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The place was a warehouse at some point. Or a workshop, maybe. A drone hive? Who knows. But right now it's a hangout, and a party spot. The music is bone-rattlingly loud bass thumping with distorted voices and screeching guitar over the top. It smells like spilled booze and sweat and smoke. People are making out or passed out on the ratty couches, and the catwalk overhead creaks ominously as those atop it stomp in time. Strobe lights and lasers play over the shouting punk crowd, and a woman with a metal jaw and elaborate goth outfit is using black spray paint to cover the graffiti-covered walls and floor with vaguely demonic words and symbols- Satan, sacrifice, pentagrams, summoning, circles, devil heads, and more.
Demon Cam in Cinci
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from_scratch
Thanks guys!
Pay him in addition to or instead of you grabbing it for me?
He putters along at low speed on the motorcycle - it's got pretty wide tires for this kind of thing - and doesn't try to get too deep in there. Next.
Purchasing the deed if you're going to use it is a good idea if you're going to ship stuff from it and a bad one if you're going to do blatant crimes from it. It'd be about $2000. Buying off the local gang leader or whoever is definitely a good idea if they're not skeevy and suspicious, I don't know a good short way to describe that to you other than those words.
The Projects are four massive arcology towers. Something like 200 stories high, and dozens of city blocks around. The population density near them is incredible, and it's extremely easy to get lost as you wander through. Everyone seems to be styling with their clothes. They're all weird styles, off the wall or over the top, but none of them can be described as lazy or ugly. The tribalism and gang affiliation is even more obvious, if anything, here. Someone rams his bike's rear tire in an armored car if he doesn't get out of the way fast enough. And everyone carries a gun, and gives him predatory looks for not doing so.
It's really easy to get lost in here. He's lost now.
from_scratch
He did not strike me as especially so. It'd be nice to have a location from which to ship stuff.
Does he stick out real bad in jeans and no shirt and a long leather trenchcoat?
He will attempt to unlose himself.
Muscle is good, lots of people are shirtless, the trenchcoat is insufficiently fancy, and he is insufficiently accessorized. Both in gun- Even kids have one- And things like hairdo, makeup, necklaces, stickers on coats and bags, etc.
People start bothering him, standing directly in his way and telling him to get lost and such. Becoming un-lost is going to require some subtle conjuration or barging straight through people blocking his way at this point.
"Wow. We got ourselves some fresh meat here, huh. You know what, just fuck off."
Point. "Keep going as straight as you can go and you'll get to the edge of Watson, and then you can stop bringing down the vibe. Oh, and don't look too hard at lowriders with the eagle wings hood ornaments. Seven of Diamonds will fucking shoot you and your body'll stink up the place."
He can escape the maze without any more incident than being glared at, pattered at by someone trying to run a con on the fresh meat, or, once, spat at. He's pretty close to Tower's detention center now. They have big guns on the roof and ominous towers and so on so forth.
His lawyer texts:
I can get the property deed for $1450. Go?
Going. It'll take a day to process. Any other concerns at the moment?
from_scratch
Not especially. I'm making progress on hiring some folks (have delegated delivering the fuel), exploring the city.
I'd like to brief the criminal defense lawyer I mentioned about you and organize a retainer. This will be invaluable if Tower picks you or your employees up. Don't tell them anything and don't resist if so.
Yes no? Level of detail?
OK. I'll let you know how it goes.
Nothing else particularly interrupts but the periodic texts from the gas truck drivers mean he should probably be heading back towards the Disco Palace area now.
Daily life in the slums grinds on around him. Heavy traffic slowing everything to a crawl, couriers slipping between cars and onto sidewalks regardless of pedestrians.
-There's a few people gathered up near a tall apartment tower. Someone's standing at the top, pacing and yelling about how he's gonna jump. How he's really gonna do it. The crowd murmurs and gathers, staring up.
"I just got here, head."
"I think someone in his family got merked," someone else comments.
"...Damn. That'll do it. Fucking Cinci."
The someone else shrugs, frowning. "Fucking Cinci," they agree.
"Gibbed. Quartered. Chunky salsa. Splattered."
"Killed in a notably brutal way, in case that wasn't obvious."
from_scratch
"God. Fucking Cinci," he says in a way that he hopes is either authentic or at least sounds like it's trying to be authentic while coming from a location that is not Hell. "Anybody going up to try to talk him down or is it just rubbernecking?"
"Looks like someone is."
He points.
It's Roland the 'garage owner', coming up the fire escape? It's probably Roland. Same gaudy glasses, same Sinzil coat in dark blue, same hairdo.
He approaches the guy, arms spread wide. Whatever they're saying is too quiet to make out clearly, but there's snippets. "-DON'T have to-" "-FUCKING-" "Never again!" "Get better? GET BETTER?" "-NOT gonna-"
And then Roland rushes the guy and they have a brief scuffle, right there on the roof.
It barely lasts ten seconds. Roland gets him into an arm hold and whispers something. Then shoves him away- Away from the edge. The guy bends over and screams in frustration. Roland rubs a hand through his hair. Then gets out and lights a cigarette.
from_scratch
...gosh. Cam will have to ask him about that later, maybe.
He putters back to the neighborhood to meet his dudes.