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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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It doesn't flash red or anything if he tries it. Doesn't flash 'read' either.
from_scratch
Well, if he doesn't hear back he'll try calling. Meanwhile he's going to take the tanker off somewhere and drive it back full again to take to one of the competitors if the guys are up for another run.
Those two guys per se are not feeling sanguine about it but a bunch of others have heard of his largesse and are INTERESTED.
Let's fucking gooo and get that cash!
Uh... Does he have any OTHER work, other prospective workers want to know? It's just, that is a lot of money.
from_scratch
He would like some guard type people to prevent anyone from assassinating his lawyer and stuff like that!
These people's credentials as guards may be somewhat dubious. More 'street thug' than 'body guard' in poise and attitude. They're pretty enthusiastic about earning money, though.
(Roland is calling him now.)
from_scratch
He picks up the phone. "Roland, hi! Saw you on the roof on my way here."
"Huh? Oh, that fucking jumper. Right. Ahem!" He sounds vaguely embarrassed. "So, what of it?"
from_scratch
"Is the guy okay? I didn't stay long after he was pulled from the brink."
"I mean, define 'okay'? He got off the roof. I brought him to a soup kitchen. But maybe he wants his privacy, I figure. And if he really wants out, and not just in a fit of despair... Well, that's a choice, isn't it?"
from_scratch
"Yeah. Somebody in the crowd said someone of his had been murdered."
"That's what I heard too. Say, are you the charitable type?"
"Plenty of soup kitchens out there that could use more protein for the pot if your mysterious suppliers are up for it. They're little nuclei of sanity in this shithole, soup kitchens. Concentrations of people who want to help, and who need help. It's good stuff."
from_scratch
"I went to the hospital first, but soup kitchens are a good thought."
"It's hard to make a difference when all the incentives are fucked up. You gotta start small, head. Anyway, any other reason for the call?"
from_scratch
"Lawyer says we're good to go on buying the garage. Also the tanker is not presently in use if you want to give it a look over and make sure you want it."
"I'm out in the Bordertown right now but I'll swing by soon as can. So, forty minutes ish?"
"See you soon then, head."
Beep-click.
Oh, look, one of the drones all over the place is having some kind of malfunction. It's slewing around at eye-level, clicking and spinning. People duck out of the way, cursing.
It whacks him in the face pretty hard when he tries.