[DVFP] Drill Problems (E 2.4)

You're woken early by Sasha, again. She came up to tell you Norvell and a dozen miners are waiting in Diamond. JD's got Cooker, but they are not listening. Norvell's pissed because Enough-to-Eat, his buddies, and the drill are gone.

What do you do?


  • edited December 2016
    I've had it up to fekin' here with this shit. This is three fekin' days now I've been woken up early 'cause people can't respect my fekin' privacy. I come stormin' out past Sash, still buck-naked from sleepin', onto the balcony, and scream down at the crowd — especially Norvell.

    "Norvell, get your arse over to the bar, and buy a blazin' drink. The rest of you blazebrains can either spend some blazin' jingle, or cook off, and get the fek out of my bar!"

    With that, I storm back into my office, grab my knife, a pair of pants, and my shirt, and head back out into the bar, fumin'.
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    Sasha flinches when you yell, and Norvell and the others gape up at you, then pretty much avert their gaze because, you know, naked guy. Norvell heads for the bar, telling his guys to head off "for a bit". JD serves him a stiff drink, which he doesn't touch.

    When you come into the bar, Norvell turns to face you. "Why are you so riled, Esco?" Norvell says calmly as he stands there in his thick denim and coveralls, "I'm the one who got fugged here. Trusting to you handle my drill."
  • edited December 2016
    Why am I riled? "You come into my bar, bitchin' at my staff, wake my arse up, when I'm up all hours of the night servin' your crew the relaxation they need to work your shite mining gig? And you wonder why the fek I'm cooked?" I laugh to myself, I swipe a bottle of swill from the bar, and pour myself a huge shot. I pound it back, and pour myself another.

    "Let's get one thing straight here, Norvell — you don't own that drill any more than you own me, or this fekin' bar. You don't come in here, demandin' shite from me, and mine. You got cooked 'cause you've been minin' fekin' Borax, when there's blazin' oil to be had." I take the second shot, and huff a sigh. "How long've we been doin' this, Norvell? When are you gunna stop blamin' me for all the shite that goes wrong with your operation?"
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    Norvell's face is impassive as he says clearly, "I offered you jingle to get me my drill back. Now, they're gone, and I can only think you gave them a warning or something." He crosses his arms, "Now I'm out a drill, and you're not getting paid. You hear me?"
  • edited December 2016
    I laugh again, and lean against the bar. "I let those blazebrains go 'cause they offered me a cut of the oil they're drillin' — puttin' that drill they made to good fekin' use! I don't right give a flyin' fek if you pay me, or not. Borax may've paved the way for the Irons, but it sure as shite ain't the future. I think of it as an investment... You want my advice? Free of charge? Learn how to operate an oil rig." I clap him on the shoulder, and get up from my stool. I'm goin' back to bed. "Thanks for comin' down, Norvell — don't be a stranger."
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    That gets his goat, Esco. His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in anger, and he brushes your hand away from his shoulder, "Listen here, you pimp!" Spittle flies from his mouth as he leans in, "That drill was made by a member of my crew. It's mine. You just stole from me. You owe me..." he glances around. "Four barter. Or one of your whores." He slaps his open left hand with the back of his right, "Now, you make this square, or things will get nasty."
  • I'm unimpressed. I turn around to face him, and my hand finds its way to my knife tucked in my belt. "It'll be a cold day in the valley before I give you four jingle — and I'm just gunna pretend I didn't hear you call one of my girls property."

    I stare him down, daring him to cause shite. I'll gut the cooker here and now — presuming JD doesn't end him first.
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    Let's see you Go Aggro here, Esco. Curious how this pans out.
  • Go Aggro. Roll+Hot (Devil with a blade)
    (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 1, 1. Total: 4)
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    Somehow you telegraphed your move, Esco. You reach for your blade, and Norvell's grabbing a spike from his belt, and the guy's fast for an old man. You can see it, in your head, playing it out like some Battlebabe Samurai master might picture the fight as it's happening. You pen an artery and he punches a hold in your shoulder, maybe your chest. You end up fighting each other for time lying on your back in Fleece's clinic.

    But that doesn't happen. Norvell saw only you. He zoned in on stabbing you before you cut him deep. He missed the double barrels of metal coming up behind his left ear. He never even felt his brains passing out the right side of his skull. He falls hard, the spike hits the wooden floor a second after his corpse does.

    JD has a very intense look on his face when you glance over at him. He pulls Cooker back slowly, puts it on the counter, then meets your eyes, "Yeah." He says it with finality, then he turns around to get the mop bucket to clean up the mess. "Can you get Sasha to fetch Fleece?"

    What do you do?
  • It's over so quickly that the shotgun blast surprised even me. I stand there with my knife in my hand, staring at the mass of blood pooling under what used to be Novell's head.

    I pause a moment before sheathing the blade, and looking over to JD with gratitude... "I'll get her. Save me a brush."
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    JD nods and moves the bucket around to start work on cleaning up the mess he made. You head out of Diamond, passing by Sasha, who is gaping at the body that use to be Norvell. When you come to the door, there are a half dozen miners heading your way. They heard the shot, and they're coming to see what the fek happened. What do you do?
  • I pull a toothpick out from my pocket, and stick it in my mouth. I'm not in any rush to get past these blazebrains. I stop in front of the group, and hold my hands out to stop 'em.

    "You might wanna go chat with Eats about a payin' job."
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    Sounds like you're Manipulating these guys with a promise of work. Let's see dice. With a 10+, they'll head out to find him. With a mixed success, they're going to ask for some concrete assurance, or maybe a bribe or barter.
  • OOC: Manipulating these guys. Roll+Hot (Highlighted)
    (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 4, 4. Total: 10)
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    They do indeed head out to find Enough-to-Eat. And with that, the Borax mining operation is effectively at a work stoppage. We'll see how that turns out.

    Esco, you come up to Fleece's clinic. The lights are on, nobody's outside. What do you do?
  • Good. Work stoppage ain't somethin' I'm concerned with right now... Once I get to Fleece's clinic, I stop a moment outside to collect myself. I like lookin' presentable for her... Then I slip inside, knockin' at the door as I enter.

    "Fleece? You here?"
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    "Yes, I'm here." Fleece answers after a moment. You hear the door click unlocked, and she opens the door in her doctor's garb and gestures for you to enter, "I'm finishing up some work, have a seat." She points to the chair in the corner, a new addition.

    You see that she has a microscope on her exam table with a number of slides laid out carefully and a small journal where she's taking notes.
  • I don't bother sitting — not right away, anyway. "Nice furniture. Got a body for you up at the Diamond, Fleece."
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    She nods, "Ah. Not a social call." Immediately, she begins moving the slides into a flap of leather, gently folding the flap over each slide and rolling it into a bundle, then she disassembles the microscope and starts to put it in the metal drawer in a metal filing cabinet that's built into the wall opposite you. "Who died? Someone else who disagreed with you, Esco?"
  • edited December 2016
    I laugh, "Yeah. He started it though." I make my way over to the exam table she was workin' at, and look around, feigning curiosity. I rest a hand on the examining table, and quirk a smile. "Do you miss me that badly?"
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    Fleece glances over to you, then moves over to slap the hand on her table, "I just cleaned that, Esco. Don't get my workspace dirty with all your... " she pauses. "There's literal blood on your hands. Not figurative. Literal blood." She looks up at you more closely. "Spatter on your neck and shirt and..." her hands reach up to your neck and start examining you. She turns your head to the side, "I don't want to know, but I need to know. What happened?"
  • I shrug off Fleece's protestations, and step back from her table with a coy grin. I look down to my hands, and shirt, and raise an eyebrow in legitimate surprise now. "Huh... I hadn't noticed." I suppose it's better his blood than mine. "Some of Norvell's boys took their drill, and decided they weren't gunna work for him no more. Norvell asked me to talk to them, get them back to work... Turns out they've got a decent business plan drillin' for oil, so I decided to let them slip in exchange for a cut. Norvell took offense to that. Decided he wanted me to buy him a new drill, or sell one of my girls into slavery — I told him to fek off, and he came at me... JD was a quicker shot than Norvell was a runner."
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    "Spray pattern's thick. You were right there, weren't you? Sit on the table, I need to check you out." She moves away from you to grab her leather bag, opening it to grab an instrument, then she comes back to you, "Any hearing loss?" She moves your head to the side, checking out your right ear with her instrument, peering through it to observe. "Norvell tried to hit you? That old blowhard? Lost the bus and a drill, then he comes after you. You have a talent for making people angry at the worst time, don't you?"

  • edited December 2016
    Now it's my turn to protest, when she starts moving me to her examination table. Not loudly of course... I look her dead in the eyes when she asks me if I have any hearing loss, and my grin grows. "Wot?"

    I laugh to myself, "just messin' with you. Do you have to wear that thing? Don't get me wrong, it was kinky those times in my room – but now it's just makin' you hard to understand."
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    Your hearing loss joke is probably not the most unique one that's been thrown her way, and she responds by dryly looking back at you. Then you move on to ask her about her gown and mask, and Fleece exhales through her nose with frustration, which echoes in the mask and steams up her goggles. "Yes, Esco, I have to wear this thing to remain clean. You're covered in Norvell, and you could have infection all over you. Be thankful that I do check-ups on the people here regularly... well, as regular as I get them to show up at the clinic. "
    She continues checking you over, moving quickly with practiced hands, looking for any open wounds or sores.
    "I recommend you burn these clothes, Esco. And no, I'm not asking you to strip down, you can take care of that yourself. But brain matter and innards are different than just blood, alright?" She sighs, realizing you're not going to be cooperative. "I'll go get my wheel barrow. I'm not cleaning up the mess, though. Sierra's good with a mop. I trained her."
  • edited December 2016
    Huh. maybe I was wrong about her carrying a torch for me... "Pity," I tease, "I like these clothes..." I do, too. I don't know if I'll be able to find another set like this...

    My head cocks involuntarily when she mentions Sierra being good with a mop. Is this what she's been doing 'til now? I frown, and shrug it off. "you need a hand with any of that?"
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    Fleece motions you towards the door, then steps out with you and locks the clinic up, then heads over for the little storage shed to fetch her wheelbarrow and gear. "No, Esco, I can handle myself just fine. I buried a dozen yesterday, and the ones you killed the day before. Today is light work. Even if Norvell was a heavy bastard."
    She picks up the wheelbarrow by its handles, then looks around to you, "Partnered with Sierra, hunh?"
  • I look over to her, a little surprised that she knows that... "Nothing official yet – she's been a too inebriated to officially accept my offer..." I wait for her to finish grabbing the wheelbarrow before starting back on the Diamond. "What else did she tell you?"
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    "Girl talk, Esco. That's all." Fleece says this with her curt manner, words clipped in a tone of finality. She's clamming up about that, and she's stubborn.
    As you head down the side shaft together, over the squeak of her wheels, Fleece changes the subject, "Why did you have to bring up those times in your room? Will I never hear the end of my foolishness?"
  • edited December 2016
    I let the bit about Sierra go... I'm curious, but I don't want too go down that road with Fleece again. I had enough of that last time.

    That bit about our time together puts a smile on my face, though. "Is that what I am to you? A mistake?"
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    Fleece puts her wheelbarrow down (she doesn't drop it), then she pulls off her mask to look at you for a moment. Her hair's pulled into a ponytail, and she's not wearing any makeup. "No." She searches your eyes for a moment, then adds, "Was I just the kinky girl with the black gown?"
  • I stop a moment, put my hands on my hips, and sigh. I wasn't expecting honesty... I look down the corridor, avoiding her gaze. "No." I bite down on my toothpick, shifting uncomfortably, before looking back at her. I smile, "but it didn't hurt."

    I wet my lips, and shift my toothpick over to the other side of my mouth. "Those were different times, Fleece... We grew up, and we grew apart. That doesn't mean we've gotta hate each other — that we can't look out for each other... We just gotta remember why we stayed here. Eye on the prize, Fleece... Eye on the prize."
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    Fleece huffs disdainfully, waves a hand dismissively like she's still in her clinic, "Esco, just because I don't kiss your skinny behind, it doesn't mean I hate you." She shakes her head at the "eye on the prize" mess, and starts to put her mask on again, muttering, "Is the prize for murdering the most people around here? If so, you're a real winner."
    She picks up the wheelbarrow and starts pushing again.

    You turn around the bend and head up towards Diamond. Hate to tell you, Esco, but that wheelbarrow's going to track in mud and shite inside the Diamond.
  • Shame, really... Fleece reminds me of my Ma. Good lookin', though — not that I'd be a good judge of that. I point back at her, when she admits she doesn't hate me, but I keep goin', ignoring her joke about the prize for killing folks.

    She can track mud and shite into the Diamond. Fleece gets that privilege. Few do.
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    Fleece puts her mask back on and wheels her barrow into Diamond. Rufe is mopping up now, looks like JD put her to work on it. Rufe, to her credit, is working without hesitation, but she is working around the big corpse that's spilling more blood with each minute.

    Fleece comes in, taking over, shooing her away and getting to the business of lifting the body up into the wheelbarrow. She uses leverage and training to lift a much bigger person without hurting herself or dropping him.

    Marigold comes up to you, Esco, she wants to talk, but away from the others. What do you do?
  • edited December 2016
    Well, I was going to get to work cleaning – not that I necessarily wanted to – but it looks like between Fleece, and Rufe, things might be taken care of. I pull Marigold off into one of the girls' rooms a minute, kickin' out Wanda – who was doin' whatever she was doin' alone in here.

    "What's up?"
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    Wanda was reapplying makeup. She laughs when you kick her out, she's not bothered by trifles like that, but she doesn't want to hang out in the bar with the cleanup, so she heads off down the hall.
    "Hey Esco," Marigold offers a nervous smile, which means she's about to ask for something. "Seems like you and Sierra are... happy. That's real good." She runs her hand along your right shoulder, smoothing it. It feels nice, she has a soft touch.
  • Yeah, I wouldn't expect Wanda to be upset — I wasn't tryin' to be an ass or anything. Marigold's got my full attention as soon as Wanda's out, and this sudden display of wiles Marigold puts me on the defensive. Is Sierra happy? I can't really tell, given how poorly last night went... If Marigold knows something I don't, then I'm wagerin' she's not here to share. It's just as well to me — that's my private life.

    "Out with it Marigold," I say softly, with only a hint of impatience. "What's up?"
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    She licks her lips, still touching your shoulder, which does have some effect, right? "You really got me out a bind a while back. Giving me a place to stay and work. You and JD have been real good to me. Kept me safe. Food to eat. My own room." She smiles again, meeting your eyes.
    Then she reads the irritation in them and gets on with it, "What does it take to, ah... leave?""
  • Is that what this is about? Leaving? I gently remove her hand from my shoulder, and shrug. "There's no trick to it — you can leave whenever you want, even if you owe us a bit. Just make sure whatever you owe us finds its way back here... Why the sudden desire to leave?"
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    Marigold notices the removal, but turns it so she uses the hand to lean against the wall, which does let her display herself a little. "Oh no, not me. One of the girls, new ones. She was askin'. I just wanted you to know I appreciate all you do and all. So, uhm, do I owe you anything?"

    Does she?
  • OOC: Reading Marigold. Roll+Sharp.
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 1, 2. Total: 4)
  • edited December 2016
    I'm dubious... "So it's not you, but you wanna know if you're squared away? Did you pay rent this month?"

    OOC: Asking my one question while preparing for the worst: What does Marigold intend to do?
  • edited December 2016

    Two knocks at the door, then it opens. It's Sasha. Marigold stands up straight, startled.
    "Esco," Sasha says breathlessly, "That new gang of road agents just came in. There's four cars, fipper cars, heading to The Irons." She sounds like she's keeping down the panic, but just barely.
    What do you do?
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    Oh hey, Esco, Marigold's looking to go, she's got what she thinks is a better offer. She might be taking a few girls with her, too.
  • Of course she is... And right when the fekin' Fippers are comin' to bang down our door. Fek.

    My eyes narrow, and I hold up a finger. "I wanna continue this conversation — but now ain't the time. If you stay put as a favor to me, until we can talk, I'll consider whatever you owe us paid in full. Deal?" It can't be that much anyway...
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    Marigold nods, happy to be square, and Sasha stands there by the door, moving without moving in that nervous way she has.
  • Fek...

    I look ot Sash, not any happier about this than she is. "Round up the girls, and have them go back to their rooms... We gotta get our new security boys seated at the tables, looking imposing... Is Sierra still here?"
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    Sasha looks to Marigold.
    "She is, Esco." Marigold answers in that "this is going to be bad, how do I not get in trouble now" tone. "Pixel asked for some help with a customer, she said you sent her to... Sierra? It's probably Balls. Again."
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    Sasha blinks, "I didn't tell her that! I would never do that, Esco, I swear."
  • See, I figure Sierra can look after herself. That doesn't bother me none... But bein' lied to? That bothers me. I look between them both, dubious. "Someone here is lyin' — I want square answers, right now. Sash, did you send Pixel to Sierra?"
  • OOC: Reading Sasha. Roll+Sharp. (hopefully better than last time...)
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 3. Total: 7)
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    "No. Why would I do that? You're the bossman. JD's your backup. Sierra's not in charge, you never put her in charge."

    Marigold crosses her arms, "I'm not lying, Esco. I was there with Sierra in your room, we'd just read Velveteen Rabbit. Or, well, she did. Then Pixel came to the door, and Sierra left with her."
  • OOC: Is Sasha telling the truth?
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    Sasha knows you've declared Sierra a partner, but you didn't "put her in charge". She wouldn't send Pixel to Sierra because she doesn't think Sierra, a piano player, can handle it. She isn't lying.
  • edited December 2016
    This is more shite than I want to deal with right now... I nod to Sasha, then turn my attention to Marigold. "Stick around... I've gotta go chat with Pixel." Without averting my gaze on Marigold, I add, "Sash — nobody leaves. Nobody."

    Seems the only person here who knows who sent Pixel to Sierra would be Pixel. I march past Sash for the stairs... Time to find our little Pixel.
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    Please go here.

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