Bосторг IC: Chaos

[Anarion]

I cough and hack, spitting out oily black fluid. And when there's no more left, I raise a shaking hand and pull my mask over my face. My safe, safe mask. Never have I been so happy to breathe filtered air or smell the stink of rubber and the tang of the air filter. I look up, I look at Misha, his gang, the cave. "Where am I?"

[TheAmishPirate]

"Your people may be beholden to you, but you are beholden to the land you live on, and that makes you - and your people - beholden to me," the Taxman replied. "You think these riches are for me? You think I take only for myself and my own? You think I give nothing back? Taxes are for the benefit of all, so when you refuse to pay your due, you do not hurt me - you hurt yourself and your people.

"You may go, then," he said. "But remember what I have said, and remember it well: you will pay your due, if not to me, then it will be to the land, and no amount of bullets and threats will save you there." And with that the Taxman withdrew, along with the room, leaving you all in a damp, barren cave. Elena is coughing up a small pool of black foulness, which you assume is good sign. Better out than in, old saying goes.

I cough and hack, spitting out Gil black fluid. And when there's no more left, I raise a shaking hand and pull my mask over my face. My safe, safe mask. Never have I been so happy to breathe filtered air or smell the stink of rubber and the tang of the air filter. I look up, I look at Misha, his gang, the cave. "Where am I?"

Cheap words, Taxman. Show me your 'benefit', and I will show you a people starving.

I hear Elena coughing, see cave around us, and I leave no more time for the grousing. Now is time for action. I order my men to form a perimeter - if I can see Elena, there is enough light to see, yes? - and a few of them to scout out the exit to the cave. See where Taxman has deposited us. And meanwhile, I attend to Elena. "In a cave, but soon we will have you home. It is good to have you awake and coughing and breathing! Better than passed out and coughing and not-breathing. We can fix coughing soon, da?" It is hard to see a smile behind glowing bear eyes and frightening skull, but I make my voice happy. She is improving. We will get her to the Infirmary, and all will be well.

[Deadly]

Man, this place is so f*cked up.

"Want something done..." Dorian launched himself at the nearest exit, be it a door, a window, whatever, with dogged determination and only partial awareness of what's around him as the blurry drowning vision dissipated from his eyes and throat. As he emerged outside slumped on the soggy ground, it took him a moment before he managed to fully get to grips with what was up and what was down. The pain wasn't helping. Damn, his hands were shaking. He decided to make them stop by shoving each under the opposite arm, got up, and headed straight for Misha's place, specifically his vehicles. Surely there was some kind of jcb, bulldozer, or crane, or something he could use.

I'm going to defer this one to Misha for a second. Half your men are with you and Elena in the cave, the other half are dragging captives back to the ship or digging up the swamp for signs of Elena - Johann has dragged out every pair of hands who can be spared for the search. So what useful thing might Dorian find in your garage, and who - if any - is left behind to guard it?

And so Dorian went.

I climbed up to the second story then went out the window, standing back and looking at the sinking bar. I produced my microphone and started to idly talk into it, nothing concrete, just musing out phrases and headlines and making little verbal notes on all I'd seen today. I was still inclined to help out wherever I could but my ability to pull entire buildings out of swampwater was limited.

Where had those two want-to-be-journalists got to?

They're sitting atop the roof of a nearby building with a cup of tea and a pair of binoculars, scouting out the surroundings while Johann and the rest of Misha's men turn the swamp upside down in search of Elena, it appears.

Cheap words, Taxman. Show me your 'benefit', and I will show you a people starving.

I hear Elena coughing, see cave around us, and I leave no more time for the grousing. Now is time for action. I order my men to form a perimeter - if I can see Elena, there is enough light to see, yes? - and a few of them to scout out the exit to the cave. See where Taxman has deposited us. And meanwhile, I attend to Elena. "In a cave, but soon we will have you home. It is good to have you awake and coughing and breathing! Better than passed out and coughing and not-breathing. We can fix coughing soon, da?" It is hard to see a smile behind glowing bear eyes and frightening skull, but I make my voice happy. She is improving. We will get her to the Infirmary, and all will be well.

You appear to have gained a few men, who are quite confused finding themselves here instead of back in town where you left them. There are also a few tied-up people, now that you look around.

Nevertheless, they quickly get to work.

"Papa bear," Anika the Antlered, her voice echoing from inside her skull helmet and mask, returns a few minutes later, "we are in Capitalist territory. They have outpost nearby with clear view of cave. Can't help but see us leave."

[Anarion]

"Da, coughing and awake is good, Great Bear." So many things. Sickness, should I tell Misha? I wanted to examine the bodies, but was now the right time? And Kirillov betraying us, Dorian's place sinking, Mitrofan and Johann and...

[I wish to read Misha. (2d6+3)[10]
Q1: how could I get you to listen to me about the sickness and let me examine you when we get back?
Holding 2.]

[Thanqol]

They're sitting atop the roof of a nearby building with a cup of tea and a pair of binoculars, scouting out the surroundings while Johann and the rest of Misha's men turn the swamp upside down in search of Elena, it appears.

"You will never," I call up to them, "be real journalists if you are afraid of getting down into the mud. Any story that can be seen through binoculars is not a story that the public needs you to report on."

[Deadly]

"You will never," I call up to them, "be real journalists if you are afraid of getting down into the mud. Any story that can be seen through binoculars is not a story that the public needs you to report on."

"When you are looking for someone, high vantage is advantage."

"Sometimes."

"Da. You are journalist here. Your turf. We are here to interview you, not compete with you."

"Not yet."

"Maybe never," they continue the exchange from behind their binoculars and masks.

[Thanqol]

"When you are looking for someone, high vantage is advantage."

"Sometimes."

"Da. You are journalist here. Your turf. We are here to interview you, not compete with you."

"Not yet."

"Maybe never," they continue the exchange from behind their binoculars and masks.

"Then interview," I say firmly. "Or do you not consider any of this newsworthy?"

[Deadly]

"Then interview," I say firmly. "Or do you not consider any of this newsworthy?"

They lowered their binoculars and leaned forward to look at you. "Of course. Don't you?"

"The town is inexplicably flooded. Several people -"

"Including your only doctor, whose skill seems sorely needed"

"- just vanished, and every available pair of eyes is out looking for them as we speak."

"Before that, a major shooting took place. One side has been taken captive and will no doubt have interesting things to say when they are questioned."

"But you seem more interested in being interviewed. Shouldn't you be doing the interviewing right now?"

"In light of present, ongoing events, I think our interview can wait as needed."

"Indeed. We expect our subject will still be here tonight."

"Or tomorrow, if need be."

"And observation in the field is as much part of an interview as questions."

"We are more than happy to follow you on the job."

"But by all means ... would you like a cup of tea?" He gestured at the roof they were sitting on, inviting you to join them.

"Or should we go somewhere more private and leave these people to their search and questioning?"

[TheAmishPirate]

So many questions for the Bear!

"Da, coughing and awake is good, Great Bear." So many things. Sickness, should I tell Misha? I wanted to examine the bodies, but was now the right time? And Kirillov betraying us, Dorian's place sinking, Mitrofan and Johann and...

[I wish to read Misha. [roll0]
Q1: how could I get you to listen to me about the sickness and let me examine you when we get back?
Holding 2.]

You remember talk with Johann? How he came to talk to you about sickness? He came delivering word of Misha, and Misha would have come to give it himself had he not been caught up in this Taxman business. Talking with Misha about sickness is easy as asking, "Misha, may we talk about sickness?"

To get him to listen to you is another thing entirely. If he came to tell you that there is no sickness, that you needn't worry, then it is safe to say Misha knows a great deal about this matter. Likely more than you. Or at least he thinks he knows more than you. If you can tell him something about this that he does not already know, then maybe he is willing to think twice, da? Maybe he realizes things are not as he thought, and suddenly he is very interested to hear what Elena has found out. Of course, if you have nothing new to show him, you could always make something up. Just as you would not easily think of Misha lying to you, he would not easily think of his Elena lying to him.

The examination is much easier. He would gladly let you examine him, if only to prove that there is nothing to worry about. In fact, this is probably your best chance. Misha cannot know everything about his own blood. If there is something wrong, you will see it, and if you cannot find anything, well, how is he to know any different?

I'm going to defer this one to Misha for a second. Half your men are with you and Elena in the cave, the other half are dragging captives back to the ship or digging up the swamp for signs of Elena - Johann has dragged out every pair of hands who can be spared for the search. So what useful thing might Dorian find in your garage, and who - if any - is left behind to guard it?

In Misha's garage, best machine for pulling and working is the Muckscuttler. It has treads like what they called a crane, covered in strange claws that grip the damp earth tightly. It can find purchase on the most unstable ground, and can cross all but the deepest swamp. Its car is armored and reinforced, and comes with pulley and rope for towing. Misha has used it to rescue cars from the swamp more than once.

Johann Driver is in charge of the garage, but as he has risen through the ranks he now often leaves it in the charge of his second-in-command, Buugi. He is in charge of the keys, and there are always him and one or two others guarding the garage. I do not have to tell you that stealing a car - especially one of this caliber - would be a grievous crime against Misha. An angry bear with an army can destroy your diner as completely as the swamp can. Without word from Johann, Misha, or one of the other officers, making use of the Muckscuttler will be difficult.

You appear to have gained a few men, who are quite confused finding themselves here instead of back in town where you left them. There are also a few tied-up people, now that you look around.

Nevertheless, they quickly get to work.

"Papa bear," Anika the Antlered, her voice echoing from inside her skull helmet and mask, returns a few minutes later, "we are in Capitalist territory. They have outpost nearby with clear view of cave. Can't help but see us leave."

Eh? Who are these tied-up people? Are they people from Rapture? Neighbors? Family?

"Oh? Is that all?" I laugh, but not too loudly. "I'm sure they will be neighborly, and let us be on our way. Maybe they even give us something hot to drink for the road?" In lieu of that, I am considering what the scouts are saying carefully. We do not have much time; Elena must be taken back to her Infirmary as soon as possible. But getting into fight with Capatalists this far from home would certainly slow us down.

[Rolling to Read a Sitch. 4 + 5 + 1 = 10 What is my best escape route? What should I be on the lookout for? What is my enemy's true position?]

[Deadly]

In Misha's garage, best machine for pulling and working is the Muckscuttler. It has treads like what they called a crane, covered in strange claws that grip the damp earth tightly. It can find purchase on the most unstable ground, and can cross all but the deepest swamp. Its car is armored and reinforced, and comes with pulley and rope for towing. Misha has used it to rescue cars from the swamp more than once.

Johann Driver is in charge of the garage, but as he has risen through the ranks he now often leaves it in the charge of his second-in-command, Buugi. He is in charge of the keys, and there are always him and one or two others guarding the garage. I do not have to tell you that stealing a car - especially one of this caliber - would be a grievous crime against Misha. An angry bear with an army can destroy your diner as completely as the swamp can. Without word from Johann, Misha, or one of the other officers, making use of the Muckscuttler will be difficult.

So, Dorian, you find the garage and the muckscuttler, the perfect tool for your needs. Or at least the best tool you could hope for.

But this guy, Buugi, he's sitting on the front seat, legs up on the steering wheel while he smokes through his mask. Two others - Lex and Ruf - are standing by the entrance, exchanging words, heavy weaponry slung over their shoulders.

What do you do?

Eh? Who are these tied-up people? Are they people from Rapture? Neighbors? Family?

Your people will inform you of the shoot-out. These are some of the captives they took. Locals and neighbors. You know their faces, and some of them hang around the radio. One of them, Tamza, is family. Maybe there are others, but not here. Only a few here.

"Oh? Is that all?" I laugh, but not too loudly. "I'm sure they will be neighborly, and let us be on our way. Maybe they even give us something hot to drink for the road?" In lieu of that, I am considering what the scouts are saying carefully. We do not have much time; Elena must be taken back to her Infirmary as soon as possible. But getting into fight with Capatalists this far from home would certainly slow us down.

[Rolling to Read a Sitch. 4 + 5 + 1 = 10 What is my best escape route? What should I be on the lookout for? What is my enemy's true position?]

Anything can be bought and sold for the right price, is Capitalist motto, niet? If you want to get back quickly, Capitalists have cars you can borrow, maybe even medicine. All for the right price. Maybe that is best route, if you think you have something they want ... or can make something up, something convincing. Talking to them may be best option, but their help will have a price.

You can try to sneak out without being seen - there's a narrow crack you can squeeze through one at a time and maybe avoid being spotted if you're careful - but you'd be alone, without cars, and far from home. And there may be patrols out there you'd have to watch out for.

Or you can try to take them on. This is an outpost, so not the biggest force. Still, charging their gates would be a bad move, likely to get many killed and their main camp alerted. But if you come under the guise of wishing to make deal, then strike with surprise once inside. Could work, maybe. What to be aware of are the two towers, one on each side of the outpost. Each has sniper who can alert the main camp, probably long before you can get up there and stop them.

Your true enemy is your lack of vehicles.

[Anarion]

You remember talk with Johann? How he came to talk to you about sickness? He came delivering word of Misha, and Misha would have come to give it himself had he not been caught up in this Taxman business. Talking with Misha about sickness is easy as asking, "Misha, may we talk about sickness?"

To get him to listen to you is another thing entirely. If he came to tell you that there is no sickness, that you needn't worry, then it is safe to say Misha knows a great deal about this matter. Likely more than you. Or at least he thinks he knows more than you. If you can tell him something about this that he does not already know, then maybe he is willing to think twice, da? Maybe he realizes things are not as he thought, and suddenly he is very interested to hear what Elena has found out. Of course, if you have nothing new to show him, you could always make something up. Just as you would not easily think of Misha lying to you, he would not easily think of his Elena lying to him.

The examination is much easier. He would gladly let you examine him, if only to prove that there is nothing to worry about. In fact, this is probably your best chance. Misha cannot know everything about his own blood. If there is something wrong, you will see it, and if you cannot find anything, well, how is he to know any different?

Very well, I will just ask. I cough through my mask, clear my throat, recover my breath. "Great bear. Much has happened in your absence. My worry is that there is sickness in our town and I must examine its cause. I think, perhaps, it is causing madness as well. Natasha, Kirillov's guard, she was one of the ones I thought was sick, and she broke into the bar and attacked us, attacked me. Johann's men fought with her and others that served her, there was a battle. I...Great bear, I fear that the sickness may seize you as well, if I could examine you when we return it would...it would lay my mind at ease."

[Thanqol]

They lowered their binoculars and leaned forward to look at you. "Of course. Don't you?"

"The town is inexplicably flooded. Several people -"

"Including your only doctor, whose skill seems sorely needed"

"- just vanished, and every available pair of eyes is out looking for them as we speak."

"Before that, a major shooting took place. One side has been taken captive and will no doubt have interesting things to say when they are questioned."

"But you seem more interested in being interviewed. Shouldn't you be doing the interviewing right now?"

"In light of present, ongoing events, I think our interview can wait as needed."

"Indeed. We expect our subject will still be here tonight."

"Or tomorrow, if need be."

"And observation in the field is as much part of an interview as questions."

"We are more than happy to follow you on the job."

"But by all means ... would you like a cup of tea?" He gestured at the roof they were sitting on, inviting you to join them.

"Or should we go somewhere more private and leave these people to their search and questioning?"

Of course - they're new here. If they were locals they'd know that flooding was regular enough to almost not be newsworthy - and the doctor thing was no doubt part of the larger story. But what was really important was that I had convinced Mr. Hayes to hold an interview! That was unprecedented!

But just to be sure, let's make sure there's not a story I'm missing.

"Excuse me a moment," I say, and then produce my antennae from my pocket and raise it to the sky.

Open your brain: 8. What's the most important story here?

[Elanorin]

So, Dorian, you find the garage and the muckscuttler, the perfect tool for your needs. Or at least the best tool you could hope for.

But this guy, Buugi, he's sitting on the front seat, legs up on the steering wheel while he smokes through his mask. Two others - Lex and Ruf - are standing by the entrance, exchanging words, heavy weaponry slung over their shoulders.

What do you do?

Dorian walked straight up to the item of his intention, the muckscuttler (for all his faults Misha sure knows how to keep and name his crap - Dorian secretly loves this hunk of junk and despite the dire circumstances is very much looking forwards to a ride in it). He grabs the lower frame of the open side window with a thump and leans his weight on them, offering Buugi a charming smile.

"Buugi, my man, the Cafe is taking a nosedive in to the damn swamp. Whaddya say you help me dig it out with this here beauty," he tapped the muckscuttler with a brief affectionate tap of his hand, "and I then fix you up with a little somethin' on the newly saved swamp-free house?"

[Deadly]

Of course - they're new here. If they were locals they'd know that flooding was regular enough to almost not be newsworthy - and the doctor thing was no doubt part of the larger story. But what was really important was that I had convinced Mr. Hayes to hold an interview! That was unprecedented!

But just to be sure, let's make sure there's not a story I'm missing.

"Excuse me a moment," I say, and then produce my antennae from my pocket and raise it to the sky.

Open your brain: 8. What's the most important story here?

Superlatives are tricky to pin down. So lofty.

Tell me, what is the greatest beauty, in your mind?

Dorian walked straight up to the item of his intention, the muckscuttler (for all his faults Misha sure knows how to keep and name his crap - Dorian secretly loves this hunk of junk and despite the dire circumstances is very much looking forwards to a ride in it). He grabs the lower frame of the open side window with a thump and leans his weight on them, offering Buugi a charming smile.

"Buugi, my man, the Cafe is taking a nosedive in to the damn swamp. Whaddya say you help me dig it out with this here beauty," he tapped the muckscuttler with a brief affectionate tap of his hand, "and I then fix you up with a little somethin' on the newly saved swamp-free house?"

"Dorian!" Buugi blew out a haze of smoke through his mask, his voice rough as sandpaper yet despite its rawness contained more warmth than this forsaken hell pit ever would. "It's great to see you. I'm surprised you haven't found a better place than this dump, though." He laughed, then turned serious. "I would love to help you, man, I really would, but without word from the bear himself or Johann, I'd be in deep sh*t if they found out I'd taken the muckscuttler out for a joyride. If you were family, I could probably get away with it, but I don't think you're too popular with father right now."

[TheAmishPirate]

Your people will inform you of the shoot-out. These are some of the captives they took. Locals and neighbors. You know their faces, and some of them hang around the radio. One of them, Tamza, is family. Maybe there are others, but not here. Only a few here.

This is not good. Shootouts in streets don't make for safe homes. If I was not hurrying for Elena's sake, I would be hurrying now. Does this make it a double hurry? No, I do not think so. If I have decided to hurry, then why would I move slow enough to hurry more later?

In any case, I tell my people it is no good worrying over things that have happened, places we could be. We are here now, and we will be home soon, and then we can rip the offending parties limb from limb. This is good.

Very well, I will just ask. I cough through my mask, clear my throat, recover my breath. "Great bear. Much has happened in your absence. My worry is that there is sickness in our town and I must examine its cause. I think, perhaps, it is causing madness as well. Natasha, Kirillov's guard, she was one of the ones I thought was sick, and she broke into the bar and attacked us, attacked me. Johann's men fought with her and others that served her, there was a battle. I...Great bear, I fear that the sickness may seize you as well, if I could examine you when we return it would...it would lay my mind at ease."

I look at her strangely. Johann should have talked to her, da? She also should not be here. Who knows if he found her in time? Still, is this not good? I wanted to speak with her myself anyway, and now there will be no...misunderstandings. "Da, much has happened," I agree with a hint of sadness. "At the Infirmary. When we get you back, there will be time plenty to talk and examine all things."

Anything can be bought and sold for the right price, is Capitalist motto, niet? If you want to get back quickly, Capitalists have cars you can borrow, maybe even medicine. All for the right price. Maybe that is best route, if you think you have something they want ... or can make something up, something convincing. Talking to them may be best option, but their help will have a price.

You can try to sneak out without being seen - there's a narrow crack you can squeeze through one at a time and maybe avoid being spotted if you're careful - but you'd be alone, without cars, and far from home. And there may be patrols out there you'd have to watch out for.

Or you can try to take them on. This is an outpost, so not the biggest force. Still, charging their gates would be a bad move, likely to get many killed and their main camp alerted. But if you come under the guise of wishing to make deal, then strike with surprise once inside. Could work, maybe. What to be aware of are the two towers, one on each side of the outpost. Each has sniper who can alert the main camp, probably long before you can get up there and stop them.

Your true enemy is your lack of vehicles.

Ah, yes. This is how it has been with these bad Neighbors, the Capitalists. What skirmishes we have had have not been out of argument or cruelty, but greed. Prices. Something they claim is theirs and is not theirs, or something they claim to have been paid to acquire, or something they insist we owe. Friction, yes, but nothing so big that we will be shot on sight. Not when we might be paying them.

I gather my people, and instruct them to bring along the prisoners, and carefully bear Elena along. I insist that she not walk unaided. And then we approach, as easy as can be. We carry guns, but do not aim them. I have my claws, but I do not bare them. They will know that it is not an easy thing to fight us, and no doubt they will be curious to see what business we may bring. "Ho! Great Bear is here to make business. Where is there a man who will make business?" I call out to the sentries.

[Thanqol]

Superlatives are tricky to pin down. So lofty.

Tell me, what is the greatest beauty, in your mind?

A community, happy and co-operative and proud. Perhaps it has its secrets, perhaps it has its fights, but everyone there knows everyone's names. Everyone goes to the Christmas party. Everyone cheers for the local sports team. Everyone butchers the outsiders with hooks. Unity on a practical scale.

[Anarion]

I nod, follow. Hold my rifle as the rest if the men, stay behind Misha. I am valuable, and therefore I should not be noticeable in this exchange.

[Elanorin]

"Dorian!" Buugi blew out a haze of smoke through his mask, his voice rough as sandpaper yet despite its rawness contained more warmth than this forsaken hell pit ever would. "It's great to see you. I'm surprised you haven't found a better place than this dump, though." He laughed, then turned serious. "I would love to help you, man, I really would, but without word from the bear himself or Johann, I'd be in deep sh*t if they found out I'd taken the muckscuttler out for a joyride. If you were family, I could probably get away with it, but I don't think you're too popular with father right now."

"Ah, that damn thing with Vera," Dorian groaned, closed his eyes, and rubbed his eyebrows. "Seriously, of all the things to get this kind of grief over it had to be the thing I didn't do," Dorian sighed. "Look, the old bear has invested in the Cafe too, and I'm not gonna be of any kind of use to him sat broke in a puddle begging for scraps. It's in his interest to save it but it's going down fast and I don't have time to hunt him or Johann down. They've likely scattered to the winds after the shootout."

"Sakes alive, Buugi, I haven't so much as touched a hair on Vera's head and he'll know that too by the time I've talked to him, but by then it will be too late. I know this isn't by the book but I'll take full responsibility here, if that makes your life easier. I can even say I knocked you out, you lightweight," he suggested half-joking.

[Rolling to Manipulate Buugi: 1+3+2=6 To paraphrase Mal; I believe someone is planning to shoot me again.]

[TheAmishPirate]

"Look, the old bear has invested in the Cafe too, and I'm not gonna be of any kind of use to him sat broke in a puddle begging for scraps."

I have invested?

You are of use?

Tell me, Dorian. What services do you provide Misha? What have you asked of him, beyond the use of his land? If you are brazenly asking my people for use of my things, it is good to know what they know of our relationship, da?

[Elanorin]

I have invested?

You are of use?

Tell me, Dorian. What services do you provide Misha? What have you asked of him, beyond the use of his land? If you are brazenly asking my people for use of my things, it is good to know what they know of our relationship, da?

We-e-ell, invested in the sense that you have a number of outstanding favours hanging over me, waiting to be cashed in:

"Dorian. You disappoint me." He rumbles. "I give you good land. I let you run your gaudy food den. Prisma killed steelhorns your men could not." If he listed all the graces he'd extended him, they would be here until nightfall. Many of which this man needed to be reminded of.

Clearly I owe you. That's an investment, one of the most valuable there is, in my book.

And, yeah, whether or not I have been of any use to you yet, surely the kind of favours you can claim in return are much greater if I have my means intact? No?

[Deadly]

Ah, yes. This is how it has been with these bad Neighbors, the Capitalists. What skirmishes we have had have not been out of argument or cruelty, but greed. Prices. Something they claim is theirs and is not theirs, or something they claim to have been paid to acquire, or something they insist we owe. Friction, yes, but nothing so big that we will be shot on sight. Not when we might be paying them.

I gather my people, and instruct them to bring along the prisoners, and carefully bear Elena along. I insist that she not walk unaided. And then we approach, as easy as can be. We carry guns, but do not aim them. I have my claws, but I do not bare them. They will know that it is not an easy thing to fight us, and no doubt they will be curious to see what business we may bring. "Ho! Great Bear is here to make business. Where is there a man who will make business?" I call out to the sentries.

While eyes and perhaps hidden weapons are trained upon you, no shot or shout of warning is made as you enter the camp. A large moss-green tent is raised in the middle of the camp, dirty from much use. You can't see inside it, which may well be the point of it.

A flap in the tent opened as you approached, and a young woman stepped out. She was wearing simple black pants, white shirt and tie under a combat vest. Her sleek black mask and shades hid her entire face, framed by neatly cropped hair. You didn't have to see her face to recognize her, of course - faces rarely served to identify people in this land. One of Lincoln's girls, called CIA.

She took off the shades, revealing a pair of brilliant blue eyes as she regarded you. "How fortunate for you," she said, as if she already knew what you were going to ask, "that we can help. Tell me what you need."

A community, happy and co-operative and proud. Perhaps it has its secrets, perhaps it has its fights, but everyone there knows everyone's names. Everyone goes to the Christmas party. Everyone cheers for the local sports team. Everyone butchers the outsiders with hooks. Unity on a practical scale.

Maybe Rapture could be that place. Who knows? But you're looking for news stories, and there's never any shortage of those. Just have to look in the right place.

Images flicker through the ether and down through your antenna.

You see images of Natasha and Misha, and others too, the people Elena were worried about. You see Natasha taking aim at Elena, the image gone in the flash of the rifle. You see snarling wolves on the hunt, but they pass Misha and Natasha and the others as if they were mist. There's something there, great story, but is it biggest?

You see the two brothers, sitting on the roof. You see behind them, see their patron shrouded in shadows. Her shadowy form shifts and swirls into a black bird soaring into the sky, gazing down, searching but for what? For you? You see yourself from far above, the bird's eyes lingering on you.

You see another bird on the other edge of town, so like the first you think they must be twins, but this one is blood-red instead of black. It drops from the tree where it was hiding among the leaves and changes, becomes a woman - the red woman, the prophetess whose cryptic writings and warnings linger around Rapture on walls and signs.

There is great story there too, but biggest?

The red woman is painting on the side of a building, and you see her painting. You see Elena, encircled by the Taxman, their hands meeting in the universal sign of a deal. The painting runs, becoming great winged figures soaring towards the sky.

Great story. How can you rank stories, when they are all great? But at least for the moment, neither Elena nor Misha are here. You may want to be there when they return, however, because the other stories aren't going anywhere immediately, but that one might. But for now, you can focus elsewhere if you like.

"Ah, that damn thing with Vera," Dorian groaned, closed his eyes, and rubbed his eyebrows. "Seriously, of all the things to get this kind of grief over it had to be the thing I didn't do," Dorian sighed. "Look, the old bear has invested in the Cafe too, and I'm not gonna be of any kind of use to him sat broke in a puddle begging for scraps. It's in his interest to save it but it's going down fast and I don't have time to hunt him or Johann down. They've likely scattered to the winds after the shootout."

"Sakes alive, Buugi, I haven't so much as touched a hair on Vera's head and he'll know that too by the time I've talked to him, but by then it will be too late. I know this isn't by the book but I'll take full responsibility here, if that makes your life easier. I can even say I knocked you out, you lightweight," he suggested half-joking.

[Rolling to Manipulate Buugi: 1+3+2=6 To paraphrase Mal; I believe someone is planning to shoot me again.]

"Ahem, excuse me,"

That voice ... You turn around, and true enough, you would recognize that dog-like visage anywhere. Mostly from your nightmares. Camo is standing in the entrance to the garage, waving a slip of paper. "Johann gave me his permission to use the, what's its name, Mudsucker? That one," she said and pointed at the great machine as she crossed the space and handed Buugi the slip, no doubt authorizing the use of it.

"Well, seems legit," Buugi mumbled as he read the note.

"Of course it is," Camo said. "Now, let's get to work then. We have an establishment to save from the swamp."

Maybe you should have wished for someone to just shoot you instead. You can hardly say no to this generous offer of assistance, but you know full well that you're going to owe Camo for it.

[Elanorin]

"Ahem, excuse me,"

That voice ... You turn around, and true enough, you would recognize that dog-like visage anywhere. Mostly from your nightmares. Camo is standing in the entrance to the garage, waving a slip of paper. "Johann gave me his permission to use the, what's its name, Mudsucker? That one," she said and pointed at the great machine as she crossed the space and handed Buugi the slip, no doubt authorizing the use of it.

"Well, seems legit," Buugi mumbled as he read the note.

"Of course it is," Camo said. "Now, let's get to work then. We have an establishment to save from the swamp."

Maybe you should have wished for someone to just shoot you instead. You can hardly say no to this generous offer of assistance, but you know full well that you're going to owe Camo for it.

Dorian watched bitterly as the momentum and authority of the moment was swiftly ripped from under him with an efficiency that was utterly unexpected, especially considered the one doing it; f* cking dog-faced Camo, with a piece of bloody paper. Two more minutes and Buugi would have given him the keys, he knew it.

With a suck of his teeth he considered the sudden turn of events, while he was loathed to owe Camo anything for fear of giving her a foot in the door that he wouldn't be able to get rid of, few would be as motivated as her to ensure The Cafe was saved. For the moment their interests aligned perfectly and he'd be a fool to not cash in on that while he could. After all, she had the means to rescue the diner with or without him and he didn't need to be any kind of smart to know which she'd prefer.

"Indeed," he conceded curtly and jumped in to the muckscuttler, determined to still get his ride, but most of all not let Camo out of his sight.

Perhaps there was a way to salvage the situation still. He'd owe dog-face for this, there was no way to avoid that, but perhaps there was a way to pay that debt in a way that wouldn't cost him anything he wouldn't mind sparing. As in all things, information was power.

[Rolling Everybody Eats on Camo: 5+3+2=10; Who does Camo love best? Who does she like and trust? How could I get to her emotionally?]

[Thanqol]

Maybe Rapture could be that place. Who knows? But you're looking for news stories, and there's never any shortage of those. Just have to look in the right place.

Images flicker through the ether and down through your antenna.

You see images of Natasha and Misha, and others too, the people Elena were worried about. You see Natasha taking aim at Elena, the image gone in the flash of the rifle. You see snarling wolves on the hunt, but they pass Misha and Natasha and the others as if they were mist. There's something there, great story, but is it biggest?

You see the two brothers, sitting on the roof. You see behind them, see their patron shrouded in shadows. Her shadowy form shifts and swirls into a black bird soaring into the sky, gazing down, searching but for what? For you? You see yourself from far above, the bird's eyes lingering on you.

You see another bird on the other edge of town, so like the first you think they must be twins, but this one is blood-red instead of black. It drops from the tree where it was hiding among the leaves and changes, becomes a woman - the red woman, the prophetess whose cryptic writings and warnings linger around Rapture on walls and signs.

There is great story there too, but biggest?

The red woman is painting on the side of a building, and you see her painting. You see Elena, encircled by the Taxman, their hands meeting in the universal sign of a deal. The painting runs, becoming great winged figures soaring towards the sky.

Great story. How can you rank stories, when they are all great? But at least for the moment, neither Elena nor Misha are here. You may want to be there when they return, however, because the other stories aren't going anywhere immediately, but that one might. But for now, you can focus elsewhere if you like.

"Rapture's graffiti artist - revealed!" I mutter, trying out the shape of the headlines in my mouth. "Deal with the Taxman - no, no one cares about tax evasion," and while my personal sentiments push me to investigate these layabout "journalists" it's a very self indulgent investigation. Good stories but I have to prioritize according to my audience. Natasha troubles me but she can take care of herself.

No, there is only one piece of news that the community wants to hear. There's a mystery that touches all of their daily lives and has their brains afire and the gossip circles turning. The news is the red woman, and by the six o'clock timeslot I will get her an interview! I set off in hot pursuit of the scoop!

[TheAmishPirate]

While eyes and perhaps hidden weapons are trained upon you, no shot or shout of warning is made as you enter the camp. A large moss-green tent is raised in the middle of the camp, dirty from much use. You can't see inside it, which may well be the point of it.

A flap in the tent opened as you approached, and a young woman stepped out. She was wearing simple black pants, white shirt and tie under a combat vest. Her sleek black mask and shades hid her entire face, framed by neatly cropped hair. You didn't have to see her face to recognize her, of course - faces rarely served to identify people in this land. One of Lincoln's girls, called CIA.

She took off the shades, revealing a pair of brilliant blue eyes as she regarded you. "How fortunate for you," she said, as if she already knew what you were going to ask, "that we can help. Tell me what you need."

Good, good. If I must be doing business, I prefer to do it quickly. Much better to simply have good Neighbors to lend a hand, but they are sadly few these days. "We need loan of your cars, enough for all my people here. Not for very long; I am thinking...one trip, today. If you do this for me, Great Bear will hunt and bring you Steelhorn. Whole beast, fresh. What do you say?"

My family has been in Rapture longer than the Capitalists. Much longer. And it is the Capitalist way to trade for what they need rather than get it with their own two hands. And I am wearing pelt of mighty bear while she wears fancy tie. I am thinking we are better hunters then they, and a good Steelhorn gives bounty of meat and material. Good trade for them, da?

[Would this be a Manipulate? Offer to hunt a Steelhorn for them in return for using their vehicles?]

[Deadly]

Dorian watched bitterly as the momentum and authority of the moment was swiftly ripped from under him with an efficiency that was utterly unexpected, especially considered the one doing it; f* cking dog-faced Camo, with a piece of bloody paper. Two more minutes and Buugi would have given him the keys, he knew it.

With a suck of his teeth he considered the sudden turn of events, while he was loathed to owe Camo anything for fear of giving her a foot in the door that he wouldn't be able to get rid of, few would be as motivated as her to ensure The Cafe was saved. For the moment their interests aligned perfectly and he'd be a fool to not cash in on that while he could. After all, she had the means to rescue the diner with or without him and he didn't need to be any kind of smart to know which she'd prefer.

"Indeed," he conceded curtly and jumped in to the muckscuttler, determined to still get his ride, but most of all not let Camo out of his sight.

Perhaps there was a way to salvage the situation still. He'd owe dog-face for this, there was no way to avoid that, but perhaps there was a way to pay that debt in a way that wouldn't cost him anything he wouldn't mind sparing. As in all things, information was power.

[Rolling Everybody Eats on Camo: 5+3+2=10; Who does Camo love best? Who does she like and trust? How could I get to her emotionally?]

Who does Camo love best? Who else but her dog. The ugliest brute you ever saw; more than one patron at your establishment has remarked upon the family resemblance. It's not like anyone keeps pedigrees around here, so who knows what goes on in that family tree?

Camo is actually known for her charity at the little church. She's a regular there, and contributes more than anyone to the poor. It may not be out of the kindness of her heart, you suspect, rather than a desire to strut her holier-than-thou creds, but she likes and trusts those at the church. They are her family away from family.

Deep down she's a fragile soul, one who needs to feel better than others to prop herself up. Beat her at what she does, and you can easily break her.

Regardless, with Buugi and the Muckscuttler, you readily pull your diner from the swamp. After everything it's been through this morning however, it looks pretty crap. "I'd be happy to help with the cleaning," Camo offers. Of course she does. "I know some people who wouldn't mind an afternoon's job for fair pay. We'll have this place shining in time for dinner." It's clear what she's offering: it'll cost you a bit of cash (1-barter), but you could have everything cleaned and done much faster with her help. Otherwise it will probably take you longer.

"Rapture's graffiti artist - revealed!" I mutter, trying out the shape of the headlines in my mouth. "Deal with the Taxman - no, no one cares about tax evasion," and while my personal sentiments push me to investigate these layabout "journalists" it's a very self indulgent investigation. Good stories but I have to prioritize according to my audience. Natasha troubles me but she can take care of herself.

No, there is only one piece of news that the community wants to hear. There's a mystery that touches all of their daily lives and has their brains afire and the gossip circles turning. The news is the red woman, and by the six o'clock timeslot I will get her an interview! I set off in hot pursuit of the scoop!

"A mercurial one, isn't he?" one brother muses to the other.

"Or skittish, perhaps?"

They share a look and jump off the roof, following at a respectful distance.

Stories of the red woman have been around for as long as Rapture itself, it seems. Who knows, perhaps even longer - not like you could find a lot of people to tell you what was here before the town. Or you tell me. Who's been living here the longest?

Good, good. If I must be doing business, I prefer to do it quickly. Much better to simply have good Neighbors to lend a hand, but they are sadly few these days. "We need loan of your cars, enough for all my people here. Not for very long; I am thinking...one trip, today. If you do this for me, Great Bear will hunt and bring you Steelhorn. Whole beast, fresh. What do you say?"

My family has been in Rapture longer than the Capitalists. Much longer. And it is the Capitalist way to trade for what they need rather than get it with their own two hands. And I am wearing pelt of mighty bear while she wears fancy tie. I am thinking we are better hunters then they, and a good Steelhorn gives bounty of meat and material. Good trade for them, da?

[Would this be a Manipulate? Offer to hunt a Steelhorn for them in return for using their vehicles?]

"Tempting." There were plenty of people here who would not mind a break from the usual fare to feast upon a steelhorn. "Tell you what," she continued shrewdly, "I will have a few of my men escort you safely back to Rapture. Let them enter your town and conduct their business there in peace, and we have a deal. They can take the cars and the steelhorn back with them when they are done."

[Anarion]

From behind the Great Bear, I am peering out, my rifle held ready, but not hostile. I am wondering what are these capitalists interested in? Misha, he has never allowed them entry before, how high is this price, truly?

[read a person: 4+6+3. What is the capitalist woman really feeling? What is it she intends to do by having her men let into Rapture to do business? Holding 1.]

[Deadly]

From behind the Great Bear, I am peering out, my rifle held ready, but not hostile. I am wondering what are these capitalists interested in? Misha, he has never allowed them entry before, how high is this price, truly?

[read a person: 4+6+3. What is the capitalist woman really feeling? What is it she intends to do by having her men let into Rapture to do business? Holding 1.]

She's feeling important ... not talking to Misha, but in general, about what she does here. She isn't going herself, you notice, and there's a reason for that. There's also a reason the steelhorn is tempting, and you don't think it's just because they can't hunt ... rather, you suspect they're too busy to hunt even smaller game, so they're living largely off rations.

She's overseeing something here, something that makes her feel important. Her superiors are going to be very pleased with her, she thinks.

The business in Rapture is something else, you suspect. It seems she would prefer to keep her men here, since she has need of them, but she's sending them anyway. It's not done grudgingly, however. So someone, probably in Rapture, has asked a favor and she's sending what men she can spare. What would someone in Rapture need Capitalist soldiers for? Soldiers, in particular, who have been allowed in as guests under an agreement of peace? Protection is a good bet. Perhaps even from Misha himself.

Who would need such protection right about now? Given what you just escaped, it's no wonder a particular name instantly comes to mind: Natasha. You know that the Capitalists sometimes offers the radio information, and what better way to protect herself than by hiding behind Misha's own guests? If someone tried to harm her or take her away, they'd have to break Misha's promise of peace. Even Misha himself might be reluctant about that, or at least you think that might be the hope.

[Anarion]

I go and whisper in the old bear's ear. "You have not heard yet, perhaps, that Natasha attacked me. If these men are let into Rapture, they will protect her, even from you, perhaps, I know you do not break your word easily. Also, also there is something here, that they are doing, something important or they would not all be here, no? And look at how smug that woman looks, hmm? She thinks to herself she is making great gain here, do not be too quick to settle for a bad bargain."

[Elanorin]

Regardless, with Buugi and the Muckscuttler, you readily pull your diner from the swamp. After everything it's been through this morning however, it looks pretty crap. "I'd be happy to help with the cleaning," Camo offers. Of course she does. "I know some people who wouldn't mind an afternoon's job for fair pay. We'll have this place shining in time for dinner." It's clear what she's offering: it'll cost you a bit of cash (1-barter), but you could have everything cleaned and done much faster with her help. Otherwise it will probably take you longer.

"Appreciate the assist," Dorian says reluctantly as he regards his livelihood saved and in one piece, but in an atrocious state, much like himself, in fact. He can breathe a mite easier now even if the wounds are holding him back from standing fully straight.

"I hear they're doing stuff largely from memory down the church, isthatright? How about I see if I can get my hands on a proper old world holy bible for them? In your name, of course, as thanks for getting the Cafe out of the mud," he proposed, keen to have this debt paid asap.

[Thanqol]

"A mercurial one, isn't he?" one brother muses to the other.

"Or skittish, perhaps?"

They share a look and jump off the roof, following at a respectful distance.

Stories of the red woman have been around for as long as Rapture itself, it seems. Who knows, perhaps even longer - not like you could find a lot of people to tell you what was here before the town. Or you tell me. Who's been living here the longest?

That would be my good friend Bells, the old man who works technician on the radio system. Rapture used to be a military base and in a small town everyone knows everyone - and if anyone's tuned in to strange Soviet psychic experiments in the area it'd be him.