Frost and Wildfire team up and go off in search of their wit and whimsy; Tenno claimed some strange need to disappear into the red light district; CAPTCHA slapped Bomoh upon the shoulder.
"Alrighty chummers, sounds like a plan. I could use a little escort on my own walkabout, if you don't mind my good man Bomoh."
Each of them received a matrix ping from her Persona, requesting access to any devices they obviously had upon them. Her Marks came as digitized slashes from rose thorns, but they merged into the device icons easily with the permissions granted. As the team split, she whistles to Frost as she makes a gesture. The Carnwennan hovered out of her pocket and skimmed forward in the air before almost 'jumping' up at Frost and into her hand.
"If you need an extra set of eyes, then just ping me and toss Carnwennan about. I can jump in at a moment's notice, and it'll give me a chance to interfere in other ways once I can spin up the sensor suite. Pour one out for Big D when you get to the bar."
She winks, stuffs her hands into her long jacket's pockets, then turns and starts whistling as she traipses into the city.
Bomoh gets to see a down-to-earth approach to legwork in action.
CAPTCHA's eyes flicker every few blocks, and she redirects her steps. Back in The Chosen Hiding Spot, her Steel Lynx hides in its crate with the Ares Duelist on standby to protect the box-- but here, in the city streets, she isn't walking with the eyes in her head. Rather, she is witnessing an overhead view from the Dalmatian drone as its powerful sensor arrays map the area around her and Bomoh. She makes a seemingly random turn down an alleyway and kicks the cardboard off the top of a sleeping man as if she simply knew he was there. Another time, she flips a credstick out of her pocket and into her hand and tosses it towards a young girl wearing a ripped up jacket with a jarring yellow facepaint, the simplest of waves for the girl to fall into step with CAPTCHA being the only introductory conversation made. A third time, Bomoh witnesses CAPTCHA step into a Stuffer Shack and buy a full set of vended clothing and boots; when the machine displays the prompt for a SIN to be displayed, she merely frowns for a moment before her Living Persona manifests over the display and winks to Bomoh before the machine vends its payload for her.
The first man she sits down with at an outdoor stall, a cup of hot noodles going from her hand to the homeless man's. She brushes white hair from her face and listens as he speaks;
"Mmm...Yep, uh-huh...Fightin' goin' on, but gone quiet-like." The man devours the food hungrily. CAPTCHA watches as he slurps from the steaming cup with such greed, as if someone were going to take the food from him. "Birdies started it. Birdies started it. Don't trust the quiet. City doesn't sleep, yeah? Mm... Yep, uh-huh, city doesn't sleep. Never asleep. Not since the lights outshined the...mhmm....outshined the stars."
The young girl, in fierce yellow warpaint, CAPTCHA spoke to in the bright fluorescent lighting of a subway bathroom. CAPTCHA lined out a dose of Novacoke on the dirty surface of the long sink and sat up onto the surface to kick her legs in the air as the girl leaned down to take a hit.
"Fuckin' A, that's right. What are you, the snowdust angel or something? Fuck me, yeah, alright. Damn. Vultures, yeah, I know about them. Fuckers muscled us Yellowjackets outta our turf. No skin offa my back to give someone a little leg up on 'em. Their boss is a mean bitch, and I don't mean your manic pixie slag type of bitch. I mean your evil bulldog kind of bitch. Fuck, what I'd give to string her up from a streetlamp--"
CAPTCHA kneels in an alleyway and slowly places the clothing down. She slides it forward, the outfit in its original vacuum-sealed plastic. She tosses the boots farther into the shadows, where the glinting eyes of a filthy man pierce into Bomoh and CAPTCHA. CAPTCHA raises her hands and backs up a few paces, before smiling easily. The shadow of a man lunges, too-pale arms and too-dirty nails scarcely visible in the blur of his movements as he snatches at the offered clothes. He recedes into the darkness, mumbling loudly.
"Eyesonya. Eyesonya. They-a be watchin, ah, ye, they-a be watching. Eyesonya. Eyesonya. Vulture-a prowlin', a-mouth waterin', a-waitin'. Vulture be lookin' for the carrion prey. Eyesonya. Eyesonya. Eyes all a-gleam. Prayin' and preyin' and peelin' and schemin'. Eyesonya. Eyesonya."
CAPTCHA sighs, staring into the racks of a vending machine. She chews her lip. Then, she reaches over and slowly presses the antiquated, still physical, interface of the machine with a deliberate and exceedingly meticulous series of buttons. The divine combination, C-04. She watches, almost enthralled, as the coil within the machine spins in place and propels a singular granola bar forward. She watches as it tumbles against the machine's translucent plastic barrier. When it thuds in to the bottom she yelps and jumps nearly half a foot in the air, before laughing maniacally and dropping to her knees to rummage into the bin to retrieve her snack.
She rises up and takes two steps to the side to lean back against the machine and gesture towards Bomoh with the granola bar as she peeled the wrapper open.
"Can you believe how much soy they manage to pack into these bars?" She lifts it to her lips and takes a dainty bite of it, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. "Ninety seven percent soy and soy-based product. Right there on the wrapper. Synthetically articulated proteins, soy-based flavor additives, lab-grown nuts. The only natural ingredient used in this drek is 'quadruple distilled water via reverse osmosis and charcoal filtration'. This thing was made with cleaner water than I get in my showers back in Denver. Mmm. Azzies put all this right on the label and people still eat this stuff."
She takes another bite.
"Kinda insane. I mean, I did this one job." She swallows thickly. "It was about fractional costs of soykaf cups. Had to hijack a train to delay the shipment of a competitor's Styrofoam. And people think I'm the crazy one. Ha."
She folds the wrapper over to save the remaining half of the bar, sliding it into a pocket on her jacket.
"Right. I think we got some useful stuff there, I'm starting to wonder if this gang fight was timed around our arget-tay's esence-pray. Something like that suddenly coming to Old Berlin status is pretty scarce. I grew up in a street gang like this, and usually it's blood on the streets until one side's gone limper than a drowned fish. Things are too clean. I'll tap the others, let them know what we learned, but uh...I'm thinking once they get us a van we just go knock on the door and see what's left behind. Whaddya think? Wanna do whatever that spirit-ghost-flight drek is that you mage-types do?"
She blinks and her vision goes briefly filled with augmented datum.
"Oh, man, check it out. One less slice of the pie. Tenno just shot me a message that he's out. That brothel must've had some wiz services to clear that kid's head up. Post nut clarity slaps like a sack of bricks sometimes. Good for him, woulda hated to see him get hurt."