It's night

Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.
Pick up.

 

Go get that dead drop.​

 

Timecheck says you've got four hours to make the drop site. Public transit should take you only half that time, but since you're unfamiliar with the city, you just go ahead and start.

The train is running late. Perfect.

The bus broke down. Perfect.

The cab smelled bad. Perfect.

You get to location with an hour to spare. Well, within a few blocks. Showing up to actual sites for these things early is a huge faux paz. So you look for the tallest building you can see and then look for the second tallest and third tallest. Tallest usually offers the best view of who's dropping it or if any traps are in store, but it's also predictable and could ahve something between it and your site. That's why you try to go second or third just so people don't try to predict your actions and spy. You hate being spied on in spite of liking to do it yourself. Whatever, no one knows you, no one can judge. Not like it matters what a bunch of idiots think. Oh, now that's interesting. You use the AR application to zoom in a bit. Eff Bee is gonna love this. It's a man, American looking by his posture and general air. Tall, skinny and kind of twitchy. Probably a merc. He seems to be looking around for something. Hmm. What do you do?

 

Follow him around if he leaves the area. You like to spy, right?​

 

Follow the buttpirate.

 

You decide to stalk him for a bit. You're not a spy by trade and you'd never take it as a job, but you like spying on people for voyeuristic reasons. You like that when you're following someone, you're the one with the informational advantage and they're none the wiser. It's the same as arguing with children, it's just so easy. You need to find a non-creepy hobby sometime. Well, nothing to it but to do it.

You take a look at his path and make a guess at where he's going. You won't be able to follow him for long but he might be interesting to check out for a bit. You descend the building in the elevator and find yourself crossing paths with him just as planned on the streets below. He's moving west and you're facing north. Looking closer shows that he's a little more substantial than you'd thought from the initial view you had of him but he still looks like he's far from a close combat type. He's in his early thirties, has three pistols on him and is a quick draw. He's still looking for something even though he left the drop zone. You've got time so you observe him from a cafe for a while. He's a complete moron. Whatever he's been sent to do he's making a hash of it. You almost want to go over and help him i's so pathetic. But you don't, no money in charity cases. Haha. You get up and start to turn towards the drop zone when you hear him shouting over the phone at someone. Something about it not being here. Something else about this being a wild goose chase. Something else about the caller's mother. When he's done he walks back your way. You walk slower than him so he'll pass you before you reach the drop. No use getting tangled up in his business.

He bumps into you rather roughly and doesn't apologize, he just tells you to look out. He drops his phone. It looks undamaged, what do you do?

 

Tell the clumsy bastard he dropped his phone.​

 

Take it, and tell him he doesn't get it back until he says sorry, just to fuck with him.

 

You pick up the phone. You know he's twitchy so you call out to him as generically as possible even though a few seconds of looking clears that his name is Almond McKissinger, no seriously, that's what it says. He's also probably from somewhere in the Bible Belt from his accent. He turns and you hold out his phone. He dropped this. He reaches for it and you retract your hand slightly. He wouldn't have dropped it if her hadn't bumped into you so this must be God's way of saying that he should apologize. Almond isn't amused and snatches back his phone anyway. Jeez, his hands are quick. You tell him that divine justice will lay him low as it did the Egyptians for his trespasses. He tells you that he'll shoot you if you spout about religious shit anymore. Temper, temper. You can't just go shooting people for returning things to you, that's sinful behavior. You don't see him draw his gun, but you didn't have to, he's not gonna shoot. You frown and stare at him. Is that supposed to be a threat? More like an insult to his own intelligence. No one's stupid enough to shoot someone in broad daylight with people walking by. Especially not in a foreign country. Does he know how much trouble that will get him into? He draws closer. Oh. He thinks that will make it scary. If he wants to shoot he should do so now before they call the cops on him, or worse the local gangsters think he's muscling in on their turf. This gives the little nut some pause. Clearly. He doesn't want to lose face, but you put your forehead up to the gun and ask him to pull the trigger. You ask him to drive the nail into his own coffin. He withdraws the pistol and apologizes. You tell him you were only fooling and give him a pat on the back.

Standing out so much usually isn't a good thing, but this time you're pretty sure you know what's going to happen to the little nut anyway. Now for the drop. It's about 25 meters away from your current position. When that number reduces itself to zero you get a text message. It's from Thorsen again. Hmm. That's interesting. It says good job making it on time and try to stay out of trouble. Figures he's watching. Could be a satellite passing overhead given his resources. Well, regardless, you look for the drop for a few seconds. There it is, in the garbage, wonderful. You pull out the new briefcase and take it to a sit down restaurant to clean off and read through the next case file. A man named Ricardo Guerra. Currently in Vietnam. Expert in field tactics and frontline combat. Sound scary. The picture is of a goofball with a helmet reading, "Safety First" pulled over his eyes. Another nutter. Whatever, assassins are always weird folk. At least this guy isn't going to have you on the verge of a heart attack every time he talks.

All that's left to do is make the drop for Eff Bee and head over to the airport for the 5:00pm flight Thorsen booked for you. How nice of him. How do you proceed?

 

Make the drop for Eff Bee and head over to the airport for the 5:00pm flight Thorsen booked for you.

 

Make the drop for Eff Bee and head over to the airport for the 5:00pm flight Thorsen booked for you.​

 

'How do you proceed' means details, you lot. There is no specified location for Eff Bee's drop so you must decide it. Remember, looking at a map is something you can do.

 

You can't make me.
Fine. Be that way.

Locate a nearby map, and find somewhere that looks nice. A park, maybe. THEN make the drop.

 

Check out the map for a nice area nearby. Like a park or a stadium or something. Then go do the dropping.​

 

You decide that it's best to make the drop for Eff Bee far from where you picked up Thorsen's drop. It's just good practice to keep separate ventures separate. It's also good practice to make sure you're not being followed. So you dip into a general store and pick up some post cards and a map of the area. They like calling a paper trail anything that leads back to you, but paper is a lot harder to track than digital. You like working with cash and analog whenever possible. You decide a good place to hang for a bit will be a park. You're not going to drop there, you're going to lose whoever might be tailing you. Thorsen built his empire on tech and uses tech resources over human ones whenever possible. You're well aware of that, so you use a public locker to stash the phone you use for his correspondences. You've got about fifteen minutes before a person would suspect anything from a geolocator, so you decide to head somewhere you can return from without raising suspicion. Place you're looking for is the newly built stadium. There's a game going on so it'd be reasonable that you'd leave your phone away from it given how many thieves show up to public events. It's also close, so if you're lucky you won't need the excuse.

The game is pretty rowdy so you manage to slip in with some fast talk and some greased palms. Easy so far. Finding a decent seat is also pretty manageable. You realize a bit too late you haven't composed your full message to Eff Bee so you fill in the blanks as you halfheartedly cheer for one side even though you have nothing to do with either. When you're finished, you geotag it behind the guys selling beer. No one will find it there unless they're explicitly told to look, you're pretty sure. Then you sit for the rest of the game to establish your excuse since you're already over time. Then you leave the game and pick up your phone. Easy so far.

There's nothing else to do here. You've got maybe two hours to kill before you need to be at the airport. What do you do?

 

Two hours? Pantsu shopping.​

 

Get really drunk and THEN go pantsu shopping.

 

People will be calling you an alcoholic if you keep drinking on the job like this. It's not like it's ever stopped you before, though. You nip into a liquor store and buy a bottle of rum and a bottle of whiskey start chugging. When you've finished the rum you sip on the whiskey as you walk out to find the nearest shop that sells female undergarments. You're feeling pretty buzzed right now, but you know you'll be completely pissed by the time you really get into your shopping. You find a shop a mile or so down and you're starting to have more trouble walking in a straight line. You drift and weave and people are giving you dirty looks. Whatever, man.

Inside the cute little shop you start your search for headgear. It's not long before you find a lacy number that you think would look nice on Aria. Hmm. How do you proceed?

 

Get a few pairs of pantsu. One for Aria and nine for yourself. Then check the time.​

 

Buy as many as you can fit in your pockets, and then get to your flight.