself a sly smile at Jugs' display. He nods to the VI's response. "Lotta this is just gonna have to be improvised. Based on instinct."

[Namelessjake]

John

As you step further into the house, following Larris over to the drawers, you notice Tristan subtly step off into another room, apparently unseen by Larris, who continues to search for documentation for another minute or so before he turns back to you producing a couple of pieces of paper.

"Here, will these do?" He asks, handing you you documents. One appears to be a utility bill, while the other is a registration document for the gravcar Sven has discovered on Coltan's social media. A quick glance at the addresses on both documents shows this house as being his residence.

Tristan

You silently step into an adjacent corridor, apparently unnoticed. The lights are dimmed in this part of the house, but there is enough navigate with no issues. You reach a half open door to a room that appears to be an office of some kind. A desk sits in the middle of the room while a bookcase sits against the back wall. A golden glint on the bookcase catches your eye, coming from the top of a stack of papers sat on one of the shelves.

Taking a couple of steps into the room you suddenly hear a low growling as a large black dog steps out from behind the desk clearly wary of your presence. It stops a few metres in front of you still growling. You recognise it as an escriosian hound, like the breed Sven found on your mark's social media.

Everyone Else

You are standing on the roadside when a set headlights appear from around the corner, from the opposite direction to the way you came from the bus stop. They quickly draw near, slowing to a stop as they reach you. They belong to a small golf cart like buggy, which has a large shield crest emblazoned on its hood along with the words Sentinel Security.

A portly man, looking to be in his late 40s and dressed in a uniform that bears something of a resemblance to that of the city's police force, steps out. He appears to have a stun baton of some form attached to his belt, but you see no other weapons.

"Hey there. Can I help you folks with anything?" He asks, resting a hand on the hilt of his baton.

[ratwizard]

As headlights shine, Antoine shakes his head and mutters to himself. Goddamnit. Shoulda known we'd get the golf cart goon squad if we stood around like a group of burglars.

When the overweight rent-a-cop approaches, Antoine puts on a face — the same he'd used for years, on every long-haul, every worksite, every stop for fuel or a snack. Pursed lips, raised eyebrows, and his eyes lowered when not making eye contact. Just a lowly worker, getting through their shift.

"Evenin' officer," the driver says, giving him a firm nod. "Yeah, actually, that'd be appreciated. We're here making an overnight delivery on a VI, but I reckon corporate got the address wrong." He palms his compad, its screen illuminating his aging whiskers. "Uhhhhh, let me see here." He squints at the screen, pulling closer. "Says uh... 668 Rogahn. But, after a bit of trouble, turns out we're looking for 866 Rogahn."

Turning back to the security officer, Antoine changes his concerned look to an apologetic smile. "Suppose you could tell us where 866 is? All these windy roads are throwing off my sense of direction."

Mechanics

Talk: [2d6-1]=8-1=7

[BartNL]

John takes the papers, and starts scanning them with his compad. "Thanks for the assistance. I will need to enter these right here manually, since I don't want to take these papers with me." John replies. And I am not even lying anymore. Best way to cover my tracks is to actually fix Coltan's registration issue, so no one else can find out about it.

Info

Can I get an oversight of all personal data on the forms?

[Scratcherclaw]

Sven has to hold back a chuckle as the portly, middle-aged rent-a-cop rolls up with as much authority as a half-dozen donuts and a stun baton can produce. Is this guy for real? Life really does imitate art, he thinks, recalling more than a few smuggled films featuring such a man chasing around hooligans. Not sure just anything would convince an asshole with a power trip. Doesn't even hesitate to keep his baton ready, as if this part of town is so fuckin' dangerous.

He looks between the guard and his companions, trying to remember any sort of bylaw or statute they could use to get the man off their back if needed. Is it legal to have uniforms so close to cops? Wonder if he even has a permit for that baton. Any leverage to get him to fuck off.

Mechanics

Admin/Int to know useful bylaws: [2d6]=12

[greysigil]

As soon as the headlights come into view, Jug switches their eyelights off and stops talking. Self = just a machine, just play the part.

As Tone talks to the man, Jug focuses on maintaining their stillness, on keeping every servo, joint, and piston in check.

[FinalTemplar]

Tristan

Tristan attempts to make himself look as non-threatening as possible, kneeling down slowly. He avoids looking the dog in it's eyes, relaxing and letting the dog make a decision on it's own. Tristan's always wanted a dog, but that doesn't matter right now - Getting the dog to a point where he can move around without scaring it is more important.

Mechanics

Survive/Wis = [2d6-1]=10-1=9 nice

[Namelessjake]

John

The documents presented contain a wealth of personal data; Coltan's name, address, government issued ID number, gravcar licence and registration numbers, age, electricity and water usage at his address, and the bank account used to pay the utilities, among other smaller details.

Tristan

The Escriosian hound continues to growl softly at you as it slowly approaches you. After a few steps it comes within arms reach. It stops growling, becoming more curious than aggressive, sniffing your hands a little before attempting to lick you and brush up against you - apparently perfectly fine with you being there.

Everyone Else

"Delivery eh? Bit late for that isn't it?" the rentacop says in reply to Tone. "You're two blocks off, 886 would be back the way I just came," he adds after a pause.

Sven

A couple of laws immediately spring to mind. You're sure that while private security like this would be allowed a baton, a stun baton would not be covered by the law. You also know that these security companies are legally completely subservient to the authority of the security/police forces.

[ratwizard]

Antoine lets out an exaggerated sigh, pursing his lips and shaking his head. "I should have listened to ya," he says, cocking a sorrowful look back at Em. "Thanks, officer. Can't wait to be done for the night." The psychic raises his hands in an mildly exasperated gesture. As he does, he focuses in on the electric cart behind the cop, pulling on his knowledge of everything from gravcars to freighter ships. Gotta be a parking brake in here somewhere, Antoine considers as he feels around for it with his telekinetic tactile senses.

Spoiler

Commiting Effort in this scene to use core technique Telekinetic Manipulation, in order to release the electric cart's parking brake, hoping it takes off.

From my read, I can do this covertly, however if you want me to roll something, let me know.

[Namelessjake]

Everyone Else

As Tone and the security guard talk, the guard's cart begins the slowly roll forward. With his back to it, the guard remains unaware as it slowly begins to pick up speed.

[Scratcherclaw]

Sven's eyes notice the cart begin moving behind him before he focuses back on the guard. Well, his day's about to get a lot shittier. Sucks to be him. His lips curl into a subtle smirk as he decides to add more fuel to the fire. "Any time, day or night, that's the DavExpress guarantee," he replies with a sort of dead-inside enthusiasm to really sell the bit.

He glances at the stun baton, adding, "you, uh, have a permit for that, by the way? I didn't think those were legal outside of actual police."

[greysigil]

Jug listens to the conversation silently. Tone = Laying it on thick. Hope it works.

They watch the cart begin to roll, but committed to the act, they say nothing.

[FinalTemplar]

Tristan

Tristan waited patiently, hoping it wouldn't take long. "Good boy, yeah, who's a good boy?" He says as the dog begins licking him and trying to nudge him. Gently, Tristan would rub the dog's back. He looks for a collar; "Go on, sit, Princess. Sit." He says, patting some ground off to the side, keeping his voice soft to hopefully not startle it. If the dog listens, he starts looking around the room, seeing if he can spot anything in here.

Mechanics

Notice/wis to spot letters or something that looks like an invitation: [2d6-1]=6-1=5

[Namelessjake]

Tristan

Princess sits at your command, giving your hand another lick as you pull away. She watches you quizzically but calmly as you begin to look around Coltan's home office.

While Coltan's terminal is locked, the desk is strewn with paper files relating to agricultural yields and workforce reports - suggesting Coltan has a job working for his Mother. One document catches your eye as it lists about twenty people marked to be deported to the prison world of Soxeardi for missing their production quotas.

Rummaging through the desk drawers, you find more files irrelevant to your cause, however you do find a credit chit. It's readout shows it has been loaded with 100 credits.

You then turn your attention to the bookshelf at the back of the room. There, sat on a stack of papers, lies the source of the golden glint you had spotted from the hallway, before you encountered Princess, two invitations. Each about the size of a compad, they are coated in a golden foil with holographic decorative qualities and contain the event details in a large elaborate font. They also lack names, simply stating the bearer of the invitation rather than Randis Coltan or any other identifiers.

[FinalTemplar]

Tristan

Tristan's eyes light up, having to take a moment to steady himself before carefully, and quietly, pocketing the invitations. He pauses a moment and considers the credit chit - A hundred creds could be the difference between eating or dying another week... He thinks to himself. It's not like he'll miss them... He considers, and finds himself incredibly tempted, but chooses to not take it. Too risky. Free creds are never free. He affirms, giving Princess one last pet before he quietly leaves the room, and attempts to make his way back out to the front.

Mechanics

Sneak/dex to move back to the front foyer: [2d6+1]=9+1=10.
Add two invitations to my readied inventory, heck ya.

[Namelessjake]

Tristan & John

Tristan slinks back into the entry hall, after his detour. Larris seems to register him as he approaches, however he doesn't seem to realise the gangster ever left the room, having been so preoccupied with the documents.

"So um- do you have everything you need?" He asks, looking at John. The reappearance of the muscle of your duo apparently putting him back on edge once more.

Everyone Else

"Oh, yes I do. I'm approved to carry it with me on my patrols," the rentacop says in reply to Sven, although it is pretty evident that the man is now lying.

The man's cart continues to move away, gaining speed as it does so. Having silently rolled a couple of metres so far, the security guard still remains unaware of the runaway vehicle.

[ratwizard]

Antoine watches the cart begin to roll forward, making no immediate attempt to inform the officer. He eyes the stun baton with raised eyebrows. Well shit, Sven's got a point there. Bet this fella's corp would go into a frenzy if they found out he was brandishing that thing around this bougie-ass street. A liability payout would cost more than a decade of his salary. He turns to look at the black market dealer, curious if the younger man would push his advantage.

[Scratcherclaw]

Sven scoffs at the guard, knowing he's lying through his teeth. And I thought I was the conman. Least I can sell it better than this asshole. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Are you, now? Maybe I should ask your supervisor if you are, or the police..." He pauses for a moment, looking off to the side as he feigns thought. After a moment, he looks back at the rent-a-cop expectantly, a knowing grin on his face. "Oh wait, I don't need to ask them. I already know that the Davonian Statute on Arms, subsection 78B-9 says you're full of bullshit."

[BartNL]

John carefully puts pack the documents after he is done. "Well, I believe that's it. Thank you for your assistance." John says, before preparing to head out. "We are heading out." John then says curtly to Tristan.

[Namelessjake]

Tristan & John

"Ah excellent," Larris replies to John, breathing a sigh of relief. "Let me show you out," he adds, walking you over to the door, which he holds open for you. "I'm sure Randis will appreciate you sorting all this out for him," he adds with a smile, giving you a nod goodbye.

Everyone Else

The Sentinel Security employee grows increasingly red with anger as Sven talks, the bootlegger's words clearly striking a nerve with the portly man. "Listen here you little shit! You don't know jack shit!" He says angrily, balling his fists and spraying spit as he speaks.

"I'm giving you ten seconds to get the fuck out of my neighborhood before we have a problem!" He says, drawing his stun baton.

Meanwhile, behind him the runaway vehicle has rolled several meters and appears to now be moving at least at jogging pace and is only continuing to gain speed.

[ratwizard]

Antoine takes an instinctual step back at the portly officer's sudden outrage. "Uh, officer," he says, making a point of staring down the street as the cart gains speed. "Think you forgot to set your brake, sir."

[BartNL]

John gives the man a polite nod before leaving.
Yes, happy for sorting things out. And mr. silver spoon should be happy. I am doing him a favour by fixing his issue. Now, let's hope Tristan has the tickets or a way in and this wasn't for nothing. John thinks, as he calmly walks out.

[FinalTemplar]

Tristan looks up at John, almost giving a non-commital shrug, and then he nods at Larris. "Stay safe, now." He says with a smile before following John out back towards the others. Once they're out of earshot of Larris, Tristan drops his voice; "I found them." He says simply, not explaining further.

[Scratcherclaw]

Sven struggles to hide a shit-eating grin as his eyes track the cart steadily picking up speed behind the rent-a-cop. Bet he'd be on the hook for any damage to it. He puts his hands up, taking a step back and feigning defenselessness. "Looks like you've already got a problem on your hands. I'm sure we can see ourselves out."

[Fialova]

Em rolls her eyes on cue when prompted by Tone's words, but otherwise is content to remain silent. Instead, she watches the scene unfold before her, finding it hard to contain her amusement as the situation becomes more and more absurd. How'd I end up in a scene from a slapstick comedy? she thinks, while the fake cop fumbles his words, fails to intimidate them, and sees his cart rolling into the distance. I feel like I'm back watching movies with the crew on break, but it's real. Who hired this man?

[Namelessjake]

John and Tristan

Out of the house you make you way back down the driveway to the street where you find the others stood waiting for you. Further down the road you can see a portly middle aged man in uniform chasing after a runaway gold cart type vehicle.

Everyone Else

"I- I-" the man begins, ready to turn his rage on Antoine. He stops as he registers the man's words, turning to see his runaway vehicle.

"Shit, fuck, shit," he starts cursing, breaking into the fastest jog you assume he is capable of, taking off after the golf cart down the street.

"That was lucky," Jin says stifling a laugh at the comedic turn of events.

As the security guard gets well out of earshot, both Tristan and John arrive back at the gate having returned from the house.

[ratwizard]

"Lucky, yeah," Antoine agrees, allowing a rare smile to shine across his weathered cheeks. He turns to see Tristan and John returning, nodding toward them in an unspoken question. Hope that bullshit was worth it. Plan B's skipping through the window and outing myself. Can't have that. Not yet.

[BartNL]

"Hand them over to someone else in the group. No talking." John whispers in reply.
"We will be heading back to the office now." John says, now louder in case there is someone or something listening in.

[greysigil]

Luck, fate, or plan? Jug thinks as they watch the security guard run after his vehicle.

As soon as the man is out of eye- and ear-shot, Jug's eyelights click back on. "Agreement: The timing could not have been better."