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  • 📅 February and March 2024 are YE 46.2 in the RP.

RP: Lazarus [Lazarus] - The Right Place

Luca

The Ultimate Badass
🎖️ Game Master
-ON!

Danny now stood in perhaps one of the busiest places of Nepleslia: the quays area of Funky City's docks. Massive ships sat suspended in water, others hanging in the air effortlessly, wrapped in scaffold as tiny flickers of welding torches blinked in the distance. The tiny lights of air-trucks and the rail-system ferrying goods between the docks and the ships were mosquitos in distance.

His phone began to ring. Snapping to attention as he felt it vibrate in his pocket, he reached down into his vest and pulled it out, flipping it open. He didn't recognise the number at first, but something about it was familiar. "H-hello?" He asked over the din of the welding and hustle, moving around a corner to get some peace and quiet.

"Name?"

The voice was low. Gruff. Deep. A man, likely in his forties.

"?" Danny chirped for a moment, trying to recall. He then remembered who that was: "That's me. Danny."

"Location?"

He looked back out from the alley. He knew where he was, but not exactly where. Looking for a sign, he eventually found a dock marker. "Near dock 8-84A at the F-Funky City Quays." He looked behind him for any sign of activity in the alley, lowering the phone for a moment.

"Don't stutter. Deep breaths. Do you see the rail platforms from where you are?" Danny looked up. It was a long way up to get to those rails, as they were suspended throughout the city in a snakelike maze of tubes that occasionally went through a building. Planning permits were usually vetoed in favour of brute force, and the previous occupants were usually displaced and bought off. No love lost though - people had to move.

"The goods platform, not the transport platform. Eyes down."

He moved out into the open and looked ahead. He could see the heavier set freight trains responsible for carrying things around. All sorts of things, ammunitions, alcohol, quantified corruption or people. They were making the most noise.

"Platform 7. You have 70 seconds. Good luck."

Click.

♫ Zammuto - "Zebra Butt"

Seventy seconds to what? Whatever it was, it wasn't going to knock twice. Danny clapped his communicator shut and tucked it back into his breast pocket. He looked at the intervening distance between him and platform seven and evaluated what was in the way.

Fence, six feet tall, barbed wire coiled across it; train rails for platforms 1 and 2, with the 15:54 from Wilco City pulling in with a load of iron ore - a quarter million ton each in cars half a mile long stretching off into the bay. Armed guards were posted at most of the entrance and exit points but glancing over, he could make out an escalator running above his precious platform. They took fare evasion very seriously, and Danny's FunkLink card was out of credit.

In front of the wired fence there was a group of youths congregated around and trash talking each other. Across platforms one and two, there was a rail stretching along that held signal lights in place, with a ladder leading up it for maintenance.

Once those two obstacles were over with, Danny could see no more. He'd spent ten seconds plotting his route already, and now it was time to start running. His muscles tensed, he held his head low and started running towards the fence, and towards the congregation. He leapt.

Two of the gang turned around to see someone jumping into them, and he looked as though he was about to jump on Ulrich's shoulders. His right foot connected while his his leg was fully contracted. He launched himself over the fence on his shoulders. The gang watched him clear the barbed wire by what they thought was mere inches. Some of them were still halfway through telling their latest yarn before they registered what was happening.

When Danny landed on the gravel on the other side and rolled with the fall before getting back up and picking up the pace again, they'd all turned around. Ulrich was not as enthused about what'd occurred. Someone just jumped on him! The self-proclaimed owner and toll guard for the Funky City Quays' railways. If you wanted in, you had to pay the toll.

A stream of profanities poured out of his mouth as he roused his crew into action against the running man.

And if Danny didn't pick up the pace, it'd be a stream of lead heading in his direction.

A klaxon began to air, lights flashing as the carrier from Wilco locked into place and began unloading out into carts, a scoop on the end of a massive robotic arm connected to the overpass he'd eyed earlier lunging into the iron and hauling it up, depositing tons at a time. If he were caught in that scoop, it would quite easily decapitate him.

Elsewhere on Platform 7, a man stood alone - a traincart that had been diverted due to 'mechanical failure' pulling in, locking into place as the other had. He eyed his watch. Waiting.

The youths were going their way, not content to try and climb the fence. Some were staying behind to try and line up shots. Danny, meanwhile had started climbing the safety cage for the ladder that lead up to the maintenance area for the train traffic signals. Eventually reaching the top, he started walking along the beam. There was only eight or nine inches of I beam beneath his feet as he continued moving.

He slipped when he was only five feet away. He landed on one of his knees and grabbed the I beam, falling forward and landing on his chest before scrambling back up to his feet and continuing to move. He'd spent fifteen seconds moving so far.

He could see the train from Wilco City ahead, unloading its cargo as it was being attended to by dock workers and guards alike as though it was delivering a baby. It'd certainly deliver some 'babies' once it was rendered and turned into something useful. Weaponry, armour, machinery, you name it.

One of the guards spotted Danny traipsing across the train station and pointed to him him, yelling a spotting order to the others. Then, a yelling from the mouth of the platform as the previous gang burst in to pursue the runner. The guards guarding the train played it smart and raised the majority of their rifles towards them, stopping them in their tracks while only one or two people had to focus on the runner.

The person manning the machinery was oblivious to what was happening outside, perhaps listening to music or deafened by the sound of the machinery behind him. He looked up from his console to note that there was a minor imbalance, but it'd sorted itself out quickly. He looked up to visually confirm what was going on and turned to the right, and spotted some guy running across one of the scaffolds towards him before jumping onto his cabin with a thump and continuing off along the other arm, somehow able to account for its movement as he ran along it.

A shot was fired when the runner failed to comply. It whizzed past him and hit a scaffold a several tens of metres away. He ran away from the cargo and out of sight as he went over a platform roof. He was now at Platform 3 and 4, where less than savoury operations were occurring. The meat trade. Not cows, that'd be an insult to cows the way this meat was treated.

And Danny landed in the middle of it. Thirty seconds remained as he saw Platform 7 in sight, his view untarnished by any locomotives, save for the one train that'd stopped in front of platform 7. He pushed past someone who'd be paid to be manhandled as he continued. He was starting to run short of breath. He'd persevered and overcame everything that was happening, but he knew it was going to slow down - and he simply didn't have time.

Why, though? The rewards for all of this were not apparent to Danny at all. It was just jumping through hoops to entertain someone whose face he'd never even seen. All he'd heard was voices, whispers through the overpowering dark reaching to him and telling him that there was something more to him - if, of course, he danced to their beat.

This beat was different.

It wasn't like the organ harvesting ring he'd escaped a couple of weeks back, the bank robbery that he was in the middle of, the strong arm gang that'd knocked his door down last night. This time, it wasn't running away.

For once in his life, he felt like he had some control over what was going on as he crossed the remainder of the distance on foot. He was only moments away from Platform 7 down below, barely dodging an incoming train from his left pulling into Platform 5 and standing on platform 6 with fifteen seconds to spare, maybe.

"Train now departing. Stand clear please."

The doors on the train to Platform 7 started to close, and a beeping sounded. The man standing on the platform sighed and moved in as the doors shut behind him. The train started move slowly out to Danny's right. This couldn't have been the end. Danny ran across the train tracks and jumped down.

He fell three storeys before colliding with the roof of the train and rolling. He overbalanced and almost went over the edge, but grabbed onto the edge of the roof and hung on for dear life as his body collided with the window. The people inside the train jolted and jumped when they heard the thumps on the roof. All but one of them did, still looking at their watch.

The fun thing about some Nepleslian trains was that you had to pick carefully. Once you were on a carriage, there was no going between them. This was both help if you were getting off and a hindrance if you were trying to get in. The doors tended not to open when the train was in motion.

The first thing that came to Danny's mind as he was hanging on was to try and kick the window. THUMP! He forgot that the trains have bullet proof glass. A kick from a man who didn't know how to handle a gun certainly was no bullet. He looked ahead where the train was going and found that there was a beam for the train lights heading right towards him. He leapt off and landed on the gravel hard, watching the train go by.

As he lifted himself up off of the dirt, he realised that he'd lost his opportunity. Or, had he? Near the lights at the base of the pole was a lever. He didn't even know what it did, but it had to do something.

He pulled it.

The train connected and diverted itself onto a different track. It'd be another minute before its artificial intelligence caught on and ground the thing to a halt. Danny hopped on. Smoothly, the massive snake of metal and passengers rolled through the maintenance-bay: a U-Bend that took the train a full 180 degrees. Danny watched, riding the thing, running along it as it came alongside Platform 7.

The emergency breaks finally triggered, slowing the thing with a screeching grind, the sudden change of inertia bringing Danny flat on his face on the roof of the train-car.

People stared up through some of the transparent elements of the ceiling. Glaring. He'd violated the unspoken rule of fucking with the train schedule. Lots of white collar felons were going to be late for their duties that day. They had illegitimate business to do and time sheets to fill. There was nothing for 'late train because of gymnastic moron' on the timesheet.

"Uh..." Danny tried to break the silence as the white collars were putting their hands on their guns, wondering whether this guy was worth wasting a bullet on.

It was then that Danny ducked in reflex, narrowly missing a sign marked "Maintenance" - another train directly ahead of the one he was stood on - just departing - the two about to bump noses with each other. But his attention was on the platform number on the opposing side.

Lucky number 7. All Danny did was step onto the platform, and onto the train through an open door. The way he held himself as he went in was uncharacteristic to most Nepleslians. A person who'd gone through all this trouble to stop a train would probably have been hooting and hollering and telling the world to look upon his works and despair.

Danny, however, just sat down on an available seat quietly as he could, chuckling nervously about the whole affair.

-

♫ Knytt Underground - "Underwater Lab Remix"

And his contact was right next to him. "You're overdue."

"I'm what?"

"But, that didn't stop you."

"Er..."

"Didn't just give up because an arbitrary time limit stopped you like a marionette without the strings."

"But-"

"And you were willing to stop an entire train to do it."

"...I just wanted to get on the train, that's all."

"Oh?"

"Because."

"Because...?"

Silence.

"Well, Danny, was it?"

"Yes'm." He turned around to get a better look at his contact.

The man was in his fourties. Broad shoulders. Faded t-shirt. Jacket. Sneakers. Jeans. Gruff. Gray hair. Stubble. His icy disposition broke as he grinned mischevously - something from his younger days.

"Where did you learn to freerun?" His voice was slow. Lazy. Muddy. But impish, some how.

"Um..."

"ummm...?" his contact echoed back, mocking him.

"I just do." In actuality, he knew how to run so well because he ran so often, and it was the only thing he could do without fail. However, he couldn't even make cup noodles without burning them.

"That so?" the figure said. "By the way, the fact you're so susceptible to subliminals... We really do need to do something about that" the figure said, fishing into his pocket for something resembling a medical torch. He held it upright, rather than directly at Danny.
"May I?"

Chances were you'd shine it through one ear and the light would come out the other. Danny shrugged in reply, eyebrow raised. "About that..." he mumbled.

"About what?" the figure responded, his voice strangely calm but slurred as he held the device up, pulling Danny's eyelids either side.

"What sort'a things do you like to eat, Danny? I'm a big fan of lasagne myself. I'm Nepleslian and I don't like steak. Kinda pitiful, huh?"

Danny's eyeball looked into the light, squinting and attempting to blink. "I like... pie? I guess?"

"Huuuh... What sort?" he said, now moving to the other eye.

"Apple?" He replied quietly before his voice laced with concern. "What're you doing?"

The figure took the silvery cigar case like thing, twisting something toward the top of it - clicking as it calibrated.
"I want you to think of apple-pie, okay?"

He thought of Apple Pie. He found one once. It was still warm, and he wondered why anyone would throw perfectly good apple pie out. That is, until he found the worm in the middle.

"There." he said, folding the device away and putting it into his pocket.

"Huh?"

"The next time that witch tries her magic on you, it won't work. You'll just have a tremendous craving for apple-pie."

Danny's bottom lip drooped and he looked to his left before looking back at his contact.

"The lady on the phone. You remember? The Physician?" Danny nodded once in reply.

"Well then" the man said, nodding at a young lady with a silvery cart. "Mm. Do you have a menu?" She soon handed one over and be began skimming through it.

Danny was ignored by the waitress, and took a menu for himself. He flicked it open and started looking through it. Why were they so expensive? They were all at least two digits expensive.

Right now, the mysterious man wouldn't be rushed for the world, taking his time - ignoring Danny.

"This won't do." he said. "The other menu. The good menu with the good stuff" he said, handing the menu back. The hostess soon fished through the cart and held a much grander looking menu. He skimmed it again, taking Danny's with his free hand and handing it back to her.

"I'll have #22, #94, #73 and #82. He'll have #1290 and #1291." the man said flatly, handing it back.

Danny looked at this new menu frowning, some items on it were in the threes and fours of digits. He could scarcely afford rent, let alone square meals. "Uh... yeah, I'll take that." He nodded in agreement to the waitress. He wondered who'd foot the bill for all this because he'd never handled this much money in his life - not even for food.

"SO!" the figure said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "You're Danny. Little Danny. Only Danny." his voice fell in tone and pace. "Tell me, are you fine with that or would something else suit you better?"

It took Danny a moment to realise that he was talking about a change in identity.

"Why is it so expensive?" He asked earnestly.

"Honestly? Everything's real. Real is expensive. Plus... They tend to add a few little extra pharmaceutical touches."

"And why am I little?" He then realised that he was only five foot five. That would probably be it.

"Because there's only one of you," the figure grinned, welcoming a metal tray with an array of small containers and a pair of large dishes and a small bowl. The bowl went to Danny: Apple pie, condensed milk, whipped cream, cherries and something he couldn't identify. There was also a rather hearty steak, french-fries, salad and coleslaw that sat alongside it in a rich barbecue gravy: Several slabs of steak in fact, piled like pancakes atop one another.

The dish that sat before the figure on the other hand was something different. It was hard to identify at first. A strange fusion of many different mushrooms, plants and other grilled vegetables and even fruits dotted with something resembling prawns in a loose sauce. Aside it, onion rings: filled in the centre with poached eggs that mysteriously hung there, making them look like coins and a heaped pile of thin slabs of what appeared to be some variety of raw fish on a separated partition arranged in tiny precise thick cubic cutlets in some pixelated image of Luca Pavone.

Danny's eyes lit up when he saw the face. It seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on where he'd seen it.

Then the drinks came down: A clear crystal tumbler with carved shaped ice and a bottle of whisky to the man and for Danny, a few smaller glasses of various varieties.

The man took his knife and fork, already beginning on the fish course.

"So I'll ask again. Does anyone have any problems with Danny?"

"I like being Danny." He replied quietly as he appraised all the food, quietly wondering if he'd even eat it all.

"Alright. Maybe you could tell me who's been picking on you at school, then?"

Something about the man was... Fatherly with the way he spoke. But also something more relaxed. More like a drinking friend.

"Never went to school..." His voice was meek.

"Oh but you have. If you can run like that, you've been to the school of hard knocks, dear. 'Life', I think they call it?" he said, stuffing a portion of fish into his mouth. He spoke with his mouth full, like any self-respecting Nepleslian would. "The fact you came to see me shows your grades aren't that bad. So who's picking on you?"

"Well, aside from the guy I jumped on or those guys who were unloading rocks-"

"No no. Before that. big stuff."

"-or the press gang that smashed my door in last night, or the ones that did the same the night before, or those organ guys."

"Farmers?"

He nodded. "Can't remember. I ran so far away."

"Huh... Remember their faces at all? Well, of course you do. I mean you don't but the stuff underneath your awareness does, of course. Tell me, Danny. How do you feel about revenge? How does that word make you feel?"

And now the man had seemingly become Danny's therapist.

"I dunno. I just run."

"Running is good" he said, the patchwork of Luca quickly disappearing, chewing. "Say, what's your fondest memory?"

"Uh... there was this one time in the middle of nowhere a few years back-" His memory was starting to jog. "And think I saw that guy! I gave him a ship and he promised not to break my legs." He pointed to the face in Franz's food.

Danny hadn't touched his food yet. It was going cold.

"...Promising not to have your legs broken is your fondest memory?"

Danny nodded, completely earnestly in reply.

"Really?"

"I didn't even like where I was anyway and I got away afterwards, so, yeah, he helped with that too." He was working for the Reds at that time as a footsoldier.

"Huh... Your fondest memory is not broken legs... We're going to have to fix that." the man said, the salmon chunks gone, now starting on the cutlets and the salad, taking a sip from his whisky. "You haven't touched yours."

"Wha? Oh." He was finally starting to feel hungry, and decided that the first thing he'd eat was one of the steak cutlets. He prodded the thing he couldn't identify on his plate with a knife. What was it? Some sauce? A salad? A coleslaw? An alien body part? He'd never seen food this good in his life.

"Eat up."

Danny was still eating his food fairly slowly as if he was overcome by each new sensation that'd gotten into his mouth. This was miles ahead of anything that he'd eaten in the past twelve months. Not cup noodles from the convenience store down the road, not a hamburger found wrapped up in a rubbish bin, not a rat shish-kebab. This was completely on its own.

"How is it?"

All he replied with was a nod as he was eating the french fries along with the steak, both impaled on his fork and slathered in gravy. A blush was coming across his cheeks. He was in abject luxury.

"Yes?" the man replied with a wide lopsided grin. "Good? If you behave, there's more of this. And somewhere nicer to live."

After he'd polished off a third of his food, Danny couldn't help but ask: "Oh, I never got your name. Mr...?"

"Gossard" he smiled. "Franz Gossard. You ever left Funky City before, Danny?"

"A few times." Again, his employment with the Reds was there, which took him to a little hellhole called N-357 far in the Galactic west, and his Origin employment had him on Dawn Station further up north. How he got from place to place was a mystery.

"Ever had a holiday?"

"Not really, why?" He was now putting cream onto the apple pie slices after having eaten what he could of the steak. He still hadn't touched what he couldn't identify sitting near the apple pie.

"Not really? Huh... After your first job, we'll all have to go somewhere nice. Anywhere you've ever wanted to go, Danny?"

"Anywhere away from here, basically." He wasn't all that picky about where or when stuff happened, since most of the time it happened to him, and if he didn't like it he could get away from it post-haste.

Though, this might've been a little harder to walk away from, even though he had no idea who he was dealing with, exactly.

"Hum..." Franz chewed on his fork thoughtfully before taking a whip of whisky, running it through his teeth. "I can arrange that. But I need to know if you can do more than freerun first, if that's alright."

"I can do this." He bent his finger back against his palm, and he didn't even flinch, save for a slight tug on his lips at discomfort. Chances were, Aliceu saw the extent of what he could do. "And I learn languages fast and I can fly a shuttle." The former two were always with him for some reason, as though the universe was giving him mercy for everything he took from it, the shuttle flying he learned when he was with the Reds.

"Whoa, slow down... You don't need to impress me, just prove you can do what we'll need you to do."

He let go of his finger. It snapped back to position without fuss. "How? Oh, and where's the train going?" He looked out the window over by Franz.

"Inland. I need to talk to a man about a dog, then we come back and I run a few scans on you. I figure if we're going to be working together, I should get to know you."

"What sort of scans?" Danny asked. "It isn't going to be like last time, is it?" He crossed one of his arms across his chest.

"No. It'll be like the dentist."

Danny frowned and shuffled in his seat.

"But no drills. You sit in a big chair, I do 3D images of your body, work out if you have any physiological defects then do a neural assessment."

He didn't even know what one of those was. "What does that do?"

"Lets us know if the training we have for you would stick or not and how you'd handle in a crisis situation. Its like an interview without the stress, because we ask your brain questions instead of you. You don't have to worry about your answers."

"I... get stressed easy." He admitted.

"That's fine. Lots of people perform really well under stress. Were you stressed on your way here, hopping trains?"

Danny nodded knowingly. Being harassed by gang bangers, horrified by the sex trade, shot at and possibly crushed at least three times each in the space of sixty seconds would do make one stressed out.

"Over time, we should be able to work that out of you," his voice stressed. Danny could just make out a look of near pity.
"But to do so, we'll need to push you to your limits, for which I apologise in advance."

On the bright side, he was being honest about it. Danny sighed lightly and tried to eat more steak. It'd gone cold, but he couldn't ignore his stomach for any longer. "Like what?" he said between mouthfulls.

"The truth is..." Franz said, steepling his hands. "You're sat on an ejector seat," Danny's blue eyes widened as the fork was halfway towards his open mouth.

He then looked at the plate in front of him and grabbed it, holding the contents close. If he was going to go, he might as well take some decent in-flight food.

"Actually..." Franz said, reaching aside for some sort of ruck-sack. He presented it to Danny: One over his back (a parachute) and the other full of stuff. "You won't have room to carry any food."

And with that, the ceiling began to open.

Danny mewled something meek and unintelligible when he figured out that Franz wasn't bluffing. He put the parachute on and then asked: "Why can't you just throw me out into the dump as the train's going like the last guys did?" He was referring to another incident in his past.

"Were you listening to anything I said earlier?" he said, helping Danny fit the other rucksack to his front which jingled with equipment. A slow fizzing noise built beneath Danny's seat as it refused to let go of him, Franz watching calmly as the traincar began to shake.

He shook his head, then caught himself and nodded to look good. It was a definite maybe for how much attention he was paying to Franz, or what parts of his speech took priority over others - he'd been bombarded by information, and barely had time to register it. He looked between his legs and noticed that there was acrid smoke emerging from beneath his chair.

Franz' face was almost lit by a quiet, coquettish smile that wasn't inappropriate for his age, eyes closed as his hands waved passively away from his steeple.

With that, Danny was propelled up into the air at some speed that almost pulled his face off and sent the meal he'd just eaten down from his stomach and into various other organs before they were ready to be. Stars rode on his peripheral vision as he could begin to make out the curvature of the planet.

"Have a nice trip," Franz uttered as the ceiling of the traincar slid shut and without hesitation reached forward to take what had been Danny's portion for himself.

"No sense in letting it go to waste..."

-

And then Danny fell out of the chair, tumbling back towards Nepleslia, the wind roaring in his ears, moisture clinging to his clothing and skin and the air freezing him to the very bones. He could see his breath for a split second before gravity truly begun to pull him back towards that brown and grey sphere called Nepleslia.

He tumbled and fell, flailing like a drowning seagull as the wind kept rushing through him. He felt parts of himself start to stiffen as the moisture on his clothing froze. He had an icing problem. He fell for a few more seconds before something in his subconscious started guiding him.

He made a massive jerk with his body and twisted himself into a skydiving position, limbs akimbo to get the most wind resistance he could to slow his descent. He was now face to face with the planet, watching the grey clouds of smog and towering spires come closer.

He then pulled the cord and felt his world jerk. His organs were disarrayed once again, and as he started floating, he felt the food he was eating moments ago start to rise in his oesophagus. The noxious clouds didn't go in his favour as their accumulated carcinogens tipped him into nausea and made him cough some of the contents of his last meal.

Once the clouds cleared, he could see buildings come into view, and he started steering himself towards the nearest one. Some sort of glitzy hotel, judging by the neon signage and giant art displays out the front that were kept clean from vandalism by unrelenting force. The exterior edges of the room seemed to be lined with barbed wire, and there were some sparse rooftop commodities including a makeshift helipad, some water towers and some electrical boxes filled with things beyond Danny's fathoming.

He landed on the helipad and rolled along the ground, catching his breath and coughing before looking around. He stood up intertwined with the parachute's cables and cords and started to unbind himself of them. Once that was over, he inspected the contents of the front pouch that was in this pack...

A voice sounded from a small black plastic box.

"Floors 22 to 24 are administrative floors, and the most secure part of the building. There's something in there I need you to pilfer. I've given you the tools, all you need now is to reach out and grab it. Have fun sweet-cheeks~."

Click. Danny looked through the contents of the bag a little more thoroughly. "Wait, what do I need to pilfer?" He tried answering the radio back as he pulled various implements out. It seemed as though he'd have to procure anything more substantial onsite.

A map stood out in particular to Danny - paperclipped to it, a number of photographs of a diamond and a floor-plan of the complete building. He unfolded the blueprints and gave them a few glances before continuing to forage the bag for any other equipment, wondering if there was anything else besides a map, some photos and a radio.

There was one last item. A suit. A navy-grey coloured skintight suit without much structure save for some webbing in the chest, waist and legs to provide points to attach pouches, including the backpack he came with. Attached to it was a label saying 'WEAR THIS - DEFLECTS PASSIVE RADAR AND SCANNING, NOT BULLETS'. He removed his clothing and slid into the suit, zipping it up as soon as it was over every inch of his body below the neck. He felt kind of strange walking around as though he was wearing a wetsuit that made him feel naked, so he put his old clothes on underneath it and rolled his shoulders, feeling much more comfortable. With his hands covered, he'd leave no prints.

It didn't appear that way for anything else useful though. It was going to be an equipment onsite-procurement burglary. According to the blueprints, he was just above Floor 60.

He rolled up the parachute, disposed of it thoughtfully and took a deep breath as he looked out over the skyscrapers and smokestacks of Funky City in quiet recollection of the past several minutes of his life. He was shivering beneath his new suit as the expectations of his new employers rode on his back. Teeth chattering quietly and hugging himself for warmth.

Danny exhaled. He looked up, flexed his fingers inside the suit and stood up straight against the cold temperature to commence his first mission...

-OFF!
 
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