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CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE


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"WE'RE just thugs," Death Otter gripes, "As this conversation demonstrates! The Russian mafia has its fingers in just about any big moneymaker in the ex-USSR! It's not like HERE, where the mob was BROKEN. Read a BOOK sometime! Besides, they only NEED thugs for this setup. I mean, unless they keep some kind of elite merc unit on retainer or something stupid like that, it takes TIME and TONS OF CASH to find and hire one. And for what? To babysit BunBun? Nah, just make a call to your uncle Ivanistad, who knows some people who can order some people to take care of problem. PEOPLE WHO ARE STRONG LIKE BULL."

She shrugs. "Fast. Easy. Usually effective. If the FCC hadn't done BASICALLY THE SAME THING WITH US, it might have worked. Anyway, I don't think it's likely ALL BunBuns. They'd be made in batches, shipped to specific markets. It's a cluster bomb approach, but probably a targeted cluster bomb. So if we look at who's in the saturation area, we might work out who they want to get eyes on."
 

"Hey Marks, how popular are these things? We've been out of the loop, you know. Are they like Tickle Me, Elmo popular? Every kid in America has one kind of thing?"
 

Death Otter ran the fingers of both hands through her hair and up, making it all sort of splay out every which way.

"Yeah, pretty much. Only, you know, from this century. The real question is who tipped off the FCC, and why. I mean, obviously they either want to scuttle whatever Gazprom's playing at...or maybe they just want to save the kid? I dunno."
 

Cyril's brow furrowed as he felt a headache coming on. "Wait... save the kid? What kid?"

Please God, never make me have to defend or call on Otter as a witness of any sort.
 

Death Otter rolled her eyes.

"Whoever they're going to kidnap! Do I have to... Okay, OKAY! Look. Who bugs toys? Parents. Perverts. Kidnappers. People who want to WATCH kids and TRACK kids. Now I'm pretty sure that this isn't a concerned parent, and while child porn isn't out of the QUESTION, it seems unlikely...so it looks to ME like someone decided that the best way to smooth over Gazprom's problems is to get some leverage over someone, by kidnapping one of their kids. A politician or a CEO or an ambassador...someone with CLOUT."

She looked at her wrist, which had nothing on it.

"And since that store was cleaned out, the target probably has it by now...and they know we're onto them, so they're prooooooobably kicking their op into high gear. We'll want to step things up if we want to keep ahead of the game."
 

Feral holds his hands up, "Stop. Just...stop. You are speculating and conspiracy theorizing and jumping to conclusions and every other damn cliche I can think. Stick to the facts and the evidence, like the courts were supposed to do for us, k?"
 

Cyril couldn't help but snort. "So you think all of the toys in the store's shipment were rigged? That seems like a good way to get caught. Someone is going to tear one of those things apart... one of those sad sacks that spends too much time in Radio Shack more than likely."

Throwing Otter a bone, the man finished, "In the incredibly unlikely event that you're right, can you trace where the signal is being sent? An IP address or something?"

Cyril intentionally mispronounced the term by turning the acronym into a word that sounded like yip.
 

"Fine! Whatever!" shrieked Death Otter. "Stand around arguing! It doesn't matter anyway! The next step for us is the same no matter WHAT the plot is! I need to GET ONLINE, look to see who lives within a certain radius of the toy store AND who is important enough to try to slip a bugged toy to. And we'll need to get a look at the store's list of pre-orders for BunBun to narrow the scope."

"As for the SIGNAL...these toys are too weak to have much range. And it'd be pretty dangerous to have them use a cell network or something. Probably they just send someone to the target's house in a van...LIKE WE NEED...and they monitor it on-site."
 

J.R. is intently listening to the conversation from the comfort of his cot.

"Let da eggheads at da FCC do da theorizing annay'll tell us da next tramp."
 

Into the Woods

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