"Ha, Sober?" Jen asked, staring between the two fighting conduits. They seemed to be pretty eager for a plan that didn't even have a base. "I think the conduit has a point. I'm not too sure if I want to face The Syndicate. " It was her first sober thought since she had taken a drink. If she was still sober enough to think clearly, she must've needed another drink.
Jen yawned, standing up and moving out the chair from behind her. The floorboards creaked as she stood up. Jen reached for the glass, only to find it wasn't there. Zeke shot her a glance. He was rinsing out the same glass she was just drinking from. "Hey, Zeke. No need to take away my drink now." Jen said, staring at him. "I just need one more swig." Zeke rolled his eyes under his sunglasses.
[MEANWHILE..]
The Syndicate Leader paced the floor of the concrete building. It was located on the outskirts of the Vintage District. It held the squadron of Syndicate Soldiers who conducted the plans in that District. Their base of operations was located on the bottom floor. It was dark and damp, but that was pretty good for most of the men who worked. The few lights in the basement was the odd, glowing green gel filling the vials adorning the basement. Surrounding them was odd looking lab equipment and half-finished experiments. All of the lab equipment was on one, long clean white table. Several Syndicate men were at their stations. They all wore masks, however, unlike the grunts, they had clean white lab coats and long rubber gloves. They were fiddling with small objects and the gel.
Several more Syndicate men stood around the basement. Some were tapping away at computers in the corner and jotting out notes. Others were experimenting in another corner, melding together metal with blowtorches. There were about 40..50 men in that large, concrete basement. The Leader of the Vintage Squadron was still pacing about, ignoring all of the noise around him. He was muttering noises to himself. "Okay.. okay.. got it, got it." The Syndicate was still thinking of the plan. If all went well, he should get a promotion, hopefully. Maybe Co-Leader. As long as some conduits didn't mess them up. Over in the market district, he heard that some Syndicate had been kidnapped and killed by the Reapers. They were starting to be annoying.
"Hey, Lauderdale." He said, turning to one of the metal welders. He turned around, holding a large blowtorch which was still blazing. "Yes, sir?" He asked, his voice a deep, digitally distorted baritone. "Can we dispatch a couple troops to the Market District, maybe help their Syndicate?" Take care of those Reapers?" He asked, staring at him. The Reapers. He knew of the name. They originated from Empire City. Drug Dealers gone bad after the Ray Sphere Explosion. "I believe we can. Maybe get some troops equipped the some conductors, and seem 'em over." Lauderdale replied. "As long as things don't go sour, the Reapers would easily be taken out. However, the Market District Syndicate might have it covered already." The leader nodded, and Lauderdale reported back to his work. Reapers..
The leader walked over to a computer worker over in the corner. He was tapping away rapidly, zooming in and clicking his mouse. On the screen were 9 black and white smaller screens. There were various fuzzy figures moving about on the screen. "And the Museum of a Natural History? How is that going, Johnson?" The leader asked, patting the computer worker's back. "Good, sir." His voice was higher pitched and similarly digitally distorted by the mask. "We have a stable plan that has a 63% chance of completion. On the assumption conduits haven't killed us all and taken over." The leader smiled, which was hidden behind the mask. Everything was going his way today. He had killed a couple conduits. Made a couple of ex-conduits. It was a bright day.
