For the past month, the curious and mostly empty signs appeared throughout the area.  "Resistance Meeting", "Humans Only", and other such phrases appeared to be the norm as they were scant on details; simply a place and time to meet.  Was it a joke?  Some sort of trap?  There was really only one way for any certainty to such questions be answered.

Some came early to scope the place out while others arrived late to watch and see if anything untowards was occurring.  It seemed a rather odd choice of venue, to state the obvious.  "Mike's" was not anything the title would suggest.  The exterior of the building was slightly suggestive of a log cabin, but had been glossed over with a myriad of colors and wood works that were definitely not part of the original design.  Any who dared inquire, either within the restaurant or around the local area, would quickly learn that the name was a holdover from the previous establishment.  Before you now stood a small shrine to opulent dining.  The parking lot was a list of (very) expensive toys...Mercedes, Jaguar, Ferrari...and from the windows one could easily tell this was not your average burger shack or greasy spoon.  Was this really the place you were meant to have this meeting?  It certainly didn't seem right, like some sort of joke played on the weary and paranoid.

Milling about in their cars or simply pacing, it was obvious to tell who was there for something other than a high class meal.  While several people eventually left in frustration, or perhaps confusion, a few brave (or crazed) souls dared approach the maitre d'.  His gaze confirmed that you are certainly not the usual type of customer yet, without so much as a word of acknowledgement, he would snap his fingers towards his staff and, after whispering something within their ear, would have them lead you back outside towards the back end of the restaurant.  "The staff entrance?" was all any of you could think of, as if the gentleman at the door thought you were perhaps new cooks?

The waiter would ultimately lead you through several turns (the building had a very strange layout; clearly it had never been remodeled, simply covered over) back from the kitchen.  When he finally signals your arrival, before you sits much more of what you had expected to find.  The room itself was simple, 4 walls, perhaps 10x or 15x in size but the decor would be the most astounding.  Just a few feet from the name brand dresses and diamond-covered wrist watches of the patrons dining sat what looked like an old hunting lodge.  The walls were made of actual logs, not that faux relief stuff, and were festooned with the heads of various animals.  Mounted fish adorned other sections and implements of past survival were squeezed in to fill any remaining gaps.  This must have been one of the original sections of "Mike's" and had purposefully been left as is.  Thankfully, they took the time to dust.

Of the small group gathered, no one seemed to be in the know.  Everyone had the same expression of confusion and wonder as they sat or paced about nervously.  In the middle of the room sat a large conference table made from what appeared to be a single slice from a large tree.  To one side, a much smaller table rested against the wall with a few pots of coffee, some bottled water and a few small snacks (chips, light sandwiches, etc.).  As each arrival was lead in, they were afforded only one statement..."someone will be along shortly".  Any further questioning of the waiter would bring the same response or a simple "I do not know".

After an eternity of waiting, as some are becoming anxious and nervous, a lone figure enters the room and gazes around at you all.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting and thank you for coming.  My name is Dr. Ben Taylor and I'm the one who arranged this little meeting.  Please, please, help yourselves to something and take a seat.  We will begin shortly."

He then proceeds to walk over to the craft table himself, pours a cup of coffee, and turns to take a place at the main table.

Dean couldn't tell you why he had decided to come that evening. His father might have called it a "wild hare" moment, while some might chalk it up to him just being a single guy in his twenties, reckless in a way, adventurous in others. He had no love for the Visitors and had joked with those he trusted about "When the revolution comes...". But they had always been jokes.

A contributing factor was that he was actually really hungry by the time the meeting rolled around, so there was that.

A model 69' Ford Bronco pulled carefully into the lot next to a silver BMW and a red Mercedes,it was kind of a blue green with an off white top, dirty and mud flecked with big knobby tires and maybe a patch of Bondo here and there. It idled there uncertainly for a time before the driver killed the engine and stepped out.

The driver was big and wholesome looking, handsome if the covers of cheap romance novels we're to be believed. In brown cowboy boots, some worn blue jeans, a gray t-shirt and a weather stained Carhartt jacket he stood apart from most of the clientele and looked unsure and more than a little conspicuous as he lingered about wondering if he was in the wrong place.

But in time he was led into the back where he looked far more at home. He helped himself to a few sandwich's and a cup of black coffee, then took a seat at the big round table to tuck into his meal.

In contrast the driver of the truck cab parked across the street was also big but not quite as wholesome looking. The years had taken their toll on Martin Roux - where he might have once been considered quite good looking, stress lines and sleep deprivation had rendered him "okay, in a rough kinda way." A single eye glinted out from under his trucker's cap, the patch he wore over the other shrouded in darkness.

He didn't touch the food, didn't touch the drink, didn't ask questions, didn't volunteer anything about himself, just stood in the back of the room, arms folded, waiting to see if this meeting was as big a waste of time as others had been in his past, long before the Visitors came.

In reply to Martin Roux (msg # 3):

Natasha had come in alone. Perhaps some would know, but she did not want to expose her son to this...risk. An attractive woman, her clothes were certainly not name brands. She had found out about this place through a secretive chat, and now began to wonder about some of those on the chat site. But something had to be done, and to do nothing was becoming a greater risk.

As she stayed up the back and looked around, she did not see any unfamiliar faces. She had showered today especially for this meeting, and she hoped it would be worth it. The cowboy, the trucker, they seemed normal enough. The Dr, that was a good sign...they were not treated at all well by the V's, as they were usually smart enough to know when something was wrong.

She looked longingly at the food, but waited. That could come after trust, and that was yet to be earned...

Kick grabs a sandwich and chips and sits at the big table.  He eats fast, just like dad used to before a late shift.

As he eats, he notices the others not eating and wonders what their problem is.  Do they think Lay's is conspiring with the Visitors?  Although he supposes they have a point... you never know these days.  Still, he enjoys the taste of grease and salt, so he keeps eating.  They'd probably all be dead soon anyway, so why not?

He looks from the faces of his peers to the trophies mounted on the wall.  It's easy to imagine trading places with them.  The entire earth has become a clubhouse for the alien worms who took over almost effortlessly.  Someone or something would always be on top.  His dad had been a realist, and so was he.

But before he dies, he wants to get him a piece of the Visitors.  He finishes his sandwich, even though the mustard is thick.  He licks his tough, calloused fingers.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:54, Thu 18 Apr 2019.

Frank was one of the last to arrive, having parked his old pickup truck up the street and walked the last bit to Mike's. On entering the restaurant he presumed that he'd got the information about the meeting wrong until the head waiter, or whatever he was titled, had sent him round to the staff entrance with a quick whisper. A couple, the man in a smart grey suit and the woman in a flowing green dress, that Frank guessed was probably very fashionable, passed him as he exited the main entrance, confusion on their faces as to what he was doing inside Mike's. The old hunting lodge, in contrast, was both welcoming and impressive and he took a few moments to admire some of the trophies displayed on the walls, showing a degree of professional interest in them.

He made it just in time to listen to the introduction and, at the mention of the food, he made his way over to the side table, found a bin nearby and spat a piece of chewing tobacco into it. In his mind they were always rubbish bins rather than trash cans, a legacy of his early childhood in England. Having disposed of his tobacco he then took a drink from one of the bottles of water to clean out his mouth and then helped himself to four sandwiches. They were better than the PBJs he'd been eating for the last couple of days.

Clothing wise, Frank appears to be following a style from the film First Blood, wearing heavy black work boots, blue jeans and an OD green combat jacket in a look rather reminiscent of the character John Rambo. That is the only comparison however as Frank is much smaller physically and nothing like as imposing a figure, standing well under six foot and looking quite skinny in his baggy jacket. Also whereas Rambo exuded self confidence, Frank seemed rather jumpy, possibly even nervous in a crowd of this size.

Glancing round the room he recognised a face, a lady from the same trailer park he lived in. Nat or Natasha or something like that and without her kid for once. He gave her a nod of greeting but didn't approach her, picking a spot of his own on the wall instead where he could lean and see most of the people in the room. He didn't like having people behind him as it made him jumpy.

"I see you've noticed the decor.  This restaurant once belonged to my grandfather, a very proud, some would say arrogant man, who believed in using ones own hands to survive.  He loved the outdoors...hunting, fishing, trapping..."

He pauses with a look of contemplation etched into his face.  The sadness he hid behind his eyes was obvious.

"...he was a man of simple tastes.  A good man."

His words trail off as he focuses on his coffee.

"Are you the guy?" Roux asks, Louisiana heavy in his voice. "Can we get this thing started?"

Dean had finished his sandwiches, leaving just a few crumbs on his plate and had been about half way through his cup of coffee when the man the would come to know as Dr. Taylor spoke up.

Dean had been listening, seeming to sense to beginnings of a story maybe as he say back in his chair with one leg crossed over a knee, but Roo's questions caught his attention immediately. Here was a man that did not screw around by the looks of things.

Trish had arrived early but sat so long in her car that she’d entered late. It was quite a decision, exiting the old green pinto; kermit as it was affectionately known. She didn’t trust the Visitors, never had, but losing a friend to a conspiracy, to lies that made no sense, galvanised her to action. At least it had made her serious enough about action to come to the meeting.

More than once on the circuitous journal inside she almost changed her mind. The whole thing felt dangerous and she was unsure.

Upon entering she made her way to the coffee and made herself a strong, black, cupful before settling near the wall to survey the others there. She was an attractive woman, early thirties, with a striking face and fatigue written on her features. She hadn’t long come off shift and her professional attire, black trousers, blue blouse, were a little rumpled, her curly hair a little frizzy.

The coffee gave Trish something to do with her hands, helped prevent any nervous fidgeting. Not that she looked overly nervous, she hid that behind a somewhat cool air that was all for show. She listened without comment.

"A man of action not words I see.  Yes yes, very well.  From the looks of things, this is probably all we're going to get."

Standing up, he slowly walks toward the coffee pot, downing the remainder of his current cup.

"First, let me assure all of you that you are perfectly safe here.  The man who runs this establishment was a dear friend of my grandfather... and he owes me his life."

Having refilled his cup, he makes his way back to his seat.  Taking a long sip, he pauses, staring at each person in turn.  It would be several tense, quiet seconds before he spoke again.

"So let's get straight to the point then.  There is something definitely wrong with our alien friends.  Everyday damn day it's something or someone new.  I've been working with one of the universities in the city.  Last month, those damn Visitors, with a police escort of course, raided our entire department!  And our lead researcher?!  Arrested!  Seditious acts and conspiracy their warrant said...and it's pure garbage.  I've known that man nearly 20 years.  Seditious acts?  The very idea!  The man was a brilliant surgeon and even better researcher."

His anger was palpable.  Raw emotion streaked across his face.  The more he spoke, the more resonant his voice became.  If he was acting to gain your trust, he was a damn gifted thespian.

“Perfectly safe, are we?  Let me tell you something, pal: there isn’t a safe place anywhere on this planet, and there won’t be until every one of those things is gone.  We should all think of ourselves as dead already... because we are.  The only question is how much punishment we can inflict before they get to us.”

Kick closes his left hand around his right fist and squeezes until a knuckle cracks.

“We know they’re the enemy.  The question is what are we going to do about it.”

Once it seemed that everybody who was going to arrive had, Dean took another moment to look over the kind of people who would show up to such a potentially risky meeting.

The Trucker looked like a no-nonsense kind of guy, tired, kind of worn out. The eye patch was kind of intimidating in a way, but also a little sad in others. Must be a hell of a thing being blind, he thought to himself, and this guy was already half way there.

Along the same lines, the guy in the camo jacket looked pretty much like what he might picture for this kind of thing, maybe guys in the woods with military surplus, planning for "the day" and digging bunkers in their spare time. Being able to pack in four sandwiches in a sitting was no small feat either, so he wondered if much like himself, the promise of food had been a contributing factor.

The first woman to arrive, the one that kept standing, he felt like he knew her type, probably like she knew his. K-Mart blue light specials, yard sales, and maybe a broken down car on the front yard. He had close family that lived like that, and while he had the advantage of living on other peoples property most of the time, he knew that he was probably in the same boat if he was being honest. But why come here?

The guy with the curly hair had big city written all over him, brash, dramatic, probably watched way too many movies. But for all that he looked like he could handle himself in a scrap, so, who knew what he had going on?

And finally the late comer, the nurse? Doctor? maybe an office worker? He knew that look all too well, like a seventeen hour day around harvest season, and the bitter bite of the coffee she was drinking. Dressed real nice though for having worn them all day, probably made easily twice what he did he figured...

A good looking batch of folks over all he decided, you could cast them all for a daytime drama and do a hell of a whole lot worse. And as for their host, well, he seemed to be used to a little more genteel crowd.

"Sorry to hear about your friend Doctor" Dean added in a warm voice, a slight "country" accent noticeable at once. "I've heard of them takin folks, rumors mostly, but I've never heard why exactly" it was phrased like a question, like he wanted the man to continue.

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 11):

"Been a lot of good smart folks disappearing. So, why is there something we can do about this one?"

She stayed otherwise quiet, watching the others closely, not sure about trusting any of them.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:07, Sun 21 Apr 2019.

"I understand your concern, even if we may disagree on the scope of what's going on.  Let me clarify, we are completely safe here, tonight.  I have arranged several lookouts and many of the staff here are still quite loyal to my family.  Besides, we haven't done anything wrong.  Nobody here has conspired to do anything illegal so they have no authority here for any reason."

As the doctor spoke, his voice began to rise.  Clearly, he had been restraining some deep emotions around the subject.  He paused, realizing that his calm had been compromised.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, returning to a more relaxed position as he had risen from his seat slightly with the timbre of his voice.  Turning towards Dean...

"Many of these rumors are based, largely, in fact.  Many people have been detained by the Visitors for questioning, and quite a lot never return home.  Whole families have disappeared in some cases.  Where are these people going, is the question?  As for why?  They keep saying the same damn thing, over and over, conspiracy, conspiracy, conspiracy.  This plot, that plot.  I'm telling you, it's a targeted movement, I just can't figure out why."

Trish didn’t feel safe, the assurances of the other doctor couldn’t grant her that; the young man with the high testosterone levels didn’t help. Much of the reason she was there was certainty that her friend had done nothing wrong, and yet there had been a confession, and now her friend was gone.

“How could you?” Trish asked after a moment, deciding that if she was going to be there she wasn’t going to hide in the corner all night. For a long time she had doubts about the Visitors, anger and suspicion, but she’d kept silent, there had been no one safe to share them with. Now the words poured out, she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“We don’t know anything about them. Not where they’re from, if they feel the same emotions as us, how they procreate. Nothing about their social, familial, or political structures.” Trish didn’t look so tired now, a flush coloured her pale skin and the passion she normally reserved for medicine shone through.

“If an emaciated person steals a loaf of bread we can guess that he probably did that because he was hungry, we understand,” she emphasised the word, her voice was at the deeper end of feminine and husky. “but we don’t even know if they eat. We might be able to guess what they’re doing from their actions but we can’t know why. It’s not an accident they know everything about us and we know nothing about them.”

“I came here to kick some alien heads in, not to philosophize.  If that’s what you people are here for, thank you very much for the sandwich, but count me out.”

He looks at the doctor, saying with his face all that must be said.  Safe?  Really?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:13, Sun 21 Apr 2019.

"Ain't nobody forced to be here," Roux spoke up. "Only thing that's gon' have any chance of success is unity of purpose. Y'all done heard the Doc's pitch. That's it, that's the show, that's the deal. Buy your ticket or move on down the boardwalk to the next barker, maybe they sellin' somethin' that does it for you."

In reply to Martin Roux (msg # 18):

"I seemed to miss something in the pitch. Ok, folks are missing, but what do you propose to do about it?"

"I would imagine he ain't done sayin' his piece yet. Some folks are like that, they like to circle around a point before they jump on in." He settled back, waiting for the Doc to continue his spiel.

The corner of Dean's mouth quirked just slightly. "Well...I mean it is a conspiracy, to be fair. That's why we're here right? We're not alright with what's been goin on and we're hopin to do somethin about it."

Natasha's own question seemed to mirror what he was talking about. "I don't want good people hauled away for no reason. Don't think many people would, but I'm not real sure what I can do about it honestly. That's kind of what I was hopin to find out tonight."

Orlando had been quiet, real quiet. These disappearances had been affecting his clientele, and his paranoia had begun to get the best of him. He took gentle sips of a glass of water and listened.

He was quite interested in what more the doctor had to say.

"Why did they target your friend then, if the charges were baseless? And do you have a method of resistance to keep them from continuing to kidnap people or other more nasty plans our guests have?"

Despite the clamor of questions and responses, Ben stayed calm, at least outwardly.  He listened intently as each spoke, concern running across his forehead as he took each statement in.  Once more he paused.  Leaning back in his chair, folding his fingers in front of his mouth, he looked more a man in devoted prayer.

"I can see emotions are high here.  Now that's a good thing."

His voice had suddenly changed from the smooth, cool sound you would expect from a surgeon into something a tad more...down to earth.

"And I can also see most of you are at the end of your ropes.  Again, now that's a good thing.  Cause you see, our governments are now theirs.  Our armies are now theirs.  Our police...are now theirs.  And all we have left...is us.  But as you see, we're a rather small group.  We brave few.  People are scared.  They're too afraid to face these things...and meanwhile, we slowly disappear, one by one.  What we need is something.  Anything.  We need to find out what they're doing...really doing.  We need to know everything, and I mean everything about these creatures."

By this point he has risen from his chair.  He brings his fists down onto the table, not punching, but with force, resting into them.  Again the calm demeanor blankets his face.  When he speaks again, his voice has returned to it's calmer tone.

"What I propose...is we be the ones who do something about it."

Dean was not quite sure what he had been expecting. A fundraising pitch maybe? Some kind of political movement or petition? But it sounded to him like this guy was talking about actual boots on the ground kind of fighting back, and if he was honest with himself, he did not exactly know what that would look like.

Had it been tried before? If so where? And was there any other country that had the right mix of aggressiveness, rugged individualism and an abundance of personally owned firearms?

Dean let a few moments pass after Doctor Taylor had made his point. The man had a gift for conveying passion, but he was still short on details.

"It sounds like your kinda preachin to the choir Doctor. And I like what you're sayin, I do, I wanna help." He said sincerely.  "But like you said, they have the government, the military and the cops. Where would we even start?"

“I think they’re here for exactly the reason John told us during first contact.  They need our resources to produce certain chemicals that are essential for them.  What they left out is the part about making us disappear if we don’t go along with the program.  But we should have expected this.  Look at earth’s history.  What happened when the Spaniards met the Mayans?”

He bites loudly into a chip, as if providing a demonstration.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:33, Mon 22 Apr 2019.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 25):

Natasha simply said nothing, waiting to hear something more concrete.

"When the Spaniards met the Mayans. When the Americans met the Sioux. When the Dutch met the Congo. Human history ain't nothin' but empires eatin' what smaller. But that ended when America met the VC. Biggest army in the world fightin' against pig farmers with Soviet surplus rifles, and we got our rear ends handed to us."

"Maybe humanity deserves this for the weight of our collective sins, but that don't mean we can't fight back. Even if it means fightin' our own people more n' the V. Because I'll say right now, there ain't no innocents. There ain't no neutral when survival is on the line. Only resistance and collaborators. And collaborators deserve what they get."

Orlando modded. He was in. “Start with them manufacturing plants I would say. See what they doing. We need to start stockpiling weapons, and explosives. Those will be the next to go.”

"Hey, slow it down, buddy." Roo held up a hand. "Don't talk  about nothin' that's gonna get you locked up until you're sure all the ears around are on the same page as you."

Trish didn’t speak. Her own question had been asked on the lips of the good looking country boy and she did have anything to add right then. While she had her own opinions about the motivations of the visitors, there had been enough questions thrown around. She just watched, intelligent grey assessing her compatriots. Where they trustworthy?

Kick is tempted to point out that America won all the battles in Vietnam and that Saigon didn’t fall until two years after we’d left, but he keeps this information to himself.  It has little to do with the matter at hand.

Roux would be tempted to point out in turn that he was there and Kick wasn't, because oh man, Kick would be so owned. So very owned. He'd need some ointment to recover from that burn for sure.

"And that, is precisely my point.  We may be small in numbers but history has shown that even small groups can achieve a lot."



"Precisely.  Knowledge, information, these are the hallmarks of any endeavor.  Before we can decide what needs to be done, we need to know what exactly is happening."

"And before that we need to know who is in. And who ain't."

In reply to Martin Roux (msg # 34):

"I have been in the business of gathering information for years. Especially what I could find about the V. Of course I am in..."

Orlando nodded. “I’d reckon anyone willing to risk arriving to a meeting like this is in, didn’t exactly scream “visitor appreciation group”. I know I’m in.”

He shuffled in his seat a bit and drank some water before adding “be nice to know why they are taking who selective people.”

"I'd like to know that too, I lost a friend." Was she in? Patricia felt her insides knot when it came to actually verbalise a decision. She barely knew anything about the people, except that they'd all gone to the meeting; same as her. That was something. It was always going to be dangerous. "It's probably a good time for anyone who isn't 'in' to leave though."

"Hell, I'm in too" Dean added with some resignation. In truth he had probably been committed ever since he decided to show up to such a thing, but with the others making their impromptu oath of allegiance, he felt obliged to state it as well.

It was this or just continue to do nothing, and with the way things were going, he knew he could not look himself in the mirror if he missed a chance like this.

“I’m in... for now.”  He licks the salty crumbs from his fingers.

"The V have it in good with our government - hell, at this point they probably pulling the strings. To Uncle Sam we gonna be criminal conspiracy at best, terrorists at worst. Justice and what's Right don't even gonna enter into it, criminal is whatever the V gonna say is criminal."

He regarded Kick. "We do this, every other person here got our life in their hands. And they gonna hold that power until the V is gone. So there ain't no 'out'. I ain't gonna trust nobody with my life, my freedom, unless they in this to the bitter end, death or victory."

Ben continues to hold his position, knuckles down supporting his weight upon the table.  He looks back and forth as each speaker joins in, his calm exterior holding as he absorbed the direction and mood of the assembled.

"It seems rather obvious to me that everyone here is here for the same thing.  We all want to do something.  If we do this...if we go ahead with anything...then as Martin has pointed out, our very lives are in each others' hands.  You need to ask yourself honestly if you can uphold that level of commitment.  I certainly would not begrudge someone not wanting to take on that level of responsibility.  If any of us are caught in the commitment of something deemed 'traitorous' or anything of the sort, we have a pretty good idea what our justice system will do but we have no idea what the Visitors are capable of.  Ask yourself if you're ready for this.  There's the door if you're not up to it.  Otherwise..."

He slowly begins to lower himself back down, his icy demeanor holding sway across his entire face.  Once more his hands fold in front of his face, fingers spread and stretched, points meeting in a loose triangle.

"...we have some plans to make."

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 41):

"All that is needed for evil to triumph is for good folk to do...nothing. I won't be condemning Peter by my inactivity."

Kick says nothing further, although he is clearly amused that his new comrades still imagine that they have a shot at survival, much less freedom.  As for himself, he doesn’t mind being a walking dead man.  Everybody dies some time.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:33, Fri 26 Apr 2019.

Frank had been stood quietly at the back, well mostly quietly as he had been munching his way through his pile of sandwiches, while listening to the discussion unfold. He didn't have the personal motivation of a missing friend or relative that several of these other people gathered here had but he recognised an invader when he saw one and it was clear that the Visitors were taking over his country and he wasn't about to sit around and do nothing about it. He'd seen brutality in Vietnam and had been stuck in a questionable war that the politicians had refused to let the soldiers win but he'd done his bit and he wasn't about to let America be taken over like this.

He had some questions though, questions for the Doc who was doing the recruiting initially but questions for everyone when it came down to it. "Doc, if you're talking about doing something active then I'm in," he started, "but I'm keen to know how far you're prepared to go? Are we talking about just breaking into one of the manufacturing plants that they've taken over to see what they're doing or are we talking about more than that?"

He took a gulp of his water before continuing. "I mean that breaking into a plant will give you a brief window of time to work stuff out before we need to get the hell out of there. We need to do a recee to figure out what their security is like but regardless of what we see we need to be in and our damn quick and that won't give you much of a window for much figuring out."

Pausing again he glanced around the other people in the room. "That's why I ask how far are you prepared to go. Sounds like we might well end up in a set to with their security and that's risky. Real risky. We could get ourselves some firearms but they'll probably respond in greater force than we can handle so I think that we need to flip the odds in favour of us. You want to understand them more, learn more about them. I get that and I want the same but the best way to do that is to grab one of them and interrogate him or her. Take them somewhere secure we've set up, strip them of all their gear and get the intel we want from them. That crosses several boundaries though that people might have so is that what you're talking about doing in the end? Just how motivated is everyone? People sound like they're prepared to fight but let's be clear about what that means. That probably means killing. And not just killing Visitors. There are people getting told what to do by Visitors and what are we going to do if we end up on the wrong side of one of them. Everyone should know what they're getting into."

It was clear that Frank had crossed that Rubicon, that boundary, and that he was happy to accept the consequences.

"Collaborators deserve what they get," was all Martin had to say.

"Agreed but some of them have been forced to collaborate," replied Frank with a nod. "Saw it a number of times in 'Nam. Villages forced by the VC to hide weapons and food for them but we still burned the villages and moved the occupants on to other places. Not their fault but they were caught in the middle of it. This is a war though."

"Life wasn't fair before the V came, it ain't gonna be fair now. Especially for the innocent, especially in war. Only people who say different don't know what they're talking about." He tilted the brim of his cap. "I'll tell you, though, straight up, I will sacrifice every last drop of my blood on the altar of human freedom to kick their butts back into space."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:11, Fri 26 Apr 2019.

Dean listened to both Frank and Roo. He was younger than them both by a fair margin, and likely significantly inexperienced as a result, and while he may have had the same kind of reservations as any person discussing dangerous politics in mixed company, at least he seemed clear eyed about it.

"I mean, I get that they aren't gonna leave us alone just because we ask'em nice." He began as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm no soldier, never been involved in anythin like that. I like to think I got what it takes, but I figure just about everybody likes to think that, and the truth is that not everybody's cut out for that kinda thing" he paused for a few moments, seeming to think over his words.

"But I've worked a few trades that might be handy. If it comes down to it, and we have to fight, what happens is gonna happen, but I would like to do my part." he said with more confidence.

"Only need two things, pal." Roo nodded. "Sacrifice and brotherhood. If you can offer that, we can change the world."

In reply to Martin Roux (msg # 49):

Not having experience in war or combat, Natasha said nothing and listened.

"Agreed, Frank.  Everyone should know what we're getting into.  At least I hope we're about to get into killing Visitors and collaborators, as often as possible before they get us.  Maybe it'll make a difference and maybe it won't, but they won't get earth without a fight."

He adjusts his sunglasses (the only thing he had in common with the Visitors), which had slid out of place.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:26, Fri 26 Apr 2019.

“I’m not a soldier, but what I’m interested in is exposing what these Visitors are and what they want. Then maybe we wouldn’t just be a handful of people in a room,” Patricia said, some of the comments were making her distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not naive, I see the effects of violence every day and I understand how something like that involves risk, probably casualties. I’m sure there will be fighting.”

“But if the goal here killing human beings, ‘as often as possible’  then you can count me out. I’m not a murderer,” her grey eyes turned briefly to the brash young man in his glasses, so casually planning his last stand. “Our governments aren’t exactly trusting, over three decades of cold war shows us that. But they all welcomed these visitors with open arms? I think finding out why there are collaborators is more valuable than killing them.”

"Just to be clear," replied Frank a little more calmly than he'd spoken before, "I'm not up for killing for killing's sake. I'm just making sure that everyone is aware that what we're talking about here is going to involve people getting hurt and some of them will be humans. Doesn't matter if you've never held a gun in your life before as there are several of us here that have and we can teach you how to shoot. That's not the hard bit. Being prepared to shoot at someone is the key thing."

He glanced around the room again, trying to get a gauge on people, before turning to the lady with the curly hair who had just been talking. "You've raised an important point," he said to her. "Exposing what these visitors are means having a plan to tell people. That means that once we've got something damning to tell people we need a plan of how to do that. That's pretty simple if you think about it. We're going to have to seize a TV studio at some point. Transmit a broadcast of whatever we've discovered and then run. That's several steps ahead though. First of all we've got to find out more about the visitors and we've got two ideas of how to do that so far. Breaking into one of their manufacturing facilities and taking a Visitor prisoner. Anyone got any other ideas?"

"Whatever the distance needed, we can't plan a single move without information.  Checking one of the factories, sure, it's certainly on the table.  But not everything has to be done with force.  If we can get people into places, if we can get ourselves into places without them knowing who we are, that puts us at an advantage.  If violence is the only solution, then we will cross that bridge when we need to.  I think we need to go slow.  Study them and their habits.  Gather some intelligence where we can, both from the them and those helping them."

Dean sat up and put one hand on the table. "So it sounds like we're all in." he looked to Taylor. "What's happens next Doc?" It was at it's heart an entreaty to action and plain speech. They all agreed that it might be dangerous, they all agreed that action was required and that they needed more information. They all agreed that the cause was just.

What he was looking for were essentially marching orders, a real plan of action or at least some realistic schedule for such a thing. Were they going to train? were they going to gather supplies or equipment? what would be their first objective? All of these he more or less implied with his question.

"I will freely admit the obvious...this is not exactly my area of expertise.  Nor am I expecting to be some grand leader here.  I really don't know what would be a logical starting point.  Observation?  Supply gathering?  I was hoping someone here might have a better handle on such an endeavor.  Those of you with military experience...?"

Roo shook his head. "My service was a long time ago, and I wasn't never nothin' but boots on the ground. I'm willing to do whatever this takes, but I know enough about operational planning to know that it ain't for amateurs. Saw enough of that in country."

He took his cap off and scratched his head. "To be frank I'm just a trucker. You need something moved, I can get it there. Other than that, all I have to offer is my dedication to the cause. We in this for real, I ain't never gonna let none of you down."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Sun 28 Apr 2019.

"And a man who knows the roads is of value for certain.  You've been dealing with all their checkpoints routinely, yes?  Then you know how they operate.  You might even know the layout of a few.  What you need to get through.   These things can be very important.  Do you do many runs into the city or out of state?"

"Cross country, mostly. If we need something moved somewhere, I can probably find a legitimate delivery that will give me the papers I need to get there. The highway checkpoints are random and not too careful... there's just too much shipping and not enough manpower to lock it down."

While Dean did not react much outwardly, inwardly he had to admit that he was just a tad crestfallen. Some wild part of his imagination had envisioned some vast conspiracy, hidden groups operating in every state, passwords, cold war stuff.

He had fallen short of expecting the wall to open up into some white laboratory type area, or a big room with screens on the wall. Some "Q" like figure showering them in all sorts of cool gadgets, but he had thought that maybe there was more to it than this.

At the same time it was nice, and he could wrap his head around it. This was it, square 1, the ground floor. They had all taken a chance, and if the local smokeys had not kicked in the door to arrest them yet, he figured chances were pretty good things were on the up and up.

"Well, might as well start with stuff like that then. Like bein back in grade school" Dean agreed with an open palmed gesture to Roo. "Knowin where we're comin from will at least let us know what we're workin with."

And without any ceremony he raised the hand slightly. "I'm Dean, I live upstate a'ways. Grew up local mostly, never went to college, I work as a Hand for a few of the outfits up that way, turkey and cattle mostly, and I help out with the stock on a few of the touristy places. Might bring in a load of potatoes or turnips come season, but it's mostly odd jobs, mending fences, cuttin wood, things like that." he looked expectantly back to Roo.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:08, Sun 28 Apr 2019.

Roo nodded. "I'm Martin, but folks call me Roo on account of my last name. Roux, with an x, it's French. From a small town outside of the Big Easy, but left that when I turned eighteen to see the world on Uncle Sam's dime.

"Don't get too excited though, I ain't no special forces badass. Barely a soldier then, ain't one now. Only thing that stuck with me is brotherhood, so if you're in it with me I won't let you down."

"A man who knows his way around the areas up north, now that's pretty handy, especially if we need to hide out somewhere.  I'm assuming you know many of the locals?  Perhaps those that would be sympathetic to this?"

"But you were a soldier, which means you at least have some basic knowledge of things the rest of us might not.  And getting around the checkpoints is definitely something handy."

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 62):

"There are other ways of getting in, without actually being there. Electronically. I work in security, and paranoia of the V's can work in our favor. They are installing cameras everywhere, cameras that can be used can operated remotely. Thing is, all this networking stuff is relatively new, so is their security. I might just be able to find out some information, if I can get onto their networks. I even have one of these new mobile computers... though I can hardly lift it myself."

OOC: Technically a laptop, the first Compaq Laptops were huge!
This message was last edited by the player at 21:29, Sun 28 Apr 2019.

Dean nodded. "Might be a few around, and there's not many folks in those parts to start with. Lotta old back roads, overgrown fire lines, plenty of places to lie low for sure."

He listened to Natasha. "Well that's lucky, I doubt most people know about that stuff aside from the folks workin for IBM and whatnot. And we've got one right here. Whad' you say your name was?" he asked. She had not given it of course, but he tended to be polite.

"That is excellent news!  So far they've demonstrated that they can hijack our airwaves whenever they please so it would be a great asset to have someone who knows their way around such systems.  Surveillance too!"

"Exactly.  Perhaps a good location for a base of operations or something like that.  A hidden spot we can gather in safety."

"Yeah, I seen that movie War Games. Amazin' what kind of stuff they got computers to do. You think the V got 'em too? Or are their computers more like on Battlestar Galactica? All glowing orbs 'n colored lights?"

"Actually Roo...you may be onto something.  They give tours of those giant ships, don't they?  Sure, they don't show you the real nuts and bolts but it just might be worth a visit.  At least get a surface idea what we may be dealing with."

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 67):

"Yeah, I dunno. I have hear rumours that they actually look nothing like human, so their 'tours' might just be a way of getting our ID. Personally, I would prefer to get one alone with a piece of his gear and look over it myself. I am guessing it is way more advanced, but hey that might just mean more vulnerable, too, it they are linked better.

A lot of rumours, actually. Some say that the guys they kidnapped are being taken to camps somewhere. Some have suggested that they are being modified...any way we could track your missing friend?

Names Natasha. Thanks Ben."

“How do you know so much about them?  I’ve never heard any of these rumors you keep talking about.  Do you have a source?”

He awaits a reply from Natasha with arms folded.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:42, Mon 29 Apr 2019.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 69):

"Of course. Have you not heard of Robin Ramsey's "Lobster" magazine? Ok, that is still pretty new, but "Discover" magazine is much older, and some of the things printed in there are worth a read. More importantly, some of those scientists asking questions there have already disappeared, and for some reason I had a friend who tried to call one who was shut down pretty quick. Police said he was charges with some bullshit charge, like creating a public nuisance, or inciting anti-V hate or some such crap."

"Yeah National Enquirer says they're all Jesus clones."

When there was a lull in the conversation Frank filled it.

"I'm Frank. Did a couple of tours of 'Nam in the Infantry and finished as a Sergeant. Like Roo though I'm just a grunt, nothing special like the Green Berets or stuff like that. I'm an odd job man now so I make my own hours and can help out when needed. To start with I think that we need to gather intel. Information I mean. If we know of a manufacturing plant that we want to break into then we could start with a recon, a reconnaissance, of it. That could be Roo making a delivery or picking up a cargo, even if he's in the wrong place, some of us observing from nearby from a vehicle or hidden somehow, depending on the terrain. Stuff like that. But gathering information to start with sounds like the right approach to begin with."

He then glanced at Natasha. "If you want to get hold of some of their gear then that ties up with my suggestion. Not to start with but at some point we should look to grab a visitor to interrogate and Natasha can take their gear to pieces to see how it works. I'm most interested in their weapons personally but it might be best to grab one who isn't armed."

"All we got are ideas." Roux was sounding frustrated. "What we need is a plan. And to have a plan we need to have goals. And not nebulous 'get rid of the V and save my friends' bullshit, we need real, tangible, concrete, defined goals. And for that, we need someone, one person, who has the brains to figure out what steps we need to take to pull this off. Not all of us puttin' our foot in, just one person, a leader to give us a single, powerful direction.

"So who's it gonna be? Who has the drive and vision to turn this from a bunch of assholes throwing dreams around to an effective operation?"

The good doctor continued his calm repose.  His demeanor and body language remained unchanged...but it was there.  There was a look behind his eyes.  Panic.  Worry.  Probably most surgeons were good like that.  Hiding their real feelings inside but this wasn't surgery.  His gaze shifted about the room with an almost pleading look for someone to chime in.

Dean was notably silent. While he did not seem to share the Doctor's worry, at the same time it was evident that he was not even considering putting his own name forward. In fact he leaned back and crossed his arms as if to emphasize the point with body language.

In reply to Dean Blankenship (msg # 75):

Uneasy, Natasha spoke next.

"I have no social skills. I just find out shit."

Patricia was listening, watching them with various amounts of respect and distrust. Idea’s had been floated and she’d not had anything to add, but with the suggestions slowing and most introductions made it was time for her to do the same. The resounding silence spoke to what they thought of electing a leader, she wasn’t planning on volunteering either, but they couldn’t all sit their scuffing their feet all night.

“I’m Trish Kelly,” there was a temptation to keep her surname to herself, but it would be a false sense of safety, she was committed. “I’m a doctor of emergency medicine.” Which spoke a lot to her skill set and the kind of pressure she was used to. “We're a handful of people who want to make a difference, taking on a force much bigger than ourselves that’s been making good people disappear left, right and centre. We’re all going to need to be leaders, because we can’t afford to put all of our eggs in one basket.”

“I think we’ve all agreed that we need more information. So that’s goal one. Do we actually know of any manufacturing plants or other places that might have Visitor technology, aside from the ship they do the tours on? If not then the ship seems as good a place to start as any. Plan it right, with the right distraction and we could get to see more than they intend for us to.” 

Roo shook his head. "I'm only in if we have a leader, and not just a bunch of sad sacks with half-baked dreams of resistance. Knew too many hippies back in the day, with big ideas, big dreams, big talk, but without someone to pull them together, their little commie bullshit never went anywhere." He nodded towards Frank. "You know what I'm talking about. A squad can get by without an officer for a bit, but without an NCO to keep 'em in line, they're gonna tear themselves apart with all them big ideas.

"Why don't we vote? Everybody write a name on a slip of paper. That person's the boss. They don't have to be smart, they don't have to be tough, they just have to be decisive enough to say "We're doing this." You eggheads give them the information they need to make that call, and dumb knuckleheads like me will go ahead and do the heavy lifting."

"That'll work" Dean agreed with a light slap of one hand on the table. He got to his feet and within the span of a about a minute or so tracked down a stack of blank receipts and a box of the little pencils the wait staff normally took orders with.

"You get a vote too Doc, or I guess we've got too Doctors, gonna have to call one of you by something better I guess." he smiled at both Ben and Patricia as he handed out the voting implements to each in turn and then sat down before quickly writing out his own selection and putting it in the box the pencils had come in.

Roo writes down a name, folds the paper in half, and drops it in the box.

Orlando chimed in softy “And who exactly is volunteering to lead? I haven’t heard any takers or offers. Let me blunt. We’ve got two doctors who are  likely  good at poking around inside people, two ex soldiers who may have experience leading but have also been led most of their military career it sounds, I mean no offense, and a country boy who can lead cattle.” Orlando smiled. “Now I have some social skills from my trade, and i understand vision. Have to in my work or you’ll get caught up in dreams that go nowhere. So I’d like to put my hat in the ring as a leader. We want these visitors gone? It starts with the people. Forget the government, the military, all of that. You know why we lost Vietnam? We never won the people over. You can blow every manufacturing plant up and kill every visitor you find  out there if you want, but if we don’t expose their plans to the people, we are nothing more than terrorists and murderers. You all forget we are the fringe crowd. The flat earthers so to speak. Most people view the visitors as otherworldly angels, who have come to save us. We need to learn more about them yes. But the real issue here is getting ahold of a communications network and communicating with the populace.”

Orlando went quiet and took another sip. “So, anyone else wanna throw their hat in?”

Dean listened, and seemed to consider Orlando's words for a few moments. "Some of that make's sense, sure...but what is your trade Mister...?" he trailed off seeming to expect Orlando to fill in the blanks. Having already put his vote in, he seemed to consider how he might go about changing it if he wanted to, and glanced at the box.

"Doesn't matter," Roux waved off Orlando's concerns. "Leader only needs two things. The ability to come to hard decisions quick, and the ability to know how best to use his people. You ask me, someone with your skills makes a better field asset than a leader." He turned to the others. "Vote for whoever you trust with your life, the lives of your loved ones, and the future of humanity. Because those are the stakes. Rest of it is delegation."

Nodding Orlando replied “I’m a drug dealer. I reckon some of you may feel a type of way about that but before you make your judgements I’d ask you to consider the fact that we are all criminals now. Names Orlando Bethay. Now I won’t claim my work points me as a clear leader. But our veterans here are used to leading men who have no choice but to obey. Not leading civilians. Ultimately it won’t matter who is elected leader if folks choose not to follow. I’ll follow whoever is elected and do my best to help. For instance, my line of work means I’m familiar with the law, and my rights. What the visitors are doing is illegal. We need to show  that to the American people. Arresting people without following proper legal procedures or allowing them representation in court of law goes against our very constitution. That point alone can paint us as more than terrorists. The American people are very patriotic and will side with us if we show ourselves to be fighting for their god given rights. That’s what we need to represent. We start bombing places and killing visitors and kidnapping them they’ll destroy our public image and turn the populace against us.”

He turned to Martin “I respect that, but I believe anyone in this room is capable of making hard decisions. We all have just by arriving here. And best utilization of people? I believe that’s already self evident wouldn’t you agree? We already have stated our skill sets.”

In reply to Orlando Bethay (msg # 84):

Natasha listened to the exchange.

"I would suggest that the ability to make good Moral choices, regardless of the outcome, is an important factor. Sorry, Orlando, but choosing to deal drugs when you have many legitimate options indicates that your moral compass leaves a lot of room for improvement.

But you are right, we are all considering criminal activities. Only now, I don't see we have a choice. You chose the life of a criminal when there were many very valid choices. Of course, when it comes to avoiding the law, your experience will prove invaluable, no doubt."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:29, Tue 30 Apr 2019.

A low flash of a deep hidden anger crossed Orlando’s face before his calm demeanor returned. “You act as if morality and law go hand in hand. I’ll remind you many nazi soldiers were simply following the law when they massacred those Jews. Does that mean their moral compass is right? Yes I chose to sell drugs, as it provided a means to prosper in my situation. But if you think for a moment my moral compass was tainted by selling drugs I’d say you were foolish. Drug dealers have to care about their customers or they die. Not good for business, or your reputation. And I hope we all know that in the near future we will all have to do things that go against our moral compass, as I’m sure our veterans can attest too.”

"Did you really just compare people not trusting drug dealers with Nazi collaborators?" Roo asks, almost in awe. "Look pal, I understand doing what you gotta do to make a living, but for somebody who claims to be such a social genius you sure suck at reading the room. Maybe try not talking like a Saturday Morning supervillain if you want people to trust you."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Tue 30 Apr 2019.

“We can continue to debate about ethics and morality but I believe we’ve both made our points. I’ve been honest about my career and I believe that’s enough. Let the vote decide yes?”

Orlando wrote his vote down on the sheet and sat back, finishing off the last of his water.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:10, Tue 30 Apr 2019.

Trish pulled a strip of paper close with a small smile for thank you to Dean and scrawled a name, then folded it in half. “I spend eighty percent of my waking hours in an emergency department. Don’t try to convince me that your economic decision is anything other than that.” It was all she was going to say on the matter, she didn’t need to recount the stories.

"I don't care about your morality, buddy, but if you think that little speech was going to sway this crowd? That tells me all I need to know."

“I’m not voting, and I’m my own leader.  If you choose a leader, fine... I’ll follow orders if I feel like it, and they make sense.  And I don’t give a damn who reads Lobster Magazine or what your moral pretensions are.”

He says all of this in the same tone of voice you might use while explaining math to a child.

"Not good enough, kid. All in or all out. I ain't puttin my life on the line for anybody who ain't a team player. Or too dumb to figure out why they should be faking it."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:47, Wed 01 May 2019.

"Well" Dean looked taken aback in a relaxed, sort of good-natured way at the sudden explosion of discussion and revelations around the table. He still had his arms crossed in a "huh, well would you look at that" kind of way and shot an uncertain grin towards their host. "Won't be any problems with folks speakin their minds it seems". The combination of the upbeat tone and obvious cynicism  was meant to help deflate some of the tension, who knew if it would work at all. Some of them might just walk out the door at this point.

He picked up the box and jiggled it to mix up the papers then held it out casually to Ben and Natasha in turn.

Roo grinned at Dean. "You know how it is. You want to be a part of a thing, you're a part of a thing. Or you ain't. You tell people they can't trust you, can't rely on you to do your part, they're gonna believe you. Makes you a flawed asset. A weak link. Ain't nobody want to be that weak link." He turned back to Kick. "People don't talk around the weak link. Shut up when he enters the room. Don't tell him everything. Eventually the leader has to make that hard choice, only it ain't so hard because Mr. Weak Link made it clear he ain't really one of them. Expendable ain't a healthy place to be when the stakes are high."

In reply to Martin Roux (msg # 94):

Natasha put her paper in. It seemed enough had been said already, and she was beginning to distrust those that did not want to be team players, though this only shows with facial expressions for the more observant.

Frank listened to the discussion unfold and the criticism of Orlando's moral choices. Frank himself wasn't sure about those choices and suspected that the story was much longer and more complicated that Orlando had said so far. Personally he wasn't ready to make a judgement yet on that subject.

When the paper and pen was passed to him Frank tore off a slip and wrote a name on it before folding it up and passing it over.

"People please."

Ben had returned to his full posture, the look of concern now erased from his features.  The collected exterior once more covering his true feelings.

"Diving at each others throats is going to end this before it begins.  This is not a matter of morals or ethics or anything of the sort.  This is about us.  Humans.  We, as a single, solitary creature on this planet that could be faced with a potential threat of unprecedented proportions."

He waves toward Orlando and looks over the small group assembled...

"So the man claims to be a dealer of illicit goods.  As a physician, I can personally attest to the damage such things can cause but he is simply one person in a long chain.  I'm not defending what he does, but he doesn't force anyone to come to him.  I spent many years trying to work in rehab units and, I have to say, most of those people had no interest in getting off the junk.  With that said, I would like to point out the skills such a human can bring with him.  This man knows how to move around, hell move anything around, and not be detected."

He squares his vision on Orlando, a look that was both stern and imploring upon his visage...

"I'd imagine drugs aren't the only thing illicit you can locate.  I'd even venture a guess you know how to procure legal items that can be hard to find."

He flashes a small smile and a quick wink before returning to addressing the group...

"Look around.  We few may be the only ones even talking about an endeavor such as this.  We are not here to elect a new president or change public policy.  We are here to defend us.  Our people, our neighbors, our families.  Most importantly, each other.  And each other is what we're going to need to see this through."

"Ain't his moral choices that concern me, Doc," Roo said. "Personally I agree - man like that is useful, because he's the only one here maybe knows how to keep an illegal operation runnin' without getting caught. But the tactical choice to reveal such information in mixed company, and then being surprised that folks judged him for it? Blamin' them for not trusting him? Those ain't qualities I look for in a leader."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:59, Wed 01 May 2019.

Dean maneuvered the box helpfully for Frank, then jiggled it some more before he held it out for Ben. "I imagine it's gonna take some time for us all to settle in, those who stick around anyway." he said in a relaxed way. "Can't expect to snatch up eight people off the street an' have 'em all see eye to eye." he added more softly and moved his plate out of the way to set the box down when it was time to read the votes.

He nods silently before placing his slip inside.  He shakes the box around in an attempt to shuffle the pages before revealing its contents.  One by one, he goes through the small scrapes mentally noting each name written down.  As he unfolds the final paper, he begins to chuckle slightly.

"Well, this is slightly surprising but...everyone voted for someone different.  We quite literally have a tie in all directions, unless...Kick is it?...would care to cast a tie breaker..."

Martin let out a sharp laugh. "How bout it? Coronating the leader makes a hell of a buy in." His face sobered. "But if we can't even agree on who we trust most, we don't stand a chance with anything else."

Dean nodded a few times. "Yeah...yeah. I think we're all comin at this from a good place. I mean, most folks won't stick their own neck out for love or money, but we all found our way here." He played idly with one of the little pencils.

"Nobodies gettin paid, nobody was forced to be here. It's just goin about it is all, gettin us all movin the the same direction" he tapped the pencil against the table a fr times and looked to Kick. "Whatcha thinkin hoss?"

Kick laughs.  “Who are the choices again?”

Trish breathed out her nose, the sound was barely audible and it was the only sign of her own impatience with the young man who had significantly more attitude than sense. She didn’t think much of his deductive reasoning skills. “Clearly we’re not going to be able to reach anything like a consensus,” and god she wasn’t going to trust his choice on anything.

“I say we choose Ben, temporarily,” she added more for the other doctors benefit. He hadn’t looked thrilled with the idea. “He had the vision to start this, we all trusted it enough to come. We choose a course of action to start and then, once we know one another better, we do this again.”

"You already made your vote," Roux said. "And trust him or not, Kick gets his one. You can vote for anybody, Kick. You don't have to vote for someone who wants the job. Best leaders often don't. Just vote for whoever you think will do the best job coordinating the group, deciding what our objectives are going to be, and making those life and death calls."

"If that person already has a vote, then they're leader. Anybody don't like it can beat feet on out. If not, then we all vote again. I'll be changing my vote, so maybe somebody wins. That don't work, I'm gonna go home, because this whole thing'll be hopeless."

Dean seemed to share Trish's vexation, he nodded a few times, came forward in his seat to put his elbows on the table and then glanced away. "She's kinda gotta point Roo, he aint even payin attention." he gestured to Kick then looked to Patricia. "We end up doin this again, I'll vote for Ben too." he nodded to their host. "Least for the time being, I think he'd do just fine"

"We doing it that way? No secret ballots? Fine. I'm gonna vote for Frank. But Kick gets his vote first, and I don't give two shits about how much attention he's paying, until we have a leader he has as much right to put his trust in someone as the rest of us. And I hope to God he picks someone with a spine because I really don't think Ben has what it takes to shoulder this responsibility. No offense, Doc."

ooc: And this may be a metagame issue, but the GM clearly wants a PC in charge.

He appears unfazed by the comments, instead responding with a small, impish smile.

"None taken.  The fact is, we're not going to be getting an five star generals walking through that door.  None of us are prepared for this kind of position...but how many of histories leaders were?  Around the hospital, we have these silly signs with positive affirmations printed across picturesque backgrounds.  If I remember one correctly it goes..."

“We are all faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations.”

"For once, those stupid things may be right."

“I’ll vote for Dr. Taylor.”  He smiles agreeably.  “Until Patton shows up.”
This message was last edited by the player at 07:58, Sun 05 May 2019.

"I don't think he's capable, but if that's what two of us want," Roux said. "Democracy is the government you deserve, right?"

In reply to Martin Roux (msg # 110):

"That is what they say. First thing we need is information then, right? Where to look..."

As has been the norm, Ben keeps a chilly exterior.  He looks you all over, slowly taking in the expressions of exasperation.

"Well I did arrange this little get together, so I suppose it does seem fitting that I should have some sort of idea.  It seems to me we're all in agreement that gathering some valuable information is our first priority.  We have the ship, the plants, police departments...where do we start?  The best bet might lie indeed in those factories.  They've been extremely hush hush about whatever it is they're making.  Question is, does anyone know how we gain access?  Breaking and entering aren't exactly in my skill set."

He pauses for a moment, clearing his throat...

"Personally, I want to know what's happening to people.  Where exactly are they going and why?  Why are so many people just simply vanishing?"

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 112):

"Is there some way we can put trackers on people, or perhaps even in people, in case one of us gets taken?"

Frank was scratching at his chin, still mulling over Roo saying that he had voted for him. That was quite surprise, but Frank took it as a complement.

"I don't know much tech stuff but they can do it in the movies all of the time," he replied to Natasha's question about trackers. "I figure that must be based on some kind of truth and I'm sure they can put trackers on cars. I suppose it comes down to how small they can make the tracker and its battery."

Turning to Ben he returned to something he had said previously. "Before we go breaking into a factory we need to do some reconnaissance of it first to understand the security there. Do delivery people have to show passes at a gate, are their physical security guards that patrol around and if there are then are they humans or Visitors and do they have standard routes? Also are there dogs? Cameras? Fences to climb or cut? Alarm systems? Stuff like that."

He popped some chewing tobacco into his mouth and started masticating away at it. "So I think that we need to pick a factory and then start taking a look at it. That can involve all of us 'cause some of us might drive by, others might go asking about jobs and some might just hide nearby and watch. The starting point thought is picking the right factory. I think that we want one that's isolated so that any response takes time as that will give us a bigger window to get away. Make sense?"

"We've just got the one in the county" Dean chimed in "All the others are further south, I know ones down on three mile. Kind of narrows it down"

In reply to Dean Blankenship (msg # 115):

"So what do we know about this one then?"

Dean shook his head. "Not much. I've driven by it, but that's about it" he explained. "Don't even know what they make there, aside that it's one of those that the Visitors opened up to bring jobs to the area. Was in the paper some time back"

“I’ve got another idea.  Why don’t we try capturing one or two of them so we can take their weapons, and then extract some information from them?”

Kick places his right fist into his left palm to make sure it still fit.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 118):

"In time. But for now, if we force them, they will probably start babbling in their native language, which we don't understand. Besides, what if THEY have these bugs that will enable their friends to track them?"

"I suggested that a while ago," Frank replied to Kick's proposal of taking a couple of the Visitors prisoner and then extracting information from them, "but as Natasha says that is something for another day, a little further down the line when we know a bit more about them. For the moment we seem to be agreed on taking a look at one of their factories." That appeared to be the consensus for the moment and seemed to be the plan of action that Ben was proposing.

Turning to Dean, he asked some further questions. "Do you know what this one nearby used to make before the Visitors took it over and do you know the exact location of any others and what they used to make? Are they all factories? There's an argument for breaking into our closest site as we have good reasons to be in the local area but the counter to that is it's better to break into one that's further away to not bring trouble to our local area. If that makes any sense!" he finished with a half smile.

"But some recon of the one closest to us seems like the best idea to start with. So we need to start with what it's called, what it used to make and whether we know anyone who either used to work there or still works there. Nothing risky in that to start with as step one before we move onto active recon."

"Paint" Dean replied confidently to Frank. "I remember that one cause one of their trucks got hit comin outa'tha gate and there was a white stain on the road for years." he seemed to be trying to remember. "Sherman Williams maybe? One of those big brands, but yeah, they made paint. No idea what they make now."

He paused for a moment then continued. "Thinkin about just laying out with binoculars an seein what we'kin see?"

"It might be a place to start," Patricia agreed, "In lieu of any other ideas? If we can identify some of the people who work there, we might be able to get them to talk with us." They knew how to deal with people, flattery, bribes, alcohol. There were lots of ways to get human tongues wagging.

“Now that I think of it, it’s weird, them coming down and converting our factories.  Their ships are huge... you’d think they’d have plenty of space up there for whatever they need done.  So why mess with our low tech equipment?”

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 123):

"Maybe to stop us using it...

Perhaps we should see if that factory is looking for any more workers. Or maybe we could recruit some of the workers already there. Sharing a few drinks at their local watering hole might work for some of you."

Standing up, Roo where's the expression of a man who has reached his limit...

"Well, that about does it for me!  Clearly, you people have no idea what the hell you're doing and I'll not be caught dead...literally...with any of it!  I'll thank you doc for the free food but this outfit...this just ain't the right place for me."

Before giving any of you a chance to respond in depth, Martin turns and marches toward the doorway.  Flinging it open, he disappears back into the restaurant.

"Damn..." Dean remarked after Roo had walked out. "I voted for'em" he admitted, then shook his head and turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

"Gettin hired on'ed be great, sure, but then they'd have all your info, right?"

"Only if you gave them your actual information.  I'm no expert, but it wouldn't seem too difficult to fake an ID for a simple job application.  Who really checks any of that information anyway?"

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 127):

"I am guessing Kick would be all over that sort of thing. Kick, would you be able to fake enough information to help someone get a job there? Maybe even yourself? Or me as a security consultant?"

“I wouldn’t know how to make a fake ID, but I might be able to find someone who does.  Not sure how interested they’d be in helping, but I could ask.  After all, I’m just the son of a cop.”

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 129):

"Worth a try. I would suggest sounding them out to see if they were interested in joining us, but on second thoughts, better not. If they know you, they might sell you out instead..."

"OK," commented Frank, "as a starting point why don't some of us go and look at this factory from the outside? Nothing illegal in looking. Just drive down there and see what it looks like and so on before we start looking at fake IDs and getting jobs there."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:27, Mon 13 May 2019.

"Seems intelligent and legal so no one even has to worry about crossing a line yet.  Any volunteers?  I own a small camper van but I think a large group might draw attention."

"I can drive, sure." Dean offered, and moved to stand up and stretch. "Bronco's parked out front, might need to move some things around, but I can take...at least four" He three his trash away and meandered out towards the front, fished out his keys and began to move some tools from the front seat into the back.

In reply to Dean Blankenship (msg # 133):

"I would not mind the drive, but Peter probably should come with us as I don't exactly have child care lined up for him. Perhaps that might add legitimacy to a 'family day out?'"

“While you’re doing that, I guess I’ll go talk to some scumbags I know about making fake IDs.  How many do we need?”

The tone his his voice makes it clear he’d rather bust some heads.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Tue 14 May 2019.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 135):

"Probably three or four. How many folk like busting heads, I suppose? Two for each might be smart, so you have a backup...oh, and maybe one fore me so I don't need to use my real ID when making esquires...or doing other stuff."

"I put busted people back together," Patricia said, taking herself out of the running to be backup. Not that anyone who looked at her, slim as she was, would have thought she'd make good backup in a fight.

Kick starts thinking up some names.  Had to be someone who would work fairly cheap, but it also had to be some reliable... not to mention loyal to the human race.

"I'll come for the drive as well," offered Frank, "and if the factory looks interesting then I'll come back at some point and start watching it from somewhere hidden."

In reply to Frank Curran (msg # 139):

"So just the three of us, unless someone else wants to come. Anyone have any binoculars?"

"I do but not here," replied Frank. "I'll need to get them."

They were in his truck outside but he wasn't about to take his vehicle on a drive into enemy territory. It could be traced back to him and that wasn't a good idea.

"I think that we need a vehicle that can't be traced back to us, even for this initial drive by. Either that or false plates."

“I could come too, if you don’t mind waiting on those fake IDs.”

Kick cracks all of his knuckles, save one.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 142):

"Sure. You do not have an anonymous vehicle by any chance?"

“Nope.”

"OK, is it worth stealing a vehicle of some kind for this?" asked Frank. "Or rather is it worth borrowing one as we'll return it once we've finished with it."

OOC: Just a note, this is the early 80s.  CCTV cameras are barely in use and the concept of GPS tracking is virtually non-existent.  As such, it would be rather easy to purchase a used vehicle and simply not report it to the DMV.  Stealing or 'borrowing' plates would then be all you'd have to do.  Of course, you can certainly just steal a vehicle as well.

“I might be able to help conjure up some stolen plates,” he adds.  “I’m good for that much.”

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 147):

"Better yet, just buy a very cheap car, and swap the plates with someone who has a similar car... assuming someone has money to buy a car."

Seeing everyone's eyes slowly shift in his direction...

"Well...I suppose this might be one area that I may have to step in.  Can't just have you all doing while I sit here talking.  I'm no millionaire but I do damn alright.  If we need some upfront cash for things, I'll see what I can make happen.  Sound good?"

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 149):

"That sounds good. Some of you petrolheads have suggestions? An old 4x4? "

"If I swap the plates with someone else's similar car, that certain someone could get picked up by the Visitors and tortured.  I'm not willing to do that to someone."

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 151):

"What if it was a Visitor conspirator? If they start picking up their friends, that will actually work to swing public opinion against them. We could be doing double the good..."

In reply to Natasha Zander (msg # 152):

"That sounds like a good idea to me," replied Frank with a grin.

“Swap plates with one of those Visitor Youth a-holes?  Now that I could get into.”

He hums the theme to ‘The A-Team’.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 154):

"So it sounds like we have a plan. Lets Identify one of these Visitor Youth, see what sort of cheap car they have, and get one the same. Then we swap plates, do what we have to do, then swap the plates back again."

“Sounds like a plan to me.  And I love it when a plan comes together.”

Not for the first time, Kick wishes he spent more time watching television.

In reply to Natasha Zander (msg # 155):

"Right. Now to find an appropriate target...anyone close to where they meet or park their cars?"

Silent until now, Ben leans forward.  His inflection returns to a more serious tone.

"Now wait, let me understand this, you want to frame another human in the hopes that they get tortured?"

He pauses, gazing at the wooden table for some time, as if transfixed by patterns of the grain.

"I'm sorry, no, you're right.  I'm...it's just...it might just take me some time to get used to all of this.  I mean, I'm meant to save lives and now...now I guess I take them as well."

His tone begins to soften and the look in his eyes begins to wane.  To some present, it was almost as if a shade of pale had suddenly drawn across him with the realization of something he would not share.

OOC: Finding youth members isn't too difficult as the majority happily wear the available uniforms.  They also stand out in other significant ways, obviously, and aren't often seen traveling in groups (Visitors never travel alone).

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 158):

"No Ben, we are not wanting them to be tortured. We just want the visitors to show them who they really are. I am not sure that the V's have anything better than torture in mind for all of us anyhow. Why not get them to show their true nature earlier than they planned?"

Frank kept listening, wondering if he knew any Visitor Youth members he didn't like who they could potentially drop into the shit.

Kick shrugs.  “I guess this is why you’re the right choice to be the boss.  Setting up a Visitor Youth wouldn’t bother me much, but you’re different.  It probably should bother us.”

"It's just...if we're going to be fighting for us...for humans...then we need to remember why we're different.  Why it's so important that we do this."

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 163):

"Of course. But we need to be truthful, and push them to do the same, too. If I were following a lie, I might not like it when someone points it out to me, but later, I would probably be thankful. I am assuming the same of these well meaning folks who are embracing the visitors in ignorance. At least, I assume it is in ignorance. If they KNOW what is going on and are selling us out, well, all bets are off! That kind of treachery deserves more than it usually gets."

Chewing on his tobacco, Frank interjected.

"We can discuss the merits of this course of action or another for ever," he started, "but I think that we've got a plan that we're basically agreed with so is it time to get on with it? Or are we gonna sit here talking about it all night?"

In reply to Frank Curran (msg # 165):

"No. Let's ID a member and find an identical car. An old one..."

Alright, so it appears we have an initial plan put together.  Any volunteers on how you want to go about doing this?

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 167):

Natasha will look over the old car yards to see what old cars they have...and someone else can look over the ambassadors to see what sort of cars they have, till we find a match...

Neither of those actions is too difficult nor takes a considerable amount of time.  Used lots are still somewhat numerous in the region and lord knows a blind man could spot a V car; they get very heavy-handed with their symbols and decorations.  An exact match may be slightly tricky, however.  The V all tend to drive new, top of the line luxury cars or have chauffered limos.  Not the most common items found in used lots.

Kick will assist Natasha in any way he can.  He is well aware that wars are won not just with heroics, but with a lot of boring grunt work.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 170):

What about the V ambassadors? There must be a few more of them hard up, and seeing the V as their ticket to a better life...

Which ambassadors are you referring to?

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 172):

"The humans assisting the Vs. Their fan club...don't they call them ambassadors or some dumb title?"

Ahh, well most of the ones with a fancy title are usually already fairly well-to-do, they simply believe the Vs are now the ones in charge, or soon will be, and therefore suck up to them in an attempt to keep their status and position.  Many of them hopped on board the moment they landed, seeing great opportunity (or wealth) by working with them and championing their campaign here on Earth.

Although you do have some in the Youth Corp who have worked up the ranks, so to speak.  They're really nobodies that the Vs are using as puppets, foot soldiers and informants.  They give them titles and uniforms and sometimes little field offices and suddenly they feel all big and important.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 174):

"Yep. They will be the ones we want to target. Those that serve them deliberately are just assholes who already likely know their plans and are working with them."

“I wouldn’t bet on them knowing much.  The Visitors probably tell them as little as possible.  I wouldn’t trust any humans, if I were a Visitor.””
This message was last edited by the player at 04:00, Wed 19 June 2019.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 176):

"Exactly. So they are just the sort of naive person the V's are using. Our plan can help them see the reality most of all."

“Are you suggesting we try to recruit a double agent?  That could be very dangerous.”

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 178):

"Not for now. Just get him to see the V's for who they really are by framing him."

"Seems it might only help him if he survives.  I don't know what they would do with someone if they caught them like that.  If he lived, sure, he may see things differently.  We just don't know if they'll let him."

In reply to Dr. Ben Taylor (msg # 180):

"If they kill him, well, hopefully it will help others see and get out and save them. Better they ill one of their own sheep that someone fighting them...there have been too many innocent casualties already so far, so it is time they started to take some of the casualties."

“I think it’s safe to assume they will torture and kill anyone they suspect of betraying them.  They don’t strike me as being particularly civilized, no matter how advanced their technology.”

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 182):

"A fact lost on their followers, it seems. Particularly the younger ones."

Have we been able to identify a few younger 'ambassadors' with older style cars?

Trying to recall various Youth Corp members shouldn't be too hard but you'd have to actually stake them out, at least short term, to discern their vehicles.  Unless you actually know them, you probably wouldn't keep track of the various vehicles they might own...unless you've got a good story as to why you might note such details :D

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 184):

Unless Natasha has had security footage of some of the car parks as part of her work, staking them out was what I had in mind...

Fair enough, pretty simple task to be honest.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 186):

OOC Can we skip to results, or should we roleplay this?

OOC: I’m cool with doing it either way.

Finalizing your plan, you agree upon a future meeting point and scatter to the four winds, each with a job in hand.  The first step in the whole operation was locating some random supporter.  In lower New York state, where the money from Manhattan still flowed effortlessly, finding a target was not the problem but rather deciding which one.  You finally settle upon a local V mouthpiece.  Nothing special, just your average blow hard trying to win any local election he can and courting the favor of the V's at the same time.  Power was his trip though he had yet to attain any.  His vehicle of choice, a black Chevrolet Chevette, an extremely common and popular car.  With a few dollars slid your way from the good doctor, you easily locate one yourself and are ready to roll.

(Not super important but everyone has there preferences...shall we get straight to the stake out or do you prefer rping more scenes, i.e. actually taking the plates from the guys house?)

(I don’t really care about rping stealing the plates, but I’m cool either way.)

Taking the plates proved slightly more difficult than expected as evening patrols of Youth Corp. groups seemed to be rather high in the area, but it certainly was not impossible.  With the vehicle all set, the two of you make your way to the outskirts of Ossining.

As you approach the area, you find most of the region is lit up rather well with very little cover of any kind.  As it would happen, the plant was located just a few miles north of a correctional facility so much of the surround landscape had been cleared.  On the NE corner of the property, the treeline began once more but it looked as if no road of any kind ran close.

The factory itself was surrounded by a high, chain-link fence adorned with your standard barbed wire.  The place was lit up like it was christmas so simple observations, even from a great distance, were rather detailed.  There existed one single gate in and out, which of course had a posted set of guards.  There also were several guards that patrolled the grounds and would randomly appear and disappear from your vision as they weaved throughout the complex.

The place certainly seemed to be functioning as people and machinery, even at this late hour, moved to and fro.  The smoke stacks poured a near constant stream of thick, dense vapor into the night sky.  Periodically, a steam whistle of some sort would sound from an unknown location.

(Are the guards human, or Visitors?)

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 192):

Also, Natasha will make some inquiries about what their security system is. For trying to drum up business of course!

There are definitely some uniformed V's roaming the place but you can't tell from a distance if the guards (wearing a different uniform entirely) are human or not.

While exact details were scant, the factory employed a standard, multi camera security system along with some keypad operated doors.

“So what’s the plan?”

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 195):

"Not sure. Just looking into what is here..."

Any remotely operated cameras, or remote links? Where would the central office be?

Remotely operated in what sense?

The central office is more than likely located somewhere within the main building itself.  The complex is not the worlds largest, but it certainly takes up a fair amount of space with sub-buildings and pipes running to and fro.  One does stand out as larger then the others and seems to have the most personnel activity.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 197):

Any camera that was not hard-wired is remotely operated. In her research, what can she find out about these security systems before she enters the property? Their main contractor? Gear? Weapons of guards? Training courses done?

Ahh ok, the camera system is entirely hard wired.  Each camera feeds into a main hub with one or more individuals stationed at a monitor bank.

The security firm was almost a ghost.  A private contracting firm it only appeared within the last year.  Very little is known publicly about them.  As far as weaponry, you can definitely see that several walk with something slung across their shoulder.  After that, you'd have to get closer to find out specifically.

We should assume the security has been augmented by Visitor tech.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 199):

Interesting. Can anything more be found on this security firm. It seems as if they might just be serving V's? Can anything be found about their employees? Public documents?

You didn't spend as much time as you would have liked researching them, mostly due to time constraints on the current plan, but there was nothing you could find that was concrete in any way.  No contracts or public disclosures could be found.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 202):

I see. Any tax records or indications of how they conducted official business? They must have some Tax records at least...private company I presume if no public disclosure, so any indication of who the owner is?

Might just be a shell company.  A front.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 204):

"Quite likely. But the people are real enough. Just may not be human..."

Nothing you can locate.  It's as if the company appeared overnight, so to speak.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 206):

Any contract work, or subcontractors?

Any addresses we can investigate?

The contractor that did the original building of the factory is easy enough to find the name of but the retrofitting has been carried out primarily by the V's with perhaps a regular human or two by their side to explain how to operate it.

Addresses for...?

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 209):

Address for retrofitting companies...

Maybe we could get some info by locating the contractor and roughing him up a little.  Or a lot...

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 211):

An idea for later. For now, what else can we tell about this factory? Numbers of guards? Frequency of patrols? How do workers enter an leave? Security measures with workers? Are they happy? Who are they? etc, etc...

Okay, let me unpack this lol...

-The actual work of retrofitting was carried out primarily by the V's, it would seem.  The components on there end, no one knows anything about or has really seen.  The rest of the pieces seemed pretty standard and it wasn't too hard to find the distributor (company named is stamped, painted, or affixed to most of the visible equipment and piping.

-The exact number you are uncertain of for the simple fact that you can't see inside any of the buildings (and there's a few exterior locations that are difficult to view from your vantage).  Regardless, walking the perimeter or posted at some point you counted no less then 7 V's and 5 uniformed guards.  The ones patrolling seemed on a constant watch as they continued roaming the grounds, only pausing to converse briefly with one another.

-There are two visible gates for entrance/exit.  The most notable is the single entrance located at the front of the complex.  A standard automatic gate with guard that seems to be purely for personal or visitors.  Towards the backside is another, similar gate with two guards posted.  Probably the entrance for delivery trucks and other larger or more sensitive materials.  Best you can tell is they use the standard work ID system for the workers, as you have not witnessed any sort of system beyond a guard questioning those that enter.

-I'd imagine their happiness level is relative, lol.  Did you actively want to set up at a bar to get to know them?  It's easy enough to find people around town crumbling this or that about the V's at the plant.  Most of it is vague at best but the theme seems to be lack of information or access.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 213):

I think that pretty much summarizes what we were looking for, at least for now. We can set up at a bar to find out more, but probably will swap the number plates back for now, until we come up with the next plan.

With regards to the uniformed guards, who pays their wages? Also, can we get access to various hallucinogenic drugs that might have a vaporous vector? Last question, who is making deliveries, and of what? How can we find out?

Starting to take a Shadowrun feel...

What do we want to use the hallucinogenic drugs for?  To help us sweat something out of a captive?

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 215):

No, to take the guards out...and having them blamed for it!

We’re going to drug them?

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 217):

Drugging the guards, preferably without them knowing it, is an option I am exploring. A recreational drug would possibly enable us to get access without raising the alarm, because it would easily be understandable without external influences.

Hell, we have a drug dealer...getting the goods should be a cinch!

But how to administer them?  Put it in their food or something?

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 219):

Ice bullets that are made of more than water!

OOC: I'd have to do a little research but it was technically a lot easier to acquire 'certain compounds' in the 80s.  I'm not certain that recreational would be the correct route though.  Something psychotropic would probably be more in order...sodium pentathole comes to mind...or perhaps even ketamine (which at that time was not a known party drug).

The deliveries, one would assume, are of either raw material for processing or parts/equipment.  Some of the trucks have company names written across them yet others are simple, white flatbeds with no visible company names or markings (save for license plates obviously).
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:32, Mon 26 Aug 2019.

One advantage: at least if our plan to use the drugs fails, we can still throw a heck of a party.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 222):

True, and invite them along! I am far from an expert in drugs, I will leave that to the guy this is though! But the concept is what I had in mind...

Very good.  What’s our first move?

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 224):

Find a hallucinogenic drug with a vector that can be not noticed...odourless, colourless gas, or tasteless and able to be slipped into the pizza they order...

Hmmm...going for the holy grail of drugs I see.  Well, with enough time, you manage to track down a supplier who claims they can help and indeed are given some sort of liquid.  How much depends on you and finances but I'd venture a medium-sized vial (the equivalent of a test tube) would be a decent enough amount.

How much for a test tube’s worth?

$200...the contact argued it was pharmaceutical grade and smuggled from Canada

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 228):

"Perhaps our good doctor can assist us with the purchase of this medicine? How is it best used? Shelf life?"

That sounds sensible.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:03, Mon 02 Sept 2019.

Given the year, acquiring it through Ben should actually be somewhat easy, although he'll have to figure out how to fudge the paperwork.  Shouldn't actually be too tricky.  Here's a little extra info Ben could have provided (whereas I acquired it from Google XD)...

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 231):

Umm, Ok. Is it also psycotropic? Does it cause hallucinations?

So it might only put them down for five minutes.  Not a lot of time.

hmmm...I believe DMT would have existed at the time, but would it have been available?  Doing some digging on that now.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 234):

Or acid? Magic mushroom essence?

Maybe coke would do the job.  Sprinkle some in their soft drinks.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 236):

...or just buy Coka-cola...I heard it had some in it already!

My understand is that’s where Coke got it’s name (off topic of course).

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 238):

So what can you come up with? Perhaps cocaine...what way can it be delivered that would make it look like he took it himself though?

Cocaine can be injected but not necessarily going to have a hallucinogenic effect.  Not to mention, too much will simply blow his heart.

Shrooms or acid always take time.  Not necessarily a lot, but easily in the realm of 30 minutes to 90 minutes, depending on body size/composition, dosage, etc.

The original recipe for Coca-Cola did indeed contain cocaine, or at the very least, some concoction made from Coca leaves.  It's long since been removed unfortunately.

I think LSD is the way to go.  I’m flexible, however.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 241):

What are the vectors for LSD? Is it tasteless?

I think it tastes like whatever it’s in, but I’m not sure.

Unless you're chugging straight, undiluted LSD, you really won't notice a taste when it's mixed with something else.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 244):

That might be good, then. Mixed on a pizza or something...did the gaurds order takeaway that we saw?

Ooh, I like the pizza idea!  May I be the delivery boy?

You didn't notice any sort of delivery but you also did not stay there over multiple nights.  A prolonged stakeout would certainly reveal more but would also put you at risk for being spotted, or at the very least be a 'suspicious person'.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 247):

There may be another way to find that out...how many local pizza delivery shops are there?

So far you've noticed two within the area but, not being a local, you're unfamiliar with exactly which pizza place delivers and do they cover this area.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 249):

But not being local, we can go to one and order a pizza which we will eat real slow, and notice the clients...

Eating pizza slow isn’t currently on my skill list, but I can try.

Taking turns and staggering your schedule, you manage to avoid looking out of place to any of the employees (that you know of) and stake out the two locations.  As the weekend begins to approach, you finally catch a break as Kick spies one of the guards stopping in to pick up an order.

Does Kick have the drugs on him?

Hmm, you tell me.  The subject of acquiring the drug was brought up early so you would have procured them by now.  Was your plan to have them with you or were you simply watching and waiting to see what happens?

Now that I think of it, he would just be observing, and wouldn’t have the drugs on him.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 253):

Observing for now was my plan too...

Not surprising, he picks up a box of pizza with something else in a brown bag and promptly leaves for his vehicle.  Carelessly, he places the food on the passenger seat and proceeds through the standard motions of getting oneself to drive.

I'm assuming you're tailing him?  At least one of you?

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 257):

Kick is man on the scene...

Kick tails him, doing his best Kojak impression.

While rush hour has ended, there remains enough activity that following him is not too difficult without being obvious.  After winding through town, almost towards the edge of the town proper, the car turns into a small, neatly kept one-story house.  The house is sandwiched on both sides by similar homes...in fact, the entire street seems to be very similar in style and build (typical family housing blocks).

Kick jots down the address and then takes off before he’s noticed.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 261):

When they finally meet up, Natasha is interested in what information has been gathered...

Kick reveals all.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 263):

"Ok, where to from here? We know about this guard, and where he lives. We can use it to drug him, and gain access to the base, but cameras will likely get our faces, so we should look at getting some disguise. We need to learn the basic base layout, and find some form of cover to the rest of the workers as well. Perhaps as security consultants. We have the company name, but bugger all about them. Should we investigate them next?"

Disguises.  Hmmm....

Do I know anyone who is well versed in the art of disguise?

Well I don't know if you would know anyone personally but such services certainly can be found, depending on what you're going for.

Kick will go out and discreetly seek the services of such a mind.

Alright...so what exactly are you looking for?  Simple uniforms and fake badges or are we talking like silicone masks and whatnot?

Kick will try to get a handle on which services are available, and at what price.  But we’ll definitely want uniforms, at the least.

Uniforms are reasonably priced ($20-$100 depending on quality) and easy to come by.  They might require a little extra tailoring to make them look the same but that shouldn't be too difficult.  Just depends on how detailed and accurate you want it/them to be.  From there, the price just climbs.  Getting film quality masks, ones that actually fit right and don't obviously look like masks, would take some time and money.  A few hundred for a full mask but definitely less for simple prosthetic pieces (fake nose, deformity, etc.).

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 270):

What about dyes for hair and skin, and fake eye lenses, and perhaps voice changers?

Dye is common enough, as well as fake lashes, pretty standard fair.  Now a voice changer...I think it's safe to assume they had such things in the early 80s but I'm not certain of their abilities.  I'm also pretty certain that, despite actual performance, they weren't really super small so using one in front of someone would be rather obvious.

Maybe smoking three packs of cigarettes all at once would mimic the effect of a voicer changer.  Kick is willing to try it.

Don't forget to spray some air freshener or Lysol just to help.

I’ll try anything.

So the plan currently is to subdue or take down this particular guard and then use his credentials (or whatever he uses at work) to gain entry?

Sounds good to me.

lol alright, do we have a plan of some sort to begin with?  Wait for him to go to sleep?  Catch him in public?  Home invasion?

Home invasion is good.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 279):

Try for stealth home invasion, but not before Natasha cuts his phone lines just prior to entry. No mobiles at this time!

Alright, sounds like a plan to me.  Just let me have a quick list of items you'll be bringing and we'll get rolling on this.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 281):

And, maybe more importantly, a list of rolls to make!

Crowbar, flashlight, gun.

Alright, let me just assume a few details to get this moving along for you...

The embrace of night had fully taken the land.  One by one the modest homes became dark and silent and (most) people were crawling into bed.  A few stray lights still hummed from windows but were mostly covered, with no visible signs of life creeping around, staring into the streets.  (What method of transport did you use to get there?)  Ducking behind shrub lines and moving low, you make your way towards the house.

A one-story dwelling with a possible attic (you can see a window from the front of the house) it is flanked by a two-story ranch and a more modest, two-story traditional (simple, square block shaped).  A driveway runs up past the house to a single port garage, although his vehicle is not parked in it.  From the large bay window in the front, you can clearly see artificial light pouring through the slits of his window treatments.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 284):

We will drive up to a nearby street, then walk about half a kilometer to the place. Can we see if there is a car in the garage?

From the edge of the driveway you cannot tell if the garage is actually occupied or not.  You could walk or creep up the driveway or find another way around if you wanted a closer look.  While the majority of the light from the house seems to be coming from one section, there is no way of telling from where you are who exactly is in the house or where at any point.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 286):

Natasha would know what to look for with regards to any security devices. Are there any? Phone line locations?

Is there a dog in the back yard?  Kick doesn’t like dogs, especially when they’re trying to bite him.

There appear to be no security systems or devices of any kind installed.  A brief glance at the incoming house lines is all it takes to spot the single telephone line which runs along close to the main power line running into the house.

You can neither hear nor see any sign of a dog from the yard.  A few other houses in the area had dogs, as evidenced by the random barking and howling, but no sounds were emitted in response from the house or yard.

I say we scope out the perimeter of the house in search of an easy window to break into.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 290):

Right after I prepare to cut the phone line. Is there an obscure place from which that can be done?

I'll see what I can do about working up a crude map sometime today.  As far as obscure, the phone line runs along with the power line but splits once it hits the side of the house facing the driveway.  While the neighbors house sits just a few yards away, it is dark and no lights appear on in the home.

Shall we get to it, then?  This crime won’t commit itself.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 293):

Yep. Natasha will look at cutting the phone line. What should she roll?

OOC: To cut the wire, a simple roll against your Electrician skill.  Where are you planning on cutting it?  If your cutting it close to the house, I'll need a Dexterity check as well.

Working on the map currently should have it up tonight or tomorrow.  I am not managing my time well these days.  Thanx for hanging in there.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 295):

Rolled 3 under electrician, 1 under DX. Cutting where it will be least noticed!

While she’s cutting the line, I’ll keep a look-out.

OOC: Ok, one horrible map uploaded...

Red Boxes = Windows
Yellow Boxes = Doors
Blue Dot & Line = Power/Telephone Lines
Green Hash Box = Overhang

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 298):

Right. What is our goal again? Drug him? What was the vector? Contact, inhaled or ingested?

Up to you.  I consider myself the muscle end of this team.

(I’ve both seen and drawn worse maps than this, btw.)
This message was last edited by the player at 11:54, Thu 12 Dec 2019.

In reply to Natasha Zander (msg # 299):

Lets go with drugging his lunch, or better yet, his morning coffee! What drugs do we have for that? Want something that would take about half an hour or an hour to kick in...

Drugging his coffee sounds good.  Let’s do it!

Well, it's the bases for a plan.  Now we need that plan.

Natasha is the brains of this outfit, so I’ll leave the final say to her.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 304):

Break into his house, put a whole lot of powdered drug in his coffee jar (with gloves on), making sure it is brown in colour and hence indistinguishable) and/or lace his milk, then leave and watch...

Sounds straight forward enough.  Just give me a rough outline on the details and we'll get into some B&E (waiting till he's asleep?  which entrance? etc.)

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 306):

Uh, that would be a rough outline of the plan. Steps are
1. Ensure the drug we have looks like coffee, or can be placed in milk.
2. Wait until he is asleep.
3. Check for fixed security systems.
4. Check entrances.
5. Make a subtle entrance.
6. Move quietly to kitchen.
7. Place drug as appropriate.
8. Depart the way we came, closing door again.
9. Depart scene...

If he sets up a coffee before bed, we could put the drug in the filter and take less of a chance of him detecting it.  But that’s assuming he does this.

Otherwise, yeah, let’s put it in his coffee bag/jar.

I believe the consensus was to go with LSD, if I'm not mistaken.  Odorless and clear, unless you're pouring huge volumes in his coffee pot, he might just ignore the odd taste, assuming he'd need to clean his coffee maker. On the plus side, it doesn't take a large quantity to have a profound impact.

Further into the evening, he trots his way to the bedroom and disappears from sight; the glow of the television no longer visible through the curtains.  Both the front porch and the rear of the house have lights which are still on but there is no visible security system, video or otherwise.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 309):

Wait a couple of hours before putting our plan into action...

Then try the rear of the house?

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 311):

Less obvious route sounds good.

Maybe try for a window first?

If Natasha agrees, Kick will slip into the backyard and search for a window that may not have been properly secured.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Sat 29 Feb 2020.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 313):

Sure. Just keep it quiet.

From the street, Kick darts up the edge of the driveway, running parallel with the fence.  Pausing briefly to scan for any possible movement, he again slips forward, sliding up to the outside wall of the house.  To your immediate right lies a standard, single pane window within arms reach.  Around the corner to the back, just past the backdoor (with an outside light currently on) lies a similar but smaller window.  So far, you have neither seen nor heard any indication that your presence is known.

I'll need a Dexterity roll or a Stealth roll (your choice) for the movement.

22:14, Today: Kick Woods rolled 11 using 3d6.  Dex check.  (Made it)

Kick will check both windows.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:16, Tue 03 Mar 2020.

Reaching for the window directly to your side, you find it gives somewhat easily and slides up several inches with an audible squeal.

He tries to pull himself up and squirm inside.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 318):

This is a one person job, so Natasha stays in the car and keep watch.

Peering through the glass, you can clearly see the window leads to the kitchen (it's a standard, one-panel at ground level so not too much to getting in).  Once inside, you stand upon the linoleum flooring, grateful, as it does not squeal or protest with movement.  To your right lies the back door and a small window over the sink (supposedly the door and window from the back).  One other door exists at the back of the room and an archway leads out to a dining area immediately to your left.

As quietly as he can, he searches for the target’s coffee stash.  Once he finds it, he drugs it, then smooths over the grounds with his finger.

It takes no time to locate his coffee as he keeps it in one of those tacky, ceramic jars with 'coffee' printed right across it.  As you begin to pour the chemical the coffee starts to clump and you're forced to stop every second or so and stir it vigorously so it breaks apart.  Taking a few moments to listen, you find no presence or sound coming from the second floor of the house.

It takes a few minutes longer than you had anticipated but you manage to hide away the entire vial.

Kick boogies out the window and shuts it as quietly as possible, then hurries from the back yard, keeping his head down but eyes open.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:32, Tue 10 Mar 2020.

A brief moment of silence is all he takes and Kick is once more pulling himself through the window.  Crouching low as he slips through and out into the yard, he follows the same path back, darting across the open driveway and racing down the neighboring fence line.

Might I have one more Dexterity roll please sir.

23:09, Today: Kick Woods rolled 11 using 3d6.  Dex roll.  Made it

As Kick made no signal of distress, he finds the car waiting quietly in the dark, Natasha still behind the wheel.  Hopping into the passenger seat of the car, you both still yourselves and listen; watching for any signs of detection.  You find no lights, either home or from some distant motorist, nor do you see any signs that you have been made in any fashion.

“Should we get out of here?” he asks simply.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 327):

"Yeah. Now lets see what happens next. We can grad some disguises and, if he is on watch, see if we can sneak into the place."

Having watched the facility, she considers what she might need for that.

Outfit wise the options are rather simple.  There is both the standard security and the private (what you assume anyway).  Then you have your workers, which seem to to be rather simple coveralls, the various colors probably denoting their respective sectors or departments.  You did happen to see several wearing large white, plastic suits as well.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 329):

Plastic suits probably require an extra level of clearance. She could actually do electrical work pretty well, so can she guess what colour of overalls an electrical specialist might wear, from observations and general experience?

You could narrow it down to three different colors.  All correspond to individuals you've either seen working manually or carrying tools or tool boxes.  As to which exactly, good guess.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 331):

Options? Blue is typical here...she would know what colours electricians typically wear...because she is one!

Blue is a nice color.  Do we go with it?
This message was last edited by the player at 05:14, Wed 25 Mar 2020.

Well overalls are pretty easy to get your hands on and without raising suspicions.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 334):

As an electrician, she would have some, right?

Kick is all for it, as he’s a big fan of Electric Light Orchestra.

Definitely, or at least you would know how to acquire them and look legitimate.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 337):

And sound legitimate. So, we will do a little research into what contractors they use, get some rest and head out there in the morning...

Digging up legitimate suits and credentials isn't too difficult, given your background.  They do use an outside contract firm, as you've seen the occasional vehicle pulling in, but the majority seem to be permanent hires, or at the very least, they don't show up with company vans or logos so they may work for the plant itself.

Sounds like a plan.

Ok, before we get rolling...why did you drug the guy?  I have no problem with it, just curious where it fits into the plan.

Oh geez.. I can’t remember.  Doh!

Help me out here, Natasha.  I’m definitely not the brains of this outfit.

This message was deleted by the player at 19:08, Fri 10 Apr 2020.

Don't get me wrong, should be pretty hilarious after he gets to work.  Nothing like not being told you've been dosed :D

If anything else, at least we'll probably get this jerk fired.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 345):

Since he is security, we want him to be a distraction, or distracted enough to give us legitimate entry into this place... without it being traceable back to us!

So you're rolling in in the morning with the rest?  Personal vehicle and trying to blend with the others or trying to look official?

Eh... I don’t wanna look too official.  But basically, yes.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 05:18, Fri 17 Apr 2020.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 347):

Borrowed personal vehicle, yes. Electrician uniform and gear.

Having watched the plant for a day or two, you determine start time seems to be around 8am, at least for the day crew (there are people there around the clock).  Loading yourselves up, you head out to the plant.  Sliding in with the rest of the traffic, you pull into the parking lot and take a space midway.  Many others file along with you, heading off for a day of work.  Scanning around the lot you spy the guard you dosed.  He is heading towards the main gate with the rest of the crowd.  While you can't see details, there does seem to be a small hold before entering...probably a security check or clearance.

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 350):

We will take time getting our gear ready to give the guard time to take over his shift...

The parking area begins to empty out as the procession of workers make their way through the entry gate.  Before long, a sense of quiet returns to the lot (as quiet as a plant parking lot gets anyway).  The gate now stands empty save for two guards, neither of which appear to be your initial target.

Kick puts on his shades, which means he’s finished all the lollipops and is ready to get down to business.  He slides his hands into the front pockets of his Levis and bends his knees slightly.

In reply to Kick Woods (msg # 353):

HmmI did not want to wait that long. Intended to try to pass through with the tail end of the workers. I would use some fake business cards as ID...

Ah fair enough, well no reason we can't backtrack a little.

Slowly progressing forward, the line inevitably moves onward till only a few remain to pass through security.  As the two of you approach, it becomes clear that one guard is human, probably a private firm, and the other is most definitely one of them.  Stepping forward, the human guard turns himself into your path...

"Badges please."

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 355):

"We are electicians. We were told you had some new wiring that needed to be done."

Flipping through the pages on his clipboard, he turns towards the second guard...

"I'm not seeing anything on the list.  Do you know anything about this?"

He returns to the clipboard once more for a secondary look.

"Who did you say you were with again?"

In reply to That Which Knows All (msg # 357):

She will give the name of a local electrical company she may have had dealings with in the past.

Then she will ask if her associate has more details....fast talk anyone?
.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:06, Fri 24 Apr 2020.