[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/NWurjdo.png[/img][/center] Ezekiel sat on the tailgate of his van, looking the group over, still with a relaxed posture and talking. “This machine puts out a signal that doesn’t quite resonate with bad vibes, but gets stronger with good ones, so whether you pick up on it depends on where your headspace is at. I’ve got my theories and tests, but the fact I ran it for a while and none of the men in suits showed up yet makes me fairly confident it’s working damn well.” He took a look at Jianglong before he said his next part “Jianglong, you know me, when I get a project in my head I go for it, and I don’t worry about telling people until I’m deep into it. People can find out when they find out. This was the kind of thing that was difficult to test in the small scale, but I do have my precautions in place just in case it gets the wrong kind of attention. Namely, I’ve got eyes all around the junkyard and a damn fast escape route if I need to ditch the tower.” He had gotten a look at some of the chips they were holding, and heard them talking about them, but from far away he couldn’t tell much about them, not even their denomination. After squinting to try and get better a look, he gave up and spoke to the group. “I heard you asking about chips, don’t know anything about casino chips, and despite what it looks like I don’t deal with the computer kind either. All my gear is analog, digital stuff just can’t connect with the frequencies of the universe. If you got some chip that you think might be a little off it and tell you if I notice anything, but I’ll tell you right now I didn’t make any.” He had one last thing to do before going back into his van. Ezekiel took a good look at Kalen’s photo, but paused to think for a bit. As he turned his back and went into the van, he said “I can’t say I’ve ever met somebody named Jin, but something about that picture looks familiar. I know I’ve seen it somewhere.” He went over to a desk that had some kind of CRT television on it next to an antenna array. After tweaking a few dials and seeing different images dissolve into one another on the screen, Ezekiel said “Hold up, I think I might have it. “ He ducked under the desk to flip some switches on a thermal printer, giving it a good thwack before it started. Gradually, a piece of paper began to come out of it. Ezekiel said “The law is hassling me over something I didn’t do, said I messed with slot machines when I haven’t even set foot on a gaming floor all year, nothing but trouble there, and hacking slot machines ain’t even fun. I was wondering why they are trying to pin this on me, it’s not the first time they’ve gone after me over some BS, but this got me curious. I worked some of my old tricks and found that the bulletin they sent around about me was actually the second version, and the first draft had some pretty major differences” The page had finished printing now, and Ezekiel grabbed it and handed a copy of the sheet to Kalen. He said “Here, this is the report they sent around but then recalled before it hit the public, they thought they were being slick but they’re up against someone who knows Van Eck Phreaking the like of which they’ve never dreamt of. TEMPEST ain’t gonna do them any good when I’m on them, and tricks like this are what keep me alive.” The paper was smudgey, and had a thin feel to it, like a giant CVS receipt. On it, there were two police bulletins, side by side, bearing dates one hour apart The body text was the same, “SUSPECTED OF TAMPERING WITH SLOT MACHINES, PLEASE REPORT TO LAW ENFORCEMENT IF ENCOUNTERED. DO NOT APPROACH OR CONFRONT”, but the headline was different. The suspect’s description and the photo had been completely swapped out between versions; the original had a blurry CCTV photo, but one that was unmistakably Jin, and the later copy had what looked like a professional headshot of Ezekiel, with no explanation for how it could change so drastically only hour apart. As Ezekiel had his mind focused on the paper, there was action unfolding on another CRT monitor, one mounted high enough that anyone inside the workshop would have a good view of it. It looked like the signal of CCTV camera, one pointed at the junkyard entrance. Through scanlines, one could see a distinct screen: five incredibly generic men in black suits at the gate of the junkyard, having some kind of conversation with the gatekeeper and clearly growing frustrated with his mix of confusion and laziness.