Season One, Episode One: The Premature Death of the Pilot

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

 

A voice whispers "There's a storm coming... Can you hear it?" It's comforting, like honey spread on butter and crusty, toasted, bread. The caramel voice fades into the waves, that is reality, and the rain continues.

 

Pitter patter, pitter patter. You gasp for air, as light suddenly pierces your pupils. The shear intensity is blinding and burns like nothing you have experienced since the fall...

 

Where are you now?

 

 

---------------------------------

 

Game on!

 

Everyone starts on full Aether, Health and WP. All replenish in real time... Except for Aether which you will need to collect using actions. You get 1 major action, per day, per Resolve. A Major Action is not just one test. But something that would require a scene or an extended effort to do. (Driving to work and making deal with a co-worker doesn't count as a Major Action - unless that deal effects the story -. But going to a night club that is believed to be a front for enemy intelligence is.... Also, you can tag onto other people's Major Actions for free.  )

[Mnr. Webb]

Mnr. Webb grabs hold of the door of the open rack in front of him with his right hand. His dark brown eyes blink precisely, trying to deal with the after image that is seared into them. It does little to immediately alleviate the symptoms. He reflexively checks the watch on his left wrist. It takes a moment for him to read the time due to the difficulty with his eyes. "No temporal distortion," he thinks, running down his mental list. It was also two hours and thirteen minutes before 5 AM when his shift would end. He valued the solitude of the night shift. There were fewer people about and the other engineers that worked during that shift kept their distance, also preferring some measure of solitude.

 

Mnr. Webb felt the pull between the necessity of his Cover, a thirty-something engineer who needed the hours on the clock to afford the lifestyle he was accustomed to, and his rising concern over the phenomenon he had just experienced. "The engineer would brush it off after a minute and go back to work," Mnr. Webb thought with rigid certainty. "Can I afford to do that? Can I afford not to?" It was times like this that sometimes wished to be part of a larger whole again. Not the God-Machine. Never that. But something... better. Something designed to be clear and precise that made sense and gave a real ordering to everything, not the chaos and insanity spawned by that which he came from.

 

Mnr. Webb brushed off his moment of indecision. If something was afoot, he couldn't afford to be careless. His Cover had to remain perfect. Perhaps the engineer would never have noticed anything odd at all and even the small pause could be something It and Its operatives were looking for. He swung close the door to the open rack and spun the combination lock a few times to randomize it and moved onto the next rack. He checked the tablet computer sitting near by to confirm that it was the right rack and verify that he was in the access window. He carefully entered the combination for the lock on the new rack and went to work making the necessary adjustments.

 

"Another three hours and ten minutes," he thought calculatingly. Then the engineer would be done working and he could contact others and begin to investigate what might have happened. Carefully. Very carefully.

 

OOC: Effectively holding for now, waiting to see what others do. I'll file something more specific later. Right now, just getting into the feel of things.

[Mnr. Webb]

Time passes as precisely as always, but Mnr. Webb is distracted over the remainder of the shift. The engineer makes a few mistakes, which he catches and corrects, but it is anomalous. Mnr. Webb curses quietly inside at the mistakes and refocuses on simply doing the job. Eventually, the shift is over and the engineer goes through the ritual of checking in equipment and signing out of the data center. He walks a few blocks, waits 15 minutes and catches the first TCT bus of the day on the route. He gets off at his regular stop and walks the short distance from there to his bolthole. Then, and only then, does he begin putting things into motion.

 

First, he calls Cafe Beauregard, a local restaurant that opens at 6AM and has private rooms. He books one of the private rooms for the Storm party from Noon to 6 PM.

 

Second, he begins sending out messages via ostensibly secure channels to other members of the Agency. One after another, down the list:

 

"This is Mnr. Webb. I noted something... anomalous this morning at 1:47 AM. If you noted anything, or wish to hear more about the matter, we can meet at Cafe Beauregard any time this afternoon. I will be making a reservation for a private room there for the Storm party for the entire afternoon. If you are not interested, or are unable to attend, a brief summary of discussion will be made available later."

 

Third, Mnr. Webb sleeps for a few hours.

 

At 11:20 AM, he wakes with the alarm. Not a full rest period, but it would have to suffice. He quickly changes showers and changes clothing. By 11:32 AM, he is out the door of the bolthole. He catches a bus running downtime to Cafe Beauregard and arrives at 11:55 AM. He heads inside to speak with the server and make sure everything is in order. His intent then is to wait in the private room until other Unchained arrive, should they choose to do so. Hopefully they will.

[Mnr. Webb]

While waiting for others to arrive, Mnr. Webb pulls out a tablet computer and sets up a quick scraper to scan various local news websites and pull references to storms or the weather, with alerts to notify him of new hits. He also makes plans to take a scenic route to the data center for his night shift this night.

 

OOC: If it isn't too late, Day 1 action is to set up something to scan local news websites for references to storms or the weather and alert him about anything new.

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

Mmr Webb receives no response (unless a PC wishes to do so).

 

However, at precisely 1pm you hear the roar of classic World War II era Harley Davidson motorcycle. A large man with a white-grey beard, bronzed, green gold teeth and an eye patch that makes him look rather pretentious or a part of the cast for Pirates of the Caribbean arrives and walks into the cafe. He awaits for you to identify him Oyadina and then, rudely, stumbles into the room with two women that are clearly wearing lingerie under their sensible, if a bit romanticized, business wear. Their hair is dark. A pitch of black that flows in waves. But not waves in the conventional sense. No, these waves drip and drop and cover one another forming a smooth edge concealing the frequency of the tide. The ladies take a seat on the other side of the room and the middle aged man begins to mutter, "Mrs East and Aunty Nancy shouldn't be long. I heard that they have informed some of our other operatives as well. But before they arrive. Tell an old man..." He laughs at his own joke, "..why you have called this meeting?"

[Mnr. Webb]

Mnr. Webb sits calmly and speaks methodically. "At 2:47 AM on the 1st of June, 2015 something anomalous happened. The intensity overwhelmed me as nothing had since my Fall. I wasn't entirely where I was for a short period of time. There was rain and a voice that asked 'There's a storm coming... Can you hear it?' The voice was mollifying, soothing, calm. The voice faded into the sound of rain and then I was blinded by a terrible and piercing light that seared me and my mind."

 

"Either I was alone in this experience or others experienced it as well. It was significant in some way that I do not yet understand. I decided it was worth speaking with others about in person. This place is sufficiently random and private, though I wouldn't use it again after this."

 

"If I were the only one to experience what I experienced, I seek guidance in what it could have been. If others experienced it as well, an exchange of insight seemed likely to be of importance in solving the puzzle. The intensity and anomalous nature of the experience left me with a sense of urgency."

 

"This is why I reached out to those who might be 1) concerned parties, and 2) able to make sense of the phenomenon."

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

The old man makes a grunt that could easily be interpreted as a sigh. Not a sigh of dismay nor a suspire of relief... The noise was simply was, an entity in its own right, a warning and a statement of peculiar regularity. He takes the copper and leather eye patch off with gusto and the hole where, presumably, this covered and forgotten eye had once been, seemed whole. It looked like crystallized darkness, fog with every star in existence facing towards you. Oyadina smirked and calmly confirmed, "Indeed, I too have had similar precognitions. I see much potential in you, Webb, tell me, how would you deal with this situation?"


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Sorry about not replying sooner on the first post because of the time zone gap... I will be available tomorrow to answer more quickly as I should be at a computer for most of the morning... But I should be able to stay on for another hour now.

[Simple Wordsmith]

<Deleted> 

 

[Mnr. Webb]

The old man makes a grunt that could easily be interpreted as a sigh. Not a sigh of dismay nor a suspire of relief... The noise was simply was, an entity in its own right, a warning and a statement of peculiar regularity. He takes the copper and leather eye patch off with gusto and the hole where, presumably, this covered and forgotten eye had once been, seemed whole. It looked like crystallized darkness, fog with every star in existence facing towards you. Oyadina smirked and calmly confirmed, "Indeed, I too have had similar precognitions. I see much potential in you, Webb, tell me, how would you deal with this situation?"

"Information is essential in determining a course of action," Mnr. Webb begins. "Free communication with several of us in one place is a calculated risk that I believe is outweighed by the value of sharing insight."

 

"Regarding the... precognition: every signal has a source. Who or what sent this? What is the intent of the message? Can it be categorized as friendly or hostile? These things I do not know. When lacking knowledge, I generally believe it is best to assume a reasonably dangerous situation. Not the most dangerous, because then you can do nothing."

 

"As such, the course of action I had personally decided upon was to 1) maintain cover in case this was a ruse to flush one or more of us out, 2) assume that the message holds some meaning, even if it is a lure to draw one or more of us out, 3) investigate the content and look for patterns between the content of the message and the world, 4) coordinate with others on data collection were possible and certainly on any response to collected data."

 

"I assume that the message holds some meaning, because otherwise there is nothing that can be done with it. I also do not assume that it is entirely true or that the intent of the message truly has to do with its content. For example, if the intent is to draw one or more of us out, it may suppose that we will either 1) break cover and act anomalously in a way that makes detection more likely or 2) follow the lead blindly in a fashion that funnels one or more of us into a specific pattern that can be detected."

 

"One is obvious, but two is not. Perhaps this message was sent as a precursor to a literal storm that has been generated separately. If several of us behave in a particular fashion that shows acute awareness of and interest in that literal storm when it arrives, that pattern of attention may be point."

 

"Regardless, I believe it must be investigated in some fashion. Awareness of a potential trap may be sufficient to turn any intended lure to our own devices. If others have insight into how to do so discretely, as some well might, I would rely upon them. My own methodological intent was to establish a private digital scraping program to scour local websites for information pertaining to storms or weather and read through any alerts generated. I would want to build the program in such a fashion that storms and weather are not all it looks for, so that infiltration of the sites in question may not be used to detect searches for just such things and track that back to me."

 

"If several of the Unchained have had substantively similar experiences, it makes the source of this incident much more likely to be from a particular Adversary and its operatives, meaning that considerable caution is in order. If I had been the sole recipient of such an event, the risk profile and adversary profile would have been at least marginally different."

 

Mnr. Webb pauses at this time, realizing it has been rambling.

 

---

 

OOC: The real-time element is what makes things tricky. We're also just sounding this thing out here, figuring out how it'll work. If I wind up being too much or taking the real-time element too seriously, feel free to tell me to chill. 

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

"You have wisdom beyond your years in this realm Webb. To think my husband, Xango, had his doubts about you to begin with." The old stout man chuckles and continues "You have a solid plan and one that I believe that you should follow through with. We'll see if the others arrive with more information... And after that I hear Mrs. East has a job lined up that needs to be handled with discretion. Seeing as you had the initiative to call this gathering, if you want the job, it's yours."  

 

 

OOC: 

 

I will continue this on around 8:30am (GMT+10) and will be available until 12pm, and then from about 4pm my time...

 

I will introduce more NPCs at that point and it will be ideal for players to jump in, even just for soft roleplay until they have character sheets sorted out. 

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

Over the next few hours the old Nordic man makes a trip out to 'obtain alcohol.' At exactly 3.21pm the man returns with two old bottles mead still with the security tabs attached. The man exclaims, playful and loudly, that you should hold bottles out at arm's length for him. He then, methodically, reverts his left arm into the blade it always was and cuts the top off the bottles with one swipe.

 

After taking a large gulp, perhaps even a pint, of the liquid. He grins, showing the rusted and worn molars that the man wears with pride and announces "I give you Aunty Nancy!"

 

A frail woman, in her early 80s, walks through the door and gasps... However, that gasp is quickly replaced with a snarky comment "How, the fuck, do you know these tings Oya?" The wrinkly lady, with faded coloured skin, stumbles over to the old biker man, with the tennis balls attached to her walker dragging across the wooden floor, and gives him a hug of compassion - If lacking any real warmth or strength due to her age.

 

Moments later Mrs. East, which currently appeared to be an English woman in her early 20s. Her skin smooth and had a tint of fire, inherent of her Arabic heritage. Her eyes appear shifty, but kind, and her blood red lips gives you a small grin, not one that could be replicated by a Cheshire cat; but kind nonetheless.

 

Two minutes later, two slender young men in there teens walk through the door. They both appear pretty low-key and are pretty clearly wearing facades, perhaps even of the same person. The time is now 4pm but one of the lesser Agents speaks forward "So why did you call us here?"

 

Mmr. Webb's keen eye notices Mrs. East go an odd tint of pale white and crimson red as the underling, clearly, spoke out of place.

 

 

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OOC:

 

Maybe we should run things in real time with time freezes around when a scene starts (like this)?

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

Oyadina waits a few moments to see if Webb would respond himself and then speaks up, "We're here to discuss the precognitions some of us have had this last evening... Perhaps you have some light to share on the situation Master Silhouette?"

 

Silhouette, one of the generic tuxedo wearing teens then responds "well actually I've heard of these stigmatics down at the church on Ottery Road. Maybe they are collaborating with enemy intelligence to give us the vision?"

 

The middle-aged man snorts and exclaims, "if that were the case why would they show us the image of a storm?" After, precisely, 4 seconds the, now, drunkard man opens his question to the floor "well?"

[Patrick Saanvelt]

The individual whom self-labeled in their heart of hearts as Carmen Sandiego woke up in a cold sweat, under the plush sheets of a luxurious bed. The excretions remained a bit uncomfortable, but by now the Psychopomp had accepted this as a factor of human experience. The matter of this eerie version was less so. Carmen pushed up in bed, trying to interpret the meaning as such.

 

The feel of the very shapely, very feminine form reminded him that such distractions were affecting others in his vicinity. If there was one thing Carmen enjoyed about being Martin Hendrik, it was the exploration of the joys of sex. A physical pleasure that was just something not previously appreciated as an obedient drone of the God-Machine.

 

And as a playboy, his Cover rather gave him a means to divert his worries away.

 

Hours later, he was up, walking in a monogrammed bathrobe. In the hallway he passed a very blase Leonard, used to his master's habits. "Leonard, call the Agency. Tell Management I need to schedule a special meeting."

 

Note to self: time to start investing an a second Cover.

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

Leonards returns to you momentarily and, pleased with himself, replies "The office says that there is a meeting already scheduled in town. Head into the city and find the Cafe Beauregard. Mmr Webb has reserved a room to discuss many important tings."

[Mnr. Webb]

Oyadina waits a few moments to see if Webb would respond himself and then speaks up, "We're here to discuss the precognitions some of us have had this last evening... Perhaps you have some light to share on the situation Master Silhouette?"

 

Silhouette, one of the generic tuxedo wearing teens then responds "well actually I've heard of these stigmatics down at the church on Ottery Road. Maybe they are collaborating with enemy intelligence to give us the vision?"

 

The middle-aged man snorts and exclaims, "if that were the case why would they show us the image of a storm?" After, precisely, 4 seconds the, now, drunkard man opens his question to the floor "well?"

 

Mnr. Webb gladly loses a place as the center of attention as the back and forth between Oyadina and Silhouette occurs. Mnr. Webb's attention clearly ticks upwards at the mention of stigmatics, but no words are offered to the question on the floor at first.

 

As the silence drags on, Mnr. Webb feels the weight of it. Eventually, with no one else speaking up he blurts out: "Whether behind it or not, perhaps the stigmatics know or can find out. Safer them than us if we have no answers. Let them be the canaries in the coal mine."

[OOC: Samuel Holland]

The fat old man takes a moment to process the information. He has an expression that is reminiscent of an old, under-clocked, cpu trying to be as impressive as when it was first bought.

 

He gives a nod. Not a nod of acknowledgement, nor one of disinterest. No, this was merely a nod of 'fair enough, get on with it then.'

 

 

The grumpy pig, of a man, closes his eyes and waits for movement. Only to then suddenly roll open his eye, like a Venetian blind, and coughs, "oh, and take Carmen and Garratt with you, if you can. My only good eye", the man points at the abyss that once held an eyeball, "foresees that they will be useful in your endeavors."