• NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.

CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE

Death Otter sat up straight in her chair in the dining room, where she'd been lying with her head flat on the table, completely zonked out.

"Not the clown juice!" she yelped, eyes wide. Then she blinked and looked around.

Her eyes went to the assemblage of parts on the table and she rubbed her cheek, which was red from being pressed flat against the hardwood while she slept.

"Oh yeah."

She arranged the pieces of Marks' phone around a bit, keeping the screen and what was left of its casing close to the keys, then started tapping on them.

"...think I got this working... Oh hey, Marks. Thanks for the phone. Pretty decent model. Not the best. You'd think the FCC would spring for something better...maybe that's just for the elite agents though, right?"

(OOC - She's trying to rig his phone so it can access the BunBun's memory, and receive whatever it transmits...and by extension what other BunBuns transmit.)
 

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T-Dawg was awake by 6am, but missed the morning news as he went straight to the makeshift gym and did as much exercise as he could with the chairs, tables, etc. that were available. By 7am he'd finished a quick breakfast, just in time to witness the fracas between D0 and marks over his phone - which he ignored to find the showers and clean himself and a small room up for dawn prayers. Just before 8, as the first rays of the sun are peaking through the windows, he returns to the main room to see what the news from previous night is.

OOC: In all the excitement, I may have forgotten to have T-Dawg pause for his daily prayers. When I forget to specifically mention them, please take it as written that he performs them - albeit as surreptitiously as possible so as not to offend or annoy anyone.
 

"Mufilpuf!"

Cyril jerked awake with an unintelligible shout, the 2011 Irvington United Methodist Church Directory sliding off his chest and hitting the floor. He could faintly hear shouting, figuring that was what woke him up. Checking the room, nothing looked disturbed, for which he was grateful. Even better, the $60 was still secure. But what about the shouting?

Listening intently, he made out what sounded like a few familiar voices. With no gunshots or death screams accompanying the voices, he figured they weren't being attacked by the Russian Mafia. God these motherf(*&%s are loud, can't they let a guy get some sleep?

Sitting up on his cot, Cyril stretched lazily, scratching his chest idly. Standing up, he fished out a pair of athletic shorts that the FCC had provided. Not that he planned to work out, but he figured no one wanted to see him walking around in his briefs and he didn't really feel like wearing slacks at the moment. Fortunately, the church offices were pretty well insulated. Slipping on the flip flops he brought from prison, he rearranged the furniture in the office and headed toward the kitchen.

Sauntering in, he watched as Marks tried to contain his rage while Otter just seemed oblivious.

"Should I make some coffee?"
 

J.R. had changed before passing out into some sweatpants (they were never specified as available but if a problem the sweatpants could easily be substituted by the prison pants) and remained bare chested. He kept this attire as he grogily wandered into the front room with the TV. He decided to workout while watching the news. He read it in glimpses as he did sit ups.

He sees himself get maced and shot, again in glimpses,

"Damn."

He rolls over to try and do pushups but his shoulder screamed in defiance as a sharp pain went through his body.

The interaction between Marks and Otter brought a smile to his face and he couldn't help but laugh.
 

[MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION], make a Craft (electronics) check DC 20 to see if Otter can rig Marks's cell phone to interface with the BunBun guts.






Marks resignedly looked at his ruined phone. He laid the battery on the kitchen table, then sat down. When Cyril offered coffee, Marks shook his head no. He scruffed his hair with two large palms, then looked up at J.R., Feral, Otter, T-dawg, and Cyril. "We're going to an electronic goods store to buy some tech. But first I need to meet a contact at DFAS this morning, and then I'll be back with funds for all of you. I'll be gone two hours. While I'm out, you lot need to coordinate how the team will respond to any inquiries from police, news media, and Garvey. We're also going to have to agree on what part of the church we want to tackle refurbishing first, and then get supplies for that, too...so...a trip to Lowe's probably. I don't have a next mission yet from higher up, so for now our priority is to get the church construction going, get and set up our tech and gear, and then settle on a plan of action for what to report about BunBun. We owe a report on the toy to higher up within the next 24 hours. You'll need to decide what to tell the FCC. And one of you," Marks looked pointedly around the group before continuing, "will need to draft that report. I hope one of you is a writer?"
 

Feral laughs, "Ha! I kick ass and take names, but don't ask me to write 'em down. Gimme a hammer, though, and I'll have this place turned in to the Batcave in no time. My dad was a seabee, taught me a thing or two."

OOC: Improvising here a little bit, in that Feral doesn't actually have any ranks in anything construction related. I'll put some in next level.
 

J.R. raises his hand and speaks up,

"Had to write Action Report Ferms in da service. I can do it if I knew wah in da hell we're reporting. Alls we know is that da Russian Mafia is involved anna Bun Bun is a secret Nanny Cam that can transmit image and sound n'at."
 

Cyril's thoughts turned sour when he heard that the team was actually going to have to do manual labor and fix the church up. "I can probably handle the talky bits. I'd volunteer to write the report but... a) it's probably going to be technical and b) I'm used to dictating and having someone else write, so there's probably a better option out there."

"As far as the Church... what's going to require the least amount of work?"
 

Cyril's thoughts turned sour when he heard that the team was actually going to have to do manual labor and fix the church up. "I can probably handle the talky bits. I'd volunteer to write the report but... a) it's probably going to be technical and b) I'm used to dictating and having someone else write, so there's probably a better option out there."

"As far as the Church... what's going to require the least amount of work?"

Feral had been waiting for the right moment, the perfect timing, that exquisite set of circumstances.

He tosses Cyril the condoms and replies, "Your love life."
 

(OOC - I thought the 23 I rolled on Craft Electronics a little bit ago was for this? If not I will roll again.)

Death Otter looks up from where she's fiddling with the Frankensteinian thing that was once Marks' phone and grins.

"Did someone say writing?"
 

Into the Woods

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