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CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE

J.R. listens to Cyril.

"I don't like it. We don't have any weapons or protection yet. Not to mention we have no idea who is on da other end of that ting. Should we contact Marks? Oh Sh*t he doesn't have a phone anymore."
 

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Death Otter grabs the bluetooth earpiece, frowns at it, and then wipes it off on Cyril's shirt before putting it in place in her own ear.

"Good afternoon, you've reached the Disciples of Not Giving a Sh*t Bookstore," she said in a thick, obviously fake Southern accent just dripping with insincere courteousness. "Our office is closed, because we don't give a sh*t. Please leave your cryptic, overly vague demand at the sound of f*cks not being given."

And she turned off the earpiece. Then... "Ten...nine...eight...seven... Someone get Feral, and lets start heading out to the car. Four...three..."
 

J.R. begins making his way to the car. On his way out the door he informs the Best Buy cashier they'll be back. If the group isn't in the car by the time he gets there he'll pull it up front and waits. Once everyone is in he makes way to intercept the hummer.
 


Despite Otter's having flipped off the power on the Bluetooth device, the headset springs to life in her hand. It's tinny, but anyone standing within five feet of the device can clearly the headpiece communicate, "Repeat, white Hummer H3 at the railroad crossing on East Michigan Street, near North Pine. . . ."

When J.R. halts the check-out process, the cashier at the front register nods her acquiescence and says, "Sure, we can do that. These'll be on hold for you until an hour before we close. Closing time is 9 pm." She puts all the items back in the shopping cart, which she wheels around to the customer service counter by the front of the store. She has a word with the man working customer service, and points a J.R.. Mr. Customer Service nods and maneuvers the shopping cart to the side of his station, out of the way of foot traffic. About a minute later, another clerk brings a handful of tags and a cart containing PS4 games to the customer service desk, and Mr. Customer Service accepts those items, too.

OOC: The current time is noon. Does Otter walk out of the store holding the Bluetooth device, or does she put it in the shopping cart with the rest of the gear?


Everyone loads into the waiting SHO at the front curb of the store. Once everyone is inside, J.R. puts the Taurus in gear and sets the car in motion.

GM: J.R. has Drive (Dex) on his skill list, so make a Drive check. The Best Buy you are leaving is at: 9977 East Washington Street, Cherry Tree Plaza, Indianapolis, Indiana 46229. The transmission intercepted by Cyril stated that the group was to go to the railroad tracks that cross East Michigan Street, near North Pine Street (see the Google map, above). Rubberneck, since you are driving, tell me the route you take to get from Best Buy to the railroad tracks on East Michigan.

If anyone feels that their character would be a backseat driver with a "better" route, feel free to post saying so. If this little experiment of mine goes badly awry, I'll step in and adjudicate, but for now I'm curious to see what you all do with it.
 
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(OOC :: Woo here comes the confusion! Haha ok so I think my Drive skill is 6 so do I just roll a d20 and add 6? Also I'm using my cell and can't see pictures all the time. It's sporadic and weird. If this is something you pulled directly off Google Maps than I can look for the destinations on my Google Maps App on my phone lol.)
 


Drive Check: [roll0]

J.R. whips onto East Washington street but ironically heads West. He travels as fast as he can without drawing the attention of local police. He stays on East Washington unless traffic gets really bad (let me know if this happens and I'll reroute.) Once he hits Oriental St he bangs a right hand turn and heads North to East Michigan which is a one way street travelling West. He jumps on this and the railroad tracks should be a block or so down the road. He'll find an empty parking lot or something to park in and wait for the target. Hopefully he beat it here.
 

J.R. exited the Best Buy parking lot using the lot's stop light. Waiting for the light took an extra sixty seconds, but it was impossible to make a left onto Washington without the benefit of a green light. Even at noon, traffic was heavy. He had to stop for the traffic signal at Shadeland, then got caught again at a red light at Arlington. And then again at Emerson. As the SHO traversed the intersection at Washington and Emerson, Feral looked left out the window and saw that a train was on the tracks paralleling English Avenue, just a few blocks south of Emerson. The train was headed west, same as the group's SHO.

J.R. gunned it down to Oriental and hooked a right turn, heading north on Oriental. The side street was clogged with on-street parking and dumpy houses. Now and then the SHO passed by a home with plywood over the front windows. Even in the winter, the yards on this street were unkept. Dingy days-old snow ringed cheap plastic toys left in yards. A pair of teenage boys sat on the concrete front steps of a house with a broken second-story window. They watched the SHO roll down the street and stop at a stop sign.

Eventually, after several maddening stops signs, the Taurus wound its way north to East Michigan. The crenellated red brick buildings of Arsenal Tech High School and a large expanse of green soccer field greeted the SHO where Oriental came out at East Michigan. Once traffic cleared, J.R. turned left. This area had been gentrified; a row of Victorian homes with gingerbread trim stood proudly on the south side of East Michigan. Unlike a mere two blocks south on Oriental, there were no boarded-up windows here. The SHO entered the flow of traffic and soon crossed Pogue's Run. The road went down a hill and curved left. Downtown Indy loomed close at hand, just beyond the Interstate dividing East Indy from a landscape of high-rise buildings.

East Michigan was a one-way street with three lanes. J.R. chose the far left lane. The railroad tracks were near, he could see them as soon as the SHO rolled down the small hill after Arsenal Tech and swept through the curve of the road. There was no white Hummer H3. Hell, there weren't even any other cars by the tracks. The SHO was the first in a line of traffic on westbound East Michigan. Thanks to his finely honed driving skills and the SHO's tight turn radius, J.R. spotted a narrow alley just ahead on the left and whipped the sedan into the alley. When the flow of traffic cleared and J.R. was satisfied no cops were around, he used East Michigan to put the SHO arse-end in the alley with the vehicle's nose pointing toward Michigan Street.

A check of the clock on the dashboard showed the time to be 12:26. Four minutes to spare.
 

Into the Woods

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