Untitled Document

Text in this color represents my after-RP musings as I was editing the log.

Text in this color represents OOC/Paged discussions.

This is mostly a GMed scene,so Tu is really a small part of it. I did it as part of Kevin's training. It was my first GM gig in a while, so a few things caught me off guard. Like not knowing the size of St. Claire, so Kevin jogs during the first half of test - which is probably a stretch. I had to go back and OOCly adjust the times when I found out how big the city really is.

Setting: Glass Walker Safe House

At around 6 am, Tu comes to the safe house, parking his bike outside. He draws his collar to the cool air, shaking his head at the April weather. He pops the seat up, and pulls out a large brown envelope, stuffed with ...well...stuff. He enters the Safe House, and tries to find Kevin.

Kevin pages to the room: Has Kevin been given IC forewarning?

Long distance to Kevin: Tu shakes his head. So, if you want to bail just say he's not around. :P

There's no sign of Kevin downstairs. However, when Tu goes up to the bunkroom, there his target is, resting on his bunk singing along to some gothic-sounding song on his -- well, Jeremy's -- iPod, eyes closed, oblivious. " Leave me alone- I'm a freak, leave me alone- make it easy for yourself, everywhere I go they all stare, I don't understand why they care, they stare at me all in black..."

Tu has the politeness to knock on the door before entering, but not enough to actually wait for an invitation by the cub. He takes a moment to look around the room, then focuses his attention on the cub. "Briefing in 15 minutes in the kitchen. You can shower if you haven't, and you'll be traveling - so pick your clothes appropriately." Notice given, the ragabash turns and starts to leave the room.

Kevin opens one eye and turns off his music. He takes a breath in, as though in preparation to ask questions, but then thinks better of it. "OK," he says simply instead, and in less than fifteen minutes, he's there in the kitchen, looking somewhere between eager and edgy.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu will have to charge the Get for the training, if we lose you to them.

Kevin pages to the room: Good luck on dunning them for that little bill :)

Already in the kitchen, coffee poured, Tu is sitting at the table - the large envelope in front of him. He nods his heads, indicating for the cub to join him at the table. "Morning."

Kevin slides into a chair alongside the other ragabash at the table and rests his elbows on the surface in front of him. "What's the picture, then?" he asks.

Tu gives the envelope a sharp push, sending it sliding over to the cub. "Welcome to ragabash training 101." He glances at his watch, noting the time. "It's now 6:17. You need to be back here no later than 6 pm, or I deduct points from you. Also, you don't have to get to all of the items on the list, with the exception of the last one. Though, the more you finish, the more points you get."

Kevin picks up the envelope, frowns at it, shakes it, smells it, turns it over in his hands to see if there's any writing on it. Anyone would think he was suspicious of Tu.

Kevin pages to the room: Anything spring to his attention?

Inside the package: A cell phone, a hand held GPS device, a sealed brown envelope with something inside, a map of the St. Claire bus lines, $100, and a piece of paper with instructions typed on it.

Kevin pages to the room: I didn't say he'd opened it! We'll consider it done, then...

Long distance to Kevin: Tu dohs. Sorry. Misread.

Kevin, after these precautions, opens the envelope by the inelegant means of sticking his thumb under the flap. Homing in on the typed paper, he studies it, letting the other items rest on the table for now.

You paged Kevin with 'There was no writing on the outside.'.

The paper contains four entries which all follow the format: Namely what looks like longitudinal / latitudinal lines, and an item listing, then some information.
XXXX XXXX Get video token.
XXXX XXXX Get coaster.
XXXX XXXX Jean Kilborne. Get Door Plaque.
XXXX XXXX Get Bible.

The fifth entry is different, though, in that is has more specific instructions:
XXXX XXXX Be there by Noon. ABSOLUTELY NO LATER. Go to table in the back. There should be a man with a small brown coffee cup and a brown briefcase. If not, wait until 1pm. Quietly walk up to him and say, "I see you're trying the Chantico. I find it too rich." Then leave, and wait just outside the building. Exchange envelop for drive. Bring drive to XXXX XXXX.

You paged Kevin with 'XXXX is the long/lat directions. I didn't bother actually figuring them out. :P'.

Kevin's eyes run down the paper, and then go back up to look at Tu. "Okay. Clear as mud, but I'll figure it out... One thing, though." He gives the cliath a sly smile. "I know you ragabashes. I'm one myself. If this turns out to be my rite of passage and you're not telling me about it in advance, and if I get through and make it back, I am /so/ going to thwack you into the middle of next week." He pushes his chair back, scoops up the various items, and gives every sign of making ready to depart.

Tu lets the cub examine the contents and read the paper in silence. He takes a sip of his coffee, emitting a contented sigh afterwards. When the cub stands to leave, he breaks his silence. "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. Not so fast, there, hop-a-long. We need to lay out the ground rules."

Kevin spins back round. "I thought you said time was of the essence," he points out, but leans up against the kitchen counter while awaiting Tu's further clarifications.

You say "No shifting or Umbra. The only exception is if you're attacked, and can't get away. If that happens, the test is over and you come straight back here. Next, if you get arrested or anything, don't be foolish. It's better to get collared and call me than try and evade them. And, that's exactly what you do. /Call me/. That said, though, you're under no obligation to /not/ bend or break the laws. Just don't do so without thinking about the consequences. Finally, you keep whatever money is left over."

Kevin wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. "Your number's programmed into the phone?"

Tu nods. "It's the /only/ number in there. Also, the phone is registered with a tracking service. I can follow you via the web - so if you can't talk for some reason, just hit redial and don't say anything. I'll know it's you." Tu smiles. "See you soon."

Kevin gives a friendly wave to Tu. Out to the front of the house, through the Walkers' door, out into the common area, through the front door, and onto the porch. The weather is overcast but dry as he strides out onto the street, a thin teenage figure in neutral clothing, and finds a quiet spot to examine the GPS device.

You paged Kevin with 'The GPS device is pretty user friendly. It has a map, and shows your current location in the center. There's a zoom in/out feature that goes from street level to state level views.'.

You paged Kevin with 'And, of course, the long/lat of your location.'.

Kevin has never used such a device before, but soon gets it figured out -- to his own satisfaction, at least. He starts plotting out how far he is from the first set of co-ordinates.

You paged Kevin with 'What's your Int/Wits?'.

Kevin pages: 3/2. Want sheetview rights?

. You paged Kevin with 'Don't worry. Wits/Int is probably all we'll need.'.

Kevin pages: OK.

Perhaps not unsurprising, the locations cover the entire city. The 'bible' task is the closest, being only a few blocks away. The 'Coaster' task is to the north on Market street. The 'plaque' task is in the financial district, as is the noon meeting. The delivery spot for the drive is almost back to the safe house, and the 'token' task is down on Regan avenue. Kevin checks the cellphone, not to make a call but to note the time, since the boy doesn't have a wristwatch. Evidently deciding to take the first job first, he strides off in the direction of Regan Avenue.

You paged Kevin with 'You can take a bus, a cab, or walk. Which would you prefer? Regan Ave is a good distance away.'.

Kevin pages: How busy are the streets? Kevin pages: Pedestrianwise?

You paged Kevin with 'Here/Now? Not very in this area. Occasional jogger, old woman.'.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu calculates the time it takes. We'll say about 1/2 hour if you keep the jog up? Arrive around 10?

This is where things got messed up, as I was planning on a bus riding cub, as opposed to a jogging on. I blame Grey. In trying to figure out the times (as this was a timed event), I had to know distances. Which are not readily avialable, and I didn't even know how 'big' St. Calire actually was.

Kevin pages: Works for me.

The cold air is quickly forgotten, as the jogging keeps you warm on your trek. The quietness of the safe house neighborhood slowly gives way to the seedier side of town, as you near regan street. There's more people about now: homeless begging for change, kids hanging out on corners, and people just going from place to place. The daylight adds some security, but you probably wouldn't want to be here alone at night. As you near your location, you keep the electronic equipment out of sight - probably would be tempting to some folk. You can keep the map in your head pretty well, and it leads you to a building with blackened windows. Red Neon signs gaudily advertise Video Booths and Marital aids among other items. The most prominent sign identifies the business name: Good Vibrations.

There's a sign on the door indicating it opens at 1pm.

Time: 6:15 am

Kevin slows to a normal walk as he approaches his target, and strolls past the building at considerably slowe pace than even his normal stride, casing the joint. He gives a frown of annoyance as he clocks the nature of the building, and a larger one as he notes the locked door, and the sign upon it.

Kevin pages to the room: What's the next nearest target to this?

You paged Kevin with 'This is the one furthest from the rest. The 'Bible' is still the closest for you, though only slightly more so than the 'Plaque' and noon meeting place.'.

Time: 7:45 am

Kevin pauses to consider, but only for a moment, before kicking himself back into gear and moving off in the direction of the next nearest target, the 'Bible' one. The frown's still on his face, and combined with his garou nature, a few pedestrians seem to think the other side of the street is preferable to walk along rather than passing close to him.

Time: 9:15 am

The trip back is like watching a tape in reverse, the poorer city gives way to the more affluent. As time ticks by, you pass the safe house once again, and jog for a few blocks after that. Mostly residential, there's a few people here or there, but the streets are pretty quiet. As you near your destination, you realize that it is a church, which is probably not all the surprising. Smallish in size, you can tell by the decorations and the well kept lawn, that the people who worship here are well to do. The parking lot is full of cars, though void of people save one man in a grey jumpsuit. In front of the church, three old-style cares are parked, gleaming.

Parked across the street from the church is a bike which looks familiar.

Kevin pages: Yours, I assume? As opposed to Brom's.

You paged Kevin with 'Old style cars.'.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu nods. Tu is not around, though.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu makes the time around 10:45, BTW. Since updated to 9:15

Kevin slows his pace to check the church over once more as he comes up to it, not to mention the man in grey in its parking lot.

As you near the church pipe organ music can be heard from within, a collection of voices joining in to some hymn or another. As you train your eyes on the man in grey, you guess he's a janitor for the church sneaking out to grab a smoke while the mass is on going.

Kevin frowns in annoyance again. He doesn't seem very happy with the way his task is beginning. Returning his eyes to forward vision, he walks on past the church.

You paged Kevin with 'I'm not sure your intention. Next task, or are you scoping the church out?'.

Kevin pages: Is there any sort of notice outside the church giving service times?

Long distance to Kevin: Tu nods. It lists a daily mass (5am) and weekend services. You probably can figure out this is a 'special' mass, given the cars and the time. Is Kevin catholic?

Kevin pages: No. He's not really religious at all, unless you count his new-found allegiance to Gaia.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu nods. I was thinking he could estimate how much time was left from the hymn if he had been to church a time or two.

Kevin pages: Alas, not our godless Kev. Timecheck?

You paged Kevin with 'Still 10:45. -9:15- You haven't done anything, really.'.

Kevin pages: Yeah, tell me about it :/ ETA if he heads to the noon pickup?

You paged Kevin with '20 or so by jog.'.

Kevin pages: And to 'coaster' and 'plaque'?

You paged Kevin with 'Before you bolt think about the fact that if you come /after/ the service, it may be locked. The smoking guy may suggest another entrance.'.

You paged Kevin with 'Coaster is also about 20, but in a different direction. Plaque is about 30.'.

Kevin pages: It may? Oh dear, Kevin won't expect that. He's from England, where churches are almost always left unlocked even when there's no service.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu doesn't think they leave curches unlocked these days - but let me check.

Kevin picks up into his jog again, having taken a quick confirmatory check of his device, and aims his steps for the place where the cryptic 'coaster' is supposedly his target.

You paged Feinan with 'Hey, do you think they lock churches up when not being used?'.

Feinan pages: Hmm. Depends. Abandoned ones, probably not. Or at least as much as they do any abandoned/condemned building. Ones that are still active - depends on the type, I believe. Roman catholic churches tend to be open most of the time, for people to come in, but they usually have someone there. A church where people only meet at certain times - they're locked.

Time: 10:30 am

The affluent feel of the area subsides a bit, as you head north on your quest. As you job, it gives you time to realize that you have spent about an hour and a half, without much to show so far. As you hone in on the next target, it is a little past 11 am. The GPS device leads you by the nose straight to the next building, nestled in between restaurants and other businesses. A large sign proclaims it to be 'The Dubliner', an Irish pub it appears. A weathered sign hangs on the door, promising live Irish music every Saturday night, starting at 8pm. The sign next to it indicates it opens at noon. An alleyway leads to the back of the building.

Long distance to Feinan: Tu cools. Thanks.

From afar, Feinan grins, and snugs. Glad to help.

Kevin is fast becoming used to the targets of his quest being locked up like Fort Knox. He's about to go jogging by the bar with scarcely a break of step, when a thought seems to strike him, and he swings round into the alley instead, slowing to a halt once off the main drag, and checking about him.

Kevin pages to the room: Any garbage cans or similar items?

For an alleyway, this isn't too bad. Paper and debris is evident, but the large dumpster appears to be emptied frequently, as there is no smell evident from it. There are two small windows visible here, both closed, and a set of double doors.

You paged Kevin with 'Dumpster = Garbage can. In case of lexicon confusion. :)'.

Kevin walks slowly down the alley, eyes on the ground, scanning the junk and litter there. "Where's Olga when you need her?" he sighs aloud.

Kevin pages to the room: He's looking to see if the junk contains any discarded coasters.

None of the debris floating around seems to be of the 'coaster' variety. Moving to the dumpster, you flip open the lid and peer inside. There's the smell of stale alcohol and waste, apparently kept in by the cover. The dumpster is empty, but stuck to the bottom with a brown sludge, is a small white coaster with a dancing Irish man on it.

Kevin cracks his first smile since leaving the safehouse, despite the distastful nature of his discovery. Reaching down, he picks up the coaster, and tries to scrape the worst of the yuck adhering to it on the edge of the dumpster.

You paged Kevin with 'Prize 1 of 5. Where to next?'.

Kevin pages: I'm guessing it's coming up for time to set off for the timed appointment if he wants to be there for noon?

Long distance to Kevin: Tu would think so, but checked just in case. Jogging?

Kevin pages: Yes, unless the sidewalk's so crowded it'd be anti-social of him to.

The success of the last task hopefully distracts you from the fact that you're carrying garbage. You estimate that that you'll make it to the next stop with a few minutes to spare, so you keep your pace steady as you move from market street, towards the financial district. The buildings grow up around you, glass and steel veins reaching up from the heart of the city. Jogging is harder here, though not impossible, as you catch the wave of people leaving their offices in search of lunch. The GPS leads you to a Starbucks which encompasses part of the first floor of one such office building.

Time: 11:45 am From here on out, time and distances are more accuarate.

Kevin performs his usual ritual as he approaches his target -- slow down to a walk, pull out his cellphone, check the time, and walk past the building he's aiming for, giving it a good look-over while trying not to seem too conspicuous. This time he also reaches into his pocket, checking that the smaller envelope, the sealed one, is still safely in there.

The envelope is, indeed, still in place. As you finger it, you get the sensation the contents feel vaguely money sized, though the contents are shielded from view even if held to the light. A steady stream of people go in and out of the coffee house. The building is in the middle of a block, with a small alley-like street a couple of buildings in one direction and a larger, main street a few buildings in the other.

Kevin finds a space against the wall of the building that's out of the way, and occupies himself in case of observance by faking pressing buttons on his cellphone, as though sending and receiving text messages. He keeps an eye on the time, and as 11.55 rolls round he detaches himself from the wall and saunters with what he hopes is nonchalance into the Starbucks, squeezing through the crowds and heading towards the back of the coffee shop, watching for a man matching the description given to him earlier.

It's not too hard to spot the man. In a sea of suits and manicures, he seems to be the only one without a jacket. He wears a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a pretty cheap tie. On the table sits a small brown cup, and next to that is a brown briefcase. He splits his time between keeping his eyes on the cup, and looking nervously around the place.

Kevin takes a deep breath, squeezes with a "Scuse" between two besuited businessman types juggling skinny lattes and overpriced sandwiches, and manages to fetch up next to the table with his contact on. Suppressing an urge to laugh at the bad-spy-novel use of code-words, he gestures with a thumb at the fellow's cup. "I see you're trying the Chantico? I find it too rich." These words are delivered in what is evidently meant to be a US accent, but which begins in Texas and ends somewhere near the Great Lakes.

Surprise barely begins to describe the look on the mans face with Kevin speaks to him. He opens his mouth to reply, angrily so would be a good bet, but closes it quickly with a glance around the store. He grabs the briefcase off the table, leaving the drink, and starts to push his way out of the store.

Kevin is nonplussed for a second at the man's sudden departure before he recalls the remainder of the instructions, and begins to make his own way out again, keeping a space of three or four body-widths -- given the crowded shop, this means in practice two or three bodies -- between himself and his quarry.

By the time you leave the building, bad tie man is already at the mouth of the alley. He gives you a final, disapproving, look before heading behind the building.

Kevin saunters on round the building too, taking his good old time and still trying not to make an absolute spectacle of the pick-up.

page Kevin = You're 15?

Kevin pages: 16 in June. He looks his age, more or less. Would certainly be carded everywhere.

The man just about pounces on you, when you arrive. Well, verbally so. "What the fuck is this?", he asks angrily, then drops his voice as not to draw attention. Well, any more than a man, a 15 year old, and a brief case would. "I didn't agree to deal with no fucking children. Where the hell is John?"

Kevin's jaw sets. "Fine, if you're gonna get like /that/ about it," he snaps back, "I'll just take my little envelope home again -- " he pulls it out and jiggles it under the man's nose -- "and you can just take your little drive home again, and is that /really/ what you want, Mac?" Alas for any lingering hopes of being able to maintain an American facade, Kevin delivers these words in his most aloof and British tones.

The guy glances from envelop to the person holding it, then back again. "Fuck. Give me the fucking envelope, before I change my mind. I'll take this up with Wu myself." He makes a show of being angry, but you sense that he's the type who waits for his boss to leave before giving him the finger behind his back. Lot's of sound and fury, signifying very little. He holds his hand out, apparently for the envelope.

Kevin holds both hands out, the one containing the envelope gripping the item tightly. "Let the dog see the rabbit first," he asks, with a knowing look to the other man.

That suggestion has the same effect on him that flatulence in a small room might. His frown deepens with a shake of his head. "What the fuck are you talking about? Rabbits. Rabbits my ass. I'm not handing this over so you can bolt leaving me nothing. You give it to me, I count it, then you get the drive. /That's/ the deal."

Kevin shrugs, opens his second envelope of the day by hooking his thumb under the flap, and withdraws the contents. "Don't even think of trying to run off," he cautions, "because I can run faster." He slaps the envelope and contents into the man's palm.

The sweat stains under the mans armpits, hardy noticeable at first, have expanded greatly - even in the cool air of the alleyway. He looks at the money, 10 one hundred dollar bills, does some quick math, then nods. The money is stuffed into his back pocket, and then he retrieves a small USB drive from his pocket and hands it to you. "The pass word is 007", he says.

Kevin takes the drive, stares at it as though by doing so he could determine whether the data on it is what it purports to be, and nods. "Job done," he says. "I'd say it was nice doing business with you, but Mother raised me never to tell lies." With which rejoinder he turns on his heel and heads out of the alley at a fast trot, slipping the drive safely into the inside top pocket of his jacket.

Kevin pages to the room: Sorry, I'm going to have to bail for bed soon. Will we be able to wrap up in another session, or is it likely to take longer?

Long distance to Kevin: Tu needs to leave too. I always underestimate how long these things take. :) Since it doesn't matter /when/ any of this takes palce, we can leave it here and pick it up tomorrow? If you want to RP elsewher, go ahead and don't assume any of this happens until we finish?

Kevin pages: That's cool. I won't be online tomorrow or Wednesday though (well, Wednesday maybe, but later than normal if so).

We picked up in the same place on Wednesday.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu is assuming it's enjoyable. If not, no worries, we can handwave the rest if you like. Your call. :)

Tu thinks, due to his very scientific calculations of mass and time, and because it's easiest, that he will just double the times he stated. As long as you keep a steady jog, we should be okay. :) Let me set...

The streets are crowded as you check the GPS device and start to follow it's directions. You move parallel to Interstate 90, heading back in the general direction of the safe house. It takes over an hour to make the trek - jogging at a steady pace. You leave the shadows of the corporate world, and rejoining suburbia. The next destination is, actually, only a block from the safe house. As you near, you spy a familiar looking motorcycle parked outside.

Kevin pages to the room: Um, which one am I heading for now? The one with the nameplate?

You paged Kevin with 'Do you want me to re pose the page of directions? You have to drop the drive somewhere.'.

Kevin pages: Ah, of course. See, I said I was brain-dead. Yes please, saves me scrolling huge amounts.

The disk drive is, indeed, still where you had tucked it away. The 'Joint' is a small, independent coffee and sandwich place. A few tables are arranged outside of the place, but no one is braving them in the cool weather. The front of the store has 2 big plate glass windows, giving an easy view to anyone who is close enough. The smell of food wafts out, a stomach rumble reminding you that you haven't eaten in quite a while.

Kevin takes a nice deep breath of coffee-scented air, and pauses outside to squint in through one of the windows, both to check out whether there's anyone seated at tables inside, and to see if they've got anything at the deli counter that appeals to him. He's been jogging back and forth enough to have a very healthy appetite by now.

Tu sits at a small table near the window, reading a newspaper and looking as if he's been there all day. He doesn't appear to notice you as of yet. On the table in front of him is an icy glass of sparkling water, a lemon slice swimming lazily among the bubbles. Next to the water is a plate which holds a largish sandwich and potato chips. Next to that is what looks like a candybar. The service counter, and menu, are on the back wall furthest from the door, the food offering limited to cold sandwiches, cold pasta, salads, and all sorts of desserts.

Kevin grins as he spies a familiar face that goes with the familiar motorbike. Without further ado he pushes the door open and enters, whistling tunelessly and fairly loudly.

It takes longer than you would have thought for the older Ragabash to notice you, and you suspect maybe it's all done for effect. Either way, once he sees you he waves you over to the table, folding his newspaper and laying it on the table. He glances at his watch with an approving nod.

Kevin sits at the table next to Tu. "So far, so good," he comments. "Got something for you. Do you want it now or later?"

A slight smile appears on Tu's face as he holds his hand out to the cub. "Excellent. You're making good time", he comments. "I'm guessing you just have the Regan street task left? They should be open by the time you get there." He glances at his watch again, "In fact, you probably have time to eat, if you want."

Kevin retrieves the drive and places it in that outstretched hand. "Not quite that brilliant... still three to go," he admits. "I'll grab a sandwich and eat it on the bus or something. Better not hang about to chat..."

Tu doesn't seem at all surprised by the actual progress Kevin has made, and his demeanor remains light and pleased as he slips the drive into his pocket. "I recommend the Turkey Club Sandwich", he says taking a sip from his water.

A quick glance to the service counter shows only three people in line.

Kevin pushes the chair back and joins the line, hoping he'll be at the front of it in a moment so he can order the turkey and see if Tu's right.

You paged Kevin with 'What do you want to order?'.

Kevin pages to the room: Turkey club sandwich, and bottled water.

The line does indeed move swiftly, the benefit of having all the food pre-made. The woman behind the counter quickly grabs a sandwich and wraps it in wax paper, slipping it into a bag with the water, and a couple of packs of mayonnaise and mustard. "6.50", she says as she rings up the items on the register.

Kevin ponies up from the money he was given at the outset of the day, giving the employee seven dollars and not bothering to stop for his change. "Later," he says to Tu as he heads out. Funny how the cafe can accommodate two ragabash garou without all the customers taking fright, where one full-moon would probably have spooked them all. He tucks the water bottle into the pocket that once held the drive, and holds the sandwich while he checks his directions outside.

I actually had intended Kevin to get a single $100 bill, and give him some trouble finding change, but decided it was too much work for too little payoff, so allowed him to assume he had small bills.

page Kevin = Where to next?

You paged Kevin with 'Where to next?'.

Kevin pages: How far to the door-plaque place?

You paged Kevin with 'Plaque place is back in the Financial District. About 1 hour- 20 minutes by bus. The Church is closer, about 10 minutes by foot.'.

Kevin pages: Timecheck?

Kevin pages: And the video joint?

You paged Kevin with '1:30 or so, after you have your food. The Video joint is a good 1 1/2 hours by foot, 30 minutes by bus.'.

Kevin pages: Video joint in the same direction as the plaque, or opposite?

You paged Kevin with 'Video place is south west - more south than west, Plague is North West - more west than north. church is essentially north.'.

Kevin pages: OK. As I need to eat the sandwich, and the vidjoint opens at 2 (yes?), I'll hop a bus thataway.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu nods. Good plan.

You pick up a bus just outside of the coffee shop, and only have to transfer twice to get to the Video Shop. The bus that picks you up is nice and clean, and deserted save for the driver. He gives you a disapproving look as you eat your sandwich, but doesn't say anything even though a sign clearly says no eating or drinking. After the second transfer, it becomes apparent that the busses in St. Claire are doled out by neighborhood. While clearly more used by the people who live here, or perhaps due to that, the bus has seen better days. It is dented and dirty, and graffiti lines the inside and out. The people are a mix of elderly folks at the front, all of them grasping bags of some sort and trying not to look around, and kids who should probably be in school, but seem to be content making the back of the bus their own little fiefdom.

Kevin, being of an age himself where he shoulc probably be in school, seems not to mind the company he keeps on the bus too much, and is certainly very grateful for the nourishment of the sandwich. He saves some of the water in its bottle for future thirst-quenching.

You paged Kevin with 'Do you flash any of your electronic bling?'.

Kevin pages: Nah. He may be naive, but not THAT naive.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu didn't think, but asks in case. :P

Kevin pages: He's been to this target already, so should be able to recognise it when he arrives.

You watch the city pass the windows, knowing that the Bus travels right down Regan street. When the bus passes 'Good Vibrations', you get off at the next stop and backtrack a few steps. The streets are busy, though not nearly as crowded as the financial district. Good Vibrations is now clearly open, as people come and go. Older men, who don't seem to care, and younger men who glance around nervously before slipping inside the place.

Kevin comes to a halt several yards along the street, and seems to be considering. He looks at his own reflection in another shop's window, and looks slightly disappointed. Nonetheless, he plucks up his courage and trying to look as though he has every right to be there (which he doesn't) and is perfectly comfortable with the concept of a sex shop (which he isn't), he heads for the door.

Inside, the store seems impossibly cramped with everything from video tapes to various latex products. The store smells of stale smoke, sweat, and stale sex. The primary source of at least two of those smells, is a small blob of a man who is propped up on a stool behind a counter right by the entrance, the soggy remnants of a cigar clamped between his lips. Signs on the counter read: "You must be 21 years of age to enter this store per order St. Claire CCP 14.123." , "Shoplifters will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law", and "You open, you buy." The man speaks with a gravely voice, which owes its tenor to the yellow phlegm you're sure rests comfortable at the back of his throat. "Hey kid - read the sign."

Kevin scowls at the old low-lifer. "Yeah, right, grandad," he retorts, and exits again, walking quickly away until he's fifty yards down the street, where he rests against a wall and shakes his head in disgust. Either the turkey's disagreeing with him, or else the store and its contents are -- one being more likely than the other.

You paged Kevin with 'Are you formulating a plan?'.

Kevin pages: He's too dazed for that. He'll recover in a couple of minutes, and head to whichever is nearest of the remaining two, church or plaque.

The cool air helps to wash away the smell of the place, but does little to help wash away the memory of it. You stand there, resting for a few minutes, before deciding to pass on this particular task. A few secretive glances at the GPS indicates that the other two tasks are, essentially, the same distance away - but in somewhat opposite directions. Both are north, but one eat and the other west.

Kevin considers his options and decides to head for the one target he's not visited yet -- the one with the cryptic words 'door plaque' attached.

You paged Kevin with 'Bussing it?'.

Kevin pages: Yes, since I'm guessing time's ticking away.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu nods. 2:00 when you made it to the Shop. It'll be around 2:30 when you make it to the next one.

Kevin pages: Onto the bus then!

You pick up a different bus on Regan street, and transfer again at 1st. Unlike the ride here, which seemed to follow a bizarre route through the neighborhood, this one sticks to 1st street, stopping every two block or so. The closer it gets to the financial district, to more crowded it becomes, and by the time you are ready to depart, you have to push pass people who are standing up for the ride.

Once off the bus, it takes you a moment to get your bearing, as the buildings all look alike. All of them tower above you, shiny steel and glass, like clones. You eventually figure out which is yours, and head in that direction. The main entryway is bustling with people coming and going, almost all of them in suits. Just past the main doors you can see a large desk, with two guards sitting at it. Behind them, it appears, is a directory of the building.

Kevin looks at the building with some discontent on his features, as though he wasn't expecting something quite so extravagantly businesslike, and feels less than well enough dressed to be hanging out in this part of town. He scopes out the people passing back and forth, checking the door area as best he can to see if there's any kind of a plate, plaque or equivalent name-bearing item upon it.

Quick Break for Food

You paged Kevin with 'Your move. Recap - Main floor had Security Guards and a directory.'.

Kevin pages: No, your move, I think. He was looking at the doors to the street.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu damns. Right. Hold on.

There is writing on the door, identifying the building as the 'Sheffield Place', though no plaques are readily apparent, nor does anything seem to be linked to Jean Kilborne. People move past you in both direction, though few of them seem to take notice of you.

Kevin develops a thoughtful look on his face after a couple of minutes, and strolls away, looking out to see if there's a sandwich shop, deli, Starbucks or similar anywhere in the vicinity of the offices.

You move away from the building, scoping out the surrounding area. It's clear there doesn't appear to be any such businesses in that building, but a quick look shows two coffee shops and two small restaurants, all within a block and a half.

Kevin strides down to the nearest coffee shop, and enters it. Once he gets served, he orders a large Americano to go, and if the store does any sandwiches, potato chips, or pastries, he'll order one of those too.

With an eye on cost, you purchase a tuna sandwich, Americano, a bag of chips and blueberry scone- to the tune of $8.50. The food is wrapped and put into a bag for you.

Kevin takes the bag carefully and heads back up the street to the office building. This time he doesn't hesitate or linger outside -- just walks straight in and over to the reception desk, where the security guards are, and takes a quick glance at the board behind them with (he assumes) the names of companies and/or people on.

A quick glance at the board shows a list of the companies in the building, but doesn't list any specific people. However, as you near the directory you see that there is a touch screen directory system embedded into the Guard's table. Since it seems to be oriented away from the guard, you figure it is for public use.

Kevin hopes he figures correctly as he walks over to the computer screen and searches for 'Kilborne'.

It takes only 2 touches to find her name, a third to call up the specific information on her. Jean Kilborne, Analyst II, Kenntic Corp, 1325. You can see a bank of elevators beyond the Guard desk.

Kevin thoughtfully back-clicks to the menu -- no point in leaving his target up on screen for anyone nosy to see -- and as he walks past the guards, hefts the coffee and snacks up so they can see them. "Delivery," he comments in what he hopes are nicely neutral tones.

You get the sense that the guards don't really care, as they hardly look up never mind actually replying. You join four or so people waiting for the next elevator. When it arrives, you step inside. The elevators are gold, with mirrors on the ceiling and track lighting along the edges. There's a sign which reads 'In case of fire, do not use elevators', right above a small door with the picture of a phone on it. The number 13 lights up as you press it, and you can feel the velocity of the elevator as you moves you towards your floor.

You paged Kevin with 'You guess that the mirrors hide a security camera.'.

Kevin pages: You're being kind to Kevin there. As a Briton he'd be unlikely to know US office numbering systems...

Long distance to Kevin: Tu figured it was universal. It's not?

Kevin pages: US street numbering and floor numbering systems seem strange to uninformed Britons. "Do you really have 5000 houses in a street over there?!" and so on... We can say he figures it out, or backtrack, your call.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu , the arrogant America, assumes eveyone uses the same system. Street adresses, yes. Anyway - we'll assume he figures it out in view of wanting to finish. Finding the company isn't the challenge.

Kevin departs the elevator on the thirteenth floor, 'delivery' of coffee still clutched in hand, and looks left and right as he walks into the hallway.

It only takes a moment to grasp the numbering system, and Kevin heads left off of the elevator. 1325 is at the end of the hallway, behind two glass doors which separate hallways from office. You can see a waiting area on the other side of the doors, complete with reception area, and hallways leading off the waiting room in two directions.

Kevin saunters along the corridor, at a gentle pace, trying to be alert for people who may challenge his presence while still looking relaxed and like a genuine coffee delivery boy. His eyes are particularly watching, of course, for door plaques, and for one name in particular.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu is right in that you entered the company and are wandering inside 1325?

Kevin pages: Uh, I guess so... is 1325 a single office within the company, or the company itself's office suite number?

You paged Kevin with 'The company itself. Her office, you figure, is inside.'.

Kevin finds 1325 and taking a deep breath, enters the reception area.

When the cub enters the office, the woman at reception tears herself away from a magazine and smiles at you. "Delivery? Okay, you know where you're going?"

"Kilborne?" Kevin responds, pretending to look at a name scrawled on the bag. "Down here, right?"

The woman thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "Other way. Right at the next hallway, fourth office down on the left. She's still in a meeting, though. Is this on account?"

"She paid on her plastic," Kevin improvises. "Said if she was still in the meeting, to leave it on her desk." He moves in the direction the receptionist indicates, hoping to thus forestall further conversation.

With a flick of her wrist, the woman dismisses you and returns to her reading. Whatever other faults she may have, however, her directions are spot on. It takes you just a few moments to find the door in question, and attached to the door is a metal plate with the name Jean Kilborne etched into it. It appears to be screwed in place.

Kevin pages: What kind of door? Solid wood? Glass window I can look through?

You paged Kevin with 'The door is wood, though you're pretty sure a good yank would free the plaque. There is, indeed, a window to the office you can look through. The office stands empty.'.

page Kevin = Solid wood, yea.

You paged Kevin with 'Solid wood, yea.'.

Kevin opens the door, and leaves it open. He places the coffee-and on the desk, figuring it'll make a consolation prize for Ms Kilborne when she finds her nameplate gone, and without further delay save for a quick peek back out along both directions of the corridor outside, gives the nameplate as strong a jerk as he can in the hope it'll come free.

Kevin pages: If he can't get it off manually he'll search the desk inside for a ruler or similar tool to provide leverage.

With a yank, the plaque comes off the door, though it is a less than quiet operation as the screw make a popping noise as they come free of the wood. Regardless, the prize sits there in your hand. It is about three inches on one side, and 8 inches on the other. Too small to hide in your palm.

Kevin considers his options quickly. He slides the plate down into his pants, so it's alongside his right leg, then pushes his hands into his pockets so he can hold it safely from the inside. Leaving the coffee to cool itself, he closes the door and makes swift (but not too swift) tracks for the reception desk and freedom.

As you step back into the hallway, there's a man heading towards the office from further down the hallway. He blinks at you for a moment before speaking. "Hey - what are you doing?"

Kevin's heart skips a beat or two, but he manages to keep outward control. "Coffee delivery for Kilborne," he says, pulling his free left hand out of his pocket and jerking it back towards the office he's recently quitted.

You paged Kevin with 'What's your manipulation?'.

Kevin pages: 2...

Another Break

Kevin pages: Back, when you are.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu is back!

Kevin pages: Rar! Ball's in your court.

The man relaxes for a second, apparently buying the explanation. That is, until the jerked thumb leads him to look at the door and spy the naked door, and fresh split wood. "Hey, come here.", he says as he takes a step towards you.

Kevin brazens it out. "Yeah, man?" he says, taking a couple of steps towards him. "Make it quick, I got to get back to the store."

The confident reply confuses the man, who again looks from the door to you. "You're not supposed to go in offices", he says. "Deliveries should be made at the front desk if the person's not in."

Kevin sticks his left hand back in his pocket, regaining his symmetry, and shrugs. "Girl on reception sent me through," he explains, and begins to walk away, hoping the pounding of his heart in his ears isn't audible to the rest of the office.

"Well, I'm telling you. I'll tell her too." This said, he makes no move to follow you. Heading back down the hallway, you leave him behind and turn back into the reception room. The woman at the desk pays little attention to you as you arrive. At almost the same instance, a group of people arrive from the other hallway.

Kevin gives a brief, vague nod at the receptionist, but apart from that, doesn't stop for pleasantries. It's all he can do to control his legs, which seem determined to break into a run, and make them walk in a normal gait, heading for the sweet safety -- or relative safety -- of the main corridor, and the elevator.

As you head out of the office, you are able to hear the receptionist say, "Miss Kilborne, your lunch came. I had them put it into your office." Any reply is cut off by the door closing behind you.

Kevin pages: Is the elevator in the middle of a stairwell in this block?

Long distance to Kevin: Tu nods.

You paged Kevin with 'It's a block of elevators, two on each side (4 total). There are 2 stairwells.'.

Kevin's heart skips another beat at those words, and his mouth suddenly feels very dry. He speeds up his pace as much as he dares, heading for the elevators, and hoping -- if he were religious, he might be praying -- that one of them's at this floor. If not, he's going straight down the stairs, no waiting around. His right hand in his pocket grips the name plaque firmly, which seems to his nervous senses to have grown to the size of a jumbo pizza.

Prayers seem to be answered, as the door responds almost instantly when the call button is pressed. There are two other people in the elevator, riding it down. A quick glance back to the office reveals that the reception woman is standing now, pointing in your general direction.

Kevin swings into the elevator and hits the button for the entrance lobby, willing the doors to close and the lift to move down.

Time seems to move slowly, as the elevator doors hand open. You can hear footsteps, a group of them, moving down the hallway towards you. With a shudder, the doors slowly start to close. A voice from the hallway says "Hold the elevator!"

Kevin reaches out to punch at the open-door button on the elevator, simultaneously accidentally-on-purpose missing it, and, he hopes, keeping any would-be helpful fingers of other passengers off it.

The others in the elevator don't move to press anything. The doors shut, and the elevator start its descent towards the lobby. While the ride up seemed to take no time, the ride down seems extremely slow. Plenty of time, you figure, for someone to call security and for them to look at the cameras. The two people in the elevator with you chat idly, about this and that, oblivious to you.

The elevator passes the 6th floor.

Kevin's mind races. What now? His mind's eye sees a phalanx of guards surrounding the elevator in the lobby. The nameplate down his pants leg has grown from the size of a jumbo pizza to a jumbo jet. Cudgel his brains as he may he can't think of a way out. And worse still, as his panic and adrenalin grow, he starts to feel that familiar itchy tightness under his skin, the sensation that tells him he's close to shifting. He suddenly wishes very strongly that he still had the coffee he left on the desk up on the thirteenth floor.

With a 'Ding', the elevator doors open revealing the lobby. If the guards are alerted, they must be hiding around the corner, as there aren't any visible. The two other riders step out of the elevator, turning left to head for the exit.

Kevin pages: Burn that WP, Kev baby!

page Kevin =:grins.

Long distance to Kevin: Tu grins.

Kevin can hardly believe his eyes as he's allowed out of the elevator unmolested. Focusing every atom of his mind on remaining in control, he walks, a little stiffly due to that wretched, hateful plate down his pants, out of the elevator and after the duo of office workers, staying behind them and in their shadow as much as he can without treading on their heels.

You notice, as you head past the guard desk, that one of them is no longer present. The other is on the phone, though you can't quite make out what he's saying. Still, there's no alarm, and he doesn't seem to be looking at you. The doors almost fly open, as you push a little too hard to get through them. The cool air outside prickles your face, and dulls the thumping in your ears.

Kevin breathes the cool air outside with relief. Mighty clean it seems, polluted with city fumes and exhaust emissions though it may be, and mighty welcome. He doesn't, of course, hang around outside the office to appreciate it; he sets straight off to put as much distance between the building and himself as he can. If he can travel in the direction of the church, so much the better. If not, he'll jump on the first bus he sees.

You paged Kevin with 'With your permission, I'll do a spam pose about the church and we'll get you back to the SH?'.

Kevin pages: That's a deal.

You jog a few blocks from the building, before catching a bus heading in the right direction. The bust trip to the church is about 20 minutes, which gives you a chance to catch your breath and your wits, leaving the sky scrapers behind you. Unlike the previous task, getting a bible seems ridiculously east - there are a few people praying when you arrive, but no one pays attention as you grab a book from the last pew, and head out the door again. Task done, you check the time as you head for the Safe house.

You should get there with plenty of time to spare.

Kevin takes the time on the bus to fish the nameplate out from his pants leg and clean any splinters or screws from it, before tucking it away again. Into the church, out again with the Bible inside his jacket... it all seems like a breeze after the office building. How ironic, he observes as he boards one last bus in the direction of the safehouse, that the businessmen guard their belongings so much more than the priests.

Tu is nowhere to be found when you arrive at the Safe House. At 6:00 on the dot, the phone give a jingle and a text message is waiting. 'Good job. We'll talk soon. Tu'