Virgil went with Marcus to find a good observation point, preferably one that served food...

Being primarily a residential area, finding somewhere unobstrusive like a cafe is harder than expected. Fortunately though across the street is a row of apparently abandonned residences, the former inhabitants presumably having been driven out by the effects of the war. Broken windows and peeling paint along with internal weather damage indicate it's probably been a year or two since the last person called the row of close packed houses home.
Marcus and Virgil find a suitable position just a few dozen metres down the street and soon gain access with the subtle use of a boot to the door. In the meantime, Don seeks out one of the occasional passersby (a few children off on errands or housewives on the way to do the days shopping).

Virgil checked a deserted room out for suitable entrances and exits and went in. He stood at the back of the room, deep in shadow and looking out of the window onto the street where he hoped that Don would schmooze the locals.

Don looks out one of the rascals and approaches him after securing his valuables inside his clothes.

"Hey laddie. Do you live around here?", he asks, in Polish.

The child of around ten years old looks suspiciously at the smooth talking man with a bad accent and cheap suit.
"Maybe..."
The empty wicker shopping basket looped over his arm is a dead giveaway that he can't be far from home.
"You don't though do you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:24, Tue 09 Dec 2008.

"No, I don't. Very perceptive of you"

He gives the kid a smile.

"I was wondering who's living in that door, over there"

He points at the soldier's house.

Marcus moved with Virgil to clear the small abode, which didn't take too long.  Satisfied for the time being they set up shop just short of one of the exterior street-facing windows.  The two hung back in the shadows making sure not to make themselves too apparent by being too close to the window.  Marcus quickly scanned for fields of fire and coordinated with Virgil should the shit hit the fan.

The kid shrugged and glanced in the direction indicated.
"I dunno. Some family I 'spose."

"Do you hav a friend that knows?"

He picks up one of the cigarettes as if he is about to use it himself. Before the war he wouldn't even think of supplying a kid with cigarettes, but perhaps it could come to some use for him dealing with someone in the environment.

Marcus and Virgil settle in. Although partially looted, there are still a few items of furniture within including a fairly comfortable lounge suite and battered coffee table. Across the way the soldiers building remains quite, the only activity a white curtain blowing in the wind in a 1st floor window.

"Dunno. Maybe," he replies to Don without commitment.
"I gotta go to the grocer. My mother will be mad at me if I'm not back soon."
Dismissing Don from their mind they began to turn away, their mothers wrath obviously more important in their mind than taking to a stranger.

Gathering information on the solider and his activities is likely to take a long time observing the building they entered, or trying again to talk to a local...

Used to long periods of waiting patiently for an opportunity to strike, Virgil settled into a comfortable position and waited.

Don makes a few more tests to get in contact with a neighbour. He strolls to the other side of the area to see if there is anyone at home anywhere.

Marcus was beginning to wonder if this was a dead end.  Although he had patience for the stalk, he also recognized that their time could be better utilized than sitting on the house of some seemingly random Polish soldier.  He wished he could speak directly with the Polish soldier without compromising themselves.  He would wait for now, but their next stop would be the barber shop.  He discussed it with Virgil, "What's your impression broth'a?"

"I agree that the barber shop is the next line we should pursue," Virgil said, "but we haven't exhausted everything here yet. The guy seems low down the food chain of the ORMO, but he'll know if the gang have ORMO protection. I want to take these guys out badly, but not at the expense of having the authorities come down on us like a ton of bricks."

Marcus shrugged, "Hell, maybe we should just knock on the poor bastard's door.  We got something to offer him?"

"Only the stuff I gave to Don to grease the wheels with the locals," Virgil replied, "If Don doesn't get lucky with a civilian soon we'll just have to do that."

Like most of Poland, many of the homes have been abandonned over the course of the war, but unlike much of the country, Krakow was spared the direct ravages of conflict. That isn't to say there's no damage however. A year or more without maintenance has left windows broken, roofs leaking and doors smashed in by looters.
And so it takes Don a few minutes to find somebody who's both willing to talk, and able to provide a little more information than the kid.

"Yes, I know him," the dishevelled, plump woman at the door says, wiping flour from her hands onto her gray apron.
"That's Kazik. He's a good man, helps out in the garden when he's got time away from his work or not doing his required day of service with the milicja. Shame about his wife though. She caught the flu two years ago, right at the beginning of winter when the hospitals were all full of wounded from that dreadful business up at Warsaw and then the radiation sickness of course had them all packed into the corridors. She never had a chance really but then we can't complain ourselves can we, we're still alive I suppose and have to do our best for the children. They're the ones who've suffered the most you know, parents dead from the plague or bombs or crippled or who knows what and it's the children who're left to suffer. But we're lucky here at least we never got bombed except for over at Nowy Huta but that's a few miles downwind so we were alright up until the famine and plagues and riots. That's what when most people left you know, the shops were empty and it was only those of us who'd been growing our own food out of sight that managed to last but even so it was tough. We lost my sister and her two boys to malnutrition just before the army arrived and handed out just enough to last us until the next harvest...."

A full five minutes later and she finally pauses to draw breath...
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:01, Tue 30 Dec 2008.

Marcus peeks out the window from his vantage point seeing that Don has gotten a talker, and quite a talker she seems to be.  Hopefully something useful will come out of her babbling soon.

"Aye, sad to hear, there are a lot of people losing their loved ones. We hope to be able to make a change. We have a little personell close-by and we are trying to help out whenever we can. We are without a lot of resources, but at least a doctor and a nurse.

You don't know if Kazik are having problems with some thugs around here, or if he is involved with them in any other way?"

"Everyone's got problems with the gangs around here. Outside the old city it's mess but it's home so we stay. The army doesnt' do much anymore but they did try in the early days back before all the zbiegi showed up. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands all looking for food and shelter and taking it from whever they wanted. Good thing hardly any of them have guns otherwise we'd have been run out of here too."
She goes on in the same way, her distrust and scorn of the zbiegi plain for even non Polish speakers to understand.
"At least the gangs keep the area quiet provided we've paid our taxes to them for the week. Poor old Kasia across the way couldn't afford it last winter and they burnt her gardens..."
The next few minutes are filled with stories of what happens when the gangs don't get paid, who had what happen to them and how those who are left have come together into a cooperative to ensure the "taxes" are always paid.

[Private to Donnachaidh (2nd Lt): zbiegi can mean either "deserters", "runaways" or "refugees"]

"So. I guess Kazik is also paying tribute then?"

"Or does the ORMO use them to keep the neighborhood quite? Or are they as I guess, a problem for the ORMO?"

"Well," she looks at Don quizzically before continuing.
"That's just what I was saying isn't it? The gangs demand payment for protection the army can't provide to us poor folk left outside the innner city walls. Of course that protection is almost entirely from themselves and the other neighbourhood ruffians."

"Well, I meant that the thugs aren't supported by the military, but I guess not then"

"Aye. I thank you for taking the time. I hope we can meet again sometime. If you have any questions to me, go to the new hospital, and they will know where I am."

After that, he walks back to Virgil and Marcus.

"Well, the ORMO just cares for the inner city and seem to more or less have left the outer to the thugs. I guess if we clear one gang out, other gangs will be on us trying to put us out of business. As it seems, the gangs doesn't have a lot of weaponry, so our starting point isn't too bad. She said that this soldier was a nice lad, so he probably is just paying tribute"

Marcus laughed as a thought occurred to him, "I wonder if we could be the gang." fully expecting his compatriots to understand his meaning.

"Possible," Virgil pondered, "though it might attract too much attention. Another alternative would be to talk to the gang and offer preferential medical treatment in exchange for strong-arming us. If they don't play nice, i vote we waste the bastards."