Mission 3: Nice work, Chewie. Always thinking with your stomach.

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> The team retreats to their home base to rest after the evening's violent confrontation with mother nature. Forrest is able to recover almost fully from his wounds by morning, and the group is fit for action as a bright new day dawns on Wellington. Well, actually, it's overcast, and quite a dreary morning. But figuratively speaking, it's totally true. (more)
<El-Cideon> Anyway, Lagoon Company has a few hours to spare if there's anything they want to do in preparation for their next job.
* Forrest asks Wilhelmina if she's found out anything helpful to do with this job on her excursions into cyberspace.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+14 let's see~
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+14 let's see~ and gets 22."12 [1d20=8]
<Targo> "Forrest, you happen to know anything about putting dogs to sleep?" asks Targo, heading into the store with a couple grocery bags. "I picked up some bones, y'know, but not the drugs."
<Forrest> "Bones aren't much good, you want somethin' like a nice juicy steak - something that you can really soak in anaesthetic, you know? Don't you have any drugs in that bag of tricks, anyway? Somethin' a bit stronger than what you used on me last night would do just fine."
<Targo> "
<Targo> "They don't work on dogs," replies Targo, shaking his head. "Damn. Was hoping you knew of something I could grab locally. Bah, I'll make a couple calls."
<Wilhelmina> "Stella Artois, middle aged. She's the owner," Wilhelmina finally says, consulting her terminal. "Adelaide can't find much on her, so want to ask around for more?"
* Targo returns again, with a little carry-bag, marked with "Sander the Friendly Vet". A cartoon dog is painted on the ground, a great happy tounge lolling out of it's mouth. Man's best friend has never looked more cheerful.
<El-Cideon> Surely the guard dogs will look equally cheerful once they're drugged out of their minds.
<Targo> "I'll go make up some steaks," he says, heading to the tiny kitchen that came with the police station. "Kid'll be around in a couple hours. I figure only Wil really needs to go in with him when the time comes."
<Forrest> "So, what's the plan? We cut the power, drug the animals, then he and Wil sneak inside to grab the loot and get out?" Forrest summarises.
<Wilhelmina> "Sneaking? Me?"
<Targo> "
<Targo> "There won't be anyone there when we go in. We'll just delay the mission until they're gone," replies Targo, shrugging. "Won't even need to sneak around."
<Targo> "But if they've got any lingering electronic security, Wil's the only one who can deal with it. Capiche? Can't talk down a camera!"
* Wilhelmina shrugs. "Fine, whatever."
<El-Cideon> Soon enough, John Snopes shows up to accompany the team to Stella's house. He's clearly ill at ease. Maybe due to riding in a truck with hired guns? But he's pretty much seemed this way every time the group met him, so maybe he's just naturally nervous.(more)
<El-Cideon> A drive by the target's house shows it to be a respectable, two-level affair with a perimeter wall that easily tops three meters. It's in quite a nice neighborhood, but the team is able to find an alley behind a local business from which to monitor things. Just past nightfall, the scanner shows two people leaving the house and driving away in an aircar.
<Forrest> "Looks like they just left, coast is clear," Forrest reports. "Well, 'cept for the dogs and automatic security."
<Targo> "Huh. Looks to be pretty smooth," remarks Targo. "Right. Ready to go, kid? Got no interesting last-minute tidbits of information you forgot to tell us?"
<Targo> roll 1d20+10 home security systems
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+10 home security systems and gets 18."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> He shakes his head. "No. Well, there are some cameras on the second floor. But you can shut the security down, right?"
<Wilhelmina> "Once we access it, yes," Wilhelmina agrees. "Where's the best spot for it?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, I'm not an engineer or anything, but you should be able to access the house network from the sitting room on the ground floor. Hopefully that'll be enough?"
<Targo> "It'll be enough. Only worry is if they have security... that you don't know about." Targo shrugs. "And the dogs, of course. But we've got a trick for them, don't we? You two had better get going, quickly in is quickly out."
<Wilhelmina> "Right, let's go. Got the stakes?"
<El-Cideon> "Alright," Snopes says, hopping out of the truck. "Yeah, let's go." He heads down the street towards Stella's house, ambling in a manner he probably thinks looks casual. It might, if not for his furtive glances.
<Targo> "Yeah, here you are," replies Targo, handing over a somewhat wet plastic bag. "I flavoured them, you know. Poor dogs deserve a decent-tasting meal, at least."
* Wilhelmina nods, taking the bag along as she follows. She doesn't waste time on trying to get the door opened, eager to get inside and get the job over with.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+14
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+14 and gets 20."12 [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> Wil's work on the lock is quick, but messy. The door opens, but there's a crackle of elctricity and the keypad shorts out. The duo can get inside, but it's apparent someone was fiddling with the lock.
<Wilhelmina> Such was the plan. It would be pretty obvious someone got in once things turned up missing.
<Wilhelmina> "Where would the dogs be?" Wilhelmina asks their client quietly.
<El-Cideon> "She usually leaves them in the yard when she goes out. They're probably right on the other side of this wall."
* Wilhelmina tosses a steak over the wall, several feet off to the right, listening in afterwards.
<El-Cideon> There's the scrabble of claws on pavement as something approaches the steak's landing spot, some growling as animals tussle over something, and then noisy, contented chewing. It seems that no matter how well-bred they are, nothing can stop dogs from eating whatever random shit they find on the ground.
* Wilhelmina tosses all the steaks but one after that one, and waits a few moments.
<El-Cideon> More of the same, then, after a perplexed whine, all sounds stop.
* Wilhelmina opens the door at last, leading the way inside.
<El-Cideon> The dogs are clearly down for the count. A nice tiled path leads to the front door of the house; much of the front yard is paved over, actually. There's some grassy spots to the far left and right, but there's little groundskeeping to speak of. Keeping a garden in Pendleton is generally an excercise in futility. (more)
<El-Cideon> The front door is a heavy slab of plastic, with a traditional mechanical lock that wouldn't take Wil more than a couple seconds to bypass. Of course, she knows there's a security system that'll be notified if this happens, so that needs to be dealt with first.
<Wilhelmina> Her recent purchase should take care of that. Watchful for any silent alarms, Wilhelmina tries to lock that system out.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+14
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+14 and gets 20."12 [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> Another semi-successful effort! Wil can tell she was successful in disconnecting the front door from the household system, but again her effort is plan to see for anyone happening to glance around the frame of the door. Well, she can get inside, at least.
<El-Cideon> *plain to see
<Wilhelmina> That would have to do. "Where is the sitting room?" she asks Snopes quietly.
<El-Cideon> "Go in, turn right," he whispers. "Should be right there."
* Wilhelmina nods, and heads there, looking for that spot she could access the internal security from and destroy any records for the day, if they exist.
<El-Cideon> There's a stairway to the second floor right before Wil as she enters the house. The place is quite opulent on the inside, with fine hardwood floors and classy landscape paintings on the walls. The sitting room houses a collection of comfy armchairs--one of which, Snopes points out, sits in front of an outlet with which Wil can access the house's internal network.
<Wilhelmina> The security kit goes there, and so does Adelaide, to communicate with the network. The first goal is to find out what kind of security measures are active.
<El-Cideon> The entry detection system is active (not that it stopped Wil from getting inside unnoticed), as are cameras 1, 2, and 3.
* Wilhelmina checks whether taking the early detection system down would send a silent alarm somewhere off grounds, as well as whether the camera feeds for this evening could be blanked from this terminal.
<El-Cideon> The detection system can be shut down, but the computer politely informs Wil that she lacks authorization to do that or take out the cameras.
* Wilhelmina tries to see whether she can figure out where the cameras are located, at least, with her current access.
<El-Cideon> The computer again instructs Wil that this isn't her business and that she should Have a Nice Day.
<Wilhelmina> Time to try and befriend it, then!
<El-Cideon> It takes some time--during which Snopes fidgets nervously at Wil's side--but nothing goes awry as Wil hacks into the system. She's eventually able to finagle administrator access and gain authority to instruct the system to do what she wants.
<Wilhelmina> The first command is to shut down the cameras. The second is to wipe the camera data from early evening onwards. The third is to display the security measures between where they're at and their client's target.
<El-Cideon> The system complies. Cameras: deactivated. Recent logs: wiped. And that seems to be all the computer's monitoring.
<El-Cideon> "How's it going?" Snopes prods nervously.
<Wilhelmina> "We're good," Wilhelmina informs him. "Let's go collect what we came here for."
<El-Cideon> "Great!" He nods and marches up the stairs. "Last time I saw it, I'd left it in the bedroom."
* Wilhelmina leaves Adelaide there to download the information the now-friendly computer has, and follows Snopes upstairs.
<El-Cideon> Snops turns left at the top of the stairs, heading for a door with a (now inactive) camera just overhead. Stella's bedroom is opulent to the point of tastelessness. The bed is a grand canopied affair with gold silk sheets and a dresser with an assortment of what ook like jewelry boxes atop it. Snopes glances around the room, seeming perplexed, and then heads for a large walk-in closet on the other side of the room.
<El-Cideon> It's worth noting that the camera here is trained on the bed.
* Wilhelmina follows him for now. "What are we looking for, again?"
<El-Cideon> He peers back at Wil, with a shifty expression he can't seem to disguise. "I know what I'm looking for. I'll take care of it." He turns back to his search, going down on hands and knees and digging through a gargantuan pile of shoes.
<Wilhelmina> They don't seem to be his size, but Wilhelmina avoids saying as much, opting to watch him silently.
<El-Cideon> Finally, with a relieved "Aha!", Snopes emerges with a blue, cylindrical carrying case closed with a lock and a small electronic keypad. "This is it." He shakes it for a moment; there's a *thump* of several small objects bouncing around, and he nods. "I don't think she got it open yet. That's a relief."
<Wilhelmina> "Do you need it opened?" Wilhelmina asks, making it clear she hopes the answer is no.
<El-Cideon> Snops seems frightened by the very question. "Nono, that's okay. I know the combination. We can get out of here now."
<El-Cideon> *Snopes
<Wilhelmina> Nodding, Wilhelmina leads the way down, where she leaves a delayed command to the local computer to delete all access logs after a minute, collecting her own computer afterwards.
<El-Cideon> This goes off without a hitch, and the two are able to leave the grounds without any sign--well, except for the damage around the doors, and the drugged dogs. But hey, no one's perfect.
* Wilhelmina returns with the remaining steak, handing it back to Targo. "We'll need to dispose of this one, it was too much."
<El-Cideon> Snopes breathes a sigh of relief once he's back at the truck. "God, I'm glad that's over with."
<Wilhelmina> "It's not over until the client pays."
<Targo> "We'll toss it in the incinerator," replies Targo, dryly. "It's not over yet, Snopes! We prefer cash for this sort of job. Give that to us- and we'll drop you off wherever you like."
<Wilhelmina> "That's what I said."
<Targo> "You need to speak up."
<Wilhelmina> "Roberta is loud enough for both of us."
* Wilhelmina looks quite willing to demonstrate that.
<Targo> "I could give you lessons. Oratory is a - hmm." Targo starts the engine, shrugging. "Debate is one of Wilhelmina's many... talents, Snopes. There's nothing she and her friends can't do."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, right!" He starts, and fishes in his pockets for a moment. "Five thousand, all here. Had to really scrape to get it all together, but you guys earned it."
<Targo> "No, no we didn't," replies Targo, flatly. "I hope we're clear on that point. Now.. where do you want to go?"
<El-Cideon> Snopes gives you the address of a hotel a couple miles away. He seems quite happy to be parting your company with his(?) property.
<Targo> "We have some significant capital, now. I hope neither of you are... offended by these small-time jobs," remarks Targo, as he sets the van travelling back to their offices.
* Wilhelmina shrugs, taking off her gloves at least. "There's cash, there's things to kill and set on fire. And I got homemade movies out of this one."
<Targo> "I'm glad you're broadening your interests."
<Wilhelmina> "Do we have popcorn?"
<Forrest> "A job's a job, I guess we can afford to be fussy once we have more of a reputation," Forrest shrugs from the back of the truck. "Prefer to keep it legal, though." He turns his attention to Wilhelmina, "Movies? You steal their holiday slides or something?"
<Wilhelmina> "Nothing was stolen," she responds with a snort. "Betty was very friendly and shared a few things with Adelaide."
<El-Cideon> Indeed, Stella's files contain a contact list, a day planner with her itinerary for the past year or so, a log of phone and online activity, and way more amateur movies than any sane person would want.
<Targo> "Eh. We could," replies Targo, cruising slowly down the street. "Illegal stuff pays better, but we're hardly desperate. I just don't like excluding half our potential clients."
<Wilhelmina> "Legal is a point of view," Wilhelmina states sagely. "Dictated by those in power, by the most corrupt."
<Targo> "If they set the rules, they get to choose what's corrupt and what's not."
<Forrest> "By the ones that c'n lock us away," Forrest concludes, glancing at Wilhelmina's datapad. "What's spit roast dot empeg? Some sort of campin' barbecue video?"
<Targo> "Please don't distract me when I'm driving."
<Wilhelmina> "Yes. Get the popcorn, I'll set it up."
<El-Cideon> And so, Lagoon Company arrived home after another successful hei--er, job. It's late at night now, but there's still plenty of activity at local bars and the like if they want to celebrate.
<Targo> "It's about time we checked out the nightlife of ol' Pendleton. I'm hoping it's not a dive, like the rest of the planet," muses Targo, getting changed into something slightly more fashionable. "You guys gonna sit around and watch... amateur movies all night?"
<Wilhelmina> "The less people around, the better," Wilhelmina notes with a shrug.
<Forrest> "Could go for a few drinks, sure," Forrest nods genially, not really seeing any need to get changed when his current attire will suffice. He does drop off his guns and ammo and suchlike, however.
<El-Cideon> There's a bar a couple streets down from the team's headquarters. It's fairly new (having been founded not long after the police station was vacated) and clean. It's just called Murray's, which may or may not be the name of the proprietor.
<Forrest> Walking distance is good when going out to get smashed, so Forrest has no qualms about heading in here.
* Targo likewise follows along, presuming that Wil will hang around back at the office.
<El-Cideon> Considering the neighborhood, the place is surprisingly orderly inside. The clientele is mostly quiet and seemingly quite happy to stay that way. The crack of wood on wood coming from the back of the establishment suggests the presence of pool tables. The bartender is a friendly-looking fellow with drab, dirty blond hair.
<Targo> "What's your poison, Forrest?" asks Targo, taking a chair near the bar and waving over the bartender.
<Forrest> "Whiskey fer me. Somethin' to chase the cold away," Forrest replies, propping himself against the bar.
<El-Cideon> The bartender nods. "What about you, sir?" he says to Targo.
<Targo> "Targo to friends, mate," he replies, giving the man a confident smile. "I'll have the same. Got any bands coming in this week?"
<El-Cideon> "No, sir," he says with a chuckle. "We like it quiet here. Folks want to relax after a long day's work, you know?" He fetches the drinks, then returns. "Haven't seen you boys before. New to the neighborhood?"
<Targo> "Been here a couple weeks, setting up shop. Got our hands on the old police station down the road. Not a bad catch, if you don't mind the decor."
<El-Cideon> He nods in recognition. "Ah, the old police station. Going to fix it up for business? What's your racket?"
* Forrest knocks back a mouthful of whiskey and then nurses what's left, content to let Targo talk shop.
<Targo> "Security," he replies. "Lots of bandits running around, these days. Figured we'd have a go at being policemen ourselves." Targo grins. "We don't need to walk a beat, but the government ain't paying us, so it's win some, lose some."
<El-Cideon> A grin. "Well, I guess I know who to call to break up a fight. Round of drinks sound like fair compensation for that?"
<Targo> "Can't ask fairer! Doesn't seem like you'll be needin' us, though. Quiet place, like you said. 'sides, who'd want to start trouble a hundred meters down from the copshop? Place leaves an impression, I'll bet."
<El-Cideon> Another nod. "That it does. Can't say I didn't have that in mind when I set up shop here. How's business so far?"
<Targo> "We're just getting started. There was one guy, Brewer, I think. Struck some metal, and a few people decided some of his money should be their's. Put a stop to that, but we're still looking into working with a few of the bigger corps."
<Forrest> "If'n you hear any folks around who might be needin' our kind of help, be sure to point 'em our way," Forrest puts in, knocking back the last of his drink and motioning for another.
<El-Cideon> "That's where the money is, I hear." He nods to Forrest, and pours him another drink. "Sure thing, as long as you tell anyone looking for a drink to come my way."
<Targo> "I think we're onto something. After-work drinks with clients seem like a good thing to you?"
<Forrest> "Depends. Most haven't been too sociable, have they?" Forrest notes after a sip.
<Targo> "Well, they're busy people," replies Targo, defensively.
<El-Cideon> ---