[Junk XIII] Debt Collection (J 7-1)

edited December 2013 in Junkworld XIII
Jack,

After Dime-line took your feedback under consideration, then continued you use you to interrogate people close to him, moving on to his own family, things started getting ugly. Did you turn in his grandson, who was making deals with the rival Saucony family because he's attracted to one of their daughters, or did you lie about it?

Parfait rode back to Boomtown with you, of course. It's been a few weeks now. Where did you set up shop, Jack? Who owes you in Boomtown anyways?

Oh and by the way, Logitech sent a runner kid to find you this morning, asked if you'd come by later. It's late morning, Parfait's done being sick, and Junk Radio Two is playing some folksie tune. What is it?

What do you do?

Comments

  • His poor grandson... I told Dime-line the truth — because I was contractually obligated to do it. If the man is monstrous enough to murder his own grandchild in cold blood, then I will be all too happy to take my leave of him, forever.

    I rode back to Boomtown with Ro and Parfait. I need to collect on that jingle Kodak promised me. I am all too happy to see the friendly aura Boomtown is famous for. We've rented an old shack that was vacated by the previous tenants in favor of a life up north... Some Doctor named Stitch, and her companions. The renter, a curious man named Caesar was moving in with a friend over the Garage.

    Junk Radio 2 is playing a tune called "I will wait" – the energy of the piece is quite striking. Delivered with the force of a live performance. I am now on my way to meet with Logitech – I need to see him about my payment anyway.
  • The music is uplifting, which is a nice change of pace after this morning. That night, when you saw your son's future, something changed for Parfait. She's become slightly withdrawn from you, from everyone. You've glimpsed this before, when you were much younger. She sleeps in, doesn't want to go to sell her jewelry at market, and cries often. It's such a marked difference from before.

    You head into Logitech's to find him chatting with Jonamac. How do you two know each other? Jon is probably the closest thing The Libs have to a leader. Logitech waves you to a seat, "Hey Jack, thanks for coming over. Perfect timing really, Jon and I were just swapping stories, and you were in a couple."
  • Parfait's sudden downturn in mood has me worried... At first, I blamed myself for harming her — but when the depression continued, and worsened, I recalled our youth together. I wonder if this is what the voices referred to when they called her "mind-sick" — and I've been trying to stay near her, in spite of her withdrawal.

    I could not avoid this meeting with Logitech, however — we are in need of money for food, and our sales are not the same without her. I'm surprised to find him with Jonamac — and unsure of what to make of my presence in their stories. I bow graciously when he invites me to sit, and get comfortable. "What can I do for you, Logitech?"
  • Logitech hands you a water bottle, and refills Jonamac's mug. "Well, with things really growing here in Boomtown, I've partnered with Grande Seville to try and keep the place a bit safer. Jonamac and The Libs have been doing a pretty good job with security at Seville's, and Jonamac and Braeburn both want to step up for the town."

    Jonamac nods, explaining, "Yeah, we're gonna take over security for all of Boomtown. Businesses will kick in a small tax from their sales, and that will go to pay for me and my boys, plus 'Tech's work crews that are building out Boomtown and makin' improvements..."

    "Plus, we're bringing in more water with that treatment device you helped us get. Which reminds me, we need to settle up." Logitech says. He takes a long drink of his bottle of Crests', then continues, "And I'm sure you're wonderin what the heck this has to do with you. You see, my man Jon here, and his crew, they're good for keeping the peace and busting heads. But they aren't so good with figuring out people, or investigations. At least, not like you are, Jack."

    He pauses, just to let all that sink in, see if you've got a response or a question.
  • I'm afraid he couldn't have made the offer any more obvious. If not for the fact that I am still raw from this business with Dime-line, I might have even been excited at the prospect of fairly regular work. Instead I sigh lightly, and slick a strand of hair back...

    "Forgive me, Logitech... I just sold my services to Dime-line as a payment for that water treatment device — and the entire experience was quite trying... His idea of justice, and the certainty that comes with my gift is often — well, it has a tendency to invite paranoia." I pause and look between them, "my conscience is weighed heavily upon, gentlemen; and though I know your intentions are certainly noble, I am hesitant to simply point fingers at criminals for the rest of my life... Especially considering the last few I did wound up stranded in the middle of the flats with no food, water, or protection from the sun."

    I lick my lips in consideration, "without the ability to know, for certain, my recommendations for punishments would be respected, I could not even begin to consider taking up such an offer."
  • Tech and even Jonamac listen in. Its weird, because Jonamac usually only wants to talk about his stuff, but here he is, leaning in, listening. And you realize, he's probably been sitting here, drinking and chatting, waiting for you to arrive.

    Tech says, "First of all, I'm sorry Dime-line frakked ya in the ass, Jack. But, hell, that's his way. It's the whole reason we sent you along, to keep things fair. When Kodak told me you took one for the team, I was shocked. And really impressed." Jonamac nods with him.

    He takes another swig, then puts down the glass. "We already have rules and punishments here. Not that they've been strictly enforced, but Ollie, me, Kelly Tires and a few others made up about... hell, ten years ago. When we were small, it was easy to keep them. And now, well, we're trying to get back to square one."

    Jonamac speaks up then, "Jack, the way I see it, most of the work is on me and mine. You'd just come in on drek that aint frakkin obvious. It'd give you a stable place, some jingle in yer pocket, a chance to use yer gifts fer something that don't mean gettin petty criminals strung up or left to die."

    Tech comes in with the closing, "I can offer you and your girl room and board plus a jingle every other week, just to keep you around. A jingle per case that we ask you to work. How does that sound?"
  • ... Well that is certainly a little more generous than I had anticipated... I look out the window a moment, I can see Redcliffe and the foothills to the northwest. Boomtown is something of an anomaly here in the flats — a forward thinking town, founded by people who seem to be quite moral. It is attracting an interesting group of people though, and I worry this expansion will flood the town with people who are at odds with the town's thesis.

    Working every other week was difficult, but not insufferable. The ability to travel, and steady flow of jingle would also help. I am intrigued.

    "Oliver... Kiddo's father? And KellyTires the Salt Radio host? ... Tell me more about these "laws" you've developed — and how I might best serve them."
  • Logitech chuckles, he's like a fisherman who feels the tug on his line. He bends over behind his desk and pulls out a leather-bound journal and puts it on the edge of the desk facing you, open so you can read it.

    It's a pretty simple document, in length. But elegant in prose. It lays out a simple framework for a socially just society, with punishments focused on re-education and limiting violence and removal from society for all but the worst crimes (murder, rape, large scale theft). There are a few small areas where it's obvious some merchants worded in some tariffs and protections, but that's more along the lines of business, rather than society as a whole.

    The last page is a set of seven signatures. Which one do you see that surprises you most, Jack?
  • Color me impressed... I suppose the paranoia Dime-line exhibited has rubbed off on me a little bit. I smirk, and flip through the pages casually until I come across the signatures.

    ... Nehi?

    She helped found Boomtown? I look up to Logitech and point to her name, "I know this woman... Last I heard, she was on the run from something. What happened to her here?"
  • edited December 2013
    Jonamac answers, "She killed a guy named Hostess. In cold blood."

    Logitech adds in, "They had troubles, rumor was that he was beating her. Had been for years. And she waited till her kids were grown, then shot him dead, and left town."

    "I woulda lobbied for her to stay." Jonamac says with a little chuckle.

    Logitech shakes his head, "That's because you had a serious hard-on for her, you dumb bastard."

    "Indeed I did. Or well, do." Jon replies with a big grin. He leans forward in his chair to ask you, "How is she, Jack? Still alone?"
  • She killed a man? Well, that is certainly a history worth running from... I rub the stubble on my upper lip pensively, and listen to the tale in full. When Jon asks me if she's still alone, I nod. "I was recently commissioned to determine her intentions in Oasis. She struck me as a rather unique woman — very troubled, and very lonely."

    I look over to Logitech, "she didn't strike me as a woman looking to harm anyone, Logitech... But then, I suppose my exposure to her was quite limited. Was the exile self imposed?"
  • Logitech nods, "Yeah. She evidently sat on it for years, planning every detail. She wrote me and Oliver notes explaining she didn't want to put us in a position of arresting her. It was... weird. But tidy"

    "Who doesn't love a weird but tidy girl?" Jonamac laughs.
  • I quirk an eyebrow at Jon's comment, "I would imagine the man she killed, but that's neither here nor there..." I look over to him, and offer a small smile, "your point is taken."

    I lean back in my chair, and scratch my chin. "I suppose if I could be of help, I could do that. Would you mind terribly if I worked in two week stints, rather than one on, one off? I have terrible wanderlust, and I've promised Parfait I would show her more of the flats..." I was hoping that some travel would do her good, but given how withdrawn she's become, I should probably check on her.
  • edited December 2013
    Logitech purses his lips, "Jack, sorry I wasn't clear. Your work happens when we need you. The every other week is just to keep you close enough to be near when something might happen." He exhales a little bit, thinking, "What about this? If we need you, we put a call out on Junk Radio, you tell us what time of day. And if you hear it, then you come back to Boomtown quick, and work that case until its done."

    "After that, you're free to wander your lust or whatever." Jon says with a grin.
  • That sounds reasonable. "I can make that happen," I answer calmly, "and we may not wander very far most of the time... Parfait is expecting."
  • Logitech and Jonamac both raise a glass, and Jon seems as sincere as 'Tech, "Congrats, Jack!" They drain a glass for you.

    There's small talk after, but that's the meeting.

    What do you do?
  • I presume Logitech settles up with me on the Dime-line service. How much extra did they end up paying for that? Once that's done, I need to go check on Parfait. Tell her the news. I'll bring some of Butter Nut's fine cuisine home for her — hopefully it will cheer her up.
  • Logitech offered twice your fee for the work, plus all the water you want from the lake.

    Butter Nut prepared one of her best dishes for you and your expecting wife. What is it? She packs it up in a Styrofoam container (she cleaned it herself). It's still warm when you come into your flat. The lights are off in the apartment. Parfait isn't in the main room, she's probably in bed.

    What do you do?
  • It is a "Butter" chicken curry dish that is both aromatic, and sweet. She paired it with an oily flatbread that tastes divine. I also fetched a jug of water, since it is important Parfait stays hydrated, as per the list Kim gave me.

    I put the jug of water down by the door, and lock it behind me when I enter. I suspect with the lights off that means Parfait is either napping, or not yet recovered from her mood. I pad quietly into the bedroom, and softly call, "Parfait, my dear — I've got food."
  • She rouses at the sound of your voice, a shark intake of breath in the dark. After a moment, she says, "Oh. It smells nice. Thank you." A moment longer, and she asks quietly, "Can you put it on the little table? I'll have some later." There's a numbness to her tone, like she's awake, but she's not here.
  • Hmm... I slowly make my way over to the table beside her, and place the box of food there for her. I take her in a moment before sitting on the bed next to her.

    "Parfait, my dearest... You haven't eaten all day." I reach out and gently take her hand, bringing it up to my mouth for a kiss, "are you feeling ill? Should I fetch the doctor?"
  • Her hand is cool to the touch. She doesn't pull away, but in the dim light where she's put towels over the window, you see her eyes aren't looking at you. She mumbles, "No, Jack, I'm alright. Just a little sleepy. Our boy is taking my strength."

    "Did you meet with Logitech?" she asks.
  • I slick a strand of hair back, and lean in closer to her. I know she would not lie to me — but I worry she is not in her right mind.

    I tilt my head to better watch her face, and smile down on her. "I did," I say sweetly, "and we've been paid handsomely for our services... They've offered me a job here, helping to keep the town safe — and they've offered us permanent housing. We would be somewhat bound to the Flats, for the time being, but I figure with our son on the way this would not be a bad thing."
  • OOC: Reading Parfait. Roll+Weird. +1XP.
    (Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 2, 1. Total: 6)
  • Spending my bond with Parfait to hold 1.
  • "That's great," she says in that monotone. "You like it here, right? And... it would be good for our son. You're right." She starts scooting up on the pillow, sitting up a bit. Her eyes are still dull, but you get the feeling she knows you want her to talk, to be up. So she is.
  • I pull up my legs so I'm sitting cross-legged in front of her on the bed. Perhaps if she's willing to talk with me, I can convince her to eat as well. I look over to the food suggestively, and add, "if our son is wearing you out, then perhaps we should feed him... It will do both mother and child good."
  • She nods and quietly takes the container from you, picking at the food and slowly eating. She spends most of the time look at the food, or your lap, rarely your eyes. She has no talking points or topics, so conversation is your burden.

    What do you do?
  • If she does not wish to speak, then I'll not burden her with an abundance of words to consider... Instead I'll eat with her, suggest we go out for fresh air when finished, and perhaps even venture a kiss to let her know I love her — all this is a guise to see what might spark some semblance of the woman who has charmed me these past weeks.

    OOC: How can I get Parfait to return to her normal self?
  • edited December 2013
    She eats some. Then eats a bit more. The food's amazing, but she barely registers it. Evidently your son is making her eat, because she eats pretty well. It just takes a long while. She doesn't shy from the kiss, but she doesn't seem motivated to return it.

    When you suggest outside, she looks up, makes eye contact for a moment. "Jack, I will go out with you. Can I have a moment to get ready?"

    What do you do?

    This is her normal self. Parfait is bi-polar, she is chemically unbalanced, and at times, she swings moods from elation and mania to sorrow and depression. She needs counseling and there are medicines that can help her. Trench might have them. From what you've heard, the Ascendant surely does.
  • edited December 2013
    I swore to myself I would never go back to the Ascendant. I swore I would never let myself owe Branigans for anything. I can only pray the rumors I've heard in the waypoints of the flats of his death are true... It brings me great sorrow to see Parfait stuck in such a rut. She deserves to enjoy life, and be happy.

    I will need to ask Logitech for some time before starting work here... I must go to the Ascendant.

    In the meantime though, I smile back to Parfait, "of course my dear. Would you like some privacy? Or shall I keep you company?"
  • "Some privacy, yes. Just a bit." She replies, still looking you in the eyes.

    You leave her alone in the room, and she doesn't come out for a while. When you come back in to check on her, she's curled up, lying on her side. She got a new shirt on, then just started crying quietly.

    I assume you hold her, talk to her and try to comfort her, right? After a few moments, she recovers enough to apologize, tell you she doesn't feel well, apologize again, and then try to stop sobbing. It isn't the loud, wailing cry to get attention, its just a heart-broken sadness.

    She's not up to leaving right now, maybe not today at all.

    What do you do?
  • Have you ever dabbled in the minds of other people? It is a terribly exhausting ordeal.

    Do you know what it's like to feel the gut-wrenching sadness of a mother who has lost their child? Or the heartbreak of a man who buried his wife? To be the child left alone when raiders ride in and burn your house to the ground — leaving you without a single thing in the world. The depression, and anger, and confusion that follows the trauma of loss. I do — and I have never experienced those things.

    It is one thing to hear the voiced frustrations of a person's mind, but it is quite another to share in their pain. The empathy that accompanies my gift is something that has made me calloused — practical even — in the face of these emotions. It is all I can do to cope.

    My mind floods with that intense sadness Parfait feels — but I am nothing, if not practiced in the way of diverting the flow. I am a great barrier. I am a great wind across a raging sea. I lay down beside her, and embrace her, holding her tightly. "Do not apologize for what you are, my dear..." I whisper softly, "eventually this flood will subside — but if it does not lessen before you are able to walk again, then I will carry you to safety."
  • "Jack, you are so good to me. I do not deserve it." she says amid quiet sniffles. "I will never be the wife you need, the mother he needs. It is too much." She continues to berate herself and sob, and there seems to be no consoling her, no convincing her of her worthiness.

    Eventually, though, she slips back into sleep. The energy from the food worn away by her tears.

    And you're alone, in the dark room in the early afternoon.

    What do you do?
  • What bitter lies this sadness feeds her... "You are a brilliant wife, and you will be a fantastic mother. You will see — we will be strong together, and this will pass." It is all I can do for her... For now.

    I'm going to go and stock up on supplies for a trip north. Gasoline, food and water, a tent, and whatnot. Then I'm going to tell Logitech that I have one last piece of work to do before I can begin as his kept brainer.

    I imagine that will take me into the early evening. Then I suppose I will come home with more food, attempt to feed my expecting wife, try again to lift her spirits with encouragement and love, and — should that fail — I will spend some time with some old friends ... Bach, Chopin, Mozart ...

    That is my plan, at least.
  • Indeed it is.

    --END SCENE--
Sign In or Register to comment.