RP: ISC Phoenix [Mission 4-Q] - In Desire

[Luca]

And there are blackouts in L.A. tonight
An evident lack of light tonight
An increase in desire
You'll catch me
Hanging out on a wire
Cutting the voltage to your power line
(And the lights go out)
Hybrid - Blackout

Albini, Coastal Resort Town, Near 'Aoi Hana-bi' Hotel
Although it had proximity to the Yamataian homeworld, Albini was much on par with a colony out in the sticks, simply because there wasn't much to do. The permanent population of the planet was roughly sixty thousand people, but the tourists who came and went for the attractions on the planet, or in orbit thanks to the Pisces Station, were in the tens of thousands.

But, on the very best of tourist years, the population including tourists would get to about a hundred thousand. This year was doing pretty good, so far as tourism was concerned. The resorts and floating platforms which were being constructed to help make more space for the permanent population and keep the pristine wilderness untouched were springing up.

On the edge of Albini's atmosphere and approaching was the Lady of the Night, and the team was examining the map, showing a tropical coastline with some towns on the coast, built to ensure that the beauty (and the tourism income) was preserved.

Melissa sighed as she looked at where she'd be staying, a crummy rooftop overlooking the Aoi Hana-bi. "Really? Feh. Guess I could do with some alone time while I wotch y'all."

Inspecting the map too, Nostrovia was dressed for the occasion in casual clothing, not looking entirely like an archetypal tourist, but smartly casual. "I'd be delighted to share space with you," she grinned as she looked over to the others, "but I need to be close enough to you all moving around the hotel to coordinate and advise. How are we all for clothes?"

Nascent cash opportunities, also known as tourists were pottering about far below the Lady of the Night. John was watching them on radar as he guided the ship with Enzo towards a pad. "Don't need any," he replied tersely from the co-pilot's seat. "I'll stay here on standby."

"Acknowledged," Nostrovia said. "You stay in touch in case anything happens, got that?" John clicked his tongue at her twice and gave her a thumbs up.

The Lady of the Night touched down on a public pad about a kilometre away from the Aoi Hana-bi. The elevated landing area gave a good view, and Nostrovia had paid top dollar to reserve a space this close. The perks of government work - when something had to work smoothly, cash was the grease.

"I can take it from here, Enzo." John offered to the rogue. "You get ready with the rest. Good luck." Solemn, and laconic, but he didn't look down on the conman for what he was.

On the ground, people were moving to and from. This area of Albini, especially around this more affluent tourist area that was known for rich pockets all around was prestigious. Competing big-name hotels, including an offshoot of the Ishimura Heights Hotel was nearby. However, politicians had been staying kind of wary of the brand but the Phoenix fangirls were lapping it up after hearing their hero had stayed in one.

Nostrovia smiled as she looked about the Lady of the Night's interior, perhaps for the switch to open the hatch. When she found it, she looked behind herself, and at everyone. They were dressed to blend in at the moment, civilian clothing, save for Soruk, who already had his Blademaster garb and the form to gather the keys for his luxurious hotel room on the table. "Soruk, walk right in, smile, nod, grab your keys, and get comfortable. Everyone else, our dropoff point for equipment and hotel uniforms is between and underneath the dumpsters behind the Ishimura Heights hotel, just a stone's throw away from the façade of the Aoi Hana-bi. All suitcases are marked, everything's out of sight."

She cleared her throat before continuing. "Our bug-out plan, worst case scenario is to have John swoop in, make a lot of noise, and we all leave. A more ideal retreat would be to meet at this motel room and plan our next move - the one Melissa is staying at to keep an eye on us." She pointed to a less prestigious motel which was on the cusp of the more affluent ones, but got to stay because it was there before the big names came along, and its roof was tall enough to give Melissa a good vantage. "Keys are included in each of your suitcases. Now let's move." Something felt tense in the air. The Aoi Hana-bi was an inviting enough place, for both the Phoenix crew and the two senators they had to nab, but there was an underscoring tension as the team started to move...

MISSION 4-Q - START!!

Starring:
The ISC Phoenix
Aoi Hana-bi Hotel Staff
Yotsuyuki Yuu
A. Winsbury

Also Featuring:
...???????????...

 

[Reynolds]

Lady of the Night

Shayla had spent most of the trip looking over Enzo's little ship, a smirk on her face. Apparently she found the dirt, debris, disrepair, dishevelment and debauchery displayed rather amusing. "It must've taken a lot of work to get it lookin' like this. Real lived in feel, ya know?" She returned to the discussion, peering over heads at the map. "Dumpsters, great. It'll feel just like home, right? Eh?" She elbowed at Enzo as she joked.

"We should probably split up, take different routes to get there. Just in case." Some of them were going to stand out a bit more than others, obviously. She was wearing some of the plain Nepleslian clothing she'd picked up, so she was at least doing her best to blend in. Her full medical kit was left on the ship, but she still had a few simple tools on her, just in case. She'd requested a kit that contained some other supplies along with the weapons that anyone would be expecting from a bodyguard, medical equipment that wouldn't seem out of place if your job was keeping a VIP alive. Shayla couldn't wait to see what kind of outfit they'd picked out for her to wear on this job, chuckling at the thought as she prepared to separate from the others and head for a rendezvous at the supply dropoff.

 

[Lamb]

Enzo probably would've responded to Shayla with a return elbow directed right for her rather generous bust, but he was too busy skittering between his 'make-up stand' and his 'costume rack', a desk and a footlocker full of wrinkled clothes respectively. Much like the Wilcowood actor he was imitating, Enzo looked like a different person. It wasn't even certain if he needed to look different anymore or if it was just for fun-- but now the conman was a taller bespectacled man with slick black hair and a smooth, regal face. Pushing his glasses up his nose for practice, he took a moment to indulge in a check of Shayla's rump in her Nepleslian clothes (he having developed a skill in childhood of grossly judging a feminine boy or masculine woman's body through this attire) before tossing his airbike keys onto the desk.

"Anyone wants t' make use of it, feel free. On special loans f'r the mission." He explained, gesturing to the white beast moored in the corner. Then, remembering his diguise, he smoothed out and lowered his voice before adding respectfully, "Monsieur Callahan may prefer to make use of it, to overcompensate for his impediment."

Enzo's smile was either out of satisfaction for his success in gentrifying his tone or another practice of the Sous-Chef de Cuisine's regal and elegant smile. The smile of a man who was going to take self-superior pleasure in using the finest ingredients to craft a sophisticated meal under the close direction and supervision of a man that he would frequently tell everyone to show respect and keep distance from-- In the 'Monsieur Gallahan is a genius! You stiffle his creativity with your awkward presence!' line of behavior. This smile, whatever is was for, covered Enzo's face as he emerged into the thick, salty air. He swung a white, unlined blazer over his shoulders and took in a deep breath of the fragrant air. The hot wind filled his lungs as he slipped on the white cotton gloves and adjusted the black slacks he wore over his boots. Finally, a quick check of his waistband revealed that his EMP-P1A was still nestled in the small of his back. It was an ugly, overpriced weapon. Perfect for a man of his imitated stature. With everything except the vast array of equipment to be left under and inside of dumpsters accounted for, Enzo straightened his lapel and headed out into the night to consider the stars.

And also, still, all that ass back there.

 

[Sham]

Soruk grumbled and fidgeted a bit with the respirator over his mouth and nose. Why did they have to go somewhere so moist? Why not a nice desert or plains? Hell, the gartagen would take the arctic over this tropical climate. At least it was dry there. While the others discussed their plans and headed to gather up their equipment, the Sheshren Ambassador started towards the Aoi Hana-bi resort, the form for his key tucked away in his cloak. He nodded and exchanged a brief word with Nostrovia, "I'll let you know when I arrive." With that, he headed off into town, ensuring to walk with pride. He was an ambassador after all.

He received a few odd looks. It wasn't every day that you saw a Gartagen just strolling through the streets, especially in a place like this. He was wearing his traditional clan cloak, the flaps billowing in the gentle breeze., his armaments shining in the sun. It wouldn't take terribly long to reach the resort and he strolled right in, like he belonged there, which worked rather well because he did belong there. Soruk walked up to the front counter and presented his form with a grin, though the respirator defeated the gesture, "Blademaster Sheshren Aisaras Soruk, Ambassador for Clan Sheshren of the Gartagen Nation." With a brief check, the desk clerk handed 'Ambassador' Soruk his key and called over an escort. The escort whisked the blademaster off to his room and upon arriving, asked if there was anything he needed.

Soruk paused for a moment, almost dismissing his escort immediately, but an idea sprung to mind, "You don't suppose that I could have my room a bit drier do you? This respirator isn't very comfortable." The blademaster smiled inwardly when he was assured that it could be done. At least he could have this small comfort in this strange place.

A few minutes later, after settling in his room, his hotel phone rang. It was his escort from before, informing him that the room should be dry enough to breathe properly in. Soruk offered his thanks and pulled off his respirator, taking a deep, unimpeded breath, "Ah... much better." Soruk produced his datapad from his cloak, sending a quick message to Nostrovia, informing her that he had arrived and was in his room. The blademaster pondered how to spend his time waiting, settling on the floor to meditate for a while, waiting for instructions.

 

[Luca]

Albini, Coastal Resort Town, Near 'Aoi Hana-bi' Hotel
♫ Duke Nukem 3D: Atomic Meltdown - Lemon Chilllllllllllllllll ♫

Nostrovia nodded towards Enzo. "I'll take the bike to Melissa's setup point once I drop off Redrick," she stated calmly, walking over to the machine, grabbing the handlebars, and finding the keys in the ignition and straddling it, giving the keys a turn. "Vincenzo has a point. If you entered the place fatigued, it might seem 'suss'."

Melissa watched Enzo move forth in all that snappy clothing, but she didn't leave immediately. "Gud thinkin' delay for a bit we don't all look suss, grabbin' our shit all at once," she said, looking over to Red and watching Shayla prepare her route to the dead drop. She gave it another five minutes, checked her watch, and frowned.

"Right, my turn. See ya on the other side, Shayla," she announced before taking off her baseball cap, giving her scalp a wipe and leaving the Lady of the Night with her hat tucked into her jacket, making a beeline for the longest route possible, stepping through markets and examining the wares for a bit - even buying some roadside sushi which'd probably be her lunch and dinner before disappearing.

Meanwhile, Enzo's view of the stars this evening was quite something. The way he could see the one he recognised as Yamatai, and Nepleslia Prime was in the distance off to the far left. Over there he could see Halna, the night was beautifully crisp and clear with few clouds spoiling the tropical skyline, and the pristine environment and the design of the town ensuring that light pollution didn't sully the sky. Almost looked as though you could stick a straw in the sky and swirl it up like a glittery bubblegum milkshake.

The map was still incoming for some reason. Must've taken a while for Echelon to transfer it over from her position, especially with the secure line and the distance between her and the rest of the team.


Albini, 'Aoi Hana-bi' Hotel, Soruk's Room
The room next to the Senator's was quite frankly luxuriant - too luxuriant. How could someone remain calm when subjected to such extravagance? Maybe it explained why idle people with too much money on their hands ended up becoming eclectic, eccentric recluses who splurged their money in the arts, buying commissions to feed themselves, marrying radio jockeys, getting involved in cliques with bizarre rituals, and chomping down things that were real - and really expensive.

On the way in to his hotel room, he noticed that there was a Nekovalkyrja in front of doors to the Senator's hotel room, dressed all in black, sunglasses too. No visible weapons either - but if they wanted to conceal weapons they would've had to make themselves scarce. They were the weapons themselves.

From his encrypted communications, Soruk got a single line reply: 'OK. Will confirm others ready.'

 

[Born-On-Board]

Redrick adjusted the collar of his shirt, looking at himself in one of the many mirrors in Enzo's ship. Why he'd needed three mirrors, let alone one on the scant ceiling of the Lady's sleeping area baffled Redrick, but he figured it was best to not find out about the deviancy that went on in Enzo's territory. Better to just stay naive.

He had been listening to the conversation in the background, tuning it out for the most part, until it was unavoidably directed at him. He blanched at the thought of the IPG agent 'dropping him off', but the fact remained that even after the convalescent period between missions, his leg had still hurt from the exertions of the Fruna Ruica. Even the short walk from the ship to the hotel would leave him panting and wheezing, and that's if he didn't get lost in this unfamiliar location. He'd even grabbed a cane from what he could only describe as Enzo's costume rack - the variety and type of clothes that his ship contained was mind-boggling.

"Christ. Dropping me off like a kid from one of the armored buses to a Funky city primary school..." He made an expression of visible disgust that quickly faded. "But I guess there's no other choice, is there? I'll ride bitch, since I haven't piloted an airbike in close to two decades and I got no intention of starting now."

He looked to Enzo, who was in the process of becoming completely unrecognizable. "I appreciate the gesture though. And remember, when we get to the kitchens, don't leave my side. The contract Nostrovia forged for the hotel states that you were one of my hiring conditions, so I want you to play up that arrogant Souz-Chef oui oui angle you got going."

Then, he broke a smile. "And see if we can't get some of their cutlery and dining wares. Imagine; Aoi-Hana-bi fine china in our cupboards on the ship, and we wouldn't have to pay a dime? I'm taking everything not nailed down."

He said it jokingly, but his eyes were deadly serious.

He got onto the bike behind the IPG agent, the vehicle sinking visibly under his weight. Tucked into a clamshell holster in the small of his back was the same SiZi-75 he'd acquired on the Fruna Ruica, more there to fulfill expectations than to actually defend himself with. Nepleslians were always armed. Always. An unarmed Nepleslian just meant he had a gun that was too large to conceal on his person.

"Well. Let's get this trainwreck a-rollin'." he said, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. And just why did he feel like someone was watching him already?

 

[Luca]

Albini, Coastal Resort Town, Near 'Aoi Hana-bi' Hotel
"Oh, hush, old timer," Nostrovia said as Redrick mounted the hoverbike. "You can steal everything you'd like once you're there. I'm sure it happens to hotels like this all the time, even on Yamatai. Now, Shayla," she turned around, looking over her shoulder at the Nekovalkyrja, "head out after me. John will close up after you. Good luck." With that, she turned around and started moving the airbike slowly, not drawing attention to herself.

♫ Sha-kobe - Sunset 80s ♫

The look of the coastal town was typical of most Yamataian coastal towns, especially those made for tourism. It was the sort of place where things were meant to grab your attention and rip it to pieces, leaving the tourist to walk all throughout town, leak money, and grab the shreds of their attention along the way. Of course, it'd be gutpunched at just the right moment, and the process would repeat until they went back to their hotel, watched something on the hotel's cable TV, slept, and went looking for their attention in the morning. Repeat ad infinitum until attention is together, money is gone, and the hotel boots them out because they tried stealing the shampoo.

Eastwards, Nostrovia and Red rode, seeing many inviting looking places, many busy restaurants, and a flood of coloured shirts from tourists - mostly affluent Yamataians. A crackle came over everyone's lines, Redrick barely able to hear it clearly as the sound of rushing wind passed through his hairs and blew through his ears. "Oi'm in position at th' motel," Melissa said. "got me kit on th' way and a good visual. Nos, I gotta pot 'o coffee waitin' fer ya."

"Excellent, that was fast," Nostrovia replied as she saw the crossroads ahead, slowing down as Red saw the hotel off to his left. The front of the hotel resembled an architectural stack of pancakes - a series of white coins stacked atop each other, tiered and given balconies. Each coin only thirty centimetres off centre from the first one that made the ground floor. It tilted precariously - but its centre of gravity was still all in one place.

The Aoi hana-bi Hotel was thirty storeys tall, and according to the brochure and mission-collected information, Soruk was staying at the twenty seventh floor, and there was an exclusive restaurant on the twenty ninth floor, with some of the kitchen facilities - top of the range facilities - on the twenty eighth floor. Perhaps this evening, the Senators could be dining there right now. It was 7:02 PM, and dinner started being served at 8:30 on the dot. Before that dinner reached the tables though, there was a lot of cooking to be done and a kitchen to command.

Nostrovia dropped Red off, and just to his left, off to the side, he could see the dumpsters where his gear alleged to be. "It's all on you now, Red. The operation starts when you say 'go'." With that, she turned the hoverbike around and shot up the north road, making a hard left and heading towards the motel Melissa was staying to survey the hotel with. If everything was accounted for, there was his uniform, an identification, and a card to get him to the twenty eighth floor to get cooking - both for the senators and for this plan.

Enzo, meanwhile had found his wandering along the stretch of beach just south of the spaceport, and following the coast on a footpath eastwards the Aoi Hana-bi, looking out at the stars while pristine white sand lapped by the ocean. He could see late-night beachgoers with few compunctions about wearing clothes (most likely Yamataians - who had blue curtains AND drapes anyway?) revelling on the beach, laughing, playing, contemplating the stars. It wouldn't take long to turn around and grab his gear when he felt like it - or when Red was ready to dish up.

They had a schedule, and dinner wasn't going to cook itself...



Up in the hotel room on the twenty seventh floor, there was a knock on Soruk's door. Probably the hotel staff trying to greet the mysterious blademaster.

 

[Reynolds]

Shayla saw off Melissa and nodded to the cook and the spy as they took off. "Alright, headin' out...got a feelin' we'll be in a rush when we leave, so be ready. But, uh, you're probably used to that by now, right?" She grinned at the pilot before exiting Enzo's ship, glancing about to check for anyone paying too much attention to the dirty little shuttle that had steadily been dispensing strange travelers.

Since the others had left before her with benefits like disguises and transportation, she needed to avoid notice while still making good time. No circling around or stopping to shop, but no running or flying, either. Thankfully, convenience was an important commodity on a vacation planet. As soon as she left the spaceport, she was presented with an assortment of shuttles - the types that mostly stayed on the ground and ferried tourists between the spaceport and their hotels. It was easy enough to find one that was not going to the Aoi Hana-bi (or Melissa's motel, just to be safe).

It was a bit easier to blend in sitting down, behind tinted windows. The Amazon still stuck out as soon as the small group unloaded,but there wasn't much she could do about that. Shayla peeled off from the crowd and headed around this other hotel instead, giving it the once-over before continuing on towards the backside of the Aoi Hana-bi as casually as she could manage. Diving into the bush with some camo would have been a lot more comfortable, she thought, as she approached her designated dumpster. If security was lax enough for this dropoff and costume change to go unnoticed, hopefully they wouldn't pay any mind to the new heavy showing up for the night shift.

 

[Sham]

Soruk had been meditating on his floor for some time. It seemed the blademaster spent more time meditating than not. At least it kept his mind crystal-clear. The knock on the door roused him from his thoughts or lack thereof. Who could it possibly be? The others were probably busy doing whatever they needed to blend in. Perhaps someone was taking his disguise seriously? Soruk was more than qualified to handle dealings related to his clan, but he did not expect to.

The gartagen slowly stood and walked towards the door, "Announce yourself." He stated, waiting for the person on the other side to respond.

 

[Lamb]

Enzo had broken his thoughts of all that ass back there to consider all that ass over there. He watched the Yamataians play on the beach with a more objective expression. In character, he judged their bodies as an art critic might judge a refrigerator-mounted crayon sketch drawn by a child. 'No substance' or 'too crass' or maybe 'oversexualized genitalia'. All these phrases seemed to roll off of his face with no reserve, the arrogant compunction that he might've held his judgment too silently oozing over his schooled look of self-loving superimportance.

Mister Bortelli had turned into Monsieur Bourtoulenne, and since the conman was so good at thinking he was the best it was no small step for him to behave as someone who was absolutely the best. On top of that, he could only imagine the riches that awaited him in the hotel. Fine paintings, solid silver dinnerware, and all the things Red had asked him to steal. Enzo smiled a smug smile that belonged to both he and Monsieur Bourtoulenne as he crossed the border from the beach onto the hotel's parking lot with an electronic cigarette in a slender plastic mouthpiece casting a dim violet light onto his face. And, according to plan, Nostrovia had just let Red down to begin his work.

"Bonjour." He greeted his companion as, with a casual air, he dipped under the dumpster to retrieve their equipment. "The parking lot is such a bru' deplaisan' place for us to come together, is it not?"

 

[Born-On-Board]

"Oui." Redrick said, then sniggered in an entirely immature way that had everything to do with how nervous he was. "She says to me, Oui Oui, mon ami. And I say to her, no you can't see my oui oui, we barely know each other."

He cleared his throat.

"Regardless, let's get into these uniforms." he said, not acknowledging the 'joke' he had made seconds earlier."Sooner started, sooner finished, after all, and I think dinner's about to be served. Even if we don't cook it, we need to be up there to see which meals go where and who orders what."

He held up a chef's shirt in front of him, a stately but dignified white garment with gold chasing that put anything he wore before to shame. Redrick whistled. It was all here, just as the agent had promised. He looked at the identification card.

"...Bluerick. Bluerick O'Hanrahan. I can't say it's the most imaginative name, but if it works..." He cleared his throat, and much like Enzo, adopted an entirely fake, yet surprisingly convincing accent. "Aye lad, th' O'Hanrahans hyeve been a cookin' since time immemorial, so they be."

He cleared his throat, and tried a phrase he'd probably be uttering the whole night through. "Lad, this plate looks lyike me dear old mother took up a squat on it and let it all out. Taek it back, and don't let me see this shame e'er agin."

He nodded. If Enzo was going to throw out the pleasure-parlor Trade, then he would be the sandpaper to his silk. He stopped mid-change, as some trashcans had tipped over further down the alleyway. A few tense moments passed - had they been spotted already? Did the hotel have a rover that left the hotel premises?

He shook his head, muttering to himself. Nerves, just nerves. It's just an alleycat foraging for scraps, has to be.

He finished stepping into his Head Cook's uniform (or should he say chef, monsieur?) and pocketed the ID card and keycard. He picked the cane back up, and adjusted his inside the waistband holster where his SiZi was kept safe. He held his hand to his throat, keying the throat mic Nostrovia had taped there

He looked to Enzo. "Aye. Me young gentlemen, should we be shovin' off then? Time is of the essence. The second we enter the hotel, the recon begins."

And try as he might, the feeling that someone was watching never quite left him.

 

[Luca]

Albini, Coastal Resort Town, Near 'Aoi Hana-bi' Hotel
"Be seeing you." John replied to Shayla as they left Enzo's shuttle and made their way out into town. He closed the doors of the shuttle and went on standby. Her sojourn to the designated area was uneventful. Though, she bumped into a rubbish bin on the way to her suitcase once things were clear. She found found a uniform for a hotel's bouncer in her cut, and her identification card read 'Belinda Wojtek' (pronounced Voy-tek). Nostrovia guessed it was possible to pass her off as the offspring of an ID-SOL, which usually had a frame intimidating enough for the job.

♫ Perfect Dark - Defection Intro ♫

"Communications check. Are we all in position?" Nostrovia asked over the radio as she watched the conman and the old dog got up to their tricks from afar. She felt a thump in her side from Melissa, who grunted over the radio. "Yes, you're in position Melissa," Nostrovia sighed. "Smartarse. Once we're all in position, I'll move out and pull security with Ms Wojtek."

Nostrovia could be heard chuckling at something. "Red, Enzo, I think they're expecting you. Get a load of this. Just overheard it." She played an exchange in their ears...


Aoi Hana-bi, Floor Twenty Eight, Kitchen
"Hey, hey, come here, tell me - why did the chicken cross the road?" Woman's voice, firm, strong, Nepleslian.

"Ma'am?" A meeker voice, perhaps one of the grunt chefs. Clattering heard in background, indistinct, sounds of something frying, plates moving around.

"Because it wasn't cooked enough, hun." Nepleslian woman replied, simmering. "Why are we two men down tonight?"

"They called in sick, but replacements are scheduled."

"They better hurry. We've got some important guests this evening. Dust trout's going to be the weird one to cook, and we're definitely going to need more manpower."

"Yes'm."


Aoi Hana-bi, Floor Twenty Seven, Soruk's Room
"We would like to invite you to a complimentary meal tonight at eight thirty," a Yamataian lady's voice, sounded quite upbeat, happy, "served on behalf of the hotel for you, the Blademaster." Just what had Nostrovia managed to arrange? What strings to pull? The Gartagens weren't affiliated with DATASS, but were in good rapport with the Yamataians, mostly because of trade. "We would like to thank your constituents for choosing the Aoi hana-bi for your visit."

She sounded like didn't seem to mind that she was talking to a door. Chances are, the people who rented these sorts of opulent rooms did this all the time.

 

[Sham]

Soruk nodded slowly, listening to the hotel worker's invitation. A dinner for him? Even taken seriously, his clan wasn't very large, nor did it hold much power. He couldn't possibly refuse though, it'd be rather rude. It also occurred to him that leaving the door shut was rude as well. The Blademaster opened the door slowly, offering a soft smile to the hotel worker, "I would be delighted to accept your invitation and thank you for your hospitality." He bowed slightly as a formality before returning to his room.

After the door was closed and he was alone again, he muttered, "A dinner? This will be trying indeed..." He would have to brush up on his formalities and such before the dinner.

 

[Born-On-Board]

Redrick heard his microbead buzz in his ear and quickly put his finger to it, listening to what the agent said.

"....Dust trout? They're serving dust trout?" He looked at Enzo in confusion. "When did Dust trout become a gourmet food? I used to be able to buy filets of that at the store for a handful of KS before the secession..."

Then it hit him. Before the secession.

"Shit, that's easy." Redrick said, laughing. "They're sweating over the gartagen equivalent of tuna filet for Pasco's sake."

He cleared his throat, and put on his brogue again. "I be makin'my way to th'kitchen then, aye ken. All ye cullies keep an eye out, for th'operation be a go, sure like."

He elbowed Enzo as if he'd understand his mirth, then quickly assumed his posture as the Famous Master Chef O'Hanrahan. He looked more regal military officer than chef, with the cane completing the image of some ancient earth military nobility. He looked as if an age of sail admiral had stepped into the alleyway, assuming all the pomp and circumstance of someone who was better than you and knew it.

He walked into the hotel, cane smacking into the ground in front of him with a swagger that could only be described as 'pimp queen fabulous'. Guests parted before him, like as not waves before the magnificent prow of a warship. His face was nobility, his body language confidence. A security guard asked for his ID, and somehow Redrick (Bluerick) even managed to make this seem lofty and dignified, as if noblesse oblige was his and his alone. A regal ride on the elevator took him to the floor the kitchen was on, where some more pompous striding took him to the equally noble doors of the hotel kitchen. With a deep breath, he threw open the door to the kitchen, revealing himself to the kitchen staff, no doubt in a tizzy from the sudden importance of their guests and the unfamiliarity of the dish.

A master chef needed a masterful entrance, after all.

"Bluerick O'Hanrahan, at ye service. And this is me young gentlemen, Mister Bourtoulenne." He smiled, a grin that was as unsettling as it was confident. " A wee bird told me ye needed someone a trig cove at cookin th'ol Gartagen Sand Tuna, were it be?"

 

[Luca]

Aoi Hana-bi, Floor Twenty Eight, Kitchen
As Redrick (or Bluerick) and Enzo (or Mr. Bourtoulenne. Bourtortellini? Hmm...) left the elevator and moved into the kitchen, they saw the other kitchen staff head down, bum up busy. However, watching the elevator was a woman with fair skin, black shoulder-length hair, and a no-nonsense look about them. Redrick might have recognised them as they strode from their post to greet the duo.

It was Ella Harriet. A woman who had worked in upscale restaurants and hotel kitchens around Yamatai and Nepleslia. She specialised in desserts mostly, but had the prowess to manage any kitchen large or small. Her story (or, one of the most common ones around her) was that she was partially responsible for finding the right mix of foods for the standard Yamataian ration, sating the Nekovalkyrja nutrition in a quick and convenient meal that provided all the nutrients without sacrificing flavour, or preservation, and afterwards she retired to become a chef.

Given how she gazed down at Bluerick and tilted her head, smiling wryly, she seemed to have the gaze going. "Chefs Bluerick, Bourtoulenne, about time," she replied, keeping her arms crossed, "you're fifteen minutes late. The trout's waiting, get to it."

Get to what? She hadn't left them with a menu or a list, and expected them to get it themselves. Looking at what was being cooked though, it wasn't just the trout which was the main piece of the dishes they had to serve this evening. The bowls to serve all this in were being warmed in an oven on low heat to ensure the cool ceramics didn't chill the food once they were plated up.

Post-secession, Dust Trout had become a bit harder to come by since Gartagen merchants and the mercantile class was just as involved in civil wars and politics as the rest of Gartaga. As such, it was difficult to get a good fillet - and harder still to get a real fillet. Real was expensive after all.

A helpful staff member directed Red and Enzo towards their allotted kitchen workstation (by pointing and yelling "over there, idiots!") . The fillets of Dust Trout were being marinated in a juice of orange juice, soy sauce, olive oil, lemon juice, parsley, garlic, oregano, and pepper. Perhaps the Yamataian equivalent of a good Mupio, pungent and strong.

"Everything for the fillet's gonna have to fit in one bowl along with the salad, sauce, veggies, ." A chef, a Nepleslian like Red and Enzo was overlooking a simmering pot with a pair of fogged goggles. The name tag on his uniform read 'YANNICK'. Immediate skill level was unknown - Red had to assess further. "Yeah, a bowl. Gart cuisine's crazy. Soup's already taken care of, Harriet's got the dessert."

A hot grill was awaiting Enzo and Red, and they had about forty kilos of marinated, dense, red dust trout meat to cook and plate up. Red's experience and a quick eyeball of the grill was telling him he'd be able to cook about ten fillets (each about 250 to 300 grams) a time and put them towards Enzo - who'd have to plate them.

"Chop chop!" Ella yelled over the steamy cooking din. It was 7:14 PM.

 

[Reynolds]

Albini, Coastal Resort Town, Near 'Aoi Hana-bi' Hotel

Shayla scrunched up her nose. Do I really look like a Belinda? She pondered the implications of this as she worked on getting changed. The uniform was basically a cheap suit, the jacket emblazoned with the hotel's logo. She grumbled quietly to herself as she worked on the buttons, clipping her ID to the jacket's breast pocket. She tossed the bag full of her old clothing into the trash bin, not especially concerned with retrieving it later. If it was possible, sure, but she'd picked up enough clothing during that shopping spree to last her a good while.

Medical supplies were secreted away on her person along with a knife or two. Bone, from her long trip, hopefully nothing that would show up on casual inspection. If they did, hopefully the other security guards would understand her desire for a little extra protection. Shayla had been expecting a bag for her other medical equipment, but wound up with a briefcase instead. She scowled at the thing, but it made sense, if the place was trying to look classy. Everything she'd expected was inside, so she'd just roll with it.

Once she felt as put together as she was going to get, the giantess took a deep breath and slipped on the shades that completed the look, making sure the coast was clear before heading around the building towards a back entrance. "Moving in now." Just keep walking, look like she belonged, and find a group of guards to blend in with. She just had to hold out until dinner, and let the spy do all of the talking once she arrived.

 

[Luca]

Aoi Hana-bi, Floor Twenty Eight, Kitchen
Redrick and Enzo absentmindedly stared at the fish, forgetting having an excruciatingly long moment of inward thought as their mission personae begun to interfere with their real sense of self. The teachings of a philosophy caked in fried batter, wrapped in paper and served invaded their thoughts rather than fine food as they were supposed to deal with in their personae.

"What's the fucking hold up, hun?" Ella yelled when she spotted Bluerick and Bourtoulenne contemplating their navels rather than cooking. "Get on with it!" She walked away grumbling about the poor skills of temp workers. She didn't need to put up with it on a night like this.


Aoi Hana-bi, Floor Twenty Nine, Dining Room
A man and a woman in business suits were taking seats at a table for two in a large dining room overlooking the beach. The carpets were red,

The man appeared to be a bald Nepleslian in his late fifties, with deep-set brown eyes, a button nose, and prominent laugh lines. He was wearing a green tie in the same shade as the Nepleslian flag. His face curiously absent of visible cybernetics. They'd lived a soft life, fighting their carefully chosen battles with words rather than bullets. He grabbed his napkin (folded into a needlessly elaborate shape) off the table, unfolded it and put it on his lap ahead of the meal arriving.

The woman was a Nekovalkyrja, wearing a red tie the same shade as the Yamataian flag. She had the unmistakable cat's ears dark hair, piercing blue eyes, a sharp nose, and perfect skin. She'd already fought and won (and sometimes, lost) her battles, and her retirement involved a different battlefield altogether. Shortly after sitting down, she arranged the cutlery from the forks on the left and knives on the right to an inverted formation better for left handers, something her partner didn't bat an eyelid at.

"How's the family?" The Neko asked.

"Oh, same old. Manfred's graduating to Year Eight at school soon." The Nepleslian replied. "He can't wait for the yuletide holidays."

"Ah, wonderful," she replied as she grabbed the neck of a bottle of champagne that was sitting in a cooler.

The Nepleslian held up their hand, shaking his head. "Let's wait until dinner properly arrives. Should be about an hour and forty minutes."

"I'll order us an appetiser then. Gyoza?"

"Certainly."


Aoi Hana-bi, Security Office
Shayla entered a security office downstairs. The office was a simple room with a wall of security camera feeds, monitoring the hotel and periodically switching to other cameras around the area. A woman wearing a headset was sitting at it with a sippy cup of coffee, taking a gulp as she looked at the feeds. Shayla noted immediately that there were camera feeds for the kitchen where Red and Enzo were, and one for the dining room.

The room had a coffee table, some chairs, upon which were a pair of Nekovalkyrja on break, reading some magazines and chatting idly with each other, and a locker with weapons in it if there was a disastrous escalation.

"Ah, you're Ms Wojtek," a Nekovalkyrja greeted Shayla, shaking their hand, trying not to boggle at what looked like an ID-SOL and a Nekovalkyrja's offspring. "Good to have you on team tonight. Follow me, we need to get your radio set up," she drew her attention to a whiteboard which looked frequently erased and written on, splotches staining the white.

==RADIO CALLSIGNS AND CODEWORDS==
-TONIGHT'S FREQUENCY
138.02

-LOCATIONS-
Inside Hotel : Stovetop
Outside Hotel : Counter
Outdoor Bar : Wine Rack
Downstairs Restaurant : Kid's Table
Upstairs Restaurant : Dad's Desk
VIP Restaurant : Couch
Swimming Pool : Sink
Front Desk: Chopping Board
Vault : Fridge
Laundry : Pantry
Security Room : Dishwasher
Convention Centre : TV
Antenna : Cupboard

Service Lift : Gravy Boat
Public Lift : Sauce Bottle
Express Lift : Lemon Juice
Hotel Floor (x) : (x) Cups
Hotel Room (x) : (x) Teaspoons

-PEOPLE-
VIP Guest A : Oatmeal
VIP Guest B : Sushi
VIP Guest C : Quail
VIP Guest D : Mupio

Staying Guests : Spaghetti
External Guests : Linguine
Trespasser : Gnocchi
Intruder : Ravioli

-INCIDENTS AND OPERATION-
Calm : Cold Water
On Patrol : Polishing
Moving to Next Floor : Put cup away
Turning Around : New tin
Situation Developing : Filling water
Suspicious Activity : Dash of oil

Incident, non-violent : Sprinkle of salt
Incident, violent : Sprinke of pepper
Incident, drunkard : House red
Disaster, fire : Sprig of Parsley
Disaster, chemical/biological/nuclear : Sprig of Thyme
Disaster, hostage situation : Sprig of Oregano
Disaster, terrorists : Sprig of Dill
Disaster, Mishhuvurthyar : Squid (no mincing words here.)

Evacuation Underway : Plate up
Evacuation Complete : Dinner served
Evacuation Impeded : Slip

Gunfire : Clanging saucepans
Injury : Broken plate
(x) wounded : (x) forks
(x) dead : (x) knives
Under Control : Dishes done
Escalation : Burnt Water (is there such a thing?) (shut up)

Upon closer inspection of the whiteboard, VIP Guest D's entry looked fresh, whiteboard marks still moist. She recalled that Mupio was a Gartagen seasoning of some sort. The closest analogue would be a strong marinade.

Shayla was passed a simple ear radio with a fob and earpiece, and she was expected to set the rest up herself as the Neko begun a quick, curt briefing. "You'll be keeping an eye on cups 25 to 30, and keeping an eye on twenty seven cups, six teaspoons. Don't upset the Mupio. Spend 15 minutes polishing each cup, take the service lift up. Go."

The Neko got back to keeping an eye on the cameras and providing overwatch on the hotel this evening. Still, Shayla was sitting in the nerve centre. The information she was getting here was priceless intel for the team now that she was a foil on the inside track - but she had to move on with her given assignment. And technically speaking, there were four pieces of ravioli on the stovetop.

Including herself.

 

[Lamb]

It was only then that Enzo finally spoke up. He'd been standing aghast for what could've, in layman's terms, been described as twelve seconds. From the moment 'chop-chop' had been bellowed into his ear until this second snap to order. Redrick and Enzo were supposed to have authority in the kitchen. They were supposed to be a head chef and his prized protege. How would they be able to come and go from the kitchen freely if they had this woman breathing down their necks? How could they achieve their goal with this fire beneath their asses? Had Nostrovia made some kind of mistake, taken out the wrong people, or had this been the best she could do?

"Ah, my apologies, mad'moiselle." Was what he finally managed, bashfully adjusting his tie and slipping his head through the loop of an apron. Despite a strong desire to brutally murder this woman, or at least dress her down at length as Bourtoulenne, Enzo did his best to remain calm and in character; or rather, in a modified version of his character, for Bourtoulenne was even more furious with her than Enzo was. "We are simply taken aback, you see. Far be it from me to question the hotel's policies-- but surely it must be a grand waste of money to hire le chef supreme e' sous chef de cuisine for such a, how-to-say... 'tache facile'? Of course," Enzo assured her, bowing slightly and moving for the fish, "We will get right to work. Forgive our suprise, we are used to much larger kitchens."

 

[Born-On-Board]

"Aye, cully. T'arn't our fault the salt-bitch cannae appreciate her betters." Redrick said to Enzo, still staying remarkably in character. Under his collar he seethed, much like he did when he was young and reckless in the SAoY. "Hard tae 'preciate true greatness when yeh're stuck sweating yer arse off in a cut-rate Neppie's short order kitchen like this, eh wot? Tah, tah, let Bluerick show ye the way to cook yer blasted sand tuna."

He brushed past the kitchen head, no longer much in the mood for conversation. The gauntlet, like it or not, had been thrown down. Nothing on this planet, even his mission, was more important that showing the kitchen manager up. He nodded courteously to the fellow cook, Yannick, and took his place at the grill.

Redrick - or Bluerick, as he was known now, cracked his knuckles and picked up a spatula, the trout filets plopping on the grill in good order, where he sullenly watched them cook and brown, the alluring smell wafting up at him, a sweet counterpoint to the bitter hatred he felt to that self-serving wh-

He took a deep breath. Angry cooks make awful food.

And so he cooked, pushing the servings to Enzo as they completed, his mind a million miles away from the current espionage, the food the only thing on his mind.

Somewhere in the kitchen, amidst the throng of souz-chefs, one looked up at the pair of them, eyes yellow and mischievious, before quickly looking away, lest they be seen, and disappearing effortlessly into the throng of busy, busy people.

 

[Reynolds]

Aoi Hana-bi, Security Office

It hadn't taken long for Shayla to get her bearings, roaming the first floor long enough to find the Security Office. She grinned, eyes bright behind those shades as she resisted the urge to squeeze the smaller Neko's hand a bit too tight. The radio she was handed got a strange look from her. It was a bit lower tech than she was expecting, but she briefly set her case aside to handle it. Into one pointed ear, tucked inside her cheap jacket, and she was good to go. The board of seemingly random words got another look, accompanied by a grunt. Thankfully this digital brain of hers was good for this kind of stuff. She could remember it photographically, as well as enter all of the codewords in as data, setting up a translation table that would kick into action whenever she heard from the security team.

"Right. Gravy boat, here I come." She chuckled, taking a few extra moments to readjust the radio and cord, hefting up her briefcase again and setting her jacket properly. Enough time to get a good look around the room, digital memory taking it all in. Camera positions, the codewords, radio frequency, the list of active security personnel tonight. Unfortunately none of her co-conspirators were properly equipped to receive a data transmission from her. She pondered how best to share this information as she headed deeper into the Employees Only area of the hotel, looking for the service elevator, ready to begin her patrol. Shayla prepared to possibly run into Soruk once she made it to his floor, and had a feeling the spy would be appearing when she least expected it.