Polite as Always
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A RolePlay Log by | |
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Title |
Polite as always |
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Date |
2014 July 01 |
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IC Date |
2535 Jan 30 |
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Location |
Spaceport - Ezra |
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Appearing |
Phelan Danliels Mia Daniels Kirsten O'Dowd Maxim Vargas Theresa Knapp Brennart Henderson Calira d'Narvose |
Members of the DarkStar Security Company and a couple of expert (civilian) consultants have a talk with a polite law enforcement officer on Ezra.
The old spaceport of Ezra is nothing more than a huge, flat area. It's not even made of concrete as is normally used, but simply hard rock that has been artificially flattened. The only concrete building is an ages-old fuel bunker with which to refuel ships. The cargo office is a metal shack with a big enough door for the mules to load and unload cargo. Right to the South is the road to the Public Market. As a sort of security measure, a rather large gang of thugs patrol the area, men of one of the many gang lords.
There's something to be said about the abrupt transition from a few weeks spent on Paquin and it's tropical winter to the bone chilling cold found on Ezra at this particular point in the winter season. Cold wind knifes through every nook and cranny, a fine powdery snow sifts through the hatch of the transport that the DarkStar had hired to move personnel from Paquin to Ezra, scooping up additional personnel and other passengers en route of course. The captain of the transport, "Murphy's Law" sets down only long enough to disgorge passengers, take on another load, and some cargo, and lifts off again with barely a pause long enough to top off fuel as well. Calira tucks her hands into her pockets, eyes narrowed against the cold, the snow, the wind, cuts a look toward the transport that's dancing it's way up through the cold air and winter thermals before she turns back to the assembled team. "Ahh, winter. Lovely, isn't it," dry.. PARCHED humor. <English>
Mia is dressed in thermal undies, pants, snopants, fuzzy boots, down vest, down jacket, and furr-lined had and scarf, the proper snobunny. <English>
Kirsten, not one of the DarkStar's crew, comes by a different route. She has a shuttle of her own that sets down not long after Calira's DarkStar transport; she trots down the ramp, tossing out a duffel, and her breath steams in the frigid air from out the hood of her parka. A proper, honest-to-god parka with a fur-lined hood, the sort that they wear on Ice Station Zebra, if you're old enough to have seen that. The shuttle likewise makes its departure, and Kirsten, not glancing backwards, hoists up her duffel and trots over towards where she can see people. Some of them familiar people, even. Some of them even friends. Well, and there's Phelan, too. Hi, Phelan. <English>
Phelan though is dressed in warm clothing. Though he hasn't went to the lenghths of some of the others in the party, like his misses. Though he wears a fleece pull over under his brown duster. It probably was a sticking point to some but he doesn't notice nor care. A scarf around him keeps him warm. He wears a pair of sun glasses and a felt cowboy hat. Though the most noticable fashion statement. The zeus assault rifle on a tactical sling. <English>
Making his way out into the cold with everyone else, Maxim is attired as normal, since it's usually keeps him fairly covered. He does have an added Gortex mask covering his face, and his wool cap it snugged a little lower. But for the most part he's watching, looking about as everyone sets up, getting his bearings as he gets reaquainted with his home. <English>
Stepping off the shuttle, Theresa pulls the hood up of her jacket, pulling the scarf she has rather tight before tucking her hands into her pockets. Her boots leaving rather good sized footprints in the snow. The outfit she has underneith being of various layers. THe grey eyes flick around and squints faintly. "Hmmm." Is her only responce, to Calira's comment. Keeping close to Maxim, she just hmmmm a small bit, crouching down while looking around the area. <English>
Calira pulls on a pair of gloves, hating them, and eyes Mia - proper snowbunny attire enabled, and Kirsten as she arrives and properly attired to stand against the snow to be found on mythical planets whose names begin with the letter H, Phelan and his warm duster and cowboy hat, Maxim with his Gortex mask and wool cap, followed by Theresa with those boots that Calira is briefly envious of. "Alright, we're all here," she declares (nothing like stating the obvious), "Kirsten, damn it now I want that parka," she adds with a laugh, her breath exhaling a plume of smoke as she speaks. "We're going to go have a talk with the sheriff and his men. They've stone walled and put off speaking with us for months now. One excuse after another. We're giving them one last chance to talk before we set aside politeness and start with the thumb screws and torture," a fine thread of humor there, she could (possibly) be jesting about the thumb screws. <English>
Mia accepts the gloves from Calira before stepping behind the throng of gunslingers. If anyone needs Mia, she's bringing up the rear. At torture there's a siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh but not a comment. <English>
Kirsten nods simply, delving in her duffel to dig out a RA Mossberg that she slings across her torso. The first person she looks at as she zips up the duffel is Phelan, and he gets a brief nod and a small smile of recognition. Mia, too, gets a half-wave and smile. Theresa Knapp and Maxim get a polite nod apiece. To Calira she says, "The parka's for sale...for a price." A wry grin, she's teasing. Probably. Her smile fades as she listens to the story with the sheriff. "What are they stonewalling about, m'am? What specifically did you ask them?" <English>
Brenn finally steps off the ship dressed in a simple field jacket with his thermals underneath, tactical pants with thigh holster for his pistol, simple watch cap over his head and a big assed rifle slung over his back. And there's a hint of a sword back there as well. His hands are covered with gloves not super thick but a small wire runs from the glove and up his sleeve so perhaps thermals? "Freaking cold always hate the cold. Seeps into the bones and just sits there." <English>
Phelan cuts an eye through his sunglasses at the mention of torture back to Mia. Then he catches sight of Kristen, "Still carrying It." He says pulling his zeus up and holding it ready. "You know, Chief, an assualt on the local authorites and out and out torture of said contractors for the Alliance. That sounds down right criminal and smells of bad guy. You ever heard of having a coming to pick your favorite diety meeting? I think that's the phrase your looking for." <English>
Maxim looks over at the sounds of grumblings of the cold. He briefly gives Theresa a hug and then says, "It can be cold here in the winter time. Just keep your core temperature up for as long as possible. I will be fine for the next two hours." He looks to the others at the mention of torture and inquires, "You think they are involved?" He frowns, not surprised considering the planet just frustrated more than anything. <English>
Theresa Knapp just keeps quiet, listening to what people are saying on whats going on, and otherwise keeps her eyes on thweir surroundings. "I'll be good to go on cold, I'm layered." She says simply. <English>
"Specifically, they're stone walling about sharing what data they've compiled thus far in their 'investigation'," serious air quotes there around that last word, "into the missing children. They have been not just reluctant but absolutely unwilling to meet with us, in fact, no matter how politely the request has been phrased. We're asking, again, for the tower logs from the days before, the day of, and the day after the kidnapping. The traffic patterns, copies of the comm chatter logs as well. Someone had to clear the ship in and back out of air space," she adds, stomping her feet briefly to keep her toes from turning into ice cubes. She eyes Brenn then chuckles, "That's not the cold, old friend, that's old age rearing it's heads. <English>
"Specifically, they're stone walling about sharing what data they've compiled thus far in their 'investigation'," serious air quotes there around that last word, "into the missing children. They have been not just reluctant but absolutely unwilling to meet with us, in fact, no matter how politely the request has been phrased. We're asking, again, for the tower logs from the days before, the day of, and the day after the kidnapping. The traffic patterns, copies of the comm chatter logs as well. Someone had to clear the ship in and back out of air space," she adds, stomping her feet briefly to keep her toes from turning into ice cubes. She eyes Brenn then chuckles, "That's not the cold, old friend, that's old age rearing it's head." She glances at Phelan then to Kirsten and back before a slow smile forms on her face. "Now now, torture? nonsense. Strong persuasion and conversation? Yes. And yes, that's the phrase I"m looking for." She glances over at Maxim and her expression is carefully neutral now, "Probably. Likely. Culpable, even more likely. I'm willing to entertain the notion that they AREN'T involved deliberately. But their absolute lack of effort after the fact makes them, in my book, accessory after the fact." <English>
"Old and trusted friend, Phelan," Kirsten replies simply, as she pats her Mossberg with a gloved hand. No, no hidden messages there, no sirree. She nods to Calira, pondering thoughtfully on the odds of a perfectly innocent set of local law enforcement stonewalling a request from the former head of DAS (or whatever the hell Calira's position was). Those odds have to be slim. So, guilty. She grins faintly at Calira and steps closer to Phelan and Mia. "How're you two doing?" <English>
Mia exhales, "Interrogation and torture are not the same. So let me just jump ahead and ask the only question that matters right now: do we have TIME to properly interrogate these people, Brenn?" She exhales and eyes phelan and Kirsten, "Oh my god, seriously? " She huffs and looks to Kirsten, "We're peachy keen, Jelly bean. come by and ask us after all this is set." She notes to Calira, "Kirsten's an old associate of Odell's, shall we invite her along? She's a handy gal to have around?" <English>
Brenn chuckles, "I'm not old I refuse to get old. And seriously stonewalling? Good old boy system at it's best here." He glances over at Kirsten and then shrugs at Mia's question, "Depends on how much time we actually have to spare and how much effort we want to put into it. And how dirty we want to get." <English>
Phelan shakes his head, "Then glad I bought it for you." He looks back to Mia and shrugs, "Doing alright, I reckon." He looks back to Mia, "What? Don't look at me." <English>
Maxim looks to the others and then continues to scan out for potential threats. Yeah he doesn't have much to say about that topic of conversation. so he stays quiet. <English>
Theresa Knapp glances to Maxim and as he is looking in one direction, she looks in the other. Hmmming faintly as she looks to Calira and lifts a brow, her lips quirking, "So how do we play it." <English>
"I'll set aside time for you two to strap on boxing gloves and hash out your history later, I promise," Calira says with a long look between Kirsten and Phelan. She then smiles at Mia, "Kirsten is meeting us here specifically to help out with this investigation," she explains with a nod. To Brenn she shares another inscrutable look, "As much as needed," simply said. "We go in, we ask our questions. When they stonewall, again, we take necessary measures. The only rule is to not leave any marks that'll last," she clarifies and tilts her head slightly to watch the snow swirl around the lights that edge the landing strip, "There. The wind is shifting, the temperature is dropping. Most of those in the market will be making their way home - again. Those security officers that are in the station will stay, those that aren't on duty won't be coming in, this is the best time," she says and nods toward the path out of the spaceport toward the city center. <English>
Kirsten looks levelly at Calira, after a glance at Phelan. "There's no need to fret about us, m'am. We're shiny." She doesn't look at Phelan or Mia for a long moment as she claps her cold hands together, cold even through the gloves. As for the implications of torture, she says nothing; she did swear the Hippocratic Oath, long years ago. How that squares with what she may or may not be contemplating is anyone's guess. <English>
Mia nods to Calira, "Shiny, this many people another medic is a wise idea, nevermind her other skills." a pause and her eyes widen and she hastily adds, "Her weapon skills. I specifically meant her WEAPON skills." she clears her throat and brings up the rear still. <English> Brenn hrmphs and nods, "I'll keep that in mind. Just let me know when and where you want me chief..." And then it goes into a short pose to keep it running. <English>
Phelan looks to Caliara, "Same here." He means where does he need to be. "Though there's nothing wrong with being lookout." He doesn't seem to be discussing the matter that being aluded too. "Keep an eye out from getting hit in the back, I reckon." <English>
Eyes roam over everything as Max continues to move with the group. He looks to the others, and then to Phelan. "I will watch your back." He'll make sure no one harms them. They need to do this, to get answers. He continues on, eyes searching usual spots, familiar places. Last thing they need is anyone getting warned of their approach. <English>
Theresa Knapp nods her head to Calira and says, "I got it." Her lips quirking faintly for some reason and she for some reason pulls her hood forward justa small bit more so it shadows her face. "Shoulda brought the blades. Oh well." <English>
Calira treks through the drifting, sifting, ridiculously cold snow, shoulders squared against the cold and the wind that tries to cut through her perfectly good winter coat. The snippets of conversation she picks up from Kirsten, then Mia, make her glance over her shoulder and arch a quiet look around. "Maxim, eyes on the surround, let me know if any security patrols sweep the area. Brenn, take the other half of the street," dividing the visible space into even sections for Max and Brenn to keep an eye on. She walks up to the secured door leading to the sheriff's Office, rapping firmly on the with one fist as she glances over her shoulder again. "Doctors have oaths, you'll abide by them. If anyone is going to get their hands dirty, it's going to be those of us who haven't sworn any oaths against doing such things." She pounds on the door, again, then steps back a pace as the screen to the side of the door flickers to life and a disgruntled, and very very fat, officer's face appears.
"What?" is demanded in a quarrelsome tone of voice.
"DarkStar Security Company, CSO d'Narvose speaking, we have an appointment?" and her tone is all friendly and amiable. See, all that protocol and diplomacy training finally being put to good use.
"What?" the tone is both quarrelsome AND incredulous, "It's zero .. no, it's ten degrees below.. I'm not opening this door!"
Calira smiles suddenly, teeth bared in a look that passes for a smile at least. "In this weather, you can't bounce a signal off of anything, let alone the nearest building. Let us in or I'll blow a hole in this door so wide that you'll freeze to death by the end of the shift. Open the door, and it's just some reasonable questions and we're on our way."
And while Calira may not be the most persuasive.. the officer on the other side of the door makes a grudging sound of assent and releases the lock, allowing the door to unlatch with a rusty clank of sound. "Alright alright, keep your pants on," he then squints past Calira to see those standing in the snow and leers first at Kirsten then Mia, "actually. Come on in, and in fact, DON'T.." he gives a smarmy sort of laugh before the screen fades out. <English>
"I'm starting to be annoyed by him already, and we've barely met," Kirsten murmurs to nobody in particular, as she moves to follow Calira in when Calira eventually moves. Her shotgun's slung across her chest, downward-pointing, and her gloved hand is resting lightly on the stock and trigger guard. If she's taken offense at being told to take her panties off, she's not showing it. <English>
Phelan looks at Calira as he moves up to the door and hinges. He stands at an angle where the officer on the officer can't see him. He smiles and seems ready preparing the underslung shotgun on the Ares to preforme a door breech. <English>
Mia stands in the rear and shivers, teeth chattering, "I'm frreezing my funbits off." She agrees with kirsten, "Woe be to anyone who gets in the way, she gets...meanwhen she's impatient." she moves to step back, "Mmmm. ok, bao bei, you're right-that looks damned good on him." She means of his hardware, "Gotta love it when a man has the tool for the job, right?" <English>
Sheriff's Office
The short entryway to the station is bracketed by wall mounted security scanners that are designed, ideally, to identify weapons. Funny how something like that just isn't working on Ezra, call it budget cut backs. Or laziness. A close look would see that more than one panel has been cannibalized, the actual wiring and software components pulled out and empty shells left behind. The walls are scuffed, the floors none to clean and equally scuffed, plus the added layer of slushy sludge that edges the room, soaks into the 'welcome mat' makes the area smell of mud, moldy water and.. ech, feet.
"Hmm, yum, smells just like Persephone," Calira mutters in a low voice before wrenching the handle to the inner door and tugs it open, skims a look around before stepping through and holding the door open for everyone else. The corpulent, florid faced, bald pated law enforcement officer - whose generous bulk strains the stained uniform he's wearing - is seated in a heavy wooden chair that squeaks as he moves in it, setting it to twist/pivot slightly from side to side. "Welcome to Ezra," he says in a sardonic and almost (honestly) sarcastic tone of voice. "Land of endless sun, pleasure palaces and luxurious accommodations." He spits near a bucket on the floor by his feet, near but not in, then hacks up a phlegm filled cough before leering at Mia and Kirsten again. "To what do I owe the honor of your company, ladies?" rude is just one of the many facets of his personality that he has on display at present. <English>
Silent to what's going on, Theresa makes her way inside the room with the others. Staying to one side and a half a step behind Calira. Her head remains half bowed, so that it's difficult to see under the hood. One hand tucked into her pocket as she curls her fingers around whatever is there. Only giving the softest hmmmming at the rudeness. "No manners." Tsking faintly. <English>
Kirsten pushes her way in, flanking out from behind Calira at the first chance she gets so as not to get caught in a crossfire. "Look on us as angels of opportunity," she advises the man, but her gaze is beyond him, checking out the remainder of the room and corridor before she can relax and regard the fat man in his entirety. "You have a lot of opportunities opening before you at our arrival. Choose wisely," she suggests, face deadpan. <English>
Cal then opens the door and steps in. PHelan shakes his head at the fact they hadn't kept things up and running. Though with the officer obsessing over the ladies in the party. He remains at his post preping for a surprise or a runner. <English>
Beady eyes of a murky green sweep from the tall drink of water (that'd be Kirsten) then to the shorter one (that's Mia) around to Cal - the rude one who'd demanded entrance (as the beady eyed officer is labeling them so far) then to the one with the hood (that'd be Theresa) and back around to the man standing by the door.
"Well now, Ladies, I'm happy to share," he makes a sweeping gesture with both hands. "Choices, eh? well then I'll take Hotstuff," he points a pudgy finger at Mia, "then legs," he points next to Kirsten, "and maybe tall dark and studly," around to Phelan with a wave of one hand. He rubs his hands together, beady eyes taking on a nasty gleam, "My lucky day, it would appear. Tell me, Legs," he leans forward, slowly, chair squeaking, "what can I do you for?" <English>
Mia steps in behind the others, keeping up the rear, "Do I look like a girl who does it for free, numbnuts?" She shudders and looks to Calira, "We're so in the right place." <English>
Theresa Knapp shakes her head and moves forward a small bit, slowly lifting her head just enough so the light in the room lands on those grey eyes on her as they narrow. "Cal? I'd be willing to bet their pea sized. I'd be more than happy to step on them and find out." Tapping a single steal toed boot on the floor a couple of times to make her point. <English>
Mia grunts to Theresa, "We're not going to get what we want that way...and she needs no wencouragement." <English>
Kirsten tilts her head to the right, cricking her neck with an audible little crack. Her unsmiling gaze rests on Fats, meeting his gaze unblinkingly. Yes, she's actually staring him out. It's probably not important who blinks first; the point is she's doing it, and she doesn't answer his question. Which is really annoying, and tends to get people to either lose their cool or start talking to fill the silence. Either way, it's a good tactic. <English>
Fats, aka Officer McGregor, blinks slowly at the assembled group, skittering his attention from Legs to Hotstuff around to Grey eyes, "Grape fruits," he retorts in a snicker of a voice before eyeing Studly again. "Harem, hisem, what's a few pesky terms between friends?" he makes that expansive gesture again with both hands, though he's sweating now. His beady eyes skitter back toward Legs, something on Kirsten's face - likely the expression that is most notably on the front of her face - makes him somewhat more nervous looking. "What?" he demands in a plaintive tone of voice. <English>
"You're going to answer my friend's questions, without lying or being obstructive. If you do...good things will happen to you." Kirsten smiles a thin smile that doesn't reach her eyes, but may hold the promise of...well, good things...in Officer McGregor's future. She rests a hand on Calira's shoulder to identify the friend with the questions. "If you lie, or if you're obstructive, then..." Kirsten sighs softly, either in anticipation or regret. <English>
Theresa Knapp just mmm's faintly as Kirsten jumps in with answering the man's sense of paranoia. "Grapefruits?" Shaking her head, "Grapes maybe." She mutters under her breath, moving off to the side and sliding a step closer to the desk the man sits at. <English>
McGregor's beady eyes alight on Calira's shoulder for a moment before he eyes Legs again, "Her? Nonsense," he looks toward Hotstuff again and crooks one pudgy finger at her, "you ask the questions. I'd be happy to talk to you all day," and how he makes the word 'talk' sound anything other than polite dialogue is really some sort of special talent. "She has the most beautiful eyes," he sends a long look at Theresa that is ALMOST accompanied by fluttering eyelashes. "Come, Handsome, lets divide the spoils of war between us," he suggests to Phelan with a nasty smile. <English>
Mia sighs, "I can't take you all anywhere." She looks to the man, "Hey, Mr. Beadyeyes mcHorny, I was just going to swindle you but these folks, in case you haven't noticed are saddistic crazy and the sooner you tell them the sooner they're someone else's problem instead of yours." <English>
Phelan frowns at the sound of the officer voice. He lets out a non-commental grunt. He then shrugs at Mia, "Who me?" Then he pulls up his zeus and uses the barrel and goes to poke Fats in the gut hard enough to wind him and get his attention, "I got a better idea. How about you answer the chiefs question. We stop making everybody in the room creeped out and I don't ventallate you." PHelan was tired of the guy. <English>
Theresa Knapp's brow lifts faintly and again her head moves so the light hits those grey eyes just so. They aren't crinkling in amusement though, nope, it's like they're glacial cold, and narrow. Still she doesn't do anything to the man. Instead she digs into her pants pocket and of all things pulls out a rectangular metal tin. OPening it she pulls out a butter knife (dull), a spoon (rusted), and a fork (The prongs bent in opposite directions). Offering the set to Calira and says in an all too innocent tone, "Do you want one? Fork or the knife? I'm taking dibs on the spoon." <English>
Kirsten watches, smiling that faint and humorless smile as Phelan gets phyisical. There's no need to crowd the fellow, and she steps back, listening hard to whatever questions Calira might throw at the fat fool. <English>
McGregor's beady eyes widen, a fine sheen of perspiration now stands out visibly on his bald dome topped head and he wheezes out a harried sigh before fishing a grimy handkerchief out of one pocket and mopping at his forehead, then swipes the entire bald dome of his head with the cloth as well before he waves one pudgy hand at Phelan. "Alright alright," the sound both exasperated and wary, "you keep your britches on, that's a deal breaker," in a sour voice. His eyes skitter, again, away from Kirsten (Legs) and back around to Mia (Hotstuf), over Grey eyes (Theresa) then the bossy one from the door (Calira). "What in the bloody hell do you want anyway?" now in a petulant tone of voice.
Calira, meanwhile, is studying the offered tool set from Theresa, "I'd say spoon, because it'd hurt more, but then I'd have to explain the pop culture reference and I'm not sure I know that many words with only one or two syllables that'll do the job," a mournful tone in her voice now. "Got a spork in there? It's the ultimate tool of indecision," she waits until Fats looks away from her again and steps forward to plant one hand on his right shoulder, spins his chair slightly with a nasty sounding squeak, and makes sure that he's facing Kirsten - who seems to have a markedly unnerving affect on the 'Officer'.
"Missing children," she reminds the fat man (again), "taken now about 8 months ago. We've been trying to get you and your deputies to talk to us for months now, but you're always busy." She looks around, refuses to think what these law enforcement officers actually DO in these cells, shudder, "And now we're out of time. We need the tower logs from the days before, the day of, and a couple days after. Access to your files and any interviews and data you've collected thus far," see, very plain very blunt, very pointed. How tough a request is this? <English>
"She asked nicely," smiles Kirsten to Officer Fats, again with that smile almost entirely devoid of good humor. "I'd hate to be all repeating her and asking not so nicely, because I'd get the words confused. And then I'd be asking you pretty much anything, and that won't do. So. Answer. Her." The last two words are snapped out suddenly in a voice used to being obeyed without hesitation. <English>
Mia meanders to go see what she can see while they interrogate, creep, snoop...she leaves the intimidation to the rest. <English>
Theresa Knapp just hmms at Calira's comment to her offer, digging around in that little retangular box she comes up with an older spoon that may or may not have been used to dig trenches as it has grooves in various spots around the top. They're not deep, but definitely enoughto leave marks. After a moment she just holds it at the ready. Moving towards anywhere he may be holding any files (if he does have any). <English>
Officer Fats jumps, literally, he gives a head to toe jump that is all nerves all jittery energy that makes him twitch, and not in a particularly appealing way. "What's there to know?" he retorts, the words jumping free before he can actually evade the knee-jerk response to answer immediately. He runs one sweaty palm over his forehead, gives Studly a baleful look, then narrows those beady eyes at Legs. "Look. The children disappeared. End of story. Probably sold by their folks to some expensive adoption program and now they're regretting their decision to give their kids a better life. What of it?" he demands in a voice that is ALMOST a plaintive whine. "It's no crime to want a better life for you tykes, they got their money, now they've got sellers remorse. What of it?"
"That would be a good story, except these parents didn't sell their children, and they want them back," Calira replies in a quiet voice, her hand tightening slowly on McGregor's shoulder as she speaks, making sure to get her point across. "Did you even LOOK into this at ALL?" she demands in a voice that is both incredulous and edging toward angry.
Fat's turns a rather florid shade of red that edges toward purple. "Now see here," he splutters, "I don't have the manpower to be chasing down every wild story by some uneducated house wife who has to many children to feed - -" he gives a rather alarmed sounding squeak when the hand on his shoulder tightens - noticably - dimpling the material covering his shoulder. Or is that a haunch? hmm. <English>
Kirsten has had enough of this. She swings her shotgun around so it's slung across her back, unzips her parka, walks round to sit on his desk pretty much straddling his legs. She reaches out to give him a light, stinging slap on the cheek, barely a slap, more a look-at-me. "Focus. You're not answering the lady's questions. Remember how we talked about bad things happening and good things happening?" She leans forwards a little, although Kirsten has no cleavage to speak about, and what there is is buried under pseudo-military fatigues, so she isn't flashing any of it. "Focus, and answer." <English>
Mia grabs a handful of letters, "You're not looking for the kids. These kids were not sold by their parents, numbnuts." She grabs a handful of letters and lifts them so he can see, "You're not even looking." She looks to numbnuts, "What am I going to find when I look into your bank account? I bet you, I will find who paid you to look the other way-and then I will tell them YOU told us exactly where to find the kids." She mmms, "You want me to fuk you big boy?" She drawls, "I can do that." And she moves for the door, "Be back momentarily." <English>
Theresa Knapp does grab a few more letters, crudely made posters and such and moves silently to pick them up, "Well well well. What do we have here." Moving over to Kirsten she holds out the stack, "Here, you might find these interesting." THere's letters in this stack she holds out, but all the gathered up pictures and then all of the posters. Then says, "There's pictures of the kids too." <English>
Those beady eyes follow Leg's movements, ok Leg's AND the gun, startling backward with the light stinging slap, beady eyes blinking again. Maybe his attention span is affected by proximity,b ut maybe his attention span is tied to his IQ which may only sneak into triple digits every now and again. "Legs, you can slap me around any time," he mutters in that smarmy voice, lapsing back into slimy innuendo.
His beady eyes skitter to the side and land on Mia (Hotstuff), "What? That rubbish? nonsense. They just keep shoving those things under the door, tacking them up in the market. Sympathy swill, I tell you, they're looking for hand outs," he splutters, face turning florid again at the last words from Mia, his beady eyes going bright then. "Well now, well now," he chortles, jowls wiggling, rubbing his fat hands together again as he eyes Legs.
"This could be a very good day after all," and he starts to reach out one fat hand as though to put it on one of Kirsten's knees then seems to have a dim bulb moment and thinks better of it. He jolts, again, when Grey eyes waves the posters and letters. "RUBBISH," he decries in a blustering shout, chair squeaking loudly, nervously eyeing Mia, "They sold those kids, I tell you. Sold them. I merely.. a small finders fee," he stammers. <English>
"So you're an accessory after the fact to kidnap," Kirsten says clearly. "And you're getting distracted. Tower logs," she reminds him. She glances at any of the others who might still be in the room. "I suggest you just pull his Cortex terminal drive. We'll trawl through that in slowtime...what's that? You have flesh movies on there?" She sounds shocked. "Oh, my." <English>
Mia tests her Computer_Use against a 50 difficulty. The result is successful (23).
Mia turns and hrrrm, "Could do that before I go poking around." She pulls out some gloves, "dont' want to touch anything this pervert's touched." She mmmms, "Bet I can find more information here anyway..." she looks for said terminal. <English>
Calira releases her hold on McGregor's shoulder, a disgusted look on her face, shares a look with Kirsten above Fatso's head. "I bet he has his porn divided into categories," she says in a dry voice that is vaguely speculative. <English>
Kirsten looks over at Mia. "If you find any porn on there, delete it. Shred the files so he can't recover it," she says calmly. If he is the sort of anal-retentive who categorizes his porn, that might put a crimp in his, er, style. "Or wave it to his mother." Ouch. Kirsten must be running out of patience. <English>
Mia frowns at Calira, "There is nothing wrong with organizing one's pornstash. Or Having Porn. I have a collection, and *I* am not a pervert, thank you very much." She calls to Kirsten, "Patience, let me find what we want, we don't care about his pornstash." She blinks and pales, shocked before softly, "Calira, hurt him for me?" mia looks...shaken but shakes it off in short order to continue working, "I have the tower logs, forwarding them to my smartcom...." <English>
Calira gets one look at Mia's expression, the pallor that is, and she sets one hand on McGregor's shoulder again and gives it a decided wrench, gaining a squeal of pain from the beady eyed pig.
"I answered your questions!" McGregor squeals, struggling against the grip on his shoulder, losing interest in the dark eyed woman (that's Cal again) and rapidly losing interest in the rest of the women all together. "Those children weren't stolen, I tell you, they were sold. They aren't the first, they won't be the last. A few minutes of sweating, a few months of cooking, and then you have some profit down the road," he sneers these words.
Calira eyes Kirsten over McGregor's head and seems to be silently asking for a really good reason not to snap his neck. <English>
Kirsten looks back, her gaze bleak. She can give Calira no such reason. She looks down at Fats, and says in a cold voice, "Now tell us all you know about the people they were sold to. Who did the buying? I want names. I want places. If you want to walk away from this with your reputation intact, start talking now." <English>
Mia lifts a hand signallying Calira to bide, "How do you know they were sold?" She looks through his cortex terminal, "IF I wanted some kids, or to put on a production, who would I talk to?" She looks to Kirsten, "His reputation is ruined. He's got porn involving children." she continues to work but she looks green, as if it takes some effort to finish working. <English>
Calira tightens her grip, again, wrenching Fatso's arm even further when he hesitates, making the fat man squeal and twitch in his squeaking chair, trying to evade the grip on his arm and failing utterly. When he finally subsides, it's only after twitching, sweating, making more squeals of sound. "Speak," she says in a low voice, just that one word.
"I don't know! The ships come, the ships go, it's none of my business. A single .. generous.." he's stammering now, "I don't ask questions. I don't want to know, I don't need to know. I don't ASK," the last word is said in a distinctive squeal.
Calira looks over his head at Kirsten again, a grim look in her eyes, shifting her focus between Kirsten and Mia as the man stammers. "I don't know, I swear. Money changes hands, it's the cost of the doing business, it's just how it's done," more stammer, more near squeal of sound before he actually makes a sad little whimper. <English>
Kirsten's face goes very, very bleak, and she sits back on the desk, still straddling his legs. The Mossberg is unslung from her back, and into it she loads a slug. One of those, at point-blank range, will shatter a man's leg so comprehensively it'd probably have to be amputated. She calmly jacks the round in, clicks off the safety, then lowers the gun into Fats' crotch, pushing it firmly up against his privates. "Just say when you're done with him," she tells Calira calmly. There's no pity in her eyes at the whimpering; indeed, it's as though he never spoke. <English>
Mia grunts, "We got everything we're gonna get. One for the sluething over torture." She moves Toward's Kirsten and leans up and kisses her cheek, "He's not wrong about how hot you look with that mossberg, sorry-I can't help myself." and then she scampers out, about the time she passes the door there's a PING-WHUMP! as the computer blows itself to bits. <English> <r> Mia tests her Demolitions against a 50 difficulty. The result is successful (57).
The pig eyed little bastard lets out a squeal of pure terror when the Mossberg is pressed to his crotch, what little there is, it's all he has. Beads, then genuine rivers, of sweat roll down his face.
"I'm so tempted," Calira says softly, "so bloody tempted," she makes sure fatso can hear her words. She watches with mild amusement as Mia kisses Kirsten's cheek then scampers out. She should have known . . and she glances over at the computer a bare moment before the computer is blown to bits. The sudden reek of.. "Really?" said in disgust as Fatso pees himself in fear. "Ech. We're done here." <English>
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