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Post by Smudge on Nov 3, 2020 7:20:57 GMT -8
The lobby and hallway were a case study in corporate blandness, so Smudge doesn't pay them much mind. As far as he can tell, his presence here has raised no eyebrows, and he'd like to keep it that way, but...
Well, shit. A door. Who knew buildings had locks?
I didn't plan this far ahead The Mirrorskin thinks to himself as he becomes acutely aware of anything that could remotely pass as a lockpicking tool. Then again, who needs tools when you have rule-bending Arcadian magic? Because in the end, the key that rests comfortably in the sanitation services door's lock is a lie, make-believe. The only thing that let it into existence is the effort of looking for it and scoffing in surprise when he finds it that Smudge does.
Whatever. It works.
The door is opened.
Smudge uses Hidden Reality to place a key in the door's lock; he fulfills the Contract's Loophole
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Post by Rowan on Nov 3, 2020 12:37:56 GMT -8
Rowan walked in and looked around.
"Where now chief?" he asked, both to keep up his cover and as an actual question.
He spotted a maintenance cart and placed his hands on the familiar handle. The illusion was complete.
"I hope you know where we're going, otherwise this will be a short foray," he added in his usual bland tone.
He wasn't trying to be mean, more thinking out loud, but it always came out wrong. He sighed and just look at Smudge, waiting for the next steps in this Grand Larceny plan of his. The snowskin was being unusually trusting. He was used to working alone, only having to look out for himself. Traveling in packs had been a liability in the Dark Forest and he had found that out pretty early into his durance.
But he wasn't in the Dark Forest anymore, he was in Las Vegas and he had a Court with (hopefully) allies. Still, his paranoid streak was what helped him return and it was a difficult streak to get rid of.
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Post by Smudge on Nov 5, 2020 17:34:04 GMT -8
"Just like in life in general. Upwards."
So far so good. Nobody seems to mind their presence, no alarms have gone off, nothing sinister appears to be going on... which means they should move. At least that way they will be less of a target.
"Fifth floor, to be exact."
He nods, indicating the elevator, and starts walking towards it.
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Post by Krakenbox on Nov 5, 2020 23:03:05 GMT -8
They entered the elevator, plugging in the floor and stepping into a thankfully silent lift surrounded by mounted mirrors. One the third floor, a suited woman pops in and stands to the side, eyeing them up briefly, before exiting alongside them. She checked her phone before continuing towards the investment office, and speaking quietly to the receptionist. Attempts to overhear were fruitless, given the Spanish.
The geometric flower glowed stark white behind the desk, the grey slate panel supporting wall moss arrangements and the sitting area illuminated in a soft yellow light. The woman advanced into the back, past the desks, decorative shelves, and coffee machine.
The receptionist blinked innocently over her cat-eye glasses at the pair in the hallway, before going back to her typing.
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Post by Smudge on Nov 9, 2020 16:08:04 GMT -8
More corporate blandness. Which is probably good, because neither him nor Rowan were made to be anything *but* bland - a small blessing of being a Mountebank, courtesy of Arcadia. Smudge looks around the office even as the two women talk quietly at the receptionist's desk - something his Fall-born (or is it changeling-born?) paranoia made him imagine all these scenarios where they have already been made, despite chances being much more higher that the talk is wholly innocuous.
Hopefully.
And ideally, they could just walk in, being paid no attention by anyone - that the receptionist completely ignored them was a good sign. If anyone *did* aks them what their business here is, Smudge would just try to tell them what he earlier told Rowan their cover story would be. That they are just...
"New employees"
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Post by Krakenbox on Nov 11, 2020 0:12:48 GMT -8
The receptionist ticked her head to the side, making a comment and sounding surprised. There was a nervousness that rippled between the Darklings and the mundane. She asked a question, pausing for an awkward stretch, and seeing Smudge's blank expression, she swapped back to English. "Oh, I didn't know we were hiring. Could I get your name, please?"
Something was being typed as she squinted at her screen. Whether that was cause for alarm or not was unclear. "Who's your supervisor?" It was an innocent question, likely to see who she needed to send a message to about the confusion.
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Post by Rowan on Nov 13, 2020 16:07:19 GMT -8
He slumped his shoulders a little more and took on an unbothered expression.
"I'm here from the part time agency, I don't know who the supervisor is. I was told to go to..." he takes out a random piece of paper from his jumper and pretends to read from it. "Babylonian Investments?" He gave the receptionist a leveled look. "Could you maybe point me in the right direction? I had to turn down another gig to be here."
Technically, that last part wasn't a lie. Rowan reminded himself to come up for an excuse for not showing up to his shift at the school. He had an inner smirk.
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Post by Krakenbox on Nov 15, 2020 22:11:53 GMT -8
The receptionist nods, "All right. Señor Vásquez is just at the end of the hall, he's the Director. He's out for lunch..." she blinks at his maintenance cart, "But it shouldn't be a problem for you to start on a few of the rooms. They're unlocked, so don't worry." She wasn't about to just give the temp a key to the room with sensitive information. Luckily, her desk as well out of sight of the hall that led to all the offices.
She blinks towards a disguised Smudge, unsure where he fit in and waiting for more information.
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Post by Smudge on Nov 16, 2020 15:30:33 GMT -8
Overthinking strikes again, and his sorry excuse for a spy op would fall apart then and there as Smudge is struck dumb for a few precious seconds, if it wasn't for Rowan and his story about a temp agency. The Mirrorskin tries to summon that blank, disinterested 'I've seen all the world has to offer' expression to prop him up.
"I don't even know this guy that well" He says, making a small head motion towards Rowan "But yeah, we're from the same place. And look, do we seem like we know anything about anything? We just go where the money is."
Let's just appear boring and dull.
It seems like their deception, bare-bones though it may be, at least for the time being. The typing worried him - probably without cause, for all the Darkling knew it was a Word document, but still. Doubt lingers. They were in uncharted waters, after all.
"We'll get out of your hair and get started on the open rooms, then."
Even if they don't find anything there, it would be a good place to plan their next move. And even if they do need to get into Vasquez's room, nobody says they can't pull the earlier trick of lock and key.
Wits+Empathy+Spec to analyse the receptionist's state of mind 0 suxx, resolving Steadfast to gain 1 success instead
Manip+Subeterfuge to appear like he belongs, 1 success.
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Post by Krakenbox on Nov 20, 2020 17:10:23 GMT -8
The receptionist seems confused and flustered, though moreso over the fact of looking disorganized and unprofessional than suspect of the pair. So far neither have given her reason to raise alarm. She's either completely comfortable with criminal enterprise, or in the dark about her boss' operation. Whether Smudge is so completely non-threatening, or she is the naïve type, she doesn't make a fuss when he attaches himself to Rowan's opening. A mild smile is offered before she goes back to her tasks. Around the corner is a clear hallway that echoes incessantly with their footsteps. After checking a couple, most are set up in a similar fashion with a computer desk and filing cabinets, along with personal affects like family photos or fidgets. The man who popped into Smudge's favoured bookshop had a placard on his door, and as promised, the space was locked.
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Post by Rowan on Nov 23, 2020 16:27:47 GMT -8
Rowan didn't know computers. Machines weren't afraid and as a result were of no interest to him. He looked around in the open rooms, pretending to look at the scope of work to snoop around. They have been basically told to do so. He rolled up his cart for the sake of the cameras and went at it. To Smudge, he pointed the locked door. 'Do your thing,' he seemed to say.
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Post by Smudge on Nov 26, 2020 15:46:57 GMT -8
Oh, he's going to do his thing alright.
Without words - Darklings worked best in complete silence anyway - Rowan and Smudge split up, with the latter entering one of the empty offices and enveloping it with darkness. Turning off the lights, closing the blinds if necessary. To jump through a loophole in a Contract, but also to compose himself, plan his next move. A whisper, soon joined by another, and another, until they form a deafening storm - and then Smudge vanishes from the world.
He exits the office and heads straight for the door with the placard. He could spend another minute doing the party trick with looking for a key all over the place, but even if no man or machine could see him right now, time was still of the essence. They didn't know how far down this rabbit hole leads, after all, and when someone will become suspicious of the two temps from nowehere.
So, Smudge 'does his thing', allowing Arcadian magic to drip from his fingers, and opens the door.
Light-Shy used with Loophole, no Glamour cost. Hidden Reality used, -1 Glamour.
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Post by Krakenbox on Nov 29, 2020 17:21:10 GMT -8
Rowan's practiced eye honed in on the little things, tracking which specific offices might have a cartel connection, given those currently involved with Smudge's issue. A desk had a roll of film pinned to the cork board — a young couple doing their first shoot at some mall kiosk. The Darkling did his natural fishing for a story that didn't belong to him.
Her desk was way too tidy compared to the shelves, and after taking a minute to finally pop all the disorganized files jammed into the wrong compartments, he started fishing for headers that didn't belong. Secrets that weren't safe at home and close to a company shredder.
Hospital bill out of pocket, for a naloxone injection. A quick Google search confirmed the chemical was to do with overdose treatment. Someone had a dangerous habit. The next bill was for inpatient care. Her boyfriend was in the psyche ward..? That was a quick turn. She must have owed him big time, or the love was real.
--
Meanwhile, Smudge enters from a key that really should have been there the entire time, as far as Arcadia was concerned.
There was a large desk with a flat monitor pitched to the side, to allow the investor to speak with clients and turn the screen based on what he felt they needed to see. There were quite a few filing cabinets, all locked, and a safe on the upper shelf of the display of office hodgepodge to make the place look aesthetically pleasing.
Next to the orchid was a glass vial with a sticker of a flower on it, masked as plant food, but he recognized the pink shimmer he had doused his eyes with at the Mabon festival.
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Post by Rowan on Dec 1, 2020 16:07:02 GMT -8
Rowan flipped his phone and took pictures of whatever seemed relevant. He had to take several, up close snaps because of how grainy they turned out on his burner phone. He then looked at the computer. He knew how to turn it on and play games on it, but that was the extend of his knowledge. And he didn't feel like alerting the receptionist to his extracurriculars. Speaking of which, Rowan affected his usual bored stance and walked back to the lady at the desk. He did what he did best, offering Glamour to the Wyrd so it would relax its hold on this Changeling's form. His body rippled as his nature twisted and contorted.
For a time, cold left his body, replaced with a hunger for gossip and whispers. He was the people huddled together around a campfire, telling ghost stories to one another. He was the network of roots and branches woven through the woods. He shed his Kith for a better suited one as myc elium overtook his body and a giant mushroom bloomed where his eyes should be.
"It's your money and all, but any idea when we'll be able to get to work on that last office? Also, props to you guys, very clean space."
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Post by Smudge on Dec 2, 2020 17:31:00 GMT -8
Truth be told, the first thing Smudge notices in the room was the shimmering vial near the office plant. There was no doubt in his mind that it was the very same substance that circulated at the Mabon event and is the root cause of why they are even here. Without any deep thought, the Darkling grabs the vial and pockets it. Will it be noticed? Quite possibly, but Smudge just can't stop himself. Only this time, he won't be dropping this damnable thing into his eye.
The filing cabinets were disappointingly locked, and Smudge doesn't have the time to bend over backwards to open them and sift through the contents. He does check for any open desk drawers, but holds no hope. That'd be a pretty rookie mistake to make, and there is a limit of how lucky they can get. And then the Mountebank has an idea. An epiphany, even. He stares at and beyond the window placed behind the desk, speaking:
"Last time the computer was used."
One just hopes for a break, and that the monitor wasn't turned to the other side.
Reflections of the Past activation roll: 2 successes, -1 Glamour (assuming the event has happened within 1 week)
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