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RP Vance Bridge Road, EP1, Neighbourhood Watch

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"Th-thanks." Ladydick took the print out carefully and held it up with an intense look of scrutinization. He took a moment to read over it, his face slowly turning to one of understanding. It was all there. The detective nodded sharply and pushed his hat up his head, still reading the report but darting his eyes between the paper and the gathered crowd of citizens. Alex crossed his arms, eyeing the detective expectantly in lieu of Chrys' comments, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, well, according to this--" Buck held up the sheaf of paper and shook it a few times to indicate it before going on, his cigarette bouncing along with the words. "This Masterful Jack guy didn't actually say anything about coming back. I'd like to book him for busting the noise ordinance-- the only thing that loud we can tolerate is gunshots, and even that should be kept to business hours. I mean," The human stereotype planted his hands on his hips and leaned back, looking absolutely disgusted, "This robot guy was hearin' in his apartment that's..." Eyes darted back to the paper, "Seventy meters away and insulated."

"So, you could arrest him for harassment, perhaps?" Suggested Alex, leaning over on his cane with cold eyes.

"I doubt he's listed in the government database as 'Masterful Jack'." Panned the detective, shaking his head. After a moment's thought, he volunteered, "Well, here's my offer: If you guys actually get your little neighborhood militia together, I'll show up tonight with a kid on the force who owes me a favor, help you guys keep a lookout and cuff the bastard if he actually shows up. Sound good?"
 
Ruby red lips curled up at the introduction, a black-gloved hand lowered the cigarette slowly, and with but a moment’s hesitation tapped the ashes to the ground, the small red embers finding themselves quickly claimed by the damp. She didn’t seem to pay that much attention to Alex at the moment, and she pointedly ignored the shrill woman trying to latch to his side. Tabernacle’s greeting brought her eyes over to the large spacer, and her cool blue eyes considered it a moment, the smile still lighting her lips – the Spacer was something new to her, and something she was going to learn more about later – and then onto the detective. Tall, rugged, and he seemed to have the sort of confidence that came with years of experience. This was starting to become something out of a movie.

Jaquelin let the others speak. They brought up very good points, and Ladydick himself pointed out the flaw in their little watch’s crusade shortly after he made his offer.

She stepped in a bit closer to the circle and spoke. “That would be wonderful. I am sure your experience, and of course the word of the law, will bring this to a quick end.” It was hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or meant what she said, so cheery was her demeanor. “I will be more than happy when Masterful Jack’s poor taste is taken elsewhere, be it a cell, or the road.”
 
Chrys sneered and looked again at all the people. The cop was not much help, but at least he agree to stay around. The wingless elysian was pretty happy to have police man around when Alex was up to something. Even though this police man was a bit sketchy. So even if Alex was up to something, this cop might just take a bribe from the one-eyed lord of mischief and look the other way. As usual, only one who could really at least try to keep en aye on Alex was Chrysanthe.

The tall woman sighed as her eyes studied the group, one by one. They sure were colourful bunch, mostly a new faces in the neighborhood, but not all.

"All right," She finally said. "I can stick around, not like I have anything better on my hands at the moment. There is no gig on anyway, I guess can keep around and make sure few stupid ganger wankers won't hurt anyone."

As she said, her eyes set on Alex, looking him straight in the face. She hoped for some kind of reaction, though she knew that there would be none whatsoever.
 
Amelia was just content in watching the exchange happen once the detective seemed to be done in getting no more answers from her. The Nepleslian stuffed her gloved hands inside the front pockets of her jacket again and stared again at the people gathered, close enough to hear the the conversation but far enough to not have to participate in it. The thing that caught her attention was the mention of preparing for when Masterful Jack and his troupe returned, and the call to arms that was also extended to the people meeting there.

That was a hard one refuse, specially since one of the people gathered, the store owner, was going to be offering beer and snacks. The raven-haired Nepleslian figured that the reason for that would be a piece of cake, considering they had what was essentially a walking tank and its three heavily armed goons on their sides too; each of them was already more than capable of teaching Masterful Jack that Synthtrash wasn't something an entire neighborhood like to hear. At least she thought so. The hard part, the Nepleslian thought, was going to have to make idle conversation with people and having to go through the several ways she'd obviously make a blunder of it, but that was a small thing to overlook after eating nothing but junk food for an entire week. Yes, that arrangement seemed more than ideal, in the end.

"Is he also a detective?" Amelia asked Ladydick, trying and failing to keep a straight face. Maybe the other guy wouldn't have a lousy NSP, so there still was hope.
 
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"I will attend the meeting using this body, while the main chassis carries out an adaptive patrol subroutine I devised." The automaton shrugged it shoulders, rolling its neck with a mechanical whine of servomotors put under load. "I apologize if my reactions seem slower. This... chassis' processing ability is somewhat more limited. But nothing I cannot compensate for.

A beat. Then, with a snap-whirrr like a camera with a motorized camera shutter, the Baba Yaga's monoeye blinked, as if to confirm it was Tabernacle at the helm.

"I will have to pass on the refreshments, however. It seems as if I neglected to install a stomach." Then the robot began to shake, the small shutter on its monoeye half closed, as if expressing glee. Was... was that a joke?
 
Anatevka watched the gumshoe pass right by her, though she couldn't help but stifle a small chuckle at his name when he introduced himself to the woman she had been eyeing suspiciously before. Just like the choice of sidearm he wore being out-of-place, it made it a little difficult to take Detective Ladydick seriously. The Kuznyetski muttered a bit under her breath to Mr. Alex, "With policemen like this, I can't blame you for saying we need to rely more on ourselves to solve this matter, yes?" At least his last suggestion, however, got a little more of an agreement from her.

The proprietor then saw the activity of one of the Baba Yaga's as Tabernacle took control, poking the tiny automata lightly with a finger and a slight grin on her homely face as she got the joke after a minute of thinking. "Ah, that is too bad. You are missing my daily soup... it is no chazerei, let me tell you! But I find something special for you under the counter to bring, eh... Do you like gun lubricants?"
 
"I feel like we're in agreement here." Alex said with nod. He took out the pocket square once more and, with his cane tucked under and elbow, polished off what appeared to be a silvery-steel sphere. Once it met his satisfaction, he lifted his eyepatch to reveal a hollow metal socket and slipped his prosthesis right in with a comfortable series of clicks. A blue LED flipped on and instantly there was a soft, approving sigh from the well-dressed mansioneer. A few blinks of his good eye later, out came the huge wad of cash.

"Miss Kuznyetski," Alex doled out the first stack to the Kuznyetski shopkeeper without even looking her way. Or rather, he didn't look at her with his real eye. "Your stock room contains thirty-seven twenty-five kilogram sacks of rice. I would like to purchase them. A man will be by later to pick them up. Set them outside the back door for now."

Next, a wad of money was placed into the metal palm of the Baba Yaga who'd remained behind. "Machine, please fetch the man who is called 'Bright Nickel'. He lives in the apartment diagonally adjacent to your own. The ogre will accompany you." With this, Alex jutted the end of his cane to the slightly distant shape massive ID-Sol who was currently tossing a junior detective badge over his shoulder with a sour look on his face. "Simply tell him your errand and he will follow along..."

Alex took a second to tap his chin in consideration for a moment, then turned to Chrys. "Miss Chronis, if you would be so kind, it may be prudent to accompany them as well and perhaps speak to your landlord and alert him to our proceedings. I have a sense that he may be interested to know about it."

By this time, Buck Ladydick had finished his quick dismissal of Amelia (a suspicious look in light of her childish expression, a slow and careful "No.", and then crossing his arms with a sideways face) and just let himself sit back and listen to Alex attempt something like rallying troops. Seeing everything adequately in motion, he started on his way back to his car. On the way, he stopped himself and took a second look at the woman who'd run out with the wool coat. Cold eyes inspected her from a distance, a knowing glimmer hidden behind a veil of confusion. After trying to pin a finger on this feeling for a moment, he shook his head and slid back into his car with a sigh.

When the squad car had peeled off, Alex crossed his arms behind his back and commented, "I would've offered to buy him some donuts, but I have a feeling he would prefer sushi... Hm." A quick moment was spent framing chin in forefinger and thumb before the cyclops turned his eyes to Elissa and added, "Miss MacKinnon, you may want to go across the street and speak with Rosa-- acquaint her with the situation. She, ah, still will not speak with me. We'll all meet back here in a short time and plan this situation out."

He was the first to break off, and he went right for Amelia. As soon as he got close enough to speak quietly, he began asking questions. "Are you--" His eye bunched up like he was reading it off of a card, "Amelia Stroud? And furthermore, are you interested in doing something other than watching tonight? Or would you consider yourself a voyeur?"
 
Amelia watched each one of the participants walk off with an errand of their own, feeling somewhat left out that she wouldn't be able to see how this would play out. She couldn't really say she was surprised when the multi-trillionaire looking Nepleslian approached her, but what her said next took out the expression she had earlier when talking to the detective, which made the girl no longer look like as if she was trying to keep herself from chortling like a six year old.

"What, no, I'm not voyeur," the raven-haired Nepleslian shot back, amusement and indignation on her voice due to the older man's remark. She looked like she was trying not to laugh at the inquiry by instead trying to sound outraged by it. "No one asked for help or anything, so I didn't want to be involved. Besides, it already looked like you guys had the situation handled too when everyone stepped in," she added. It was a half-truth, and the other half was that she didn't really feel like getting shot at because someone had a poor musical taste. It was SOP for the starfighter pilot to avoid trouble most of the times unless it directly affected her.

"But yeah, I guess I'll take part in this militia thing since it's pretty clear they're coming back to set this place on fire," Amelia added, now sounding a little bit uncomfortable, if not guilty. It still bothered her to say something that bordered the dishonest. It was time to change the subject.

"Also how do you know my name?" She asked, ajdusting the headset that was still around her neck with one hand, while the other remained firmly inside one of the front pockets of her jacket. "We never met," she added.
 
Looking down at the wad of cash in its hand, the robot blinked at Alex, then nodded. It was clear cut enough, though why Bright Nickel, the large ineffectuous and short-statured companion to the giant brown ID-SOL, had to get involved escaped it.

"Mr..." The robot took a second to run through the databank of names it had listed for the residents of Vance Bridge Road. "Marshmellow. Please come with me. We have to fetch your living companion."

With that, it stalked off, in the direction of its own domicile, still clutching the money in hand. Why the strange man wanted Bright Nickel was beyond it, but it decided that at this point, it was better to leave the plans to Alex, who didn't have to split his considerable processing power amongst many different bodies.
 
Chrys frowned at Alex, an expression that was likely to appear on her face more of then than not in next few hours. She then sighed and scratched the back of her neck, in a gesture of giving up.

"All right Alex," she said and shrugged. "I can do that. I will leave you to your scheming, try to not turn anyone else into your puppet while I am gone."

Chrys jogged to catch up with the freespacer and Marshmellow, looking over her should to see the young raven-haired girl chatting Alex up. On one hand the eternal optimist in her hoped that this was really just Alex trying to protect the hood, but the woman with enough Lexperience that she was, though that there will be more.

"Hey," Chrys said as she caught up with the Freespacetrosity. "Pleased to meet you mate, I am Chrys. Did not meet you around these parts yet, you don't come out much, do you?"

She then also turned to the Id-Sol giving him a nod. "hey Marshy, you doing okay? Got any new hats?" She asked just to keep the giants mind to something else. She was not afraid of Marshmellow much. First she was what she was, second her boyfriend was who he was.
 
The proprietor of Fresh Start Foods turned her attention back to the owner of the mansion when she heard the 'click' of his cybernetic device falling into place, raising an eyebrow for a moment. Then an even stranger thing happened... Alex proceeded to tell her exactly how many bags she had in stock. "Is that some sort of x-ray vision eye? No wonder you seem to know everything," Anatevka began, as her eyes widened more when the benefactor ever so casually shoved a stack of money into her hands for said bags of rice.

Naturally, the merchant graciously accepted the offering without hesitation... it was always easy to get more of the staple for her stews, and getting in good with supplying the mansion dweller was a great new market for her struggling store. "Oh.. well, thank you for the business, Mr. Alex. Bet you have a big pantry to go with that big house, mmm? I'll be sure to get them ready right away. And the refreshments I promised for the meeting."

Sitting idle just chatting in the street was definitely not her style... so if there was nothing further, the kerchief wearing Kuznyetski girl slung her cobbled-together rifle and started back to the back door of her shop to finish the morning routines that Masterful Jack had interrupted, and get to Alex's request, among other preparations.
 
"Bitch I don't want no dirty fuckin' hats." Marshmellow remarked off-handedly as he followed along. "I want a--" There was a pause while Marshmellow took a moment to consider exactly what item he wanted from the surroundings. Finding nothing of interest, he tapped into his fragmented memories. "I want a samwich. A big-ass triple-meat samwich." He seemed amused by this decision. "Aha, das' why dey call me Marshmellow, yeah."

As Chrys, Tabernacle, and Marshmellow approached the apartment building, a velour tracksuit came out of the office to meet them. Inhabiting the tracksuit was a short, fat man with grey sideburns, a thick patch of chest hair, and enough gold jewelry to start a smeltery. It was the apartment building's owner and superintendent, Vino Zagliozzi. Tugging at one of the straps of the tank top underneath his track suit, he pressed a pair of cheap sunglasses over his dead green eyes and called out to the approaching tenents.

"'Aaaay, Chronis." He greeted Chrys first, then moved on to the other two, "Robutt, Marshmellow. You guys, eh--" He gestured to the passing patrol car, "You, aaaah, get any help from the bacon? I called for 'em, but you know how I gotta stay out of the public eye and whatnot."

-----

"I'm often told that I know far more than I should." Alex replied slowly, leaning forward on his cane. His eye panned across Amelia's face for a moment before he leaned back and explained, "Never the less, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintace-- and to hear that you will be attending this meeting. It's important for the neighbourhood, you know? Your establishment stands to benefit as well."

-----

When Ana got back to her store, there was waiting for her an unfortunate and farmiliar face. Tall, broad, brick-like and stupidly dressed was Yigor Kuznyetski-- a dirty-blonde youth with dull brown eyes and a jaw square enough to act as a line-guide. He'd been Anatevka's intended husband-- or rather would've been if her parents had been given their way. Instead, she'd struck out on her own and opened up a shop on Vance Bridge Road, halfway across town. And now, here he was in front of her store with an oversized leisure suit underneath his rough brown Kuznek coat. A pair of visor-like sports sunglasses were pressed up over his forehead as she approached and he waved.

"Privyet, Anatevka." He said with a bashful grin, trying to look casual-- trying to look as if he'd just come halfway across town for some other reason and this was just some sort of incidental visit.
 
Amelia's hands balled up into fists inside the front pockets of her jacket as the old man spoke, but still managed to keep a neutral expression despite the other man not answered her question. "Well they're offering me food, and getting clients isn't really my priority right now," The raven-haired girl replied. Realizing how weird it was for a business owner to say what she had said, she didn't lose a skip to add to her sentence. "Since I'm still fixing the place up anyway," the Nepleslian added, standing where she was in a sudden awkward silence before thinking of something else to add to the conversation.

"By the way you're not going through my trash or anything, right?" She added. Annoyed that Alex's ability to dodge subjects almost matched her own. In a way, that reminded her of herself and that only made her the more annoyed.
 
"That would be poor form, wouldn't it?" Dodged Alex, pissing off Amelia just a little bit more with his cold and aloof expression. "Now, why would a bartender call her patrons 'clients'?"
 
'Nice try, grandpa.' Amelia thought, giving the usual faint, half-smile to Alex that she always did when amused at something. "My vocabulary is simpler, so I couldn't remember the exact word," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders. Her half-smile fainted, and with it the neutral expression that she wore, replaced by a sharper look. "Did it bother you that much?" the Nepleslian asked the old man.
 
"'Aaaay, Vino." Chrysanthe faked the superintendent's accent, like she usually did. "Yeah a single bloody copper arrived. A real piece of character, some yammie lover judging from his taste in guns. Not that much help he was. Just told us he'll get his buddy and then he sodded off."

Chrysanthe paused and took few seconds to get another cigarrilo, light a match and lit it. The day was getting interesting. It was the first time, she ever heard about Vino calling the cops. Especially for something like loud kids. Likely Alex gave the man a call and told him to get the cops. Well at least in Chrys' paranoic mind it looked like probable thing.

"Alex is forming something like a militia," The ex-Elysian said after few puffs on her cigar. "He sent these two-" a thumb pointed at the Baba Yaga and Marshmellow. "to get B.N. I was supposed to tell you what is going on. So yeah that kids are probably coming back and they will be angry, so we will be doing something like a neighboorhood watch. Keep those wankers out of our streets, that sort of jibber jabber. We are meeting at that Kuznietski lady that opened up grocery shop near Rosa's and talk strategy or whatever."
 
On the way to Vino's, the robot managed to introduce itself to the Elysian, but it was a stilted, awkward journey. Tabernacle's considerable processing power was occupied with managing the numerous proxy bodies it maintained throughout Nepleslian space, so the robot was hardy friendly and talkative, though there was no overt hostility. Its speech was punctuated by odd pauses, caused by delays processing data packets - the robot had also tripped several times, faceplanting specacularly each time before picking itself up without a word and continuing to walk in its bizarre, marionette-like stride.

"No, I do not come out much." It said, eventually, to her question. "My primary body is inconvenient... easier to 'proxy' with robots. More in common with a tank than the typical bipedal humanoid."

When they had arrived, Tabernacle didn't manage to respond quickly, making Chrysanthe have to do most of the talking. After she had finished, it spoke.

"...Bacon?" The Baba Yaga blinked, its eye-hatch making a quick click-snap that still sounded eeriely like a handgun's slide catch being released. It ran the term through its ever growing database of Nepleslian slang. "Ah. The police officer. He mostly took statements. The altercation had been resolved before he got there."

A pause. "However, Masterful Jack will return - it is as Chrysanthe says. My main chassis and two secondaries are currently patrolling the neighborhood, though my tactical simulations do not forsee their return for at least 24 hours."

"Superintendent...." Something clanked inside the Baba Yaga, then made a cogitational clank. "...Vino. We have come to retrieve... Bright Nickel. Is he in his domicile?"
 
"I suppose some might say I'm very particular about my words." Shot back Alex with a stony gaze to match her half-smile. He seemed entirely unfazed by the process so far, but something about the way he calmly held himself and continued to press on in the conversation where neither party really answered the other's questions directly told Amelia that there was a game afoot. "So, what ever brought you to Vandenberg to open a business? Since you are not tied to this world, you could have gone just about anywhere and found a better location-- and yet here you are. It's almost like you want to keep a low profile..."

-----

"I don't fuckin' keep Nickel, alright?" Vino replied with a baffled look, crossing his arms and shifting his weight over onto one foot. "I ain't seen 'm today so he's probably in his fuckin' place where you left him, int he?"

Without waiting for anymore questions, Vino turned on the heel of a white sneaker and started going back into his office. When Chrys had mentioned the meeting, there had been some sort of movement behind the cheap sunglasses but it was indistinguishable from dead air thanks to the blackened drug store frames. Still, it was clear that something in it had piqued the fat super's interest as he moved with a little more purpose than usual on his way back into the office, muttering all the way, "Fuckin' IPG ova heeya, askin' all dese fuckin' questions. Why don'cha take y' black trench coat and operate on outta here with y' high collar and whatnot? Tryin' a SAINT on ole Vino with this fuckin' brass attitude..."

The super out of the way, the path was clear to the corner apartment where upon Vino's departure Marshmellow casually strode and entered. As usual, Marshmellow left the door open behind him after carrying out the lengthy process of slipping a proximity card, unlatching a physical tumbler, thumbing '1111' into a keypad, and breaking a cheap-looking rubber doorjamb with his clumsy footsteps. Immediately, the occupant inside burst into a level of desperation usually reserved for bomb defusal scenes in action movies.

"Marshmellow, not again!" Cried the short wiry man who appeared immediately in the doorway already rummaging through the pockets of his peacoat for the right collection of keys and devices to recreate the barrier that would've in all likelyhood been easily surmounted with a nice, strong kick to the thin door that was strained by the weight of the collection. "I told you once, I told you a million times people want me dead in this place and I swear I-- Oh, uh..."

Graham Dawson, known to everyone by his chosen moniker 'Bright Nickel' was a rail of a man with wild brown hair contained by a bright red newsboy hat; which he removed upon spotting Chrysanthe and Tabernacle. Twisting the hat in circles under his nervous fingers, Nickel took on a much meeker appearance and quietly greeted the two of them. "Hey, Tabs. The, uh, antenna booster workin' out alright? And Chryssie..."

Nickel's skin was so pale that when he blushed it was almost like a schoolgirl from a Yamataian cartoon. Thin fingers gripped his hat even tighter as he pretended to laugh while at the same time desperately hiding his giantess fetish. "It, wow, it's just nice you guys came to visit. You--" He seemed frightened by the prospect, "You don't want a drink or anything do you?"
 
"You joke a lot for someone who looks os serious, don't you?" Amelia asked Alex as she looked around, seeing that anyone who needed to be anywhere had already disappeared from sight. Finally, her gaze went back to the man, and the raven haired girl's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Her head turned slightly to the side, in a not so exaggerated way to show that she was somewhat incredulous about the entire situation, which -she assumed- was only natural given the increasingly invasive questions or suggestions being said. "You an accountant, or just trying to kick people out that don't join your militia?" The Nepleslian added, but in a way that, given her tone and expression, spoke that she wasn't serious about the second inquiry. Not entirely at least. Inwardly, all the attention to her life was raising several red flags.

"If I knew you were an accountant, I would've called you. The price for real estate here is pretty cheap all things considered, you know, so I can see why you seem desperate for new clients," the shorter person of the duo explained, maintaining her gaze towards the older man.
 
Fresh Start Foods Grocery

Ana had decided to take the longer way around back to her storefront, just to check if there were any of her usual early bird customers looking for a good cuppa joe waiting outside that might have been wondering about why she had not unlocked the front door yet and flipped the old hanging sign in the window, as it still read CLOSED to anyone passing by. The proprietor was usually never late.

Unfortunately for the young Kuznyetski woman, there was exactly the distant relative she did NOT want to see hanging out, even waving to her as she approached. "Oy vey - what is he doing here? Of all the days," Anatevka mumbled to herself, as she quickly hid the lump of cash Alex had given her for the rice pickup in the deepest pocket of her own thick, brown coat, as well as smoothing out her long dress and straightening her kerchief.

She tried to put on a pleasant face as her suitor spoke a greeting, but it was obvious to him it was strained. She wasn't buying his innocent look. "Privyet, Yigor. It's been a long time... but looks like your sense of style certainly hasn't changed much, eh, kitsch-y?" This was a little joke that she always used to tease him when they were younger, at all his cheesy and tacky attempts at dressing to impress always seemed to elicit a laugh from Ana instead. All of his grown up ones as her prospective match weren't much better, either.

Once she had her small chuckle at his expense, the grocer turned the key into the lock to open the front door and flipped the sign over to OPEN, waving him inside to where fresh coffee was all done and waiting. "My store, it is doing very good, you see... so you don't need to come and check on me like I am still little girl."
 
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