Logfile from M3

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Bowie transmits, "Anyone awake?"

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Feste transmits, "Evening."

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Bowie transmits, "How goes the werk?"

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Feste transmits, "It goeth not quickly, nor easily, but then..."

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Bowie transmits, "The best thangs aren't easy. Ah know."

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Bowie transmits, "Got some more toys lined up, an a meetin with some innerestin folks. Let ya know how it goes."

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Feste transmits, "Oo, do. I think I will find some business opportunities in a short while, myself. We'll see."

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Bowie transmits, "Good."

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Feste transmits, "Mind if I take a look at what you've got so far?"

[Radio: (E) Revanche] Bowie transmits, "Sure."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Is the address you gave me correct?"

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Are ya standin in front a a decrepit old warehouse?"

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Well, I wouldn't call it -decrepit-..."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Prolly the right place. Ah'm not thare, but the missus might be at home."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Oh my. Will she mind?"

Large Warehouse <LW>(#4907TLOen)

Near the harbor docks, there's a number of large, ancient, decrepit-looking warehouses. Many of them are in poor repair, and they probably date back to the 20th and 21st centuries.

The largest of these is closest to the water, and while it's just as ancient as the others, the roof and general structure seems to be in better shape than the others surrounding it. It's entirely possible that this old structure may still be in use by some nearby company wanting to cut costs, and this theory is bolstered by the fact that the side doors to the warehouse aren't chained up.

Still, there's nothing to see here. Move along.

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "She knows yer helpin us."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Oh, that's good. But will she mind?"

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Ah don't thank so. Why?"

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Oh, I just-- figured I'd ask. For the sake of courtesy."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Ah'd join ya, but Ah'm waitin on someone."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Alas for that."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Comes with the territory."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "I wish you luck. And, presumably, joy of the victory."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "More than one type a victory. But thankee."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Heh! You are welcome to it, sir."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Our "friends" been makin any noises?"

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Not that I've heard. I need to check in with my sources."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Anythang ya need frum me while Ah'm out here?"

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Hmm..."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "No, besides the normal gamut of information. Anything you think would be useful, I can use."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Feir enough."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Plasma Harrier transmits, "Hello? Is a Mr. Bowie available?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Bowie transmits, "Speakin."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Plasma Harrier transmits, "This is Plasma Harrier of the Repliforce... I was told by Colonel to meet you?"

Kalinka is standing near the back door, watching as her chicken...does its business on the ground nearby. Well, she doesn't let him go in the house, that's for sure.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Bowie transmits, "Yep. He should have the place."

Meanwhile, on the front door -- whichever one was most convenient from where Feste was standing -- there is a loud, persistant KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Plasma Harrier transmits, "Roger, sir..."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Bowie transmits, "Good. This freq ain't secure, ya know."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "It sure isn't, sir. *chuckle*"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Plasma Harrier transmits, "Eee... sorry."

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "*amused* Not surprised."

Hopefully, Feste hasn't stepped in any chicken manure on his way to the door. She opens the door up, gathering up the chicken as she does. "Good evening, Feste! Welcome to my house, what brings you by?"

Large Warehouse <LW>(#4907TLOen)

They say you can't judge a book by its cover, and the same applies to this warehouse. While the outside is seemingly in poor repair, the interior is has been refurbished to modern standards and convenience. It hardly qualifies as posh, but the residents seem to be comfortable with it.

What once was the front office has been converted to living quarters. The lobby/reception area now serves as a living room, the break room as a modest kitchen, the storeroom as a tiny guest room, and the supervisor's office as a cozy bedroom. All of the walls are freshly painted in light colors, and throw rugs accent the otherwise drab concrete floor.

The actual warehouse itself is part chemistry lab, part electronics lab, and part machine shop, with a corner left over for office work. The area at the back of the warehouse by the massive garage doors has been left clear for use on larger projects. The center of the room is plied with worktables, with racks of tools hung on the walls between shelving units. The area closest to the wall separating warehouse from living space is an office of sorts for Bowie's Hunter-related duties.

Contents:

Kalinka

BattleTank <Firebrand> (?)

Chalkboard

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Any other freqs ya have that Ah should know about?"

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Oh, one of your Hunter channels, and something else I haven't eartagged yet."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "I'll send you the bill. *audible smirk*"

[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Put it on mah tab."

[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Will do, sir!"

"Afternoon, m'lady!" the Fool replies, with a quick bow. "I came by to see the goods, of course. I'd like to know what you're up to in here. The curiosity is eating away at my very soul." He eases up on his toes, trying to sneak a peek over Kalinka.

"Come in, please!" Kalinka ushers Feste into the semi-converted warehouse. "We remodelled this place. It does not look like much from the outside, but that is to keep unwanted attention away. Here, we live on the one side, and do work on the other. I will show you what we are doing with the tanks..." She heads right into the expansive workspace/lab, where a large tank sits.

BattleTank <Firebrand> (?)

The original base of this armored fighting vehicle is obvious to any Chinese Revolution armchair general: The AT-41, manufactured by Russia and used heavily in the theatres of west and north Asia during that tumultuous decade. At about 20 feet long, 10 feet wide, and not quite 8 feet tall, at the time it was classified as a barely medium-class combat vehicle. Its design diverged from the typical blocky appearance made famous by its predecessors, its turret rounded in a "soup bowl" design and chassis smoothed to be more streamlined. It has a reputation for reliability in all weather conditions and for being surprisingly difficult to put down in combat.

At present, the tank is in the process of being fully refurbished, its degraded parts removed, armor plates revitalized, and modern weapons added.

The Fool allows himself to be ushered in, following Kalinka like an obedient child -- with the same heap of curiousity, too. He looks around while he walks. "'Tis very nice, indeed." He perks at the word 'tanks'. Tanks? What? And upon actually seeing the tank...

He stops, eyes wide in a mixture of awe and surprise. It's-- well, it's a tank. A really big tank. He says nothing.

Kalinka grins. "What do you think, hm? It probably looks a bit like...it belongs more in a museum, but this is where we are fixing these relics, and sending them back to the Balkans better than ever."

Feste stands in silence. It's as though the plans are taking shape in the form of a tank. This is-- what everything will come to -- this is the cold, metal reality of war. He approaches the tank, tapping it lightly with a closed fist and listening to the noise it makes. He keeps his silence -- perhaps he hasn't even heard Kali, because he certainly wouldn't ignore her. Right?

Kalinka takes Feste's silence to mean he wants to check the tank out closer. She decides to leave him alone, placing the chicken down on the ground so it can wander about the warehouse. She heads over to the chalkboard, checking out what plans Bowie outlined on it.

He taps his hand against the tank's armored panels a few more times as he walks around it. His face is the very image of uncertainty -- like a man presented with a difficult choice -- lips parted slightly, eyes widened like a frightened deer... this is not the Fool, who gladly walks along the edge of the cliff with swagger and style. This is Andruw, worried about what he's committed himself to.

From the backside of the tank comes his voice, sounding small, almost pathetic: "Do you really think this'll work?"

Kalinka thinks of things in the scientific sense, of course...and immediately, her thoughts are with the tank and its function. "Oh, yes indeed, I have replaced all of the components and completely refit it...it will work very well," she points out.

<Global News Network> *a grim reporter appears on the screen* Dateline, Torontreal. The War Pillars. TPD have apparently taken to cordoning off a segment of the War Pillars here in the city, specifically the segments dealing with the early years of the Robot Wars... The reason for this has been the arrival of two Mavericks, who are apparently conducting a strange sort of polemic on the individuals who have remained within the structure, or snuck past the police blockade.

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

[Radio: (F) Public] Tengu Man transmits, "What's a polemic?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Tengu Man transmits, "It sounds kinda... uh... dubious?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "Um... hey, everyone?"

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

[Radio: (F) Public] Tengu Man transmits, "Are you hitting people with poles?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Dr. Cossack helpfully declares, "Not it."

A quiet, tired chuckle can be heard in response.

"No," says the actor, stepping out from the other side of the tank. "I mean... do you think... /this/... will work?" He waves broadly with a hand to indicate the grand plans hanging about the place, then casts his eyes to the ground as he awaits a reply.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Retro Packrat transmits, "...that helped."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Crescent Grizzly grumbles, " Ahm' 'lready 'dere "

"We are hoping to make some kind of positive change for the resistance fighters in the Balkans," Kalinka explains. "Otherwise, the Mavericks will force them out of the only home they have ever known."

Feste keeps his eyes dropped to the floor. He looks almost -- cowed? Strange, that. "Yes, of course," he murmurs. "That shouldn't be allowed to happen to anyone." He leans against the tank with a quiet *thump*. "I should hope."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "Well, um, there's this bird fellow and he's making a lot of noise. I think he's going to poop on the pillars."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Retro Packrat transmits, "...POOP on them?!"

Kalinka tilts her head. "Is, um...is something the matter?" she asks, looking puzzled.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "Well, or /something/. I'm listening to the radio, he's just yacking and trying to recruit. Maybe he's going to try to call up a horde of invincible reploid zombies!"

Feste shrugs helplessly and manages a smile. A weak one, but a smile nonetheless. "Not anything new, no. A moment of weakness, you might say. Sometimes I wonder if this will do any good... tell me, do you ever get homesick?"

"Oh, god yes, all the time," Kalinka admits. "Do you mean for Moscow, or for the Hunters? Actually...both. I never see Daddy anymore, or any of the other Hunters...and Moscow has become too dangerous for me to live there, because the Masters have the place cased out. So...yeah. very much homesick."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Retro Packrat transmits, "Is help gonna be needed over there?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Crescent Grizzly transmits, "Doubtfu'"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "Do you know who it is, sir?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Crescent Grizzly transmits, "Storm Eaglah'"

Bowie emerges from Bowie's Room.

Bowie has arrived.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Plasma Harrier transmits, "*rumbles an angry screech* Pluck that buzzard, Cres... That guy irritates me. Besides... I owe him."

"Then maybe you know how I feel," Feste concludes, looking up at the barrel of the tank's gun. "And I... well. I never thought..." He shakes his head, chuckling quietly.

"Go on," Kalinka encourages. She doesn't often hear Feste speak frankly about something...he's always such a joker.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "Um, what's he mean by human courts?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "I mean, the judges are usually humans but that's because we don't have a lot of lawyer reploids or anything. Or is he just crazy?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Dr. Cossack transmits, "Who is talkink, Doppler?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Crescent Grizzly transmits, "Storm Eaglah'"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Dr. Cossack transmits, "Alvight, same t'ink veally. He's makink zee point zhat zee legal system exists for zee convenience of humans vather zhan zee convenience of Reploids."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Zephyr Gryphon transmits, "Oh great, so the bugger's recruiting? ... need a hand up there or is everything alright?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] General hrms. "That Eagle is certainly showing an exceeding amount of audacity to appear there at the Pillars." There's a definite bit of ire there.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Zephyr Gryphon transmits, "I agree with that! Jerk.."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "Well, they did make it - we're less than twenty years old..."

Oh, yes, indeed. This is a rare moment; mark it well. Unfortunately, it seems to be fading a bit, as the jester's grin returns to the Fool's face.

"Let's just say that this was the least likely place for me to end up when I was your age." Grin!... is gone. "This is not... what I expected. I... am finding it difficult, you know, to weigh the... consequences, the rewards... I just don't know."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Bolero transmits, "Less than 15 years old."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Dr. Cossack transmits, "I understand zee argument Doppler is tellink zem to make. Zey vant vendetta on zee butchers vho hurt zose innocent Reploids. A part of me agrees wiff zem."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] General transmits, "And the arguments of the Maverick Empire exist, and fluctuate, for their own convience equally well at times, Dr. Cossack."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Crescent Grizzly transmits, "Dun' mattah'. 'e issa' criminal in deh' 'eyes of deh UN, 'n 'e is 'n UN Groun'."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Zephyr Gryphon transmits, "Yeah, but some of the names on those pillars are names of -reploids- killed by -mavericks- too."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Dr. Cossack transmits, "At zee same time, zee only vay t'inks arr ever goink to change is if justice done wiffin some non-military court."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Bolero transmits, "A lot of them are."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Zephyr Gryphon transmits, "Either way, do you need any support?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Bolero transmits, "An awful lot of them."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "How'd he get in, anyway? Do you not have ATC scanning systems in North America like they do in Seoul?"

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Ebony Fox transmits, "Teleporter systems aren't perfect, especially in a mass transit sense. Likewise, he could of flown."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Ebony Fox transmits, "People have reported Sigma himself visiting the pillars-but he doesn't agitate. He keeps to himself. Unlike /some/ Mavericks."

There is the creeak of a door as Bowie lets himself in. There's really no need to announce himself, seeing as how he lives here. Hat and coat are hung up on the rack in turn, and he looks around to see if anyone's at home.

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Cassilda Coriolis transmits, "Really, though, how come they're all hot and bothered for their own country and everything? I mean, I can understand how it'd be appealing, but it'd just be a recipe for war with the number of reploids around."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Bowie transmits, "Thought the whole point a the Pillars wus thay're fer erryone."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Crescent Grizzly transmits, "E's tryin' tah' star' a riot, tryin' 'cruit fer deh' Mavericks. Dis is neutral groun', nah' a place tah' preach."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Crescent Grizzly transmits, "'es defilin' dat' sanctity."

[Radio: (L) Joint-chat] Zephyr Gryphon transmits, ".. Bleh. I'm coming up then, last thing we need is a freaking riot..."

Frequency l is now gagged.

Kalinka finally begins to understand, and she nods. "It seems pretty futile sometimes, but...the best way to feel like, you know, like you are making a dent in it...you have to get involved directly in a project like this, and contribute in a very direct and concrete way." As she hears the door opening, she looks over and grins. "Hello, dear."

Bowie gives the love of his life a broad smile. "Howdy, sunshine. Feste. See ya found the place." He ambles towards Kali, giving her a tight hug.

Feste shrugs again, less helpless this time. "I just... I want to go home, Kalinka," he offers, almost whispering. He gives Bowie a little wave of his fingers in greeting, an unspoken 'so I did.'

Kalinka hugs Bowie back tightly, though her mood is reserved, not particularly cheerful...Feste's voiced doubts have put her in this funk. "I was just showing him the tank," she admits.

Bowie frowns a bit, though if they're also listening to the radio, they can very well guess as to why. "Oh, Ah see." His gaze and attention turn from her to him. "And whut do ya thank?"

Feste still leans on the tank itself, arms and ankles now casually crossed -- head still slightly bowed. He didn't mean to spread the misery... and so he frowns, just so, at Kali's mild discomfort. Well, crap. He'll have to fix that. When addressed, he looks up at the barrel of the gun again. "Oh, I'm sure it's a very nice tank. I am no judge of things that shoot other things and subsequently explode, however. I have chosen to defer to your judgement."

A soft beeping can be heard from the residential part of the warehouse. "Oop, incoming call...I think I did ask my cousin to call me back," Kalinka admits. "Be back as soon as I can." She then turns, and disappears down the hallway to the maze of rooms beyond.

Bowie nods to Kalinka, then goes over to join Feste at the tank. "It's a start, at least. Though it sounds like Repliforce may be finally helpin out."

[Radio: (F) Public] Wow! It's Dr. Wily transmits, "So Crash Man, Skirt Boy didn't even try to stand up to the three of you?"

Feste watches Kalinka scurry off with a wan half-smile. "A start. I... I'm glad to hear that." His voice firms up. "It's about time they started doing their jobs."

"Ah know." Bowie can't help but sigh a bit. "Wish more people would do the same." He perches on the edge of the tank, more leaning than actually sitting. "We'll get the Mavericks out of Europe, Feste. Won't be easy, won't be soon, but we can an we will."

"I hope so," he replies, rubbing at his forehead with an open hand. "I pray so."

Bowie ventures a small smile at his friend. Friend? Yes, somehow he qualifies as that. "Thare's still hope. If we can root 'em out a the Balkans, show that we mean business, then surely others will follow."

Sometimes... you can only hear so much of a certain topic. The enthusiasm is gone for now... and there just isn't anything Feste can do to remedy that. He needs some time to think this over again, to reassure himself -- to go find that shoulder to lean on.

"And so we shall, ha? I think we are in good hands."

Bowie can only imagine what Feste's gone through. He does, however, know the horror of waking up one morning to discover a place one once knew was gone forever. His smile remains, in an attempt at encouragement. "Ya want somethang t'drink? Got coffee, an soda in the fridge..."

Feste idly waves it off, shaking his head. "No, no, thank you. I should go find Adrian," he mutters. "Thank you, though. It is a pretty tank. I am sure it will be put to good use. May it always serve its purpose with... with... great dexterity and accuracy, or something."

Bowie simply nods at this, the smile fading away. He stands up, tucking his thumbs into the corners of his pockets. "If thare wus another way t'do this, Ah would. But words don't werk on them. Thay won't listen."

"If only they did. But words... are so inconsequential, so small, so apt to be turned upon their users. I know *that* all too well." He stands back up on his feet, no longer using the tank to support himself. "Doctrine is as doctrine does, I suppose. Well, I must be off."

Bowie nods to Feste. "All right. Ah'll see ya soon?" The last is about half-question, half-statement.

Blues has arrived.