Rhy'din City, Warehouse District...
A rather androgynous pair of guards stood outside the meshed fences of the warehouses serving as JES research and development facilities, one with about as much interest in doing his job as his sister, by the looks of things, had in the paddleball she toyed with near-constantly. The pair of them wore identical uniforms, and waited under the dingy pool of light the overhead lamp afforded. It was nearing the appointed time, and the final sounds of tinkering from within the garage echoed into the empty streets.
Alain was shadowed by a 'legal adviser,' a woman who knew how to keep a low profile, doing a good job playing the part of small, timid, and unthreatening. In truth, she had eight years of experience with various forms of close-quarters combat, and plenty of reasons for her undying loyalty to the House - mainly their intimate involvement in saving her kid sister from a local mobster. She stuck close to the Baron, flipping through the pages of a legal pad.
"I'm Alain DeMuer," he said to the guards as they approached, "here for my appointment. Is your boss in?"
"For once." The woman spoke, with more sarcasm dripping from her honey-sweet voice than most people could keep from smacking. Her brother, apparently, was among most people. A too-delicate hand whapped against the back of her head, and she rubbed at it while he spoke. His voice was eerily similar to hers, with the barest ability to be distinguished as a man. "Mister Trak'kal's been waiting for you, Mister DeMuer."
He turned around and entered a twenty-eight digit code into the pad attached to the gate before opening it, with an almighty grating sound. "If you'll just head through the doors, you'll find him in the first room on the left."
The answer as to why he'd entered so much into the pad was answered when the lamps over the entrance flickered on, and three sets of interlocking doors began to slide apart. The 'adviser' Hellen took in all the technical details through her yellow-tinted sunglasses, the security of the facility, how it might be used against them, what would happen if they came under attack from without or within... and Alain, through an act of will, forced his mind away from those paths. It was her job, and he had his own, which was to make the very most of her meeting. He walked into the R&D lab, and she followed him up to the first door on the left.
He knocked on the door, and she waited in the hallway, shuffling through her notes.
"Come in, come in." The door was a simple little oak number, nothing special, and the interior was an open garage-like space. A desk was situated on one side of the room, and a rather sizeable something was covered in a large, grey tarp. Skid himself was under the tarp, the bottom half of his body sticking out and the light of a hand lamp flickering around it. "I should be out in just a moment!" The doors of the facility slid shut again, after the pair of them. Alain entered and Hellen followed, and the woman scrunched her nose at the tarp-covered... whatever, before them. What the hell was that thing?
"What've you got there, Skid?" Alain called out in question as he approached, as if reading Hellen's thoughts.
"It's part of what I wanted to speak to you about, as a matter of fact. Kitty's got my prototype, but I thought a show of good faith and a sample all rolled into one might help you see what I'm trying to do, here." With the snap of a final plate into place, and the tightening crank, he slipped out from beneath the tarp and got up. Were he covered in oil, it might have been impossible to tell apart from his scales.
"My questions and yours both though, first." He took up a lean on the tarp-covered device. "Do you have access to heavy machinery and large-output power sources?"
Alain smiled, very slowly, at that. Best guess at the meaning there? Yes, I do in fact have the things you need. "The Zeppa factory has some manufacturing equipment... Most of the production handled by DeMuer Exports and its subsidiary, Greyshott, is pretty small-scale, but we have some pretty heavy machinery and the ability to acquire more, or even build it given enough time. As for large-output power sources..." He rubbed at his jaw as he drew closer. Picked at an itchy spot of stubble. "Are you familiar with carolmagnium? Electroactive materials?"
The fabric of the mask twisted in the way someone like him, who'd seen it often enough, would know to be a positive sign. "Excellent prospects. I'm looking to build things on scales ranging from small to, well, possibly larger than this building, given enough time and proper equipment." Skid's lean on the tarp got a little easier as he went on about the carolmagnium. An eyeridge tweaked. "I haven't heard of it, but my calculations require something with at least the level of power a nuclear fission reactor could produce. Do you have the means acquire one of those?"
"Just what the hell are you trying to build here?" he asked, with some humor in his voice, which hid the genuine concern. "What is all this?" He gestured to the tarp, for starters.
"The better question would be what I'm not trying to build." Skid lifted from his lean against the tarp, and pulled it away to reveal something that looked like a cross between a fighter jet and a motorcycle. There was certainly something that appeared to be a cockpit, with a two-seater linear design and control panels in the front end, while what served as wheels seemed to be magnetically-secured spheres. It was a little over twice as wide as any bike could hope to be, and at the moment, was a fully-smoothed, aerodynamically designed vehicle with a shell of an incredibly thin, rigid, clear material. "This is the second-generation prototype. I still don't know what to call it, but the designs are based loosely on those of the motorcycle." An angry ink-blot now stood in the middle of Hellen's notepad; she stared with both eyebrows raised, but Alain? He just circled and went in for a closer look...
"I don't know about a nuclear reactor, Skid, and I'm not sure I want experiments running on one in the middle of Rhy?din... but we'll see.? He responded almost immediately to Alain, indignant if it were coming from anyone more dignified. "My production facility's going to be a notable distance to the South of the city, inside a mountain range. This place is far too easily-reached and, by virtue of the city and its inhabitants, easily brought to destruction." He shot off the notes almost at Alain's assistant, while the Detective himself observed the behemoth motorcycle. ?How fast can this thing go -- or the first generation, if you haven't tested the second yet?" A grin filled the space between question and answer.
Skid moved to the desk, both so that he could seat himself upon it, and try to get a look at the woman in profile. He didn't know her, or what exactly she was doing here. Suspicion sets in about midgame, for the enterprising Jester. "First generation topped out at around three hundred and ten standard miles per hour on rough terrain." Another note.
Alain watched Skid carefully. This was a game of chess as meticulous as any negotiation, and even more so given the incredible amount of power they were discussing. In the wrong hands, a nuclear reactor or even carolmagnium could create horrific weapons capable of destroying armies, or even cities. He jerked his head, and Hellen made herself scarce, putting the pad away under her arm and leaving the room.
His smile for Skid, though, was unapologetic. "Three hundred and ten... That's not bad at all. I have my share of rough terrain to negotiate..." The Baron cast a pensive look towards the magnetic 'wheels.' They were perfectly solid at a glance, and in the inactive state the main chassis of the bike hung a frictionless half-inch from the polished surface.
Skid watched the woman walk away with her pad and her necessity all rolled up into the dignified frame that he'd grown to dislike over the last three minutes. His eye fixed on the Detective, once he was the only other in the room.
"There are also a number of 'optional' add-ins, and I've been working on the possibility of using the planet's magnetic field to remove the need for wheels altogether. It wouldn't exactly be a mode of flight, but it would be notably faster." He watched the Detective watch his creation, before jangling the pair of keys on the ring. "Care to start it up?"
The Baron grinned. It was good that Hellen was not here for this, else she would have thrown a fit, as she was responsible for his safety right now. He held out one hand for a toss, then caught the keys from Skid --
"You got a test track in here somewhere?"
((Adapted from live RP with Alain DeMuer))
A rather androgynous pair of guards stood outside the meshed fences of the warehouses serving as JES research and development facilities, one with about as much interest in doing his job as his sister, by the looks of things, had in the paddleball she toyed with near-constantly. The pair of them wore identical uniforms, and waited under the dingy pool of light the overhead lamp afforded. It was nearing the appointed time, and the final sounds of tinkering from within the garage echoed into the empty streets.
Alain was shadowed by a 'legal adviser,' a woman who knew how to keep a low profile, doing a good job playing the part of small, timid, and unthreatening. In truth, she had eight years of experience with various forms of close-quarters combat, and plenty of reasons for her undying loyalty to the House - mainly their intimate involvement in saving her kid sister from a local mobster. She stuck close to the Baron, flipping through the pages of a legal pad.
"I'm Alain DeMuer," he said to the guards as they approached, "here for my appointment. Is your boss in?"
"For once." The woman spoke, with more sarcasm dripping from her honey-sweet voice than most people could keep from smacking. Her brother, apparently, was among most people. A too-delicate hand whapped against the back of her head, and she rubbed at it while he spoke. His voice was eerily similar to hers, with the barest ability to be distinguished as a man. "Mister Trak'kal's been waiting for you, Mister DeMuer."
He turned around and entered a twenty-eight digit code into the pad attached to the gate before opening it, with an almighty grating sound. "If you'll just head through the doors, you'll find him in the first room on the left."
The answer as to why he'd entered so much into the pad was answered when the lamps over the entrance flickered on, and three sets of interlocking doors began to slide apart. The 'adviser' Hellen took in all the technical details through her yellow-tinted sunglasses, the security of the facility, how it might be used against them, what would happen if they came under attack from without or within... and Alain, through an act of will, forced his mind away from those paths. It was her job, and he had his own, which was to make the very most of her meeting. He walked into the R&D lab, and she followed him up to the first door on the left.
He knocked on the door, and she waited in the hallway, shuffling through her notes.
"Come in, come in." The door was a simple little oak number, nothing special, and the interior was an open garage-like space. A desk was situated on one side of the room, and a rather sizeable something was covered in a large, grey tarp. Skid himself was under the tarp, the bottom half of his body sticking out and the light of a hand lamp flickering around it. "I should be out in just a moment!" The doors of the facility slid shut again, after the pair of them. Alain entered and Hellen followed, and the woman scrunched her nose at the tarp-covered... whatever, before them. What the hell was that thing?
"What've you got there, Skid?" Alain called out in question as he approached, as if reading Hellen's thoughts.
"It's part of what I wanted to speak to you about, as a matter of fact. Kitty's got my prototype, but I thought a show of good faith and a sample all rolled into one might help you see what I'm trying to do, here." With the snap of a final plate into place, and the tightening crank, he slipped out from beneath the tarp and got up. Were he covered in oil, it might have been impossible to tell apart from his scales.
"My questions and yours both though, first." He took up a lean on the tarp-covered device. "Do you have access to heavy machinery and large-output power sources?"
Alain smiled, very slowly, at that. Best guess at the meaning there? Yes, I do in fact have the things you need. "The Zeppa factory has some manufacturing equipment... Most of the production handled by DeMuer Exports and its subsidiary, Greyshott, is pretty small-scale, but we have some pretty heavy machinery and the ability to acquire more, or even build it given enough time. As for large-output power sources..." He rubbed at his jaw as he drew closer. Picked at an itchy spot of stubble. "Are you familiar with carolmagnium? Electroactive materials?"
The fabric of the mask twisted in the way someone like him, who'd seen it often enough, would know to be a positive sign. "Excellent prospects. I'm looking to build things on scales ranging from small to, well, possibly larger than this building, given enough time and proper equipment." Skid's lean on the tarp got a little easier as he went on about the carolmagnium. An eyeridge tweaked. "I haven't heard of it, but my calculations require something with at least the level of power a nuclear fission reactor could produce. Do you have the means acquire one of those?"
"Just what the hell are you trying to build here?" he asked, with some humor in his voice, which hid the genuine concern. "What is all this?" He gestured to the tarp, for starters.
"The better question would be what I'm not trying to build." Skid lifted from his lean against the tarp, and pulled it away to reveal something that looked like a cross between a fighter jet and a motorcycle. There was certainly something that appeared to be a cockpit, with a two-seater linear design and control panels in the front end, while what served as wheels seemed to be magnetically-secured spheres. It was a little over twice as wide as any bike could hope to be, and at the moment, was a fully-smoothed, aerodynamically designed vehicle with a shell of an incredibly thin, rigid, clear material. "This is the second-generation prototype. I still don't know what to call it, but the designs are based loosely on those of the motorcycle." An angry ink-blot now stood in the middle of Hellen's notepad; she stared with both eyebrows raised, but Alain? He just circled and went in for a closer look...
"I don't know about a nuclear reactor, Skid, and I'm not sure I want experiments running on one in the middle of Rhy?din... but we'll see.? He responded almost immediately to Alain, indignant if it were coming from anyone more dignified. "My production facility's going to be a notable distance to the South of the city, inside a mountain range. This place is far too easily-reached and, by virtue of the city and its inhabitants, easily brought to destruction." He shot off the notes almost at Alain's assistant, while the Detective himself observed the behemoth motorcycle. ?How fast can this thing go -- or the first generation, if you haven't tested the second yet?" A grin filled the space between question and answer.
Skid moved to the desk, both so that he could seat himself upon it, and try to get a look at the woman in profile. He didn't know her, or what exactly she was doing here. Suspicion sets in about midgame, for the enterprising Jester. "First generation topped out at around three hundred and ten standard miles per hour on rough terrain." Another note.
Alain watched Skid carefully. This was a game of chess as meticulous as any negotiation, and even more so given the incredible amount of power they were discussing. In the wrong hands, a nuclear reactor or even carolmagnium could create horrific weapons capable of destroying armies, or even cities. He jerked his head, and Hellen made herself scarce, putting the pad away under her arm and leaving the room.
His smile for Skid, though, was unapologetic. "Three hundred and ten... That's not bad at all. I have my share of rough terrain to negotiate..." The Baron cast a pensive look towards the magnetic 'wheels.' They were perfectly solid at a glance, and in the inactive state the main chassis of the bike hung a frictionless half-inch from the polished surface.
Skid watched the woman walk away with her pad and her necessity all rolled up into the dignified frame that he'd grown to dislike over the last three minutes. His eye fixed on the Detective, once he was the only other in the room.
"There are also a number of 'optional' add-ins, and I've been working on the possibility of using the planet's magnetic field to remove the need for wheels altogether. It wouldn't exactly be a mode of flight, but it would be notably faster." He watched the Detective watch his creation, before jangling the pair of keys on the ring. "Care to start it up?"
The Baron grinned. It was good that Hellen was not here for this, else she would have thrown a fit, as she was responsible for his safety right now. He held out one hand for a toss, then caught the keys from Skid --
"You got a test track in here somewhere?"
((Adapted from live RP with Alain DeMuer))