Ooh, Ohh, Can I pick for @DarkRecon? If so I would put Maria at C9 and Jake at B10. And If I were just picking out stuff for Maria's assault pack myself, based on the description of the mech, I'd really just load it out with a ton of weapons to choose from. Beam Rifle, Assault Shot Gun, Missile Pods. The mech is optimized to use any sort of standard mech weaponry, so load it up with a weapon rack and send it into battle. lol
As the two hostesses went about explaining in detail what their assistance was needed with, Chester couldn't help but start to puzzle pieces together, and through all of it, it seemed as though much of it was very close to home for the pair. The missing member of the Craftsman's Guild, Elizabeth would be able to assist with, which she wasn't a member of the guild any long her parents were still prominent members of the organization, she was practically raised with many of the current big names of the group as nannies and god parents. She would be able to at least point fingers to who might have answers, and perhaps if it was she who was asking, they may give up answers more easily.
Mr Smith, too, rang close to home for Chester. In this particular instance he had gone to school with the fellow. He didn't really remember him much, other than him being a bit aloof? Hyper-focused, perhaps, on the wrong things? Either way, the man had not left much of an impression on Chester, but perhaps there were a few classmates that would remember him better that he could ask.
The automaton parts and plans in all of this were something that were of equal interest to each of the pair. Elizabeth had studied the basics of their construction while at school, but didn't really go much further into their study once she learned of their taboo nature. Chester, too, had learned a bit from Elizabeth about the basic principles of their design as an introduction into her vision of their own secreted project. Indeed, if they were able to get their hands on those plans it might reveal something to the pair that could be useful, towards one project or another.
"We will help of course," Elizabeth started, "While not a member of the craftsman guild currently, I have family who are well established within the ranks of the organization and close ties to others. I would be happy to assist the Captain in making introductions into that line of inquiry. My Husband, too, should be of assistance with the fellow from the Polytechnique Institute, as I recall they were class mates, isn't that so?" She turned to her husband as she asked.
"Indeed it is," His warm and soft voice replied, it was no wonder he had chosen velvet for his name, "Though I must admit I do not recall much about him... However, I may have some classmates who were closer to the gentleman in question whom it would be my pleasure to inquire with. Similarly, with our line of work, I suspect that we may be some assistance with any technical plans that you may find with deciphering meaning and intent from the plans... that seems to be a knack of mine at any rate."
- Mr Brown - The man had listened to the information that was needed. He could help with any of it, of course, but he didn't really feel too inclined to do so. Not yet, anyway. He flipped through the mental catalog of all that he knew about for the Real Mr Brown. It didn't seem like he really had any connection to any of this, outside of the smuggling of restricted tools. David decided that he had better double back to the Mr Browns residence to take a look through his records, see if he was masquerading as the man who actually sold the tools used to kill some people. If that were the case, he had better get out of the way and quick. Maybe leave the real Mr Brown tied up in the library as a parting gift... maybe not. Either way, there were more secretes to be had, and this much secrecy, to pick false names and such, that speaks of people who might be willing to buy, and for a good price, too, if he can find 'em.
A Job is a job is a job. Sometimes they pay better than others, sometimes they are more legitimate than others, as one might say. Sometimes the jobs are dull, and sometimes, just some times, the Jobs lead to something more interesting. The was how Mr Brown came by his invitation, whilst investigating for another job he caught wind of a certain gathering at a certain place where interested parties should meet in a certain library. A masquerade, even, how perfect for him. Mr Brown would have no idea that he was to be summoned to the event, and nobody would know that he wasn't him.
How perfect indeed.
The day of the event Mr Brown received and urgent missive that would keep him otherwise occupied chasing false leads allowing for our Mr Brown to easily make his way to the birthday ball. As he turned the final corner before the mansion he slipped on his plain checkerboard mask, obscuring his face, his trusty hat, freshly cleaned for the event, remained atop his head, keeping his shoulder length hair in check. He held up the invite and nodded at the doorman, who barely gave him a glance. He made his way into the party hall unannounced and silently, confidently made his way through the bored and dull hall. He knew of the host, of course. It wasn't the first time he had made his way into the halls of Supreme Commander. The girl, too, he knew of, but had little no no interest in. Wasn't worth looking at her, anyway. He made no attempt at sliding up to make his acquaintances or give his thanks for the invitation or his congratulations for surviving yet another year in such wealth and prosperity. Such things were so hollow in the first place, coming from his mouth the words would taste like ash and smell like vinegar.
To the library then.
He made his way to the entrance of the Library, unsure of what to expect he began focusing on his gift, "Don't Notice Me" he broadcast in a general suggestion to anyone near by as he slid his way through the door. Indeed the room was impressive, even to someone who wasn't impressed by the demonstrations of wealth. The woman at the door didn't seem to notice him enter, all the same he held up the invite as if to show her, paused momentarily as if they traded niceties and then he continued into the room were he must have been amongst the last to arrive, there was already quiet the crowd gathered here.
Now all he had to do was wait for the information and make his way back out the door and find a bidder for whatever secretes he would be able to plunder.
As Mr Brown listened to the information being presented he could tell that there was something to the story, but he didn't have anything that he could sell, not yet at least. All he knew at this point was what they didn't know.
Going to have to stick it out a bit longer to get anything worth the effort... damn.
The others started giving out names. Too many to remember. If he got a note from someone with clothing and food in the name he knew it would be from the group. He released the suggestion, unsure of how much good it was doing, he stepped out from his slightly obscured vantage point, "Phantom Mask, as it were." He smirked under his mask at how literal the name could be for him.
Mr Brown is a nondescript gentleman with a kind of handsomeness that is pleasing to look at, but you are not to likely to think back on in jealousy or lust. His facial hair is kept trimmed and in good order, his longer hair is often loose beneath his hat, but when a hat isn't involved it is often found pulled back into a ponytail. Dark brown eyes that leave you curious about what is hidden behind them, but no special detail about them reminds you of them when you see something else at a later date. While fit and trim he often dresses in layers as to disguise his form, his movements, and gives him plenty of pockets to put things in and pull things from.
School ――――――――――
School? No time for that, too busy working and earning my keep.
Guild ――――――――――
Guild? Those that need my skills and are willing to pay for them always seem to find me. No need for the guilds to get involved... unless they want to pay me.
Gift ――――――――――
The gift of suggestion: Through a sort of scholarly attribute Mr Brown is able to broadcast a kind of mental suggestion; the simpler the better, and the more focused the higher the success rate. Perhaps if he had ever gone to school to train and develop the skill further he would have been able to use it to its fullest potential, alas that is not the case. Instead he has learned how to use it in a few specific ways: - Don't look at me - Don't listen to me - Don't smell me - Don't notice me at all
Me can be changed to Us and a small area around himself suitable for maybe 2 additional people if they stand really closely together will be blocked from perception.
A general broadcast will catch more people, but is easier to shake off. A focused broadcast will be harder to break through, but really only affects one or two people.
Other people with scholarly abilities are simultaneously resistant and susceptible to the effects of the suggestion. If their gift is in active use, their mind is open and easier to push the suggestion to, but if they are not actively using their gift than their mind is closed and harder to push. The same is true for Mr Brown. If he is using his gift and a mind reader reaches into his mind they will get much deeper than they typically would be able to achieve.
Automatons are not effected by his suggestions at all.
Occupation ――――――――――
Mr Brown makes it day to day by peddling in secretes. Using his gift he sneaks into the targets life and gets information and reports it back to the people that hired him. He can do physical theft too, but is less inclined to do so. More likely to notice something missing than someone standing there in the corner waiting.
Personality ――――――――――
Dameon is crass and blunt and sarcastic, nowhere near a ladies man, and nowhere near a gentleman. He is far too serious, and claims to be too busy for any of that non-sense, there is money to be made.
Why would Captain Kingsford contact them? ――――――――――
They didn't. Mr Brown was on assignment when he intercepted an invitation from the real Mr Dameon Brown. It didn't completely add up, so he kept it and decided to make an appearance to see what it was all about.
Preferred Weapon ――――――――――
If I have to kill a man I'd prefer to do it with my own two hands, something quiet and discreet. A knife works well, a Garrote if there's time and nobody else around. Of course if I can bring a man down without killing him I'd rather do that. Submission holds and other forms of incapacitation are his go to if there is time for it.
Preferred Method of confrontation ――――――――――
One-sided. If he has to fight someone to achieve his task, he would much rather do it without his opponent knowing they were in a fight until it was too late.
Biography ――――――――――
The Real Mr Brown is somewhat of a merchant specializing in acquiring certain items that may or may not be of certain legal statuses... okay, he's a high profile smuggler and drug dealer. What the honorable captain wanted with him is anybody's guess and why he decided to take the invitation and go in his place.
The person before you is not the real Mr. Brown, but nobody in the room really knows that for sure. At least, not yet... he hopes. The person masquerading as Mr Brown is actually David Wheaton. Born as a poor orphan he too soon learned the hardships of life, and too soon found a use for his gift. Dropping out of the provisional schooling that Hourglass city offers to those of his status, he enrolled in the school of hard knocks and earned a degree in Street Smarts, putting his gift to good use making a name for himself by not making a name for himself.
He has a friend from the Orphanage, John Laird, who acts as his Agent and fencer/delivery boy, but if he ever talks about him, he'll almost always be referred to as Jay.
Other ――――――――――
Mr Brown doesn't know if his gift is working, he only knows when it doesn't work.
Mr Brown is a nondescript gentleman with a kind of handsomeness that is pleasing to look at, but you are not to likely to think back on in jealousy or lust. His facial hair is kept trimmed and in good order, his longer hair is often loose beneath his hat, but when a hat isn't involved it is often found pulled back into a ponytail. Dark brown eyes that leave you curious about what is hidden behind them, but no special detail about them reminds you of them when you see something else at a later date. While fit and trim he often dresses in layers as to disguise his form, his movements, and gives him plenty of pockets to put things in and pull things from.
School ――――――――――
School? No time for that, too busy working and earning my keep.
Guild ――――――――――
Guild? Those that need my skills and are willing to pay for them always seem to find me. No need for the guilds to get involved... unless they want to pay me.
Gift ――――――――――
The gift of suggestion: Through a sort of scholarly attribute Mr Brown is able to broadcast a kind of mental suggestion; the simpler the better, and the more focused the higher the success rate. Perhaps if he had ever gone to school to train and develop the skill further he would have been able to use it to its fullest potential, alas that is not the case. Instead he has learned how to use it in a few specific ways: - Don't look at me - Don't listen to me - Don't smell me - Don't notice me at all
Me can be changed to Us and a small area around himself suitable for maybe 2 additional people if they stand really closely together will be blocked from perception.
A general broadcast will catch more people, but is easier to shake off. A focused broadcast will be harder to break through, but really only affects one or two people.
Other people with scholarly abilities are simultaneously resistant and susceptible to the effects of the suggestion. If their gift is in active use, their mind is open and easier to push the suggestion to, but if they are not actively using their gift than their mind is closed and harder to push. The same is true for Mr Brown. If he is using his gift and a mind reader reaches into his mind they will get much deeper than they typically would be able to achieve.
Automatons are not effected by his suggestions at all.
Occupation ――――――――――
Mr Brown makes it day to day by peddling in secretes. Using his gift he sneaks into the targets life and gets information and reports it back to the people that hired him. He can do physical theft too, but is less inclined to do so. More likely to notice something missing than someone standing there in the corner waiting.
Personality ――――――――――
Dameon is crass and blunt and sarcastic, nowhere near a ladies man, and nowhere near a gentleman. He is far too serious, and claims to be too busy for any of that non-sense, there is money to be made.
Why would Captain Kingsford contact them? ――――――――――
They didn't. Mr Brown was on assignment when he intercepted an invitation from the real Mr Dameon Brown. It didn't completely add up, so he kept it and decided to make an appearance to see what it was all about.
Preferred Weapon ――――――――――
If I have to kill a man I'd prefer to do it with my own two hands, something quiet and discreet. A knife works well, a Garrote if there's time and nobody else around. Of course if I can bring a man down without killing him I'd rather do that. Submission holds and other forms of incapacitation are his go to if there is time for it.
Preferred Method of confrontation ――――――――――
One-sided. If he has to fight someone to achieve his task, he would much rather do it without his opponent knowing they were in a fight until it was too late.
Biography ――――――――――
The Real Mr Brown is somewhat of a merchant specializing in acquiring certain items that may or may not be of certain legal statuses... okay, he's a high profile smuggler and drug dealer. What the honorable captain wanted with him is anybody's guess and why he decided to take the invitation and go in his place.
The person before you is not the real Mr. Brown, but nobody in the room really knows that for sure. At least, not yet... he hopes. The person masquerading as Mr Brown is actually David Wheaton. Born as a poor orphan he too soon learned the hardships of life, and too soon found a use for his gift. Dropping out of the provisional schooling that Hourglass city offers to those of his status, he enrolled in the school of hard knocks and earned a degree in Street Smarts, putting his gift to good use making a name for himself by not making a name for himself.
He has a friend from the Orphanage, John Laird, who acts as his Agent and fencer/delivery boy, but if he ever talks about him, he'll almost always be referred to as Jay.
Other ――――――――――
Mr Brown doesn't know if his gift is working, he only knows when it doesn't work.
The night had continued on, peacefully, after the vocal altercation between Elizabeth and the Dame. A few more people had entered as the night progressed and nobody left for long, but eventually Chester noticed the host close the damaged door and gave it a good shaking to test it. He reached over and tapped his wife on the arm gently to alert her, "I suspect we are about to begin."
She looked up from the intricately carved decoration on the nearby shelf, "I would hope so, it seems as though there are plenty of us here... I wonder what it is that they need us for."
The answer to that question came soon enough in the form of a bit of a speech... kind of. The answer as to why them wasn't too clear. They could both envision why Chester might have been needed, being a scholar he was a genius, however this was outside of his usual wheelhouse. Elizabeth, however, didn't see much reasoning for her to be there, but if the Council said that this was an issue facing the safety of Hourglass City and there was a way for them to help, then they most certainly would. Besides, the recent modifications that had been revealed for the Mechanical wings was introduced by the people of interest in this case, and Elizabeth and Chester had admired the work that Mr. Overton had published, his designs were often inspiration and launch point for their own designs for their projects. It was the least they could to bring his killer to justice.
Chester's brain was already starting to draw up hypotheticals. One that caused him to raise a brow in speculation was that Mr. Overton's body may in fact be dead, but that his mind may live on, if nothing else, in the form of a mechanical bird. But, with the limited knowledge that he had on the actual... harvest process Chester had no idea if this was even possible.
When it came time for code names, when the opportunity presented itself Chester spoke, "I'll propose Velvet Pendant for myself." Elizabeth spoke up immediately afterward, "And Quicksilver Glove for myself."
Elizabeth and Chester made their way around the Library, genuinely admiring the collection and the artistry that went into its construction. Elizabeth, always the impatient one, had started to grow bored with the activity and took to making small quips about everyone in the room. Of course, with everyone's masks on it was impossible to say if either of them actually knew anyone, perhaps once the masks were removed they might recognize someone from their pasts, from school. But as the couple continued to stroll arm in arm Elizabeth saw a form that she knew without a doubt who it was, even with their mask on, one Dame LaVerre.
The two had a past with one another dating back quite a ways into their schooling that never seemed to have been dealt with... Whatever it was... It had been a little while since graduating from the program, but all the same their limited interactions since then have all been... well, they could only be described politely as strained, if nothing more than restraint was used in the name of proper decorum. However, her contempt for those who come from more base lineage was never vailed, and while Elizabeth came from a family of craftsman with some renown, her husband Chester had come from squalor. So not only did the esteemed Dame disapprove of Chester for not being born into money, she also had an open disapproval of Elizabeth for marrying 'outside' of her station.
It took several shushes from Chester to quiet his wife before her comments, impolite as they were, about a particular guest became too loud. Those nearby might have heard the commotion but most likely not the content of the words. "Really dear, you must behave yourself or else this petty feud will continue on in perpetuity. All you are doing is giving her credence to her claims about our stations, honestly. Oh, look here, who is this with the wings? Someone we know?"
Elizabeth looked to where Chester had gestured, the distraction worked to keep her from continuing her verbal abuses of the other woman. "I think we do not know her, not yet at least, but I suspect that we may know of her. Come, let us make our acquaintances."
The Lockhearts made their way across the library and approached the winged woman as she conversed with a child. Before they made it to a polite distance another woman made it there, however they must have been close enough as they were included as they made their greetings as the "Honored guests" part of the statement.
"Our apologies for intruding," Chester started speaking, his soothing voice lending its charm, those within earshot might have felt more at ease with their approach, "We couldn't help but notice your beautiful wings and mask from across the room and felt we just had to have a look at them closer, and of course introduce ourselves if we may."
Chester reached out his hand, offering to shake the boy's hand, "I am Chester Lockheart, and this is my wife Elizabeth."
Elizabeth gave a polite curtsy to the group, "A pleasure to meet you all, I'm sure." On closer inspection of the other new comer, there was a chance that she remembered another fellow student from Geraldine's... it was hard to say, but how many women walked about town with pink hair?
With the situation about the assault pack decided Zim was told to get some rest. So he did.
Or at least he tried.
Zim went back to his bunk, saw himself in the mirror for the first time and realized that he was still in his formal uniform. He stripped down to his undergarments and plopped down on the thin mattress, he stared up at the ceiling until his eyes were dry, his body motionless, his face emotionless. However, his mind was running a mile a minute, trying to recall as much about his home planet as possible. It had been a few years sense he left the planet for work, but he still remembered the various landmarks used for navigating the crowded megacities of the capital districts. He pushed past the landmarks, trying not to linger on their histories, and plotted out where he remembered the shelter entrances to be. He would check the mission database while waiting to deploy to see if they had that information already on file. If not, then he would take the time to highlight those areas on the map to hopefully prevent collateral damage in those areas. What else was there? What else could Zim tell them that he hadn't already told them about his home planet that might help them in the mission? There was so much he had never told them, but there was so much that wasn't relevant to the mission that Zim was having a hard time sorting through it all.
His alarm went off, telling Zim to get ready to deploy. He slipped on his athletic gear and he went to the hanger. The skin tight plug suit went on without issue. Zim grabbed his helmet and made his way over to Black Star.
Once on board Zim started the initialization process. His dry eyes straining to focus. Quietly, Zim gripped the controls while he waited for the start up checks to complete, he whispered, "If ever there were a time for you to help me out, it would now, partner. This mission is to save my planet, maybe even my own family... I know that I am not fully in the right state of mind, but I would never be able to forgive myself if I didn't do something. It's thanks to Princess Elizabeth and Katya that I am even able to deploy, let alone be able to use the assault pack. But I can't do anything, not without you."
The system check completed Zim dug into the database to see if they had a complete map of where the shelters were at. If there was already a file on it then Zim would call out on the channel to tell everyone else to load the file in to their nav system. If there wasn't an existing file than Zim would do his best to mark the areas on the map himself.
"Black Star is showing all green," Zim responded to Katya's call for an update. He moved to mount Black Star into one of the Egg Drop Ships, waiting for his opportunity to go out there an hurt some Cruxi. As he sat in the dark space of the egg ship Zim swallowed hard. This mission was harder than anything he had to do before. Besides the technical difficulty of doing and atmospheric drop into a combat zone, this mission actually meant something to Zim. Leviticus was just another planet, the teraformers were making planets like that all the time, so preventing the take over there was a matter of saving a few billion lives. The assault on the station was the first time that the humans had been able to fight back and win on an assault mission. We were able to rescue Elora and capture a high value target. Despite this, it meant little to Zim. Now, however, this was his planet. His family. So if the mission failed, it wasn't just Zim's death, it meant the death of nearly everyone he has ever known- if they weren't already dead. A slight shiver ran down Zim's spine.