TUESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2014
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OOC:
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I'm clarifying a timeline discrepancy. Originally, I set the day/time as Monday, December 29. That's the day Garvey picked you up from prison. Everything that happened thus far occurred on December 29. Somewhere in the mix, however, I may have misstated or caused you to understand that Christmas had yet to occur. If I did, that was a DM error. The current time is Tuesday, December 30, 2014.
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The night is quiet. Irvington United Methodist Church sits back from the road; Washington Street is a major thoroughfare, but the church rests off North Audubon. The distance from Washington Street coupled with the stalwart brick façade of the church baffle the sounds of cars traversing Washington. Small sounds of Otter tinkering came from the kitchen in the fellowship hall, but the church was otherwise undisturbed.[sblock=Otter]OK, so Craft (electronics) 23 and Knowledge (technology) 17. What does Otter want to know? Or did she want to do something particular?[/sblock]
The sun is late rising--in the winter in this time zone, it stays dark until almost 8 am. Feral rose first, at 5 am. J.R. got up soon after. The pair made their way to the reception desk and flicked on the flatscreen TV mounted to the wall. Feral found the remote. FOX59 had just started its morning show, and already the banner scrolling at the bottom of the screen was cringeworthy.[sblock=FOX59]The episdode at WeeBee in Broad Ripple was all over the news. The ticker scrolling at the bottom of the TV screen read, "Woman killed in toy store shooting," and then, "Manhunt for WeeBee shooter," and then, "Sheriff's office releases statement, live at 8 am." A blonde newscaster in a navy suit busily hawked the morning's news. Looked like the Marion County Sheriff's department was working a joint manhunt operation with the Indianapolis Police Department and Indiana State Police--a rare trifecta of cooperation. The newscast flashed to footage of the inside of the store, and a grainy image of Buzz Cut tussling with J.R. and T-dawg began to play, ending with an overlay of the blonde newscaster saying, ". . . and police stress that while the investigation is ongoing, anyone with information should make a report to local authorities."[/sblock]
Marks rose about 6:30. He headed up from somewhere in the basement, and made for the kitchen in the fellowship hall. Flipping open a laptop, Marks rifled through his list of equipment drawn up last night, and began clacking on the keyboard, drafting the team's requisition request. At about 7:00 am, he started to grumble about coffee. He looked up, over at the coffee pot. Next to the coffee maker, on the counter, lay the remnants of his cell phone. He blinked. Then blinked again. Shoving up from the table, Marks lunged at the counter and grabbed what appeared to be the leftover bits of the phone's battery case.
"SON OF A BIATCH! OTTER!!
Assuming he doesn't do the sensible thing and grab his phone back. [roll0] craft, and [roll1] knowledge.)
