Chapter 1 Denouement: A Charla By Any Otter Name
Posted: Fri Feb 18, 2022 5:29 pm
Location: Tacoma/Seattle Metroplex, UCAS - Crawlies' Bar and Grill
Time: Just over an hour after departure from Scone Factory
Things were a little...well awkward was a good word...as the team regrouped and tried to work out their next steps. Wraith was eager to introduce 'Shi Kawauso' to everyone, but Death Otter herself was wary of suddenly being among a bunch of heavily armed strangers. They were wary of her as well, as anyone might be of someone who just happened to have such a convenient story of waking up in the narrow window of 'too late to be involved in the atrocity in the factory, but too soon to have missed everything entirely.' In that vein, no one felt particularly motivated to offer the use of one of their precious safehouses for a meeting. It was Otter herself that suggested the use of a bar not too far from the scone factory. She'd been there once or twice before, and it had some reasonably private booths for groups like theirs.
Crawlies was a bit of a dive...dingy and smoky with a small menu for food and a big menu for drinks. Fortunately the place didn't get much custom at this hour, so the team had their pick of places to sit. They chose the farthest booth from the front door, tucked back into a corner with a table scored by deep craters of cigarette scars and scuffs and scratches, along with a single unlit candle in a murky glass jar.
Otter decided that, if anything was going to start, she'd probably have to be the one to start it. So she picked something off the menu then put the booklet down.
"Okay, so...I'm definitely getting a 'kicked in the teeth' vibe from you guys, so even if I didn't already KNOW this mission had gone off the rails, I'd know it now. There is a nonzero amount of moping going on. Not you." She pointed at Wraith. "You're still irrationally peppy. These others though."
She patted herself right over her heart. "Fortunately, I can help. Death Otter. Two words, Death...and Otter. If you know, then you know. I am to hackers what...experimental trog-dwarf fusion is to music. Unpredictable and offensive, ear shattering, but brilliant. I am swimming in the DEEP places, like one of those...effed up fishes with the..." she lifted a hand to her forehead with her pointing finger extended out and down, wiggling it. "...the little things? And the seriously bad underbite? Like that, only...hacker equivalent." Her eyes widened and she clacked her teeth.
"I can ALREADY tell you some of what was going on in there. Maybe you guys have a few more pieces we can put together. BUT." Death Otter tapped the tabletop. "Before I get into that, I want to talk shop. You're on a mission, that mission's going to cross paths with whoever was running...whatever operation was in that factory. So I want in."
Otter nodded at Wraith. "She already slipped that you lost your hacker. I'll take his place, same deal as he was getting. Won't cost any of you anything extra, but I still want a cut at the end."
She then extended a hand out into the center of the table space, well within reach of anyone else in the team, and shifted her voice a bit lower in pitch as she affected a very cheesy 'pirate' accent.
"Do we have an ACCORD?!"
Time: Just over an hour after departure from Scone Factory
Things were a little...well awkward was a good word...as the team regrouped and tried to work out their next steps. Wraith was eager to introduce 'Shi Kawauso' to everyone, but Death Otter herself was wary of suddenly being among a bunch of heavily armed strangers. They were wary of her as well, as anyone might be of someone who just happened to have such a convenient story of waking up in the narrow window of 'too late to be involved in the atrocity in the factory, but too soon to have missed everything entirely.' In that vein, no one felt particularly motivated to offer the use of one of their precious safehouses for a meeting. It was Otter herself that suggested the use of a bar not too far from the scone factory. She'd been there once or twice before, and it had some reasonably private booths for groups like theirs.
Crawlies was a bit of a dive...dingy and smoky with a small menu for food and a big menu for drinks. Fortunately the place didn't get much custom at this hour, so the team had their pick of places to sit. They chose the farthest booth from the front door, tucked back into a corner with a table scored by deep craters of cigarette scars and scuffs and scratches, along with a single unlit candle in a murky glass jar.
Otter decided that, if anything was going to start, she'd probably have to be the one to start it. So she picked something off the menu then put the booklet down.
"Okay, so...I'm definitely getting a 'kicked in the teeth' vibe from you guys, so even if I didn't already KNOW this mission had gone off the rails, I'd know it now. There is a nonzero amount of moping going on. Not you." She pointed at Wraith. "You're still irrationally peppy. These others though."
She patted herself right over her heart. "Fortunately, I can help. Death Otter. Two words, Death...and Otter. If you know, then you know. I am to hackers what...experimental trog-dwarf fusion is to music. Unpredictable and offensive, ear shattering, but brilliant. I am swimming in the DEEP places, like one of those...effed up fishes with the..." she lifted a hand to her forehead with her pointing finger extended out and down, wiggling it. "...the little things? And the seriously bad underbite? Like that, only...hacker equivalent." Her eyes widened and she clacked her teeth.
"I can ALREADY tell you some of what was going on in there. Maybe you guys have a few more pieces we can put together. BUT." Death Otter tapped the tabletop. "Before I get into that, I want to talk shop. You're on a mission, that mission's going to cross paths with whoever was running...whatever operation was in that factory. So I want in."
Otter nodded at Wraith. "She already slipped that you lost your hacker. I'll take his place, same deal as he was getting. Won't cost any of you anything extra, but I still want a cut at the end."
She then extended a hand out into the center of the table space, well within reach of anyone else in the team, and shifted her voice a bit lower in pitch as she affected a very cheesy 'pirate' accent.
"Do we have an ACCORD?!"