trans_9 | Point of Sale

Entry tags:

Point of Sale

Motoko checked her watch- yes, right on time. It was unnecessary of course, but habit nearly as old as she was still lifted her wrist and turned her eyes to glance at the antique analog display. The wrist was expensive, but the watch was irreplaceable- unlike what carried it.

In fact, that was what brought her to the intimidating building in front of her. One of the larger islands, this, like many others, held a teeming metropolis to suck the money off the beaches. This was Veratech Inc., a shining facade of mirror-tinted windows and gleaming brass that catered to the heaviest end of the well-endowed Security they had been assured was so competant as to warrant the complete abandonment of weaponry. Specifically, they made robotics, which was why the Major was here, today. Her new-minted spare shell would be waiting.

It had been simplicity itself for Motoko, with her skill and her hardware to convince her new on-world bank account that it was both government, official, and possessed of a generous expenses purse. She herself was dressed in a sleek, professional button-down and skirt, with a pair of glasses that did double duty hiding her eye color and giving her an official, professional look. Purse in hand, she pushed open the doors and paced past the gleaming lobby and it's stern-looking receptionist. The woman waved her by and Motoko lifted a hand to aknowledge it.

She was, of course, expected.

It was only a moment before the smiling, too-polite representative put her aside to wait in a relatively public waiting room. It was a sparsely furnished thing, as opulent as the rest of the place, but meant to bring focus to the gleaming glass window that dominated an entire wall. It was a tank, on the other side, filled with viscous oil coolant and the gently tumbling half-assembled example of Veratech's finest work; an android, much in the fashion of Motoko's prosthesis. She took a seat with her back to the wall and watched the panels slide into place, silently counting down the minutes.

This was a place where anyone who asked at the front deskcould be admitted, could watch in awe as the weapons that protected these islands from criminals was assembled. What was taking them so long?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This was an unusual request.

He had checked in with the local authorities, letting them know that he was Chief of Security for Transmigration 9, and that he was the one to call should one of the crew enjoy their vacation a little too much. But when he had been asked to come here to discuss some business, he was surprised when he was assured it had nothing to do with any of the crew.

Strange.

Still, he went anyway, having told Claire that he had some Security business to take care of.

He was cautious upon his arrival, not sure why he wanted here, but didn't appear outwardly suspicious. He still made note of every possible exit, entrance, and security camera while he approached the front desk. After checking in, he was asked to wait there for a moment while she made a quick call, informing someone of his arrival. After the brief call was over, he was directed towards the elevator, and told to head to the top floor. Apparently someone high up the food chain wanted to see him. No other way to find out other than to go.

The elevator ride was brief, lights of passing floors flashing by in a cool blue elegance that showcased the great speed at which the lift moved. It's smoothness was an ominous hum that colored the opulent hall and the boardroom beyond with a decadent, mahogany-paneled arrogance.

'We are very rich and important,' the hum said, without words, 'Much more important than you.'

The man sitting at the head of the empty boardroom table had two distinct chins and he was edging nervously towards a fourth as he gestured for Leon to cross the room, and while the secretary that had let him in was a nervous, flighty songbird of a person, the CEO's bodyguard might have been carved from marble for all he reacted.

"Please, please, Mister...ahh...Kennedy was it?" he stammered, "I am Walter Vera, my father founded this company and- I know this is unusual, but....we do need your help."

If Leon was intimidated by the bodyguard and the architecture, he didn't show it. Of course, the fact that the CEO was looking as if he found out someone powerful had put a hit out on him helped. One really couldn't fake that kind of panic.

He decided to remain standing, for now. His way of indicating that he would not be here long.

"I'm listening."

"Well, you see, my company- our company takes quite a few government contracts, and...well. There's been a theft," he wrung his fat hands beseechingly, "Normally, I wouldn't hesitate to call in the proper authorities, but- well. The client is here, and-"

He hesitated, glancing at the bodyguard, who wordlessly went to the door, opened it and left the room. There was a distinct settling in of silence as the door shut. They were alone.

"The item in question, it's very dangerous. If word got out that we'd lost it, we'd be ruined. I spoke with your ship's AI, and when I heard of your expertise..." Vera held out both hands, practically begging, "Please, my father built this company from nothing. You're our only hope for a decent resolution. I can, of course pay you...?"

Leon let out a breath through his nose. On the one hand, there was a dangerous weapon on the loose. On the other, this was really none of his business.

Still, something dangerous on the loose...

"I'm not the mercenary type," he stated, but didn't leave yet. Money wasn't going to be enough to make him take the job, but he could still be convinced.

"What exactly was stolen?"

"Well, it's... a very expensize and classified bit of technology we're just developing for our soldiers at the highest levels. Sort of an attack-android, meant to be piloted by a human," He explained, visibly wincing at having to reduce the product to such a low common denominator. He did his best to keep it vague, but informative, not wanting to let Leon in on the secret, but finding it difficult not to, to gain his cooperation.

"I have no doubt that someone skilled enough to take it from this facility could use it effectively. And that kind of...or creature, in the hands of a skilled criminal!"

The carnage would be ridiculous. Walter wrung his hands again, "Please, I'm begging you- think of your own people out there, if nothing else. Reputation aside, I can't trust the police force with this, they're not prepared."

Leon didn't say anything for about three minutes. He simply narrowed his eyes slightly at Walter, as if he was trying to burn the man's soul.

Mostly he was letting Walter hang there, let him take a moment to feel what it would be like if Leon simply walked away from this.

Finally, placing his palms on the desk, Leon leaned over and spoke.

"I'll need a picture, or a very detailed description of what this thing looks like. And I'm going to need to get my hands on some firepower."

"Yes, yes of course anything you need!" The man stood, relief spreading across his fact face like a wave, "Here, I have the file right here."

A hand dipped into a swiftly-opened drawer, and CEO Vera handed Leon a slim folder, containing a brief report on the theft itself and the procedures taken to combat the would-be terrorist. It included, of course, proprietary photos of the stolen goods intended for the government agent, a "Miss Aramaki." It's a woman, or appears to be. Very attractive, in her mid-twenties, with violet hair. She appears to be dressed in nothing at all underneath the functional tie-on hospital gown, and her face...

...might seem a bit familiar.

Leon's face remained impassive as he looked over the picture. If the face was familiar, it didn't show on the surface. But underneath?

God dammit Major

So this was crew business after all.

Vera wasn't sitting still, of course. He had leaned forward as Leon studied the paperwork, and when his eyes stopped flicking back and forth, "Is there...anything else you need?"

"Just tell me where I can get my hands on some artillery." And preferably an EMP device or two. "I can handle the rest from there."

Nanashi had been marvelling at the weaponry. Perhaps it was not the smartest idea for someone who killed a human first thing on shore to be here, in the centre of the Security area's lobby, but she was confident that even if the junkie's body was found any time soon, that it would be very hard to trace it back to her specifically.

The creatures in here all sounded fairly normal- normal heart beats, normal breathing, but there was something off about the sounds coming from this woman that just entered. Nanashi's head turned to stare at the woman. She looked completely human... but the sound. The sound was off.

Motoko noted the woman's presence, but made no overt motion. She wasn't the same as the rest in this room- ethnically she differed drastically. Idly, she flicked her memories through the known roster of passengers and the facial-recognition software handily pointed Nanashi out from a crowd of newcomers, an image caught in what had been a passing glance.

Ah, well. This might complicate things. At any rate, it was certain that she wasn't known to that one, at least. The Major wasn't much for idle socialization.

Nanashi did not idly socialize often. Every person she met, she worked to see how she could use them in the future. Even when it appeared she was just shooting the breeze. And this person certainly seemed at the very least like she could have information about how to obtain some weaponry- short of breaking in and holding the company president hostage. She had an air of professionalism about her, and importance.

Well, if she went over there and she was useless, well what is a few wasted minutes out of her century long life? It was not like she was short on time.

Nanashi strode up to the young woman and smiled brilliantly. "Hello, I am Queen Nanashi of Kuninoryu." She offered a hand to the woman to shake. It was still an odd greeting in her mind, but all the humans seemed to do it, so...

Motoko gave the woman and her hand a calculatedly sincere look of disinterest. What was with the prevalence of that oh-so-American custom of handshaking? It was unsanitary, and besides, this person was a stranger.

"How nice," she replied, in a tone so bland that her ambivalence could not be mistaken, ignoring the handshake, "Did you choose that name yourself?"

It's the kind of name a melodramatic teenager would pick.

Nanashi let her hand fall and then raised it against her chest with a short bow- the greeting of her country. She scoffed at the major's question, "No, Nanashi is what the nurses called me. It means Nameless in my language." She figured if this person was not smart enough to figure out that it was because she had never been named officially than this woman did not need to know.

A bit of ambivalance was not the sort of thing to scare away Nanashi. She took a seat next to Motoko, studying her carefully. In this bright light it was harder to tell, especially with the darkened glass of the sunglasses distorting things, but it seemed like there was something even off with her skin. Nanashi was eager to ask about it, but coming right out with such an observation so easily startled most.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Point of Sale

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject