Clusterfrag

[ Pachinko Parlor ]

A dozen meters of ventilation ducting later, Sinjin arrives at another grating.

The room far below is most definitely an office. A cyber-deck is carefully placed on an ornate lacquer table, adjacent to an ash tray (home to a smoldering half-cigar). A decorative katana and wakizashi decorate the table's return.

A Japanese man in a black Italian suit paces underneath the grating, screaming in his native language into a comm-link.

[ Pachinko Parlor ]
The dishwasher stiffens as Tyros takes control of his mind. Bearing a vacant stare, the little man does an about-face and marches back inside.
Tyros feels a slight twinge behind his temples.

[ Pachinko Parlor ]

The Yakuza slams down the comm-link earpiece, unleashing a string of Japanese profanities. He paces a few times, indulges in a bump of nova-coke and continues pacing. He darts around a few paranoid glances.
Sinjin's expert stealth skills keep the Yakuza oblivious to his whereabouts.

[ Data Center, Seattle ]

Max stands on the obscured, non-street side of the rover and waits for a corpo wage slave to be on the approach. Having taken much of the supplies out of one of his medkits, Max waits by the rear corner of the van with its contents in his arms. The corpo zombie now near, Max mimics as if he'd been walking and forces a trip, spilling the various supplies all over the asphalt. The assorted items scatter to the ground and Max follows, crying out a surprised "Drek!" in the process. On the ground, Max looks up at the passing drone and pleads,

"Excuse me! I'm sorry to ask, but I think I've sprained my ankle-- could I ask you to help me pick up the medical supplies I just spilled? I'd really appreciate it."

Still attempting to detect any nodes which may be affiliated with the data center, Val comms his two closest team members.

<Still poking around. Keep me apprised of anything happening on the ground. Kinda difficult to keep an eye on the meatbag world from up here.>

The wage-slave--a middle-aged caucasian in a smart suit--stops, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Uh, oh... was that my... I'm so sorry. Er..."

He bends awkwardly, trying to scoop up the rolls of gauze that are spreading in every direction.

"I was late for uh... a..."

Max grabs at the wage slave quickly, being careful not to hurt him necessarily but being decidedly firm in his grip. With one hand clasped over the man's mouth, the elf pulls him into the rover.

Kato watches Max's antics and whispers conspiratorially to Doc, "This guy so crazy. He has mega big style."

The man struggles for a moment and begins to have what appears to be an asthma attack, making Max's job all that much easier.
The elf silences the man's panicked wheezing and quickly withdraws into the darkness of the parking garage.

"Jesus Christ, man, I guess that's one way to do it," Doc says with a hint of surprise, as Max pulls the struggling man into the rover.

"Did anyone see you?"

Max affirms,

"Nobody saw me."

< Val, I don't want to alarm you, but there is a very frightened corpo wage slave being restrained by an elf in the seat next to you. Stand by. >

In his best bedside manner, Doc turns his attention to the newcomer.

"Okay then, hi there. Sorry about all the fuss, but we need to ask you a few questions."

He starts patting the man down, paying extra attention for any commlinks or Lone-Star panic bracelets.

"If you answer quickly and truthfully, we'll have you on your merry way in no time," Doc says with a smile.

"I...I have kidnap insurance! You don't have to hurt me!"

The man looks from Doc to Max, presumably trying to determine (and looking as though he has already decided) who is bad cop and who is good cop.

Max tightens his grip,

"Then you'd do well to play along, drekbag... "

For a moment, the idea of getting an insurance payment on behalf of the man appeals to Doc. But his rational side quickly takes back control, and rejects the idea outright as both stupid and dangerous.

"Allright, Mr., ah, whoever you are. We," He pauses and points toward the data center, "Need to get in there. Walk us through your average day when you get to work. Do you greet a guard as you walk in? Do you have a keycard? Are you biometrically scanned?"

Tyros follows his puppet into the kitchen, surveying the scene. With a mental command Tyros order the cook to stand discretely next to the gas pipe for the stove range.

Subvocally to Sinjin, <"Im inside and in control of a cook, having him open up the gas pipes now. Do you have the target in sight yet?">

Tyros feels a slight resistance and a nebulous, floating sensation. The mental command reverberates and the troll realizes that there is no gas pipe. An industrial sink is filled to the brim with beer mugs and cocktail glasses, but there's no sign of an actual kitchen.

The man opens his mouth and closes it. He opens it again. His eyes dart back and forth between Max and Doc. It's quite clear that he's figured out that the two bad men holding him hostage want access to his workplace. He knows whats coming.

The man's lip quivers slightly and he holds up his hand, revealing a tiny bump on the surface of his hand. "B-b-biometric..."

Doc makes note of that bit of information. He'll deal with it when the man is no longer conscious.

"I see. Subdermal chip, then?"

He takes out a digital spectrometer from the scientific toolkit that he keeps in his pack. Hoping that the wage slave doesn't recognize the device, he waves it over the man's hand, looks at the device, and gives an approving nod.

"There, that should allow us to spoof the chip," he lies, hoping to set the man at ease.

"Okay, what else is there? How many people going in and out?"

The man breathes a sigh of relief.

"So... you'll let me go now? I promise I won't tell anyone!"

Doc wags a finger at the man,

"Tch, tch, tch. Not yet, we still need you to describe the entrances, and whatever other security we might encounter."

Opening his bag he pulls out what looks like an old leather passport wallet. Holding it in front of the driver's seat, out of the man's view, he opens it.

He runs his index finger along the line of hypodermic needles lining the case, finally stopping at one, and tapping it once. He slides it out and keeps it in his hand, hidden from sight.

Max puts some pressure on the man and grunts out,

"I'm gettin' pretty sick of you not answering his questions, asshole. TALK. Tell us what security inside is like. How much staff is present?" The elf pauses momentarily for dramatic effect, then growls, "Every question you don't answer -- I break a finger."

Max moves one of his hands down to the man's left and exerts some pressure at a decidedly unnatural angle.

Val concludes his inspection of the node cluster as he receives the commcall from his comrades. His eyes flick open as he switches back to AR, but says nothing, calmly watching Doc and Max terrorize the data center's most unlucky employee of the day. So far, at least.

<"Sinjin, we have a problem. There is no gas pipe here, so we can't set the building on fire that way. Any ideas? The only other flammable thug I see around is alcohol.">

Tyros looks around, assessing what the building is made out of and where the most wood lies. Ordering the little Japanese man to show him the alcohol storage room, he does a rough count of how much high grain, flammable bottles there are on hand.

"Describe the facial recognition. And you didn't answer me about visitors."

Max bends.

Val suddenly speaks for the first time since their visitor joined them in the rover, startling him.

"I assume the Access IDs of the security guards in the booth give them access to the both the bio- and maglocks. That right, 'mano?"

Sinjin stifles a curse as Tyros' transmission comes through. Poised just above his intended mark, stress levels are peaking. Unable to reply without risking detection, he decides to move further along the duct system until out of immediate earshot.

<Frak. Ive located the mark...he seems pretty worked up about something, and hes bumped enough novacoke to kill a gorilla. He's alone in an isolated room beyond the pachinko floor. I can drop in on him now, or continue on for a peek elsewhere. Ideas? No joy on explosive devices....maybe theres a furnace boiler or water heater that can be rigged to blow. Ive got a few H.E. grenades...but I dont think they'll help much. Too bad I left my demo kit....>


Opening an outside channel to the rest of the team, Sinjin reports in.

<We're inside. Ive got positive ID on the human target. Options for the sabotage are limited at this time...any ideas would be appreciated. No joy on gas lines. Val, what would it take to rig an electrical fire? There must be a drekload of power running into this place somewhere...>

The man shakes his head. "The security can access the interior of the data-center, but the customer rooms open only for customers."

Tyros explores the pantry, using the dishwasher as a medium.

There are numerous bottles of sake, though nothing that could conceivably be used as accelerant to burn down a building.

Max's grip on the man's hand tightens as the elf begins to contort the pointer finger on his right hand at an unnatural angle. The finger is maybe a centimeter from breaking,

"Apparently you didn't believe me about wanting to know about the protocol on visitors to the facility..."

Sinjin stops at the end of the ventilation duct, confronted by a large turbine behind a grate.