[ QUOTE ]
((And for those lookin for a timeframe, its December 18, 2006... a Monday.))
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((Done because snow seemed so unbelievable to some in November, when this was initially set to be right before Thanksgiving.
We were still in the first day of threading and in the first few pages, so I changed it to December 18.
It is now the 19th and the last posting day before we forward to Christmas day))
((Thank you Nin!! *glom* Sorry for holding up the world. XP))
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
((Thanks for the invite Ninjin; apologies for the delay getting started... *looks at the post count and whistles* yeah thats my story 
))
There were some jobs that were far funner than their official description sounded. And occasionally they paid pretty well because noone else took them. William Baxter checked the badge attached to his blue jean jacket. Today was his first day as "Safety Coordinator" at the complex. He was charged with making sure the majority of the building was a safe place for everyone around him. Wearing a red and black flannel shirt tucked into black blue jeans and a dark brown duster he grinned broadly. On his belt was a muliplier on each side, and he carried an aluminum tool case that had to weigh 30 pounds. Wandering through the X-Ray machine he laughed as the alarms went off.
"Oh good they work he commented."
Holding out his ID for security, he evaluated how people responded to the noise. There was no point in having alarms if people ignored them.
((5'9" Dark brown eyes and matching short parted hair, olive complextion, 150lb modestly strong but not sculpted. All in all relatively average looking guy.))
One of the security feeds that Van Watt looked over began to flash and he turned his attention to that quadrant of the screen. He waited a moment and examined it closer, noting the man with the tool box flashing a tag to the security personnel.
William sighed, not in relief but rather annoyance at the interruption to his ponderings and stood, deciding it wise to meet the man face to face.
Alarms still rang loudly as he entered the lobby, his expensive leather shoes tapping on the tile floor with every step. He approached the flannel-clad man and flashed a quick smile. "It is important to know how to make an entrance."
"Mr. Newman. . . I think something's going on, sir!" the man in the cubicle next to Percy said under his breath as he peered over the wall at his head of department. "There are alarms going off. . ."
Percy sighed. "Do not concern yourself with that, sir. It is likely of little importance. If there is a problem, the security guards shall handle it."
"But. . . but what if the building is on fire, or someone's breaking in or something, sir?" the programmer continued. He did not comment on Percy's addressing him as 'sir'. Anyone who did would simply be told that as their superior, he would be calling them whatever he wished, and few people asked about it anymore.
"Well, I have not yet noticed that our lives are in danger," Percy returned calmly, continuing to type. "If that situation changes, then I would assume we would simply follow the guidelines for evacuation. Please, sir, do not ask foolish questions. I get enough of those from the marketing department."
Penny cheerfully typed away on her own work.
She was on her second wind.
Despite the eventful night she had had the previous night, and the fully ripe and shining black eye that was now in full form, she had gotten hopped up on hospital coffee and drove home.
At that point, however, she hadn't been able to get back to sleep, and had stayed up making cookies.
Now, Penny was in that strange state of mind that only comes with lack of sleep - where you're perfectly awake and aware and happy as all get-out, but the moment you're horizontal it's over.
It wasn't even lunchtime and she was on her fifth coffee.
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
Typing away was what just about everyone did right now - including Howard Tharomar.
He'd arroved quite early this morning and was now busy sending letters, instructions, updates, and what-not to just about everything connected within and to his company.
After all, if he expected this of his employees, he'd better be ready to do it himself, this was his opinion. A hands-on man, Tharomar had never backed down from taking charge, and this was going to require quite a bit of coordination...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
"What's wrong, Kara?" Mina asked. She had grown more comfortable talking, at least to Kara.
Kara, meanwhile, was sitting in Mina's room, huddled in a corner with a face set on 'mope'.
"I'm hungry...but I don't think I could sneak into the blood bank again," she replied.
Mina laughed. Her laugh was like a chorus of angels, at any other time it would have made Kara feel happy. But at this time, it was that sort of mocking laugh.
"OK, ok, I know you're new to what happened...but have you tried eating raw meat? I'm sure it's a lot easier and less creepy than drinking human blood," Mina giggled.
"But, the blood was the only thing that smelled or tasted good," Kara replied sullenly.
"HELLO! The hospital doesn't use real meat in their food. In fact the only thing close to real edible meat in the whole complex is human, and being a nurse you should know that most people who come into a hospital have an injury that makes them bleed," Mina explained. This was probably the most she had said at one time in years.
"Oh," Kara replied. Ironically this was probably the LEAST Kara had said at one time in years.
"So how about you use your lunch break to go to the butcher shop?" Mina suggested.
"Ok, thanks Mina," Kara said, smiling.
Sure enough, she used her break time to drive down to the local butcher shop, aptly named "Unka Andy's Cow Cuttin Jamboree". She was ecstatic when she noticed the delicious smell once again coming from the shop. The store was pretty average. There were a few portly housewives here and there but otherwise it was reasonably empty. Unka Andy himself, however, was anything BUT average. While he had the girth and thinning hair expected of a middle aged butcher, his speech pattern was odd. He spoke in a weird accent Kara couldn't quite place, it almost sounded like something she had heard from some of those movies about southern slaves, like Roots and such. The crazy part was that Unka Andy appeared to be caucasian.
"Excuse me, Andy?" she inquired of the proprietor.
"That's UNKA Andy lil' missy!" he corrected.
"Uncle Andy..."
"UNKA Andy!"
"Unka Andy...is there any way I can put in a daily order for meat? I've got a..." she began.
"Say na mo' lil missy! Gimma ya name an' phonnumba and Unka Andy gonna set you up! Wha kinna meats you wants?"
That question set her off. She began pointing to everything that smelled good to her. When she finished she had a good ten kinds of meat.
"Awright lil' missy, that'd usually be about a hunnid dolla an orda, but Unka Andy likes ya, an' knows ya be a good customa, so Unka Andy give it ta ya half price! Unka Andy also appreciatin' th' work o da nurse folk too!"
"Th-thank you," Kara replied, a bit stunned by the whole situation. She placed her money on the counter and smiled. Unka Andy seemed to blush a little.
While he was in the back, Kara decided to look around a little. Obviously the place smelled heavenly to her. A lot of the meat was at the counter, and the rest of the store was covered with colorful murals of cows, sheep, and chickens dancing around a maypole. Normally that would seem weird, but Kara had just met Unka Andy.
Strangely enough, Unka turned out to be his first name. Whether or not he legally changed it was another story.
"Orda for Kara Wren? Dat be you right?" Unka Andy called, returning from the back.
"Oh, yes, thank you," she said, bowing to him. It was a weird habit her father had ingrained into her. "Wren" sounded like a European last name, but in fact it wasn't. When Kara's family came over from China to San Francisco in the early 20th century, her great grandparents ran into perhaps the biggest thick headed jerk to ever man an immigration desk. He couldn't pronounce their real last name for some reason, which roughly translated to "bird," so he wanted to give them the name "Wen", like all the other Chinese immigrants he helped that day. Fortunately for Kara's family (and anyone trying to look them up in the phonebook) her great grandfather was a naturalist and spoke impeccable English. With a small alteration, they became the Wrens, and all was good. To say Kara's lineage was strange would be a gross understatement.
[ QUOTE ]
It is important to know how to make an entrance.
[/ QUOTE ]
Accustomed to the weight of his case, William effortlessly swapped it to his left hand. Offering out the right one for a strong but friendly shake, he smiled back broadly.
"Yes sir, indeed it is; yet sorry for the ruckus. Names William Baxter, the new Coordinator of Safety for the Building. Ya know fallin, fire hazards, icky stuff where it shoudn't be, and stuff like that. Its a pleasure to meet someone in security first. Ya'll got any thing about me just wandering around pretty freely like? Not wanting to get nobody in any troubles as I go about things. Matter of fact, I'm looking forward to being helpful to ya uhuh"
Pausing his lively ramble a minute he just stood there grinning. As the case swayed in his grasp it rattled slightly from the loose overfilled contents.
Darkness.
Cold.
A stillness grips your heart. You hear a muffled rythym in your ears like the bass drum beat of a distant marching band. A sliver of blinding yellow light cracks across your vision like the promise of a golden path. A large and moving silhouette of something passes through it, and is gone. There is an eye upon you. From where, you can not tell. But there is an eye upon you. The hairs on the back of your neck shift and prickle.
The echo of a drum beats faster in the distance.
Your feet will not take you towards the salvation of the light, no matter how hard you will them to do so. The need to figure out a way grows more urgent as the sliver of gold shrinks away like a door closing in the night.
And is gone.
Alone in the dark, an eye is upon you.
The drummer is franticly pounding his instrument now.
A silhouetted hand reachess out from the dark and touches your shoulder, numbing it like ice...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Aaaahhh!"
Ernesto screamed as he woke, his heart racing in his chest and threatening to escape through his throat. He clutched his thin blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders.
The little red light of his answering machine was blinking. He got out of bed and walked over to it, pushing the play button.
>Boop< "Ernie," a voice crackled through the air, "It's Paulie. Where the [censored] are ya, kid? Yer supposed to be here. >click<"
Ernesto looked at the little blue numbers on his microwave. They were stuck at zero.
>Boop< "I'm gettin sick of this [censored], Ernie! Yer supposed to be here a freakin hour ago! Get your [censored] here or find a new job, you lazy moron! >click<"
He scrambled for his alarm clock, boggling it in his hands and reading the face. It was blinking 3:48.
>Boop< "That's it, you [censored] jerk, yer fired! And don't let me catch yer dumb [censored] lazy goldbrickin good fer nothin [censored] anywhere near my shop or I'll knock yer [censored] head off, you got me?! >click<"
"Oh, no! Oh, no!" Ernesto said, shaking the alarm clock. Apparently the power in his apartment had gone off while he slept for just long enough to reset all his clocks. "Oh, no!"
He had been so close! Working two jobs had meant he could use one income for bills and expenses, and send all the money from the other back to his family so they could move to America with him. But now... With only his night job he would barely be making enoug to break even! He scrambled through his clothes from last night, desperately searching for his picture of Anita. He couldn't find it. Ernesto had never gotten it back from the girls, and it was most likely lost and forgotten somewhere in the emergency staircase.
With nothing left to do, Ernesto lay his head in his hands and wept.
One of Vasquez' personal troopers walked up, lightly tapping the briefcase with his foot.
"Pop 'er open."
[ QUOTE ]
Pop 'er open.
[/ QUOTE ]
William looked over at the guard still grinning casually.
"And how you doing too?" he greeted.
Plopping the case down, he took out a modest set of keys from his pocket. Unlocking it, and returning the keys, he lifted the lid to hang open. Standing back up he put his hands on his hips and just nodded a go ahead. Inside were cable ties, a small first aid kit, duct tape, electrical tape, bailing wire, mini-hacksaw, portable oxygen/mapp torch, welding googles, brazing rods, pliers, wire cutters, screwdrivers, select wrenches, a heavy framing hammer, a plastic bag of spare nails and screws; electrical meter, armored flashlight, and a pack of chewing gum.
"Yeah I'll prob need to add a few things as I get used to the place." he commented.
The guard checked something on a computer screen and nodded.
"Yeh. Okay. Jus' be careful testin' wiff dat stuff."
[ QUOTE ]
"Yes sir, indeed it is; yet sorry for the ruckus. Names William Baxter, the new Coordinator of Safety for the Building."
[/ QUOTE ]
Van Watt looked the man over and nodded. "William Van Watt... Director of Research and Development. If there is somenthing I can assist you with, I will be happy to render it."
With a final nod to the security personnel he smoothed a crease in his suit and turned on his heel, heading for the lift. He figured he could stop in to his lab before going back to his office, taking an oppertunity to check in on his creation.
The Lab
The automated assemblers completed a last pass on the hulking machine and Dr. Van Watt approached it, inspecting the shell. All matched his designs flawlessly and he smiled inwardly.
He turned to the data console and started typing furiously, keying in a new string of commands. Processors powered up in a large computer core, transfering information into the artificial synapses of the metal beast. On the monitor before him, a timer displayed: 4D 7H 16M 28S and began counting down.
The program was designed by a former colleague at Aeon, a man who William had graduated with. The original intent was to use it to reprogram the human brain and have an effective means to rehabillitate convicted criminals, but Van Watt discovered a way to allow it to be housed inside a machine with promissing results.
When Markus Settler died, Van Watt appropriated his program legally, citing that it was a pet-project video game. The Aeon reprisentatives ignored it completely. What truly sealed it was the Last Will and Testament of the equally late Dr. Settler, leaving the program in Van Watt's hands.
His colleague would never have agreed to it in life, but in death left him with an important piece to his A.I. riddle.
Even with the download in progress, the machine was still little more than a statue... not for long, however; soon all the pieces would be in place and science would again take a leap forward.
Dr. McChord took the Z-Chip and the connected device into the test room. It occured to him not to look a gift horse in the mouth till he was sure it was the genuine article. He locked the chamber and tested the chip in the same order.
When he aimed the device at the target, he cranked the dial again. He looked down at the Z-Chip, giving off a faint glow.
Did it do that last time?
He released the dispersal button, the electricity arcing across the room again. The archery target caught fire from the blast. The emergency sprinklers quickly put out the fire. Ethan smiled.
The dispersal is the same. Maybe a little stronger, but the desired effect is still the same. Mr. Tharomar will have no complaints.
He scratched his chin, "Might as well start getting this ready for Project Forcast."
He unlocked the testing chamber and returned the prototype Z-Chip to his personal vault. He then made his way to a crafting table. It was something new that wasn't there prior to the explosion. He'd have to thank Mr. Tharomar for the upgrades later. His fingers punched in commands into the device. The mechanical arms began moving. At this rate, the Chip would be ready by before Christmas and by New Years, he could have at least 4 chips produced, if it was his entire focus.
The words of Clarence Thomas echoed in his head, There's more than one way to skin a cat.
His eyes became more focused on the machine. He was going to show that old man not to belittle those lower on the food chain. Some animals, when cornered, became the fiercest of beasts. Dr. McCourd was going to prove that to the old man.
[ QUOTE ]
Yeh. Okay. Jus' be careful testin' wiff dat stuff.
[/ QUOTE ]
Mr. Baxter just nodded grinning and closed up the case. Locking it again, so nothing could spill, he stood as the other man spoke.
[ QUOTE ]
William Van Watt... Director of Research and Development. If there is somenthing I can assist you with, I will be happy to render it.
[/ QUOTE ]
William slapped his side chuckling and grinned back.
"Well I'll be jiggered you's a just being friendly and saying hi whiles securities over thar. This here's a friendly place fo shure. Truely a pleasure to meey ya all."
Walking further into the lobby he took another gander about. The mail room supposidly had a spot for him with forms and things, but his office was mostly in his hand. He looked at the staircase entrance briefly then decided those are best checked top down. Moving to the elevators, he called one down to get him. Stepping inside one that arrived, he chuckled at the large array of buttons.
*It would be good to do some surprise wanderings before word gets around to much*
"First stop mail room.... somewhere..."
Taking an vaguely educated guess, he hit the button for the first basement floor. Didn't matter much to him if he was wrong, had lots of time. That was one of the reasons he had been hired, patience, that and through years of woodmanship he was very observant. As the lift moved downstairs, he smiled in rememberance of his last job. He liked being liked, and others enjoyed how he could fix things from what was at hand. Whistling to himself as the ding sounded to opening doors, he stepped out to explore.
After dropping of Dr. McChord's package, Milly continued her morning rounds. Those rounds took her all over the building and at each stop she gave those she was delivering mail to a bright, if still somewhat forced smile after last night's events.
"Miss Penny?" She asked the woman, who seemed very... energetic. "You have a letter ma'am."
Pinnacle
Heroes
When in danger, or in doubt; Run in circles, scream and shout.
((Ninjin sent me a message to let everyone know that he is out on business and will be back on Monday. He apologizes ahead of time for any inconvenience this has caused.))
(OOC: Does that mean we can blow up the office building again?! 
)
((Dammit! No, we just fixed the damn thing! 
))
Penny looked up to see Milly, handing off a letter. "Oh, thanks Milly!" she said cheerfully. "How are you doing? You okay this morning? You get home all right?"
She was glad that the younger girl had stopped by, and rifled through her bag to get out a pack of cookies.
"Here, I couldn't sleep last night so I went all domestic an' baked cookies for everybody. When I get home I'm gonna hit the sack harder than a home run ball. I'm on Coffee Number Six right now, and it ain't gonna be pretty when it all comes down."
Penny chuckled.
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
Many guards now wandered the halls with the hightened threat.
Shoulders and feet of one Omaro Vasquez could be sighted several times as he busily whisked through the building, now in full Powersuit armor, and holding a rather large rifle that seemed to be composed of many guns somehow attached together.
At first Ernesto had wanted to curse himself. Turning the ringer off on his phone had been a conscious descision. If only he had left it on it would have woke him and he'd still have his job at the mechanic.
Then he had wanted to just forget bout everything. He turned his radio on. It played the last half of a Longbow recruitment ad before going right into a very happy, upbeat salsa song.
He clicked it off.
He wasn't in the mood for happy anything.
Then he put on a few layers of clothes, wrapped his thin jacket around himself, and stepped out onto the fire escape. Ernesto sat out in the cold, his head leaning on the frozen metal beams that made up the fire escape and gazed down five stories to the alley below.
At least he still had his night job. It paid a little better than the mechanic shop. Someone once told him that there was a law that made them pay you better if you have to work after midnight.
His stomach rumbled loudly.
Ernesto realized with a certain humor that he had quite simply forgotten to eat for almost a whole day. He slipped back through his window and closed it. He stepped over to his refridgerator. It was large and square, and the kind of yellow that only things that used to be white become with age. He pulled the heavy door open.
The smell that struck him was awful.
Ernesto slammed the door shut.
Apparently, the power surge that knocked out his clock and microwave had shorted out the refridgerators motor as well, and everything inside had gone bad. Ernesto shook his head in disbelief, and began carting rotten food out into the hallway to be dropped down the incinerator chute.
His task done, he took a long shower and went back to bed. One thing he learned growing up; If you have nothing to eat, sleeping will help you to not be so hungry.
((Just remember Plague, this isn't an Action RP. Don't worry about excitement just yet. Ninjin has some great events in store for everyone soon. No one will be disappointed.))
[ QUOTE ]
((Just remember Plague, this isn't an Action RP. Don't worry about excitement just yet. Ninjin has some great events in store for everyone soon. No one will be disappointed.))
[/ QUOTE ]
(OOC: You realize I was kidding right?)
((Right right. I meant the first days of the RP were in Oct/Nov (one of those previous months.
) but now, the current day, is December 19th, the day before Christmas vacation. Right?
I thought that Nin described the conditions of the building next-day for our reference, and then we skipped ahead to 12/19.
Just wanna make sure we're all on the same timeline. ^^))
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace