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[Snowpocalypse] Shop Visit (H 2.3, L 2.3)
It's the next morning after Hadden's family dinner and Lemma's big heist.
Lemma,
You head back after the Stadium job to find Marmot working hard on the scrap from Kemper. She's got everything laid out on the shop floor and tables. She's got a gist of what it is, but she's still working through how to reassemble the pieces. You can tell at a glance that the scrap was a casting furnace and some tooling machinery. Really fine detail stuff, in lots of pieces.
Hadden,
Once you get out of Underlake through Crossover, you find your way to Lemma's shop by early morning. Something got in your way, delayed you a couple hours, what was it?
Both:
Hadden enters the shop to see Marmot working on reassembling some machine with a case that looks something like a sewing machine made of thick metal. Lemma's here, too.
Lemma,
You head back after the Stadium job to find Marmot working hard on the scrap from Kemper. She's got everything laid out on the shop floor and tables. She's got a gist of what it is, but she's still working through how to reassemble the pieces. You can tell at a glance that the scrap was a casting furnace and some tooling machinery. Really fine detail stuff, in lots of pieces.
Hadden,
Once you get out of Underlake through Crossover, you find your way to Lemma's shop by early morning. Something got in your way, delayed you a couple hours, what was it?
Both:
Hadden enters the shop to see Marmot working on reassembling some machine with a case that looks something like a sewing machine made of thick metal. Lemma's here, too.
Comments
Weird. I've never seen green auroras like that before, so close, close like you could touch. Like shady curtains, receding, pulling you in and... shit, I was way way off course. Lucky I didn't pop a tread or worse. My compass in the minitruck is all over the place and I might could be fucked. I got a few ice cubes in the kit if it comes to having to wait to daybreak, but I hurry and push the rest of that thought away.
But I stop to watch the aurora, and I feel something about it, like a conversation in motion, like fucking, but more like dancing. There's a ripple that almost looks like words from a pen, and you can't help but watch, maybe hoping for to see a real face or a name... Then there's a sudden fast wave that tears across, opening so I can actually see stars, which is fucking mesmerizing and a damn decent omen to boot, and a flash-long strike of a green lightning bolt, shatters, loud as hells, and I see the city skyline off to one side, not where I thought it would be, and that's gotta be the sky-kite at Backside Misty's. In that brief half-half-second, something in its motion looked wrong.
I'm rubbing my eyes, there's an after image on my brain, and like that, I feel the cold again and know my bearings.
Maybe it's just my compass started working. Maybe it's something else.
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 6, 4. Total: 12)
He's also pretty easy on the eyes.
I'm both relieved and proud of Marmot's work so far. Slow and steady was exactly what I was looking for. I make sure to let her know she did well before I dive in to help.
Now that it's all here and laid out, I can point out a few things about how they fit together and get her started on some of the large-scale stuff. I can also set aside the really fiddly bits to do myself.
What does Kemper want with a casting furnace and machine tools? That's... disturbingly close to my territory, actually. I'll have some questions when he comes in to pick this stuff up.
So, I'm working on some of the detail work and overseeing Marmot on the bigger stuff when the bells on the door ring and Hadden walks in.
Shit, Hadden. I'm still darkly suspicious that someone screwed up in the handling of my device, but there's no denying it cut out and left his crew hanging at a bad time, and I'd taken my cut in advance.
It's awkward, but I'm glad he's here. Better to work it out than let it go really sour.
"Hadden. What can I do for you?"
It's been a good while since I've been to Lemma's. I don't remember her having a prentice, but I give her a hello-nod just the same. I have my hands in my pockets, but relax and unclench before taking them out and rubbing together. After a couple days under the ice, I kinda missed being inside and under a roof. What does 'the grass is always greener' even mean?
"Lemma. Got a gig and a project what needs doing. Both could use your skill, if you're up for it." It comes out with a hint of snark, but mostly just stating facts. I don't want to get fucked over again holding the bag. I wasn't happy about the lost jingle, but I'm not fucking enraged over it. Right now, I more care about if she can do the work this time. Maybe she got help 'cause she knows she needs it? Maybe I need to talk to the student and not the master? I casually look over at the woman's work, see what kind of vibe I get.
I'm fairly immune to snark. Whatever I detect, I figure he's earned.
"Pretty sure I can handle some new jobs, yeah. What do you have in mind?"
"The gig's at Backside Misty's. Needs doing 'fore two days hence. Twofold: One, I want you to take a look-see at her sky-kite, see if anything's wrongo. Her K Syndrome could be acting up and maybe it's just not plugged in proper, maybe something else went flooey. It didn't look like it was flying right, to my eyes." That's just a straightforward fixit, easy peasy, no baggage. Sky-kites are interesting, right? I feel the weight of the rangefinder in my bag, shrug a little.
I do a short, sharp, sigh, kind of half-roll my eyes. "Two, Stalefish keeps griping about you not fixing his gennie, some song-and-dance about a past due bill. What say you just make his shit work so he and Evol can grow something to pay you? If you don't want to deal with his noise, I hear ya. I can get him scarce if you need quiet solo time. What's the story?" Stalefish is a character. They probably don't need to be in the same building together, I figure.
I look around to see if there's something I can pick up and touch without shitting in her Cheerios.
"The project I have in mind is more..." My eyes flick straight at her 'prentice, rest for a second, then drill back to Lemma's. "delicate." And I hear Molotov's voice in my ears, seriously fucking covert private, da? I'm still, hands on the countertop.
The first two are straightforward-- the kind of thing he'd do before the incident, acting as a go-between for customers.
"Well, something's been up with Misty's supply for a while. I've had to make my own arrangements." I wave outside at the solar array and the in-progress windmills. "To be honest, I kind of figured she'd just hooked up more people that she could really handle. I can definitely take a look."
"And Stalefish... yeah, all right. Look, I'm fairly flexible as far as financial arrangements go, but he tried to pay me in zucchini. Nineteen fucking pounds of zucchini. I don't even like zucchini, and if I did, after I ate nineteen pounds of it, I wouldn't anymore. I'll spot him the work in exchange for... whatever he's got growing after zucchini season."
This last thing, though, sounds a little ticklish. "Let me grab my kit. You can tell me about the other project on the way over to Misty's."
I blink. Can't not but snort a laugh. "I know some motherfuckers who might just kill for some fresh zucchini. Next time you get a score like that... dude Lemma." Worst case, Roxy's could make use of.
I keep eyes on her packing up her kit, just in case she's obviously trying to hide a weapon in there. She's a hard one to read. I don't think she'd make with the stabbity for no reason, and this first part is straight up.
It's about a mile on foot to the flats. "My truck is outside. I can drive." Easier to talk in the cab.
"Hey, that works, too. I can take the giant fucking box of squash and you can fence it for me."
He seems... nervous? Especially when I start to pack my knife, which, granted, is big and sharp. But it's just part of the kit. That thing and a coil of rope have gotten me out of a lot of bad situations, and only a handful of them involved any stabbing.
Oh.
I guess things got more sour than I realized. Won't do to have him jumpy the whole ride over.
"Look, Hadden... we both rely on having satisfied customers, right? I'm not mad about that last job, I just feel bad about how it went down. I'm glad you're bringing me jobs again, and I'll take a swing at whatever project you have in mind. Which is not to say I'm working pro bono or anything. But you'll get nothing but my best work."
The knife goes in the bag.
"And maybe next time your gig relies on some bit of my tech, get me to run it for you instead of whichever of your sausage-fingered crew wrecked my tracker prototype."
"Squash, too? How much you got left?" I know I can fence out fresh veggies, maybe use some to bribe Oakley out of debtor's jail, get him to deliver the rest as payment, and I'm up a jingle.
My eyebrows go up in honest surprise, but I'm still a little guarded. "Lemma, If that's the way it is, then I appreciate. Bad blood ain't no way to do things." My fingers find that scar at the edge of my jaw, but I don't realize it. My eyes go dark when I think about my own blood sitch. She seems straight. I shift a few mental boxes around, come to a decision. "I brought this for you." I reach into my bag, causally, not a threat, and pull out the rangefinder. "New find from Underlake. Call it a peace offering or a bribe or gift or payment."
"And maybe next time your flaky-ass prototypes rely on chickenscratched not-English instructions on paper, get some decent ink that can take a bit of snow." I wiggle my sausage fingers, unfold a little aw-shucks smile from where I've been keeping it.
I flick the rangefinder on. (2.3 meters to the wall.) Nice.
"Let's consider this a down payment on your side project, whatever that is. Give me a few minutes and I'm ready to go."
I go to check with Marmot, make sure she's good to keep up work on the project for Kemper.
When you check in on her, Lemma, she starts, and runs you through her plans. She's woefully under-prepared to put together what you've come to realize are a couple devices for making bullets. Which means Kemper is trying to shut down some of what you'd do for him, but he has never asked you for help with weaponry before, so it's not like it will diminish your utility to him.
Hadden, where are you taking Lemma?
Heh. I guess there would have been a time Hadden would be pretty distracting. Focus, girl.
"You did well getting this far, Marmot. If you finish banging out the casings and making sure the shafts are straight, take a break. We'll do the rest together when I get back."
"Zucchini green, squash yellow, rhubarb red." I watch her check out the new toy with some professional satisfaction. I wonder if that new dude will find more Pre-Freeze hitech down there, glance around her shop to see how much space she has for more crap. Get real, she'd make room for any shiny.
Some half-disassembled blinky thing has caught my eye, and I'm trying to catch a pattern in the green flashes, when I hear Lemma talking about "banging out" and "straight shafts" and "doing it together." I look up, deadpan. Tip Marmot a wink. "Always good to pay attention, Lemma."
Once Lemma's done with Marmot, I'll drive the two of us to Backside Misty's, talk in relative privacy on the way.
Then you guys head out, right? Any conversation on the way to Backside Misty's?
I mean, I'm curious what kind of thing would keep Hadden from talking.
"All right, what's this delicate project, and why can't you talk about it in front of Marmot?"
I hop into the minitruck. I'll show Lemma where to lash her kit in the bed if it's too big for the cab. Once we're underway, "You heard on the radio airwaves..." rolling flowing green air waves... I start, shake my head, "...that Molotov claimed responsibility for the Underlake mine collapse?" I look half over my shoulder to see her reaction. "I need to know the actual. That was a real big boom, too big for just Molotov. Something is rotten in that hardhold."
"Yeah, I heard that."
Ugly stuff. I really don't like it when people break things on purpose, like we don't have our hands full with entropy and the freeze.
"Look, I know you run with Molotov, but frankly, a big, destructive explosion sounds precisely like him. And cave explosions can get out of hand real easy if you don't know what you're doing, which I suspect he doesn't."
I stare out the window a bit.
"You know something you haven't said yet, right?"
I watch the snow fall for a moment. There's some commotion from up above, some gang has their fires lit on the overpass, flickering reflections and shadows. I adjust course a bit. "Forty-two people died in the collapse. I knew a few. I don't see Molotov offing that many civvies on purpose." Maybe it was an accident and I'm chasing ghosts.
"I suspect someone else knows what they're doing. Molotov's booms could've set off some other booms. You set it up right to dig deep in the lake, to bring up some new pre-Freeze find, suddenly you're rolling in jingle. It's a guess." She might miss my hands squeezing the wheel a little too tightly.
"But say you set up Molotov to be a patsy. Say you bait Hadden to bring him to justice. Appeal to his sense of honor. Boom, you take them both out without getting your hands bloody and you come out looking like a peach to all concerned." She might catch my jaw working, maybe hear a bit of grinding.
I let out a low whistle.
"That's... complicated. But not impossible."
"Okay. We should know what happened down there before anyone else dies over it. I'll take a look."
"But I'm there to see what happened, not to keep you from having to shoot your guy. If I still think Molotov did it, I'll say so. You should be... prepared for the possibility."
Glad I'm not certifiable on this plot.
"That's basically exactly where I am, Lemma. You're an outsider. Neutral. I know we'd both like a proper survey of what's newly uncovered. Maybe even more survivors." I give her a look, like whatcha think about this? "Plus we can split whatever else interesting you find. You get first right of refusal, natch."
Thinking through this, my blood heats up. "Molotov claimed responsibility. If that's how it really went down, you bet your sweet little ass I'll call him to pay what comes due." I clear my throat. "I'd have to get in line behind the rest of the Underlake."
"All right, then. I'm in."
We pull up at Misty's.
"So, start with the kite, or with Stalefish?"
"I figure the sky-kite's a bigger deal and more interesting for you, yeah? I can let Stalefish know your deal, clear him out later on when you're ready."
I park the truck, bite my lip a little. One last thing before I stop the engine and people can listen.
"Ixany on the side project, really. The guy is best weighed mighty. The better part of valor is to up the fuck shut, right?" I give her a look like, I know she can do the job, I just bonafied don't want her chopped into pieces.
"Right. Delicate."
"Let's go see about a kite."
Down here it's merely chilly, with occasional sparks of electricity from the many cords strung along ceilings and tops of walls. A few vagrants and kids mill about the corridors, huddling around barrel fires and wasting time. Most of the folk of the flats have jobs. Stuff that keeps Chi-Town living and breathing, from growing food like Stalefish, to keeping turbines moving for heat, making clothing and even raising animals for fur and slaughter. The flats, if anything, is the working class.
Lemma,
Tell me what you expect to find with this sky kite? How do they normally work?
That's the harvester portion. The kite's "string"-- really a cable, this thing is pretty big -- doubles as the wire to bring that current down. Then on the ground, you've got to deal with the fact that your current is basically ramped-up radio static, not a smooth flow. So, you usually wire that into some big capacitors and let it drain off steadily.
If I'm lucky, the problem is there, in the connections on the ground, or maybe some build-up between the capacitor plates. If not, it could be some mechanical problem with the kite itself, or even with the harvester mechanism, which will mean climbing the tower on the roof to reel it in.
Hadden, I assume you chat with Misty while Lemma checks out the sky-kite cables and capacitors.
When you try to fix a broken sky-kite, roll+Weird On a hit, you know how to fix it. On a 10+, it's ground-level maintenance, you can fix it with 1-Barter worth of supplies. On a 7-9, the harvester and capacitor plates are fine. It must be "up there". That's a whole 'nother problem and would take a workshop or the like to figure out.
On a miss, you're clueless, you break it worse or it needs to be replaced, the MC will detail.
I do a bit of hellos on the way in, to Ortapoff the firewatcher, to some of the folk who work the turbines, check in with the furriers and Aolomon the mushroom guy who always smells of shit, see if they need anything moved. Master Plumber's place is sealed up tight. Usual TCB, unless anybody needs anything?
I call up, "Hello, Misty peach! How's life treating you? Any new happenings?"
I gotta check her job-board, see if there's anything for me... or from my crew.
Fixing the sky kite:
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 5, 3. Total: 10)
"Misty peach? Oh, you charmer! You are the sweetest man." Backside Misty says from her lil balcony. "Nini was singing your praises to me for her payment just a bit earlier. She's quite the pleased customer!" She giggles, "Life is grand, every day a party, even meal a feast. You know, the usual. Oakley is looking for you, did you catch up to him?"
The job board is nearly bare. There's one entry for day laborers, but that's a permanent fixture. You notice there's a note for folks "looking for protection", to leave work with Misty. That's it.
To Lemma:
If you're willing to spend a few hours here, waste about a barter's worth of materials, you can get this thing up and running to full capacity, no problem.
However, it's as you expected. The biggest issue is that Misty's hooked up too many people by a tenth. It's only going to wear on the cables and capacitor until they break soon. Now, if you were enterprising, you could probably rig it so you'd need to do some weekly maintenance for a while. You could keep it working pretty well before it gives up the ghost.
Unless you want to replace big parts (fucktons of jingle), then Misty needs to cut some people off the feed.
"Always on top of the globe, you are, Misty peach." I'm looking up at her, open. I don't think about her K acting up, I don't want a shadow over her sun. "Glad Nini's doing me some free advertising." I wonder just how thoroughly Nini sung her those praises? Yeah, I go there. Backside Misty's in a great mood, so maybe.
"Needs must I catch up with Oakley, yeah, d'you know where he's at now?" I hope he's not too much in debt right now...
I leave a note on the board.
HPK2 -> H OKI know it's not that subtle, don't need to be.
Backside Misty giggles when you declare her on top of the globe. About Oakley, she replies, "Oakley was here earlier, went off to the dump. He was asking around about a gennie. Big reward, Cs and Soldier Boys looking for it. He didn't tell you?"
She's very giggly today, I'm not complaining the show. "Not yet. What'd ya tell him how long ago?"
Backside Misty waggles her head side to side, thinking, "Couple hours ago, methinks. Did you see the Lostkeys message on the board? What the what! Who would hire those guys?"
Okay, Oakley's probably still around walking free. I could use a big reward. "Lostkeys? Clue me in, Misty peach? Any relation to the Sparekeys?"
Misty grins, like she's one up on you. "What ho? I'm ahead of the great and wondrous Hadden on the recent gossip? Well, well. Your big man Molotov, handsome brute that he is, killed Carnation, and took over the Sparekeys gang AND Grease Park! I thought he worked for you?" She raises a brow in confuson.
After a beat, she waves it away, "Oh, what the what. Any-the-ways, not all of Grease Park went to Molotov's banner, a handful of Carnation's relatives took off on their own. Hence... Lostkeys!" She raises her arms like a hostess giving a presentation.
"I made up their name," she admits with glee. "What do you think?"
There's this crusty alkaline stuff that builds up between capacitor plates. You can try chipping it off, but I like to run a little trickle something acidic over it first. Then it's just swapping out some connectors and frayed wires. It hums a little better.
Well, that was the easy part. Now to go talk to Misty.
Misty and Hadden are doing small talk, sort of flirting but not, when Lemma walks up.
Backside Misty gives you a nod of greeting, Lemma, "AI can hear her purring now. Great work, Lemma! What's the damage?" She's gripping the railing, ready for bad news.
What the hell? He killed Carnation and is running Grease Park now? I never figured he had that much... direction, ambition. He could focus like anything on murderizing, but Molotov T. Hardholder makes a beast so fierce. An' if he cleaved their banner with some of Carnation's kin left to organize up revenge as the Lostkeys, they may be up for some more mad defense. Maybe the problem will solve itself, from one sly corner of my brain.
"Evidently Molotov prefers working under his own banner, Misty peach. Looks like I need to work on relations." The pun unintended.
Lemma comes up faster than I thought. Maybe it was just unplugged after all.
"This time, one jingle for the parts and one for the labor. But, and I suspect you know this already, you're drawing on it too hard, by about ten percent. I can keep it limping along a while if you bring me back for a job like this every week. Or you can spring for major upgrades. Or you can kick some people off the feed."
She won't like it, but frankly I'm a little annoyed at her for letting it get as far as it has. (Also for a few weeks of spotty power.)
You got to spend it to make it. So she kicks a few people off during the upgrade, once it's done, she can start charging more hard barter on top of the company and stories she craves. My eyes fall on the little press Lemma rigged, and I think Backside Misty may have an actual mint on her hands. And I could stand to get a healthy cut. This could be a really sweet pie to divvy up.
Backside Misty has a lot of flats here asides the commons. She stamps license plates with her mark - a stylized BM and curvy profile - and they're good for a week in a private room, meals, with one hot shower. A step up from just three hots and a cot in the communal areas.
Lemma's likely gonna appreciate more work as a bonus to the side project.
She could even maybe pay the Lostkeys for actual protections here, if this gets big.
Misty looks over at you, Hadden. But she's talking to Lemma. "These major upgrades... is it to make it more stable, or could we expand a little? I've got some more rooms, but they're exposed and need work. More power, more people have a place to sleep, yeah?" She grins, like she's some saint.
I cluck my tongue thrice, thoughtful. "You know Misty peach, you don't have to kick 'em off permanent-like. You set up some needful folks with exceptions, like Master Plumber, Stalefish and Evol, Nini and others who use the feed to keep the place running. Regular folks get rations based on what Lemma figures your feed can handle." I nod at Lemma, scratch at my stubble, could use a shave. I'm thinking this through, trying to make the angles work.
"So if you can scare up some scratch for the upgrades, I can put together a crew to work on the rooms and other fixit. Once you're tip-top again, I can help you on the biz side, keep things from chaos, make sure you get your stories and your jingle." I've been tallying points on my fingers, spread out my hands at that last, big ta-da.
"If you don't mind me taking a piece..." You know, of jingle. "...of the action."
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 1, 1. Total: 4)
Misty touches her tongue to her lips, a bit of a habit when she's thinking. "Well... let me think on it, Hadden. Things are tight for me, hiring a whole crew is sort of..."
"Misty!" you hear some young boy yell down the tunnel as he's running. "Misty!" He races up until he sees her standing there. And you two as well. It's one of the runner kids, little almond-eyed Chicane.
He huffs a few breaths, puts his hands on his knees. He's waiting for something. Backside Misty nods to him. Then, the kid says, "Soldier Boys makin trouble up north in the tunnels. Roughin folks up, lookin for their gennie. Someone stole it!"
Then the kid comes in with news, and I start thinking about getting out of here. The stamps are quicker than scavenging for stuff that looks good.
I'm not personally worried about the Soldiers. I made sure nothing leads back to me. But I don't want to be around if things get violent, and I really don't want to be the object of their attention if they're in a bad mood. Which I imagine they are.
I scoop up some plates into the bag and nod. "Well, you know where to find me, one way or another. With no upgrades and no load reduction, I figure you've got a month left in this thing, and that's with a visit from me every week."
"So, Hadden, maybe we should head out?"
"My offer's on the table, Misty peach." I'd like to stay and back-and-forth some more, but needs must when the Soulja Boys come knocking. I blow her a kiss.
Turns out Stalefish is almost pleasant today- Me and he spend some time discussing the finer points about stogies and peppers while Lemma's patching things up. Well, I'm patching things up and she's fixing things up. Evol's out, so I've got no chance at her rat masala. On the way out, Stalefish gets out a bit of barter (no squashes of any kind for Lemma) to us for the work.
Please go here.