CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE

KirayaTiDrekan · Jan 18, 2015

Feral grabs his boxes of clothes and heads inside, ignoring the rest of the chatter. The idea of being a turn-over crew for this place had some appeal. Feral had always lived in "fixer-uppers" and enjoyed mucking around with plumbing and carpentry and such. He wasn't great it, but he wasn't terrible either.

OOC:

How many rooms are in this place? Do we each get a room to ourselves?

gribble · Jan 19, 2015

T-dawg as usual just observes everything going on. He gratefully proffers his wrists and ankles to get the shackles removed, grabs his new clothes and box of meagre possessions and asks of the driver "where am I taking this?"

CanadienneBacon · Jan 23, 2015

Forged Fury said:
Nodding appreciatively, Cyril replied, "Thanks, damn things never fit quite right. So, are you Marks?" The former lawyer moved over to his set of belonging, frowning over the lack of a proper suit and really unhappy with the black tactical gear. Picking up the box, he finished, "Which way to the rooms?"

The driver nodded once in confirmation and stuck out his hand. "Gavin Marks, yes. And you are?" Marks is African-American, probably 6'2" tall, trim, and you have a hard time pegging his age. Somewhere between 28 and 45, you reckon. Marks offers a handshake around to each of you. His grip is firm without being overbearing, and his skin is heated. He's calmer than Garvey, moves slower, and seems more self-assured.

"This was a large congregation. Well, before the roof fell under the weight of five feet of snow last February. In addition to this room, the, uh, fellowship hall, there are three offices and a reception desk on the main floor. There's the sanctuary, of course, and that has an apse. The nave is pretty big, and the ambulatory--that's the space in the main aisle between the pews--is fairly wide. Some of you can set up a cot in there...the clerestory windows let in some pretty sweet light in the late afternoon. That's where I put my bunk, anyway. Oh, yeah, and there's the kitchen behind the fellowship hall." Marks frowns, pausing. "What am I forgetting? Uh...there's a small conference room. A physical plant. There's a bell tower, but it's open air and I wouldn't want to sleep in there in winter. Or in August. As long as there isn't a fist fight or words over sleeping space, I don't care how you work it out."

Shayuri said:
"I need connection! And power. And gear!" She started ticking off fingers. "Three or four towers here that I can LAN up, and at least as many laptops...different makes and models...an iPhone and a good Android tablet or phablet. I'll give you a list of the specs for the towers...laptops doesn't matter so much. Just high-end. I'll need a big pipeline here, like dedicated DSL or hell why not shoot for T1? And mobile satellite hookup for the van!" She snapped her fingers a few times. "You're FCC, make it happen."

Marks smiled at Otter, pleased. "We have a $10 grand budget for tech, but only upon completion of the first assignment at the toy store. You and I and whoever else can sit down and pick gear to requisition after you get back from your job."

gribble said:
T-dawg as usual just observes everything going on. He gratefully proffers his wrists and ankles to get the shackles removed, grabs his new clothes and box of meagre possessions and asks of the driver "where am I taking this?"

"Take it, plus grab a cot and blankets and a pillow for yourself, and put it wherever suits you. Maybe stay out of the roofing rubble, though. I had a look around and it doesn't look stable on that end. After you've put your stuff somewhere, come back here. We need to suit up and head out in fifteen."

KirayaTiDrekan · Jan 23, 2015

Feral finds a sleeping spot where he'll have the most privacy, well away from the others, and changes into the black gear before coming back out, ready to go.

gribble · Jan 23, 2015

T-dawg shakes Marks' hand and, not meeting him in the eye, mumbles his name as "Thomas". It's the first time any of you have seen him look awkward or out of place, almost as if ashamed. Although physically he dwarfs Marks (despite Marks' large build), he almost seems like a child humbled in the presence of a man.

He then grabs his gear, sets up his cot near Marks' and gets changed into the casual clothes, figuring the all black gear might be a bit conspicuous for the initial visit to a toy store.

He then has a quick walk around the new home, but is back outside and waiting well before the 15mins are up.

Rubberneck · Jan 23, 2015

J.R. shakes the man's hand and grabs the bedding he previously looked over and heads inside with all of his gear.he chooses a corner in the main area of the church, moving pews (if they aren't fastened to the floor) to partition a 10x10 area off, setting up his cot and changing into the casual clothes. He appears with the others in faded blue jeans, a black form fitting t-shirt, and tennis shoes.

Forged Fury · Jan 23, 2015

Accepting the proffered hand, Cyril tried and failed to match the man's grip. Shrugging, he smiled and replied, "Cyril F. Kennedy, Esquire, at your service... contractually, in fact. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Marks."

Grabbing his box, the former lawyer made a bee-line towards one of the offices. One of the blessings of prison was the fact that inmates were contained in cells. Really, the only time things went wrong was when the GenPop was free to roam about, that's why most of the shanking happened in the showers, during meals, or in the rec yard. He wasn't about to trust any of these people enough to sleep in an area without walls.

Finding an office to his satisfaction, Cyril made his way back to the main room and secured a cot, dragging it back to the office and setting it down. He'd worry about getting it situated later. Wonder how much a cheap air mattress would go for...

Slipping out of his dark blue prison coveralls, he picked out the most professional clothing options he had, settling on a pair of khaki pants and a long-sleeve white button down shirt. Cyril frowned when he realized they hadn't provided him with any appropriate shoes. Glancing back and forth between the tennis shoes and work boots, he briefly considered his shower flip-flops for a hipster laissez-faire approach to the mission. Eventually, he settled on the work boots and laced them up.

Cyril searched the room for a reasonable place to hide his copy of the deal paperwork. For the time being, he settled for slipping it under an old church directory that was still in the desk drawer. Flipping through it, he spotted a few attractive female parishioners and made a mental note of the pages for when he got some time off and alone.

Without a watch, Cyril really wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep track of the time. As such, he was unsurprisingly late by a minute or two. "So, are we ready?"

Shayuri · Jan 23, 2015

"Ten THOUSAND?" wailed Death Otter. "That's barely enough for a decent three-d PRINTER! You know what? Just put the cuffs back on. DO IT!" She held her hands out, wrists together. "That's what this is. NO DON'T REALLY DO IT ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

She yanked her hands back and stalked away, then came back and opened her mouth...and then closed it again and went to the van to get her meager things with a thunderous fuming ragepout. The cot's frame made a hideous scraping noise as she dragged it over the floor of the old church, and then CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK when she found the stairs down to the basement level and draaaaagged it down.

Then there were various crashing noises and grunts of effort as she shoved loose debris around and made whatever kind of nest Death Otters made. One day perhaps a beautiful little hacking server room would flower there, ready to fire off spurious DDOS attacks and blanket email spams laden with viri. For now it just had a cot, a box of knickknacks, some clothes, and a sullen and angry Otter.

She emerged a little while later wearing the black clothes provided, and looking a little calmer. Or as calm as she ever looked at least. "Okay. Store. Stuffed...whatever."

CanadienneBacon · Jan 24, 2015

Marks has everyone load into the white van. He gets in behind the wheel, then hands a map tube made out of white PVC to whoever rides shotgun. "There's a blue print of the Broad Ripple WeeBee store in there. Fish it out and have a look while I drive. Cash registers are just inside the entrance, to the left. Seasonal clearance is on the right, customer service is at an L-shaped counter also on the right with a clerk, sometimes two. It's December, so there will be two clerks there today. It's gonna be packed. This BunBun toy is an electronic Bunny. It's hot. I called earlier to verify the store still has some in stock, and they said they got an order in this morning but the associate said they'd probably run out by close of business today. Last week when they got in the shipment, there was a fist fight and they had to call the cops. Battery charges out the wahoo. What do you want to know?"

Marks drives through downtown streets inlaid with red brick that, in the fading winter light and rain, make for slippery traction. The van slides once as Marks rounds a corner right onto Meridian Street and drives north, past the War Memorial. Downtown Indy gives way to narrow tree-lined residential streets filled with Honda Accords, Minivans, and a mixture of brown brick homes and shaker-style craftsman homes with wide concrete porches. Broad Ripple. Cutesie flower shops, a trying-too-hard brewery, and an eatery with chic black awning and a cast iron fence dot the landscape. Houses and businesses mix. It's urban reclamation at its Midwest finest. The roofs are steeply sloped, and front lawns are miniscule. Parking is on-street, making it tricky to navigate the van.

Marks pulls up and parks in front of a Wee store that looms ridiculously large in the middle of two streets of homes. The parking lot is grotesquely small for such a large store. WeeBee is a large rectangle, approximately 200 feet by 120 feet, with the wide dimension facing the parking lot.