Logfile from M3

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*wearily* Begging your pardon, but have you got another minute for me?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "... Of course. What do you need?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "You wouldn't happen to know any... any good cyberneticists, would you?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "One or two, offhand."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*sigh* Well...?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Need one? I can certainly send you my short list."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Please."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Hm. Have e-mail?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Probably."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Ah, I'd thought so. Sent."

Abernathy (lilo) pages: And on that list ... is Dr. Alexander Cheng. MU HA HA. X)

Long distance to Abernathy: Feste knew it!

Abernathy (lilo) pages: Among a coupla other NPC scientists. But, yeah. :D

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Thank you."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Not a problem. Something the matter?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Sorry, what?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Is something the matter?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "I... yes, probably..."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh? Not coughing up blood, are you?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Not yet."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "'Not yet'? Hm."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "I can't bloody hear myself /think/. I hope I don't start coughing up blood, that could be a problem..."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Yes, it could. And what's this about not hearing yourself think?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "I... can't even hold a train of thought for... ugh. Can't... hn... the words escape me once again..."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "... I see. You don't need any help, do you?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "...not entirely sure."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "That's rather vague."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Well, yes, yes it is."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Mm. Need I hunt you down again? I promise no ropes or chairs this time."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "You can. And that's nice of you..."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Although I'm wondering if I should brave going outside. It's a fair bit too loud out there..."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Then don't. I have my ways."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "...alright."

Andruw Nisse's Apartment <ANA>(#4457Ten)

Andruw Nisse's apartment is ill taken care of, but due to its little usage, it stays in good shape. It's outfitted with a small kitchen, living room, bathroom, and single bedroom. Cozy little place, really, with a window looking out on Hyde Park.

Cozy, really, if not for the books scattered EVERYWHERE. Now we know what this man does in his spare time. Other than that, it's relatively spotless, although the furniture looks decidedly on the old side. He could use some decorative advice, though...

Obvious exits:

Out <O> leads to London - Historical District.

Abernathy (lilo) pages: Excuse me, sir! As the fachead of the 'Fool' subfaction, can I have your permission to infiltrate your apartment? ;)

Long distance to Abernathy: Feste u.u "I suppose so. But only if we get to capture your infiltrator for a couple weeks."

Abernathy (lilo) pages: ... 'Kay.

Abernathy has arrived.

Getting to Feste's apartment usually requires one to wade through tourists and suchlike, and all the attached problems. One can see why Feste generally makes any excuse to stay the hell away.

Not today, however. Today the Fool is holed up in his apartment somewhere, sitting on the floor with his hands over his ears in an attempt to silence the voices in his head. Yes. The dreaded radio. Our poor motley-less friend is in quite a fix, with parts of his internal hardware starting to break down. The radio system has apparently decided to go first, deluging the Fool with intermittent intercepted messages and one hell of a migraine. No wonder he was up 'til 3 last night.

[Radio: (F) Public] Hailstorm Eagle transmits, "Someone come and get this--AAAAAAGH!" Static, then no signal.

[Radio: (F) Public] Retro Packrat transmits, "....What was that?"

How convenient. When one's target is distracted, or so the theory goes, it makes it so much easier for one to infiltrate. And infiltration -- even half-trained as he is -- is what Abernathy has in mind. Of course, breaking into someone's apartment isn't quite an infiltration, and relied more on an older set of skills than those used to break in -- or out! -- of a secured government facility.

It's surprising what one can do with a set of old-fashioned lockpicks, a reprogrammed passcard, and a simple piece of plastic. And one's wits, too; for you see, Abernathy didn't *actually* know where Feste lived. But he'd remedied that rather quickly with a little investigation.

So it is that perhaps an hour and a half has passed since our intrepid would-be infiltrator last radio'd the Fool, that there's a quiet click and clatter from the front door of the apartment. Somebody's just bypassed the lock, and said somebody very carefully pushes the door open, slipping inside. Hey, look. It's Abernathy; any surprise?

[Radio: (F) Public] Tengu Man transmits, "Bijin?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "Hopefully she stays dead this time."

[Radio: (F) Public] Retro Packrat transmits, "That's just mean. Then again, what can I expect?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Tengu Man transmits, "What the hell..."

[Radio: (F) Public] Retro Packrat transmits, "You ok there?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Tengu Man transmits, "..."

"You could've just knocked," whispers Andruw-Feste, having heard it -- and recognized it, amazingly enough, out of the million other sounds he's hearing. Guh. Well, at least, Feste /hopes/ it's Abby, and not somebody breaking into his flat, in which case he is so dead.

The Fool is somewhere further into the apartment. In fact, sitting on the floor, back to the couch, head buried in his hands. This is only the beginning, and the inevitable panic has yet to set in.

"I know," Abernathy replies, shutting the door behind him with a click. There's a brief shuffle, as he returns the tools of one of his many former trades to the pockets of the jacket he's wearing. Then he hikes said jacket up around his shoulders, and glances around the apartment for the Fool he's here to see. "I'd figured I wouldn't disturb you overmuch." Instead, he'll frighten Feste. Good show.

Spotting the Fool by the couch, Abernathy moves away from the door, picking his way around various bits of book-strewn furniture. Reaching the couch, he pauses -- cocking his head to one side and regarding Feste silently.

Feste is -- not paying attention. Almost not at all. It's hard, with... all of... this. The constant noise his ear had once been trained to listen to to pick out worthy information -- now it's all just gibberish, and he's finding himself unable to turn it off.

And, he notes, it's all steadily turning to static. It worked long enough for him to get someone able to help him, but...

He doesn't outwardly appear to be suffering, so it must be something other than old injuries. Breathing steady and normal, for the most part. At least that's good...

Ah, yes. Abernathy is an old hand at the breakdown of cybernetics, even if he's only been a cyborg for a little under three years. Thus the question about coughing up blood. He stands there a moment more, watching Feste -- then settles into a crouch by the Fool, reaching a hand into another of those jacket pockets to rummage for something. Let's see -- lockpicks, passkey, loose change, credit stick, wallet, new watch, cold light ... there.

Shaking his hand free of the divers other equipment he insists on carrying around in this pockets of his -- the jacket has *got* to weigh at least fifteen pounds by now -- Abernathy produces some small, shiny piece of equipment no larger than a half-dollar. This would be a radio jammer, a 'bubble of silence'.

Activating the device with a chirp, Abernathy waits until its indicator light flickers from red to green, then sets it carefully on the Fool's knee. Hopefully, hopefully, that'll bring a surcease from the noise.

What... is this?

Feste idly peers at this thing on his knee, pondering this new development amidst the zillion other things fluttering in his head. *blip*

And then -- silence.

Feste looks up with a start, eyes flaring red briefly. It's quiet.... quiet... he'd almost forgotten what that sounded like... blessed silence...

And then, new noises. People-noises, apartment-noises -- regular noise. Okay. He can deal.

Feste heaves a deep sigh, leaning back further. Thank you -God- for Abernathy, whee...

Abernathy rocks back on his heels, nodding slightly to himself as he watches the perceptible change in Feste's demeanor. That is /much/ better. Not that any of his relief shows in his eyes, even hidden behind sunglasses as they are. No, he's all the ice creature once more. Caring? What caring?

He waits for a moment, letting Feste get used to the silence, then inquires, "Better?"

Feste closes his eyes briefly, as if clearing his head. It takes a moment to realize, amidst all this /silence/ that another noise, a different noise, has sounded in his ears. And it, like, means something. Whoa.

"...yes," he answers, voice still shaky.

"Then keep that with you. You won't be able to transmit, either, but it should -- keep down the noise," Abernathy replies, quickly, and softly. Perhaps as if in respect for the fact that Feste was, y'know, buried under noise mere moments again.

Abby shifts slightly, perhaps feeling the mild discomfort that comes when one spends a lot of time crouched down and hunched over like that. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he offers, after a moment.

"Thank you," Feste murmurs in response. Hm. This will give him a lot to think about, later. Why's Abby so nice, anyway? Huh? HUH?

"As for...that, I don't know..." Mostly because there's no telling what'll fall apart next. Feste idly massages his temple, aware of a certain... odd spot in his field of vision. Oh, great...

Slipping to a sitting position on the floor -- close to, but not touching Feste -- Abernathy keeps his attention on the Fool. "Not a problem." And Abby's being nice because it pays to keep one's intelligence free agents alive and healthy. No, really. That's the only reason behind it. "Ah. Well. Mind if I stay around for a few minutes, in that case?" he inquires, tone completely devoid of emotion. Feste could send him away, he wouldn't mind, that tone seems to say.

"Not at all," Feste murmurs, distracted by the sudden potential problems with his vision. Now that, there, is a scary thought. Did we mention the migraine?

Feste's eyes narrow to near-slits -- agh, the pain. Ow ow... Wait a second. The Fool lifts his head up, fully convinced for a moment that he has seen someone that could not have been there. Someone he'd attempted to leave behind in the riptide of time quite a long time ago.

"And..." he continues, distractedly, "...how far away, exactly, was your cyberneticist? This Cheng fellow?" The one at the top of the list -- easiest way to pick one.

That was not a good sign. Abernathy maintains that mask of impartiality, carefully stuffing any possible shreds of worry away, where they can't interfere with him doing what he's supposed to. To wit, making sure Feste doesn't dissolve in a pile of twitching, incoherent cyborg. Cyber-psychosis is not a pretty thing. "He? I usually contact him on a -- per assignment basis. He keeps his own hours," Abernathy says, mildly. "And his own counsel, as well. I can get in contact with him for you, if you want." That's right. Remain calm, don't say or do anything rash.

That's right, Abernathy -- it's just business.

Feste gives a rather involuntary shudder at a sudden, ghosted afterimage in his sights -- another something he's been trying so hard to forget... "Not real," he mutters, then once again realizes he is being talked to through that seemingly all-encompassing silence.

"Yes, /please/," he says, sounding almost plaintive. At least, to his own ears. Tch.

Abernathy receives a radio transmission.

You intercept Dr. Nathan Xiang's transmission to Abernathy: <Chengvoice> Director. I understand you're trying to get ahold of me?

You deactivate your radio.

You deactivate your radio intercept ability.

Abernathy blinks. Ah, that muttering was definitely not a good sign, in the least. But he doesn't let on as much; perhaps Feste isn't even aware he's talking about things that Abernathy *cannot see*. ... On the other hand ... "Seeing things?" he drawls, maintaining that sort of toneless insouciance that's the norm, where he's concerned. "I ... imagine I'd better. Give me a moment, hm?" he continues, without waiting for an answer on his first question. He gets up, moving away from the bubble of radio silence put out by the jammer, and tabs his own radio on. Just in time to catch a transmission, too. How spooky.

Abernathy sends a radio transmission.

Abernathy receives a radio transmission.

Abernathy sends a radio transmission.

Yes, seeing things. Car wrecks, dark alleyways, wandering alone and friendless... Memories, now nightmares. Some of the harsher realities that Andruw became Feste to distract himself from.

Unaware is a good word, too. He offers no answer to the first question, opting instead to stare off into space, otherwise known as a bookshelf. Consider the moment given.

Abernathy receives a radio transmission.

In between subvocalizing comments into his radio, Abernathy glances over at Feste -- and shows the first sign of *real* emotion he has all evening, in the form of a very slight frown. Nothing more, and it's only for a moment; it disappears as he looks away again, focusing on the radio conversation once more.

Abernathy sends a radio transmission to Dr. Nathan Xiang.

Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Dr. Nathan Xiang.

Abernathy sends a radio transmission.

Abernathy receives a radio transmission.

Feste isn't looking, can't see, how sad. Tch. And the temptation to remove the blocker and listen in to Abby's conversation is rather quickly demolished by the mere thought of returning to being buried under that unholy din...

" ... Would you consent to being examined by Dr. Cheng, dear Fool?" Abernathy inquires after a moment's silent radio conversation. A little sudden, and with the way the Fool's fading in and out on him, it might not initially be heard. Worrisome.

The Fool idly looks over at Abernathy, head cocked slightly to the side. "...yes," he answers, after not more than a second's pause, punctuated by a momentous wince. Argh! Not that again! And the headache...

Abernathy sends a radio transmission to Dr. Nathan Xiang.

Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Dr. Nathan Xiang.

"Second question. Are you up to going outside, even briefly?" This, after a moment's pause to make a comment into his radio. "Or would you rather I turn this into an invasion of your flat?" That sudden wince brings back the little frown, and Abby ... hunkers down on one knee again, to be on a level with Feste. " ... Are you in pain?" he asks, voice softer now.

...ooh. Tough call, there. It's noisy outside! And bright! But... invaders in his territory. Hm.

Feste waits until Abby's knelt down to speak again. "I can walk," he offers, hesitantly. A brief pause, in which the Fool keeps his dimmed eyes trained on the Director's own. "Help..."

He's frightened. His hardware is going, he could be blind next, and what after that? His voice? Oh God, please not his voice, please please please not again, not ever again... Or, y'know, he could just plain die. That's scary too. Lot of feeling, packed into that one little word...

A lot of feeling. So much it's almost heart-tearing to listen to, or would be, if Abernathy weren't so jaded. Even as it is, it's bad enough. He blinks once more, that little frown on his face deepening considerably as Feste speaks. Ah, yes -- this isn't just a matter of watching a fr -- trusted associate -- in pain, but also one of possible empathy. He knew the desperation of cybernetic breakdown.

He takes a careful breath. "I will," he replies, simply. No, no. Simply business, don't break down, don't allow this to affect you. Treat him as someone you need to keep alive, but not emotionally, dear God, don't, down that way lies madness. "You're sure you can do this? It might be quite a walk."

What is it else? A madness most discreet; a choking gall and a preserving sweet.

Feste has 'desperate' written all over him, of course. 'Quite a walk', he thinks, could easily turn into an eternity of this same dull pain and gutwrenching fear, encapsuled in that one long continuous moment, but... But...

"Help me, and..." The sentence is left hanging in the air. It's up to you please don't let me down I need you!

Well. He's certainly making things easier for Abernathy...

Abernathy sends a radio transmission.

Abernathy sends a radio transmission.

Dr. Nathan Xiang has arrived.

No, he's not. Not exactly. 'Easier' would be, would be ... not seeming so helpless. And in that much pain. Abernathy winces, sends off one last message, and shuts off his radio. ... No, this is ... not easy on him. In the least.

And then his resolve caves in. Just a little. He reaches to rest a hand on Feste's, the touch meant to be comforting, calming. A palliative to that desperation he can *hear* and *see*. "I ... ah."

Dr. Nathan Xiang knocks softly on the door before pushing it open. Instead of his usual labcoat, he's wearing a silk robe - very mandarin. But the bag in his hand is very much 'scientist and doctor' His face bears an expression of concern, especially after that last radio. This isn't Xiang - say hello to Cheng.

"I am here. Where is the person in need of my help?"

Dammit, here he really was ready to get up and walk out the door...

Although sitting still is good, yes, always...

The touch is reassuring, rather like an anchor for a ship in stormy seas. Just what he's always needed... yes, but that's another quest, for later. For now, Feste makes an earnest attempt to gather the strength to-- oh, wait. Who's that? Somebody at the door? Goodness...

"Who's that?" murmurs Feste, sounding slightly dazed.

Yes, it was turning into an invasion, and it's all the fault of Abernathy's soft heart. (dammit) He glances over his shoulder at the newly arrived Cheng -- from where he's crouching by the couch, by Feste, who is looking significantly less than healthy. "Dr. Alexander Cheng," he murmurs. "The same man I told you about."

Then he stands, releasing Feste's hand and turning to face Cheng. His face and voice are composed, once more; ever the diplomat, Abernathy. "Over here, doctor. This is Feste," a hand waved in the Fool's direction; oh my, we're being very formal now, "and I apologize you two couldn't meet on -- better circumstances."

Now get over here and fix him, please.

Dr. Nathan Xiang inclines his head slightly to Abernathy, not wasting time with a full bow as he hurries over to Feste's side. "Greetings. Normally I'd spend some time on pleasantries, but given the situation, I think those can wait." He deftly opens the bag, pulling out instruments, even as he looks over Feste with his own cybernetic senses.

"If you can, describe what you think is wrong?"

Dr. Nathan Xiang (Xiang) pages: What is going wrong, btw?

You paged Dr. Nathan Xiang with 'A lot of the stuff he's got is just plain failing. Eyes, ears, radio, mostly, and the related hardware.'.

Dr. Nathan Xiang (Xiang) pages: Oh, shit.

Long distance to Dr. Nathan Xiang: Feste o.o

Dr. Nathan Xiang (Xiang) pages: Is any of the stuff life support?

You paged Dr. Nathan Xiang with 'Nope.'.

From afar, Dr. Nathan Xiang (Xiang) whews.

You paged Dr. Nathan Xiang with 'You scared me there for a sec, bud. X) Well, I imagine if it overloaded or something it might do some serious brain damage, but if it all failed he'd be blind and deaf. Which is enough of a problem in and of itself...'.

You paged Dr. Nathan Xiang with 'That, and it's putting him through a good bit of psychosis.'.

From afar, Dr. Nathan Xiang (Xiang) laughs. Sorry - well, yes. But it won't kill you - which will be the first thing Cheng checks for.

Long distance to Dr. Nathan Xiang: Feste nodnod. :D

"Oh. How nice." The Fool merely looks at Cheng for a moment, preparing to move should he have to for the doctor's convenience.

Normally, he'd have a lot more to say, but... not today.

Dr. Nathan Xiang

Dr. Nathan Xiang is a man in his mid 30's, early 40's. He's of Chinese descent, and stands about five foot five. Generally dressed in a labcoat that starts out clean, and ends up more than a little stained by the end of the day. Dark brown/black hair trimmed neatly and pulled back in a pony tail fails to cover up the cables and conduits leading into sockets set into his skull. The cables lead down into his shoulders and spine. A few other cybernetic 'additions' give odd lumps to his back and upper arms. Otherwise, he's mostly wiry. He wears a pair of wire rimmed round spectacles that leave his oddly rainbow hued eyes visible.

Carrying:

Herald Of Xiang

Harbinger of Xiang

Abernathy bites his lip, and falls back a step or two -- more toward the couch. Abernathy, being protective? Not ... exactly. "As far as I can tell," he says, softly -- answering the question because Feste hasn't, or can't, "an inability to turn off his radio, and ... seeing things. A headache, too?" He glances down at the Fool on the floor, as if for confirmation of this fact.

Dr. Nathan Xiang's voice is soft, soothing as he very gently pokes and prods, his odd eyes flicking to the various parts of the Fool's body that hold cybernetics. Reaching into the bad, he produces a scanner, and gently sets it against his patient's temple. "Well. I have both good and bad news... The good news is that it's not life threatening. The bad news is.. your aural and visual sensors are having problems."

The Fool has a bit more cybernetics than just those parts malfunctioning, but fortunately enough they're in working order. Shouldn't make much of a difference, but that'd be up to the Doctor.

"Yes," Feste agrees, almost obediently. He'd been asked? Bwah? Didn't notice, apparently... oops, oh well...

And then Cheng. Stating what he already knew and forgot to tell them... at least he's not going to die. "Thank you," murmurs the Fool.

Abernathy represses a serious desire to twitch -- that, or get more protective than is his wont. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket, angling his head down and to the side to watch Cheng and Feste. There's a peculiar mix of disintrest and curiosity in his eyes, but it's nothing he gives voice to. No, he's out of this for the moment. He'll give his thanks later -- if he does, ungrateful creature.

Dr. Nathan Xiang settles back, unspooling a line of cable. One end of which goes into one of the cortical jacks at the base of his skull - the other goes into the intstruments near Feste's head. The doctor's gaze becomes just a touch distant. "Mmm. Headache, loss of radio control..." He pauses for a long moment, and seems to come out of the trance to look Feste in the eye. "Feste. I suspect you already know this, but I think your optics, audial and radio systems aren't just having problems - they're starting to fail." He lays a gentle touch on the other Man's shoulder. "However, I should be able to fix some of it - just not here. So you have a choice..."

Feste finds himself oddly fascinated by this strange doctor's eyes. How pretty, how strange, how... off-topic.

Hey, there's his name. Poor, temporarily easily distracted Feste cocks his head to the side at this... news... failing? But how? They are *not* supposed to do that.

Deeply troubled, Feste just keeps his eyes on Cheng. "What is that, then?"

Memo to self:, Abernathy thinks, find the person who originally installed those. Kill him. Or better yet, hook him up to rely on his own bad product for life and health. Yes, that would be fitting -- and perfectly unjust. That line of thought is shut down, and nothing particularly gruesome crosses his eyes. No, he's listening. Very, very intently.

Cheng pauses for a moment before answering the question. "You can either attempt to deal with them as they are now, or I can shut them down before they fail completely, possibly affecting other systems."

His gaze doesn't shift from Feste at all, but his attention does shift to Abernathy for an instant. "However, that means you'd need someone to help you - you'd be both deaf and blind. The last choice is to try and treat it now - but I'd need more equipment to do so." He pauses for a long moment. "And it may require surgury."

Ohgodsurgeryagain. Feste winces again, fighting to accept the inevitable (and awful) truth. So he'd spent a good deal of time under the knife of a cyberneticist (apparently, an inept one) but that didn't make the experience remotely routine or normal or any of that...

But he /has/ to.

Feste pauses, taking a good, long moment to ponder this over. And in the end... "I'd prefer...to have it treated as soon as possible..." And whatever that may mean.

Ah. Catching that hesitation, Abernathy moves a step or two over -- and uncaring of the audience, rests a hand on Feste's shoulder. He knew how such unpleasant choices usually went, apparently. /And/ catches that little shift of attention his way, but doesn't remark on it.

Dr. Nathan Xiang considers for a moment, noticing both the wince and the eventual determination to do something that has to be done. And inwardly he smiles softly as Abernathy lays a supporting hand on Feste's shoulder. "Very well then..." He glances up at Abernathy, and then back to Feste.

"As soon as possible... would be now. Provided we can adjurn to a sterile location and I can gather a few tools I will need..." He smiles reassuringly. "This will be... less invasive than the first installation."

Yay, emotional support!

Feeling all the more reassured -- he's got to do it now, has to, but he /can/, it's not impossible, not now -- Feste again readies himself for the long haul. Aiee. As Cheng gives his terms, Feste gives a small, dismissive wave -- yes, okay. I trust you, let's go.

"Alright, Doctor, that's fine," he sighs. Please, just don't let this be so long and drawn out...like it was the first time.

You paged Dr. Nathan Xiang with 'By the way, I'm going on-vac... tomorrow, I think. x.x Shall we have all the stuff go on behind the scenes?'.

From afar, Dr. Nathan Xiang (Xiang) nods. We can do that. Cheng works pretty quickly - ask Abernathy. :D

You paged Dr. Nathan Xiang with 'Thank yoooou.'.

[OOC] Dr. Nathan Xiang nods. Should be fine. We'd probably use a San An operating theatre - Cheng's been certified in San An.

[OOC] Feste nodnod.

<FTB!>