Fetzen

The Sunday Group

Fynn LaPlace

Only now it was that Fynn could feel the small beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead and in his neck in full spite of the aircon running. Behind her charming appearance, Primrose certainly was a force to be reckoned with and the IT specialist had not been looking forward to taking the full brunt of a nicely executed verbal offensive. It seemed however that, for now, both he and Choppy had been spared from his coworker's wrath.

"That was what I had planned to do next." Fynn replied appreciatively. He was looking forward to... getting himself out of the way, or rather his alter ego whose appearance had been quite short-lived and no less superficial fortunately. Hiding in the fortress that was his office, feasting upon the vast supply of electronics and data and feeling safe behind the fact that others could not so easily understand his algorithms was just the thing he had hoped for.

"I will tell you once I've found out something interesting." Having said this, Fynn began his retreat with his phone firmly in his hand to place an order for pizza. There was a small restaurant that had become his favorite not just for the taste of the food, but also for some additional options such as 'drone delivery'. No need to take an elevator down or to expose his eating habits to anyone else by letting a foreign guy walk around the offices with a stack of pizza in his hands. An open window was all that was needed and really, his office could use some fresh air anyway!

A few minutes later however, he had already descended into a state of focus onto the three screens in front of him so deep that the sound of the incoming drone nearly failed to grab his attention. Or perhaps it was just that a drone approaching said window no longer was much on an uncommon event for him ? The fast food cast a smile on his face, but so did another discovery... He took the whole pizza package with him towards Primrose's part of the building, but at least took the time to knock at her door politely before entering.

"Hey! Did you know that the car had a built-in navigation system ?" and his teeth snatched away another small bit of pizza before he continued: "I got the record of destinations and routes the vicitm requested recently. If we..." -- a small bit of chewing interrupted Fynn -- "if we correlate the places in the city where he was over the last couple of days or weeks with your findings, we could narrow down the list to a set of places with an increased likelihood of being actually related to the case."

Fynn stood there halfway in the door for a few more moments, then stepped further into the room. "Want some, too ? It's delicious! Oh, erm... we might also have a chance to find out where the poor guy lived. Don't they say that the murderers often come from within the victim's own family ?"

O R I F L A M M E

---

Normally, a journey from Relouse to Loriindton, or from an arbitrary place within Parrench to any other arbitrary place within Parrench for that matter, would hardly have been worth remembering for long since there was just the lack of anything special to it. These were not normal times however, and the way things stood gave Otios the steady feeling of an eerie stalker being after him even though it did not have even the mildest form of stealth to it. He knew the Eskand had not truly been stopped and by now were most likely fanning out from their bridgeheads. He also had no reason to expect their leaders to care about anything like 'coherence' very much, so the raiding, looting and random destruction certainly was going on. But just by how many miles behind their little traveling party ? How far had they already eaten into Parrench territory ? The idea of falling asleep only to wake up in the hands of these barbarians, or not to wake up at all anymore, caused Otios to stay awake for much longer periods than he'd usually do.

Maybe this was kind of a paranoia ? Yet at the same time Otios could justify himself by thinking that paranoia also was at the core of every intruder's business. Not to fear the unforeseen presence of others could, sooner or later, only end in ultimate disaster for his kind.

The further they moved away from Relouse, the more another thought came into Otios' mind as well: He had been among those Yanii for a long time, much longer than was usual for the typical Yasoi. When not thinking about the Eskand or looking at the increasingly nice landscape around them, Otios secretly prepared an entire barrage of arguments to be launched just in case anyone would dare to claim these cavemen had influenced him and ultimately dragged his intellect and social behavior down into their dirty den. Hopefully he'd never, ever, have to use them. A lack of authority and credibility among his own people was pretty much the last thing he deemed useful for the task they were relocating to.

Still it really didn't take long for Otios to deviate from his fellow Yasoi' behavior once the first tiims'archa shed some fancy light onto the otherwise dark forest ground and told a story about just how close they had already come to their destination. With more digust than awe, he watched how the others pretty mercilessly 'hunted' them down at a literal snail's pace, only to extinguish their little lights by cooking and eating them. It wasn't like Otios didn't like their taste for he had eaten them on earlier occasions as well, but just during those he had actually found them to be way too cute -- and useful -- to just consume them.

"Niico fayil luun'ithan, wiip nar tiims'archa!" Otios started a rhyme of his own, one that probably had a bit of a higher range than usual due to his size. It definitely reached someone else whose voice he couldn't identify: "Wiip nar tiims'archa ? Yax joi sem’proisha!"

Otios knew that there were other Yasoi in his own family who indeed had not liked the taste of the shiny snails in their early days, but later had become rather passionate eaters. He did not know it, but if that phenomenon was more widespread among the local population, then the statement made indeed sense.

"Niico fayil luun'ithan, nar tar, tarsii, tallo." the unknown voice added in return. "Nar tar, tarsii, tallo ? Chel nan najo!" and Otios laughed. He perfectly knew that, in terms of colors, he had gone far beyond beatable for his previous collection efforts had turned the bit of tree around him into a small, but all the more paradox solar system: He was sort of a giant, non-illuminated planet at the center and at least a dozen of differently colored tiims'archa emulated small stars circling around him. They only needed the occasional nudge to send them back into a proper orbit so no slime was in danger of touching his gear, but the many leaves Otios had gathered made sure they'd not run away, but stay within a short crawl's reach of their preferred food.

Unfortunately it seemed that there was way more than just one stranger present in the vicinity for more voices were to be heard soon, and upon learning that Lady Talit was present, things escalated pretty quickly. Had this entire thing been supposed to be a sort of a low profile affair ? Well if worst came to worst, that would be going out of the window first! At least the Lady could have decided to let others go in front of her instead of taking the lead herself. It was an unnecessary danger and, given her age and otherwise apparent wisdom, she clearly should have left the need to display what she still could do with disabled limbs behind. Or maybe it was just his own paranoia hitting him again: Those they were suddenly hurrying to, by all statistical means, were most likely a group of harmless fellows who simply enjoyed the night the same way he and those around him had done, too.

Otios did take a slightly different route though so they were not all bunched up and an easy target for whatever kind of shit could possibly happen. It could never hurt to have a back door of some sorts...

The Sunday Group

So just to be clear... rather than trying to talk to the witnesses we all decided to go back to headquarters?

@Penny

As I tried to describe in my previous most, Fynn really would have liked to pay a visit to the gas station and get his hands on the CCTV recordings and other stuff, but also was under the impression that the cops might have just the same idea so the confrontation Eleanor tried to avoid by buying time would just happen there instead of the accident site and ultimately be caused by him. So he decided against that and drove straight back to the offices in order to have a deeper look into the data from the car he did not yet have the opportunity to analyze in detail on site.

I hope that decision was within reasonable bounds :)

If I might try and propose a solution: Any potential clue that cannot be retrieved from the gas station right now because many of our characters are already back at HQ could still be tried and retrieved later from the police who might have done the job in the meantime. Either by just going there and talking to them in the charming enchanting manner our characters have to offer and/or by not so perfectly legal intrusion, be it physically or via the internet.

So far I imagined the HQ to be pretty much standard offices rented from some company that either doesn't know or doesn't care to ask questions about all the modifications potentially going on in there. I really do like the suggestion of them having been an abandoned floor though!

The Sunday Group

Fynn LaPlace

---

Fynn's white sneakers came to a sudden and no less skidding stop on the office kitchen's ceramic floor tiles as he heard the unmistakable outcry of his colleague. Had they not been pretty white themselves and outfitted with a smooth surface on top of that, he might very well have left some mild rubber marks there that moment.

The IT specialist had started his search here, in one of areas most commonly used by everyone, for just finding Choppy there would have been the easiest imaginable fix for his quite acute issue. If his Arthropleura wasn't idling around here, or in the elevators, or just some random piece of corridor, then he'd have to bite into the very sour apple and invent some fake reason in order to get every single of the other rooms. Also he still was in need of some coffee that could just as well be consumed while on this top-priority job. Now however it seemed that Primrose had been quicker than him. Fynn was happy about the prospect of hours of frantic searching no longer looming over his head, but he was definitely not looking forward to the few moments of lambasting Primrose would happily unleash against him.

Fynn's facial expression therefore perhaps looked more like some shitty computer game's inept attempt to execute a smiling animation than the real thing as he approached the vertically mobile disaster zone called 'elevators'. How the hell had Chobby gotten in there ? The whole team had been out of office so nobody could have called the elevator to stop at this floor, and Choppy certainly wasn't tall enough to push any of those buttons itself... Even if just for debugging his robot pet he certainly had to have a look into the elevator's logs -- assuming that bloody thing had any.

"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" Fynn exclaimed and was quick to try and reanimate Choppy by waving his hands in front of its bug eyes. Well, at least these were not as fake as some other things for these technical marvels indeed had quite a few cameras facing into different directions to give more of an allround view! However even some gentle prodding against the polymer carapace did not instigate any movement to occur.

"Erm... do you know that there's a strong correlation between the speed at which the internal batteries drain and the amount of dirt on the floor it's moving over and has to suck in ? So, let's see it this way: at least our part of the building has become a bit more tidy now!"

Fynn reached into his pocket, but found nothing but emptyness. Damn! That second battery pack was still lying around in his office. Normally that would have been a far cry from a problem, but what if Primrose would turn her threat into action and indeed push the elevator button to get herself and Choppy to the rooftop while he was absent for half a minute ?

"I... I strongly suggest not flinging it off the roof! There's absolutely no guarantee that Choppy won't remain functional after that fall and..." Suddenly, Fynn's so far anything but chesty voice turned into something much darker, and if one looked closely into his eyes just at the right moment, one could see how his pupils became narrow dots and his knuckles turned white due to inner tension in his hands. "...there's no guarantee for you to remain functional for long should I find Choppy's debris down there!"

Fynn shook is head. This was not an appropriate time for this! He had to suppress the urge for it was fairly obvious to his inner self that his alter ego would just stop apologizing and instead point out the woman's ignorance towards his work with pinpoint aggression.

"What I meant was... Choppy, if still in working condition, might subsequently continue on his quest and maybe end up in an open-topped car, for example ? Imagine somebody driving on the highway and suddenly this robot you complain about starts crawling from the back seats down along the center console and onto the driver's feet! The driver then might be eager to find the person responsible for putting Choppy into places he was never meant to go!"

Fynn reached for the robot's head and started dragging the thing out of the cabin and down the corridor towards his office. While having to bend down in order to stay in arm's reach of his creation, he apologized once more towards Primrose. That day was ruined for sure... and now he had all reason to look forward even less towards the meeting he still expected to come!

The Sunday Group

Fynn started sweating. According to his inner expectations, at least one member of the Sunday Group might have easily succumbed to the temptation of blaming his lack of exercise for this, but Fynn himself more felt like just working damn fast at the moment. In the heat! Under time pressure!

Hadn't his ears picked up Jaelle mentioning something about Primrose having heard Eleanor saying something about witnesses at a gas station or the like ? Even the most run-down gas station had CCTV these days, so somehow obtaining this data right away would have been beneficial for sure. Unfortunately though, given that the whole team by now was not only chasing a culprit, but also had to get away from the official police arriving, that was a retrieval operation to be deferred to a later date -- and probably from a very different source that would require way more of his hacking skills if neither verbal convincing nor another miracle coming from the Sunday Group's higher ups would work.

The IT specialist felt a fair degree of frustration coming up as he was forced to leave all the evidence behind. Getting that from the cops was just so tedious and introduced so many more variables into the mix that it absolutely felt like second choice. Maybe, if he didn't come with the van but a full-blown tow truck next time, Eleanor could be convinced to just let everything magically 'disappear' before the cops arrived ?

This time he drove himself for the density of police cars in the area would foreseeably increase and officers always had a nack for looking a bit more closely into other vehicles. Also getting into the Sunday Group's underground carpark was a bit more of a delicate task with such a large vehicle: He'd rather accept blame for lacking proper driving skills than accept blame for being unable to develop an autonomous car that could get in there without an incident!

Fynn's office was maybe a bit larger than would have been necessary for a pure desktop job, but to his excuse it also had to offer enough room for the occasional colleague who was in dire need of IT support. Also, while the primary services were of course outsourced to a professional hosting company that had it's own server farms, Fynn had a few blade servers himself on a small rack next to his desk. Some technological enhancements had been capable of making things just so less noisy and power hungry that he happily kept these going all the time for whatever round' the clock task neccessary.

He entered the room and put the reinforced bag with the laptop in it onto his desk. That would be dealt with later, right now he was fully expecting some kind of meeting to be called in order to discuss the next steps or the like and he needed some coffee for that, first! Meetings could be amusing, but more often they were just boring! Fynn was just about to leave the doorframe behind on his way out again to the small office kitchen when he noticed something was missing...

Oh noes!

This was definitely bad news. Choppy, the robotic recreation of an Arthropleura, a long-extinct species from the Paleozoic, had apparently successfuly vacuum-cleaned the floor, but its docking station was vacant! Had he accidentally left the door open before leaving ? Now the thing was probably crawling around somewhere else on this level of the building. Maybe it had even found its way through another open door into somebody else's office and moved in there. Or, even worse, it had stopped doing so and was hiding in a corner or beneath a drawer in a low-power state waiting for rescue. Or, even worse than worse, it had been stopped dead in its tracks by the elevator cabin in which it was now ready to welcome the next person to step in...

People really tended to dislike a roughly six feet long millipede-like creature with pincers looking as if capable of cutting away one's feet, did they ? Of course they did! Discreetly and indirectly lowering people's comfort level while in his office, in revenge of them annoying him, had been a purpose of building this prototype in the first place! It still was a bit too prototypic though, perhaps...

The Sunday Group

@Penny I've been swamped in work this week so far. I'm sorry if that caused any delays for anyone :/ My post should be up either within the next few hours or tomorrow at the latest.

_{(and yes, I know, I'm saying something like this very often...)}

O R I F L A M M E

Departure from Relouse

---

After the encounter with the daring Eskandr wall-jumpers, Otios had not seen that much of the battle until it had come to its conclusion. The city's walls, combined with the strict order to retreat to them, had prevented him from getting outside again -- not that he had been eager to see more of the carnage from close by anyway. A few thunderbolts hurled from the top of the wall, some assistance with igniting large oil barrels or other projectiles drenched in flammable substances, nothing more it had been from his side that cruel night. He himself had been in dire need of mending, a term more commonly used when it came to machines instead of a living being, but probably more appropriate than 'healing' if one took a look at the cramped places where the wounded were treated.

It wasn't that those attending to the injured were doing a bad job, on the contrary. However they could neither bring true restoration for they couldn't erase those memories that would nourish people's nightmares for years or even lifetimes, nor prevent any able-minded individual from stumbling upon the absurdity that was going on: People were put into the grinder standing just outside the city walls only to be patched together and reassembled hours later again inside. And for what ? So that the Parrench army could keep going, so that the process could continue until the loop was completely drained of resources -- humans and yasoi.

Could one blame the Parrench for this ? Certainly not for this conflict had been forced upon them, but history told that the people living here were able to take the initiative in terms of war, too. Could one blame the Eskandr ? In terms of direct causality absolutely, but Otios knew that he had never been far enough to the South yet to truly know whether their situation there perhaps was just too dire to stay. Could one blame humanity as a whole for being unable to find different solutions for such situations and for mixing faith, pride and greed into the mix in tremendous quantities as well ? Yes and this time with neither ifs nor buts!

It was with mixed feelings then when Otios left the gates of Relouse behind him in the morning. At least he'd be able to leave the stench behind before it came to the worst. The flies would thrive and so would the rats and other carnivores whose preferred diet were the already dead. Mass sickness was just bound to come for nothing could keep Relouse's ground water safe from the decay reaching it. Some fancy clerics had quiet profoundly dismissed his idea of improving the dead body situation by letting those having the gift of thunder joining forces to create an improvised, but large scale incineration pit. What he had done with the poker a few hours prior, just bigger! Something that wouldn't need loads of wood or oil to just halfway burn the dead, but would just do things so much more profoundly at a much, much higher temperature. 'Blasphemy!', the holy man had uttered. So first they all had helped to mass produce death and now they were afraid of mass disposal of the outcome albeit knowing that no other approach would be able to prevent even more mass misery in the aftermath ? There certainly were things Otios could not understand...

And so he rode on, trying to reach Loriindton rather sooner than later. If the interpretation of things was right, then there was a real chance of the entirity of Yasoi to be dragged into this mess in an uncontrolled manner. Just staying out of the whole affair would have been the most preferrable option, but he himself had already dismissed that one the moment he had followed Lady Talit's call here. The Eskandr simply couldn't be trusted for staying neutral in case they'd have dealt with Parrench one day. They were humans too after all and right on their way of proving their aggressive potential. If he only had the choice between staying neighbours with a potentially nasty human nation A and a potentially nasty human nation B, then it was obvious to pick the one less unfamiliar.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadow of Oblivion

Interested.

The Sunday Group

Fynn LaPlace

Had it not been for the invention of charge-coupled devices and the wide arc of digital cameras employing this technology, Fynn would probably have needed an awful lot more workouts than he apparently used to subject himself to. It would have been barely possible for the small-ish man to handle the sheer amount of analog film produced by the number of crime scenes the Sunday Group encountered otherwise. The IT specialist continued photographing the car, the rubbermarks, the grooves in the gravel and everything else he deemed to be of importance until he was confident to have gotten everything from all perspectives needed. Also he had littered the place with small rulers and cubes indicating lengths and volumes for later reference.

Or, in other words, now that Eleanor had clearly pointed out the need for speed and his laptop also requested his attention by means of beeping, Fynn was in an elevated state of haste in order to wrap things up. Lowly muttering something to himself that could hardly be understood as anything else than a curse, he started picking up his various utensils from the ground again and drop them into a leather bag where they'd find some more protection.

The corner of his eyesight still found an opportunity to pick up what Primrose was doing. To him it was rather obvious out of sheer experience, but at the same time he was certain that, for the cop in the car, the situation was very grim without him even noticing -- simply because Primrose once more sold it with just the right mixture of determination and charme. Maybe she'd even be able to convince the man to give up on donuts, thereby extending his potential lifespan ?

Unfortunately however the laptop on the car's roof didn't stop indicating that it had finished the job. Somewhere inside its pretty vast solid state drive were now located all of the car's internal error flags, a complete copy of each control unit's flash memory and various other information and measurements as far as these could be done just by accessing the diagnostic connector. For more he'd have to get the car into the workshop, or just the time to tear it apart on the spot. The latter however was pretty much ruled out.

"Hey, Eleanor ?" he asked with a fairly obvious smirk around his lips, "Would you like me to implant some other data into the car so to make it look less like a worthy crimescene to the police ? Because, according to what I can see here by means of a short glance only, that's what it really is unless we're dealing with a case of extreme improbability. This car has airbags, but either they have been removed or disconnected. All of them. And either our dead driver has decided to just commit to an horrendous act of stupidity and ignored all warning lights, or the dashboard has been rigged for them not to work anymore."

Synopsis

- Fynn finishes his 'classic police work'
- His initial data readout indicates that the car has been manipulated to make any occupant's death more likely in case of an accident.
- However this is only a somewhat preliminary conclusion limited by short time and the inability to make a thorough physical inspection. Or, in other words: He can neither confirm nor rule out that additional measures were taken to cause the accident to happen in the first place.
- Not in accordance with 'classic police work', he offers Eleanor to sabotage the car to make it more difficult for the official police to find out the truth, thereby possibly buying the Sunday Group some more time since the investigation has only just begun.

The Sunday Group

Would you like to post first or can I happily have Fynn complete his readout and come to some preliminary conclusions in case I find the time to post before you do ? I could also have him just do a data dump and a later analysis, which given the fact that official police is already coming at us might be the better choice anyway.