PC's: Nina Reynods, Hannibal Location: Rise-N-Shine Laundromat Summary: Hannibal asks Nina to do a job requiring of her skills she does not have and she turns him down. Hannibal pages: Hannibal sends you a text message after a couple of days and instructs you to meet him at the Rise-N-Shine laundromat on Woodward and Plum at 1:30 AM. Long distance to Hannibal: Nina Reynolds gets dropped off 1/2 a block away from the Rise-n-Shine, pays for the cab and then steps to the sidewalk and starts walking. She's looking for an alley or access road behind the rise-n-shine. She would like to cast Improved Invisibility on herself, place her narcoject pistol in her hand and then do a bit of recon around the place.. if possible finding the roof of nearby building to get a vantage point to look for snipers and the like.. frequently looking into the astral for magically cloaked types and/or elementals. Also interested in how busy the places is at this time of the morning, ie. witnesses. From afar, Hannibal nods. Alrighty. Roll the spell. You paged Hannibal with 'Force 3 Improved Invisibility-> Sorcery: 5 + Spell Pool: 3 + Spell Foci (Force: 5, Illusions) + 3= 11 dice TN 4.'. Nina Reynolds rolls 11 dice against a TN 4 for Hannibal: 1 1 1 2 2 3 4 4 8 11 11 (5 successes) You paged Hannibal with 'Drain-> +1(M)Stun.. Using Fetish to help resist drain -1TN is TNT2. Willpower: 6 + Spell Pool 2, Spell Foci +2= 10 dice TN 3.'. Nina Reynolds rolls 10 dice against a TN 3 for Hannibal: 1 3 3 3 3 3 4 4 5 5 (9 successes) Hannibal pages: Magic Resistance: Hannibal rolls 5 dice against a TN 3 for Nina Reynolds: 1 1 5 5 7 (3 successes) Hannibal pages: Intelligence. Hannibal rolls 7 dice against a TN 3 for Nina Reynolds: 1 1 2 3 3 4 7 (4 successes) Hannibal pages: Since we're slinging dice around, gimme Perception too. Nina Reynolds rolls 7 dice for Hannibal: 1 1 1 4 5 7 10 Hannibal pages: Looks like you're in the clear. No one in the laundromat but Hannibal. You paged Hannibal with 'Phew.. okay.. coming in the front door after dropping the invisibility, and putting the narcoject pistol away.'. ______________________________________________________________________________ Detroit || Downtown S H A D O W R U N ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ This small 24-hour laundromat smells of chemical soap and dirty clothes. Right next to the front door is a small, grizzled ork, his white hair buzzed down to a fuzz. He wears half-moon reading glasses and has an unlit cigar crammed between his tusk and lip. He is surrounded by a half-dozen signs on brightly-colored paper: "We Do Not Provide Credsticks!", "NO REFUNDS!", "Lost Articles Are Not The Responsibility of the Management", and other cheery messages. Lining the walls are battered, credstick-operated washers and dryers, many of them pre-Awakening relics. A handful of slow-moving people are here, loading clothes into a machine or flipping idly through a magazine. They stare at their spinning clothes with despondent exhaustion. ______________________________________________________________________________ Contents: Hannibal Obvious exits: Out You start looking into the astral plane. Hannibal A healthy, mundane, male ork in his late twenties. Hannibal's aura is rendered in deep, crimson reds of general disdain and bitterness. It seems to swell and lick at the astral space arond him like a flame, tempered only by the cool blues and blacks of indifference brought on by extensive cybernetic modification. This is clearly not an ork content with the world around him. Carrying: Secure Jacket You return your attention to the physical world. Nina Reynolds steps into the laundromat, offering the ork at the entrance a nod as she passes him. She is not carrying any laundry and knows she probably doesn't look right in this place. Nina presses on past without comment as just a wandering loiterer right now and moves deeper into the business, moving back towards where she last glimpsed Hannibal while across the street in an alley. <> Hannibal doesn't think the manager is going to be here at 1:30. ;) The laundromat is empty and lonesome at this hour. Rows of washers and dryers bathed in pale flourescent lights have been aligned like constituents, gathered so that they may be alone, together. In their midst is the large, staunch form of Hannibal. He leans against a center folding table, thick arms crossed over his chest, unblinking eyes narrowed in pensive brooding over the fluff cycle of a small load of clothing. Perhaps his, perhaps not. When Nina arrives, he turns his glare in her direction and looks her over briefly, bottom to top. Nina Reynolds moves towards Hannibal's location, her hands open and at her sides, casually dressed but covered by an open heavy looking trenchcoat as is the custom of those concerned by stray bullets in this day-n-age. As Nina nears she offers a polite nod to Hannibal and then a small but short lived smile to the ugly ork (&shortdesc) and then stops before him, without comment. She has been summoned. The ugly ork straightens when Nina stops. Unfolding his arms, he produces a certified credstick from his jacket pocket, and slots it into the empty dryers to the left and right of the one already working. Soon the small room is washed in the drone of electric motors and lint filters. Hannibal turns and leans against one rack of dryers opposite Nina so that he can eye her. "F'gure you had you time to check me out, f'gure you saw somethin' you liked," he says gruffly. Nina Reynolds nods once, "I didn't hear anything bad," not admitting she likes Hannibal at all. Hannibal grunts. "Mebbe you don't look deep enough then." He gestures vaguely towards the folding table behind Nina. "Take you coat off. Sit. Look like you stayin' and doin' laundry." Nina Reynolds glances back at the table, but remains where she is for right now, 'You always expect everyone to jump when you order them around?" Hannibal narrows his eyes faintly. "You always so sensitive? Or mebbe you daddy just overbearing? Pretty please. With suger on top. Take you fuckin' coat off and look like you doin' laundry." A smile comes to Nina's lips and she shrugs her trenchcoat off as she sidesteps and backs and places it on the table and then pulls the chair out for herself, "There we go.. just pretend you have manners is all I ask." he offers a grin and a wink and then sits. She gets a look on her face and then scoots the chair back and leans it back so she can place her feet on the table to look like a long term laundry customer, "Okay.. in place.. what gives Hannibal?" The ork's flat nostrils flare slightly as he snorts. If those mechanical eyes still possessed the impulse to roll, they most likely would. Instead, they stare blankly, shadowed by the petulant ridge of his brow. "Place with heavy security," Hannibal explains. "Someone wants something out of it, and they payin' big bills to make it happen. Extraterritorial; we goin' across the fence, scan? You with me so far?" Nina Reynolds nods in understanding to the story thus far, "I'm following you.. still here." she grins. "We need someone who slings some mojo to get us past initial security," Hannibal continues. His gaze drifts briefly from Nina to the street outside, then returns. "So our decker can get in place to nab the system. Problem is, the place is crawling with watchers. And they lookin' for active mojo. So you gotta get us in, keep us from getting caught without getting us caught. Can you hack that?" Nina Reynolds shakes her head with a little frown, "Spirits.. elementals.. the whole conjouring seen is honestly my weakest thing. Especially if your talking heavy security where they can afford the best. Sounds like the job's way deeper than I've ever swimmed in before.. would probably drown and take you all down with me." Hannibal scowls faintly and shakes his head. "I ain't sayin' deal with the spirits. That's the opposite of what I'm saying. If you tangle with them, we're made. You gotta get us in meatside, without them noticing you astral side." Nina Reynolds shakes her head with a frown, "I can't do that." Hannibal eyes Nina blankly for a few moments, then finally lifts his broad shoulders into a mild shrug. "Then we ain't got anything else to talk about." Nina Reynolds nods and moves her feet off the table and stands, she picks up her coat and shrugs it on and offers the ugly ork a nod, "Nice chat'n with ya." and then walks for the door. Hannibal grunts in response, watching the woman depart then turning back to eye his laundry.