Log started on Wednesday, 26 Apr 2000, 7:17 PM EST by "Duffy" at "Holodeck 5"

*** GM Note: Totals to date -- Duffy: 19; Ice: 9; Jamie: 10; Jet: 12; Jimbo: 18; Taro: 10

The convalescents' ward in the Brotherhood hospital resembles a nave in the Cathedral, stone columns rising up to join massive buttressing beneath a peaked roof. Fierce carvings of Valkyries stretch forth their arms to ward sickness away from the patients, who rest in slightly incongruous hospital beds with black curtains separating sections from view by the visitors and other patients. Stained glass windows of assorted heroes let in a soft colored illumination, their shadowy images washing over the marble tiles and occasionally tinting the face of a nurse. Flowers sit on tables next to a few patients who receive regular visitors; others lie neglected for days save by their attendants and an occasional doctor.

In one of the beds, a dog-man named Sherman Duff looks bored as he leafs through a thirty-year old magazine he found in the drawer of his table. "Darkin', this whole place could be fixing to go bust and they won't admit I'm recovered 'til a Missionary comes by to have a look." He perks his ears up as there seems to be a bit of a commotion -- a new patient being admitted, perhaps.

A tall and bespectacled young man in blue and white Missionary robes rolls Officer Watterson into the recovery room on the wheelchair. "Yes, I know you're capable of walking, but this is part of Cathedral standard procedures. It's in the Book of Law. A Mystic should be by shortly to examine you for any remaining traces of corruption..."

The face of the blondish man in the chair crumples a bit. "Not even for a smoke? I got the fidgets. Eh.. oh, well. Thanks, bro." He mumbles some well-wishing in Latin, then waves at the rottweilerish fellow in the bed across from him. "Hey, fancy seeing you here."

The young Missionary seems surprisingly strong for his body build, as he helps Jimbo up to the bed next to Duffy. "Just a formality," he assures the officer while doing so.

Duffy looks up, surprised. "Hey, Jay! What happened to you?" He puts down the magazine of 'Brotherhood Now' (now evidently a retrospective on events thirty years ago).

The somewhat wobbly officer supports himself with the Missionary's aid, and lets out his breath as he dumps himself into the bed. "Uff!" Jimbo nods appreciatively at the young man, then rolls his head to look at Duffy. "The long or the short of it? The short of it is, I've got a little downtime thanks to some irradiation and chemical inhalation. What're you doing back here?"

The Missionary bows his head to the two law officers, then quietly departs the chamber.

"Ah, I'm not back, I just checked in a couple days ago so they could treat my legs, do the hand-wavey 'you're-all-better' thing so I wouldn't need a month to get back on my feet, and they won't admit that I really am all better," Duffy explains. "Heh. So what were you doing that they had to treat you for irradiation? Poking around the sewers?"

Almost directly after the Missionary has departed, a dark figure appears in the doorway. "I see you've subscribed to the Duffy school of crime fighting, Jimbo," speaks the figure. The Mishima accent is a recognizable one. It's Taro, dressed in his usual dark suit.

Duffy rolls up the aged magazine and threatens the newcomer with it. "Come over here and say that, kid," he says with a chuckle.

"Aw, get bent, Taro," says Jimbo, grinning. There's no malice in the words, and he sits up in his bed a little. "Well, the Antonia concert was a real hellraiser. Have you read Saturday's paper?"

The dog-man shakes his head. "They say the newspaper might be too unsettling to patients in a delicate condition. Feh, I say they just don't want to pony over a few crowns to keep us out of the clutches of deadly boredom. Wasn't that the concert where Jet was gonna open?"

"Kid? I haven't been called that in quite some time," considers the kitsune. He steps into the room and folds his hands in the small of his back. "Indeed I have been reading the paper. It seems it was quite a show. It was also unfortunate to hear my chance at roof top hot dogs had been hospitalized." As usual, he speaks in a emotionless monotone. It's his strictly work voice, and from previous experience something the damaged officers would recall him using frequently when in the company of the Brotherhood.

Jimbo nods somewhat gingerly at Duffy, and gestures to the emptied wheelchair for Taro to take a seat. "Yeah, I bugged Jet for a free ticket to go, and she relented. I didn't get to see much of the concert, though..."

Taro walks over towards the offered chair and, after smoothing out his suit to prevent wrinkling, sits down.

Duffy lies back in the pillows. "Yer a kid 'til you develop a beard," he teases Taro, then continues, "What happened, Jay? I doubt you were late for the thing, so I'll guess it got interrupted big time."

"Well, when I got there, I was looking for my seat," says Jimbo, reflecting on the events of that night. "I was about to go down toward the front row, when a janitor going into an employee area caught my attention. He was with the 'Squeaky Clean' service, remember them?"

Duffy's ears perk. "Yeah. I'd thought they might be a front, but they only had a few Dark Eden types working for them."

"Could be they just have a few agents in the company, it might be legit otherwise," the dog-man speculates.

Jimbo's mouth quirks a little. "Well, whatever the case may be, this guy was one of them. I noticed him pass right by a spill on the floor that the concert ops people were complaining about, so on a hunch, I followed him through the door. He'd already gone downstairs when I came in, and when I looked in his abandoned cart, there were no cleaning supplies. So I followed him discreet-like, and he lead me to a buried hunk of machinery way below the city."

The kitsune gives Duffy a look for the joke and grins for a brief moment, before letting his expression melt back into its usual stony blandness. He keeps his ears perked through the description of the happenings.

The dog-man nods slowly. "Pretty suspicious..."

"Supposedly that machinery is pre-Exodus, if the Inquisitor is correct," mentions Taro.

"Yeah, I didn't really have any doubts at that point," replies Jimmy. He gestures with his hands out in front of him like he's holding an imaginary box. "Yeah, it was from NASA ... there's stuff in Payne's books about them. They were a government sponsored organization started way back in the United States of America ... kind of a precursor to Capitol. They had a lot to do with landing on the moon, terraforming it, and developing it. Eventually, they ended up installing military defense systems in it."

"Hmm... Got it," Duffy says.

Taro tilts his head slightly. "Interesting. I had never heard of this 'NASA' before now. I suppose my Luna history is rather limited, however. Go on, please," he says.

Jimbo waves his hands vaguely. "Stands for Nerds And Space Altogether, or something, I forget. Anyway, I followed this guy down there, and he had an electronics box that he was hooking up to some machinery down there. Two and two together here made 'arming of underground weapon'. But he spotted me."

Duffy rubs his chinfur. "It certainly sounds indicative, Jay. All right, that's when things went frak?"

Taro shakes his head slowly. "It's quite astonishing such a device would be located there."

"Nah, Taro, there's all kinds of stuff left behind from the old days," Duffy says. "Luna City used to be a mining colony, so there're miles and miles of tunnels. It's impossible to clean that all out, so you get homeless folks using 'em for shelter, criminals sneaking around, hiding their loot and stuff... For all I know, there could be giant mushrooms or something growing on the deepest levels."

"Like a Heretic at the Inquisitor convention," answers Jim, nodding. "I got halfway through telling him to drop down before he twitched, I kicked, and he flung me across the room like a quarterback running the Hail Mary play. I could hear gunshots and screaming outside, too... apparently, all kinds of scrud was breaking loose out in the stadium, and Jet and her bodyguard Collins were in the thick of it. A big Blue Heaven clambake."

Duffy shakes his head. "Bunch of Gaians fried on Blue Heaven? And you without an assault rifle. Sounds like I missed all the fun."

"Quite astonishing to an outsider, I suppose. I do tend to miss these trivia bits." Flicking an ear, Taro turns his attentions to Jimbo. "I rather feel bad I did not attend now. It is good to hear there were no fatalities amongst the civilians, despite all the problems."

Jimbo shrugs his shoulders. "Well, the guy I was dealing with wasn't smacked up on Blue Heaven, he was doing just fine without it. The O.D. fruitcakes in the concert hall were a diversion to let this guy do his work. I chatted him up a bit while he was tearing off his shirt to show me his tattoo, and he was gracious enough to inform me that we were standing in a part of the Megabody, and he had the ability and intention to set it off as an example to the Corporations." He leans over the edge of his bed towards Duffy and Taro, his typically lethargic expression earnest. "If this guy was talking any sort of sense, they've got the codes."

Duffy shakes his head. "Great Cardinal in the Cathedral," he says, wondering. "Part of this Megabody thing? All along I'd been thinking it was just one big..." The dog-man glances toward the other patients, luckily screened from their conversation by curtains. "... device."

As the bed-ridden Jim leans forward, Taro pulls up the wheel chair. he leans forward as well and rests his head on a arm balanced on the edge of the bed. "This does sound rather important, so I just may ask, what codes exactly? And what is this Megabody?"

"In a nutshell, the Megabody is the doomsday device the Armageddonists plan on using to wipe Luna out," Jimbo says. He scratches at his forehead while he talks, trying to adjust goggles that aren't there. "I thought it might've been a missile defense system, but some Bauhaus specialists had a look at it, since it was in their territory. They seem to think it might have been ancient terraforming machinery ... but it is fully capable of being overloaded to blow up a good chunk of the area. And Durand knows how many of those things are under the city."

"Darkin'," Duffy mutters.

Taro's jaw loosens in a look of surprise, which for him is something. "I really should listen in more on these case reports. I seem to be missing important ... " he runs a hand back over his head, "... details, such as this," he comments quietly.

"So, how'd you get irradiated and exposed to, ah, dangerous chemicals, Jay?" Duffy asks. "The perp throw you into a vat of yucky stuff?"

Watterson nods grimly. "That's some bad mojo. It didn't happen, thankfully. No, Duffy, if I'd let him, he would have just snapped me like a toothpick. This was one big bad dude. The radiation was leakage from part of the capsule. The inhalation happened when I busted a coolant hose to chill our boy out."

"Smart thinking, even if it was awfully hard on yourself," Duffy says.

Jimbo shrugs. "It was either bits and pieces of me, or all of me and then some."

"Excellent job, Jimbo. It's this sort of self-sacrifice that makes you such a fine officer," mentions Taro. He gives the officer a smile, to show that despite the sarcasm he means well.

Duffy cracks a grin, "Hey, relax, Jay. You did fine. I'd probably have been pumping bullets into him 'til he picked me up and gave me a terminal case of back pain. What about the scene upstairs then? How'd Jet and Collins make out in all the chaos?"

Watterson smirks at Taro, then turns back to Duffy. "Well, I was there for a concert, I wasn't packing heat. Jet and Collins dropped the hammer on the Blue Heaven berserkers, near as I can tell, and it's a good thing too... it could've been a lot worse than two hundred hospitalizations. They found me after I'd crawled out of that hole, and did the rest of the investigating 'til the Blitzers arrived. Heh.. and if it hadn't been for Jet's singing and the applause, I think my big purple compadre would have heard my sneaking up on him long before."

A woman in a T-shirt and jeans saunters through the door, carrying a bowl with a large flower arrangement set into it in the crook of her arm. "You takin' my name in vain, Watterson?" she drawls out lazily.

Duffy laughs. "That's quite a compliment, Jay. Nah, Jet, he was filling me in on what all happened. Sounds like y'all had a heck of a time."

Jimbo laughs, and waves somewhat slowly. "Speak of the devil, and she shall appear. What's shakin', Detective?"

The kitsune, quite obviously Taro given that the number of black kitsune in these parts is slim indeed, smiles his believable smile over at the arriving officer. "I see I am not the only one who thought to check in on our injured fellows. Hello, Jet," he greets the woman.

Jet offers a smile to each of the injured officers in turn, and musses Taro's hair as she walks past him to plant the flowers on a nightstand between the cops. "Just piles of paperwork mounding up while we wait for you lot to stop goofing off and get back on the job," she jibes. "And don't let Collins fool you into thinking I did anything useful in that mess at the concert. Feldspar's security did a good job dealing with the Armageddonists. Brotherhood may even've had them reinforced, given our report to them. I dunno."

"Ah! My hair!" complains Taro as his hair gets mussed. In his typical reaction to anything that upsets his looks, he reaches back and removes his hairband before carefully smoothing his hair back.

The dog-man twiddles his toes as he lifts his right leg out of the blanket to show it's intact. "Believe me, I'd like to get back to work, but I'm going stir-crazy in here, Jet. Talk to the orderly, will you, and get 'em to check us out so we don't have to wait for months 'til they remember to let us out?" He makes sad puppy eyes.

"Hey, not only will I be fit for the beat in a couple days, my healthy green glow'll let me find my socks in the dark," says Jimbo, grinning, then coughing a few times. He leans toward the nightstand to sniff at the flowers. "Besides, they won't let me smoke. I'll go nuts if I don't get out. What's been up while we've been 'on vacation'?"

The woman looks at Duffy's pathetic expression for a moment, then snorts. "With that mug, you're more likely to get a tummy rub and a biscuit than outta here, Duff. Keep tryin'."

"Coolant inhalation and you still want to smoke?" Duffy says with a chuckle. "Dark, Jay, coolant smells better than that stuff you smoke. Heh, well, Jet, I'll keep working on it. The orderly was saying that the doctor would be by any hour now, and then she stopped answering the bell. Said I was snacking too much and that their prescribed menu was enough."

"You really wanna know? This n' that. The Brotherhood gave us the smackdown on further investigation of the Armageddonists, Blue Heaven, Bauhaus, you name it," Jet says with a shrug, "But since they're claiming that the Armageddonists got crushed at Feldspar, we can probably resume business as usual soon. I'm going to try to have a look at the Apollo sometime this week or next, unless the Chief saddles me with something else."

Jimbo traces his jaw with his finger, his brow creasing. "They say the Armageddonists are finished? They've got another think coming... they didn't care about the casualties that happened... frak, they were expecting to lose everyone they sent there!"

Jet nods. "You don't have to tell me that, Jay. I'm sure they've got more loonies to spare, unfortunately."

Duffy sits up and starts working his pillow into a shape that'll let him face Jet better. "Yeah, there's no shortage of work at Dawn Alert, Jet. Heh. If that's what they're claiming, well, I think they'll be disappointed, but I'm not about to tell them that." He casts a 'told you so' look to Jimbo. "First of all, Mr. Cool here tells me that there's more than one part to this Megabody thing, and secondly, someone had to be getting their Blue Heaven up here. They aren't letting people slip that through in their carry-ons, especially since it has to be refrigerated. That says to me right there, looking at the private spaceports is a good idea."

"Say Jimbo, what did the Armageddonist's tattoo look like?" inquires the fox.

Watterson glances away for a brief moment at Duffy's look, then leans forward a little more in his bed. "It was a shield with a pair of crossed tusks or horns."

The female detective places a finger alongside her cheek as she returns the canine's gaze, nodding slightly at his words. She frowns distractedly for a moment after Watterson's description of the tattoo, then says, "'nother Templar of Gaia."

"I bet he's still down at the morgue," offers Jimmy. "He should be pretty well preserved."

"Well, you said he arrived in a Squeaky Clean truck-- is that truck still there?" Duffy suggests. "Maybe if we can locate it in the parking lot, there might be some clues there. I-got-the-code man had to live somewhere after all."

"Hmm. Dunno what more we could learn from looking at the corpse ... probably Bauhaus Security got custody of the body. I'll pass along a request for their coroner's report on him, see what turned up," Jet responds to Jimbo.

Jimbo clarifies, "I said he was wearing a Squeaky Clean uniform and pushing a Squeaky Clean cart. I dunno where his ride is."

Taro nods slightly as he pulls his hair back and slides his hairband around it. "I would think Templars of Gaia are rather distinctive sorts, and don't come here easily. If this Blue Heaven is something they use, there must be a limited number of ways such a minority group could bring it here. That, or they have outside assistance perhaps. But I cannot see who would want Luna City destroyed, or would risk being caught attempting to do so," he considers.

"Not all of them are obvious, Taro...," warns Jimbo, tapping the nightstand with his index finger. "This guy was pretty easy to miss unless you were looking right into those blank eyes of his. One of those guys."

Jet tells Duffy, "Bauhaus was all over the area -- you know how many people they use in security. We told them about the cart and they whisked off with it, and've probably gotten anything the least bit suspicious cleared from the area. I've asked them to send me a copy of their report when it's ready, but haven't received word back yet."

After the ponytail is set, Taro nods. "Well, hm. Maybe they are not importing this Blue Heaven. Perhaps it is being produced here, in Luna City?"

Jimbo snaps his fingers. "Hey, now that you guys mention them... the boys in BLEU offered me a job."

"Really, Watterson?" Jet's eyebrows raise. "When?"

Jet shakes her head at Taro. "According to the lab boys, local production of Blue Heaven is unlikely in the extreme. It requires some kind of funky Dark Eden critter. Don't even think it could survive on Luna."

"After the stadium incident," replies James. He plucks at the air with a hand. "I wasn't told why... my guess is that Bauhaus noble who was there might've pulled some strings."

"Again, I'm uninformed. Well I haven't any idea on this then really," says Taro. He shifts in the chair and leans back again, reaching up and adjusting his glasses from where they had slipped down his muzzle slightly.

The woman rubs her face with one hand. "Heh. Would've thought you'd need a rack just to 'measure up' to their standards." She grins before adding, "On height, anyway. I'm still in awe that you managed to foil that Armageddonist set-up."

Jimbo laughs, and feels at his head. "Well, the goggles add an inch, maybe. And they don't put 'blind luck' in the dossier, otherwise they might not have been so quick to offer. They've got some high expectations, and I think it'd be pretty hard on me."

"Heh heh, ask 'em if it comes with a title," Duffy suggests to Jimbo. "Anyway, you'd be surprised how much even the boys in BLEU miss, Jet-- who thinks about the car some perp rode up in? For that matter, the other Gaians that popped up had to get in somehow... Maybe they took the underground way, though. No car then. But bit of a ride for a cart."

Duffy continues, "So, you see anything that might be a lead on this, Jet? Did Bauhaus seem too eager to stamp it case-closed, or d'you think they're doing some House-cleaning?"

"To my eye, the Brotherhood's definitely too eager to close it. Haven't heard enough from BLEU to know where their hand is in this, but if they take a few weeks getting back to me with the info, I'll start to get suspicious," Jet answers Duff. "The vehicle's a good angle, but if BLEU didn't pick it up by now I'd bet on it being long gone. Which," she pauses to glance down at her watch, "I'd should be, too. I gotta get back to the station, gang. Get well soon."

"One can only imagine the panic that would be caused if this sort of information reached the public. It's unsurprising the Brotherhood wants this under wraps," mentions the fox quietly.

"Yeah, they mighta towed the thing if no one picked it up," Duffy says. "Hmmm... I'll call the office and see if they'll look into that for me, Jet. Thanks for checking that."

Jimbo rubs his nose thoughtfully. "Huh... you guys think there might be something up around BLEU? ... I wonder if it'd be possible to sniff around there..."

A woman in robes and shoulder pauldrons of black and white, her hair covered by a habit, strides toward the recovery room. She holds a clipboard close to her chest with one hand, while the other hand rests upon a copy of the Book of Law hanging from her belt. The multi-colored tubes radiating from a Power Stabilizer on her back mark her as a user of the Art, as do numerous runes.

On her way out, Jet nods to Taro. "Yeah, 'zactly what I've been thinking. No problem, Duff." She offers a bow of respect to the entering Mystic, standing aside to let the other woman pass easily, before exiting.

The Mystic bows to Jet as well, then enters the recovery room. "Well, I hope you have not been kept waiting too long," she says in a pleasant, light voice.

Duffy mutters, "Any longer and we might check ourselves out..." He chuckles.

Upon noticing the woman enter, Taro stands from the wheelchair and nods to the woman in robes. He nods to her and steps off towards the wall. "Do not let me be in your way, ma'am," he tells her.

"Thanks for the flowers, Jet!" says James, waving. "Take care!"

Leaning back into the room, Jet adds as an afterthought, "Oh, hey, the whole department contributed on those flowers, guys, wasn't just me. There's a card, too. Seeya soon." She waves and vanishes into the hallway.

The Mystic nods to Taro, then says, to Watterson, "I am going to scan for any traces of corruption, in the unlikely event that your exposure to the radiation might have exposed you to the influence of the Dark Symmetry. There is no need to be alarmed. This will only detect the presence of any corruption in the immediate vicinity, and if any is found, we have standard procedures for dealing with it." She smiles sweetly.

"Uhh... 'kay, have at it." Jimbo sits up a little in the bed, eyeing the woman's pack and trappings.

Duffy sits up and watches the goings-on curiously.

The woman gives Officer Watterson another reassuring smile, and then places her gloved hands together as if in prayer, and closes her eyes, furrowing her brow slightly and pursing her lips in concentration.

"Well I most definitely would not wish to interrupt your treatment. I ... will get you a gift from the gift shop," mentions Taro. He turns from his path from the wall then heads directly for the door.

It is faint enough that it might only be a trick of the light, but it seems for a moment as if there might be a glow hovering about the woman's hands. She furrows one brow for a moment, as if troubled by something ... but then relaxes.

Jimbo lets his jaw shift to one side. "Everything checkin' out, Doc?"

The woman smiles again, and lets her hands fall apart. "Yes, you are clear of any contamination. The treatments were successful. Please forgive my lingering. For a moment, I thought I had caught a trace of the Darkness ... but I checked again, and it was nothing. However, if you develop any strange symptoms as indicated in the brochure you have been given, please notify the Brotherhood immediately."

Duffy calls after Taro, "Don't get those vinyl-covered..." He shakes his head, "Too late, he's gone."

At last, she opens her eyes, nodding to Officer Watterson, and then looks to Detective Duff. "And you are fine as well. You will both be free to leave today. I will see to it that some Missionaries come to assist you."

"Wow," comments Watterson. He raises his eyebrows for a moment, sitting up in the bed. "Well, good to hear it! Thanks for the patch-ups." He switches to somewhat stilted Latin. "Blessings on the Brotherhood."

Duffy chuckles. "That's great news, ma'am. I'm in a mood to demolish a ten-inch tall steak. Club Aero, Jay?"

"Sounds good to me, Duffy," replies Jimbo, looking a bit more animated and cheerful. "It's nice knowing I can enjoy a steak without enjoying it twice anymore."

The woman moves her hands in a blessing over the two law officers. "May the Light guide your way, and may you be granted the wisdom of the Cardinal." And with that, she turns and walks off. Out in the corridor, she immediately waves down a couple of young Missionary orderlies.

Duffy mutters to Jay, "I'm thinking Taro doesn't like the Brotherhood much... I don't think he'll be bringing us one of the Inquisitor action figures they have in the gift shop."

Club Aero
Despite the pretentious name, there's no "club" involved here -- just a diner-style restaurant located at the edge of Verne Airfield, at the intersection of Schwarzenegger Street and Wolf Run Road. An L-shaped bar runs near the entrance, with a cash register at one end, and a big glassed-in display of calorie-laden donuts. Booths line the wall, while a larger room off to the east has tables and more booths in an addition built from a corrugated tin "can roof" hangar. The ceiling fans look like propellers, and various posters and bits of junk ("memorabilia") hang on the walls.

Having changed out of the traditional paper-thin hospital gown to his regular off-duty clothes which look considerably scruffier than his Sunday good outfit, but at least seem comfortably fitting, Duffy walks into the club and signals to the waitress, "Table for three! And for the mighty Inquisitor Mel too." He holds up an armored action figure with a chuckle.

Shandra Kay smiles to Duffy. "Glad to see you back, Detective. How's the leg?" She leads Duffy over to a booth underneath a poster of a Mishiman transforming Air-Meka. "Here you go!"

Duffy chuckles and stations Inquisitor Mel on the edge of the table to greet customers with its hand held nobly in the air. "Thanks. Oh, leg's just fine. I just got out of the hospital, and to celebrate, I figured I'd treat myself and my partner in crime-fighting to a steak dinner. And Officer Hidaka too, if he gets the message I left for him."

There's a curious sustained engine whine outside, rather different from the average roadster on the streets -- something rather more like a jet's keening.

Shandra Kay looks to the window. "Is someone trying to pull a stunt ... ?" She walks over to peer out the window next to the front door, into the parking lot. "By the Cardinal!"

Duffy perks his ears up. "Just a bit, Shandra, lemme make sure that thing outside's street legal." He leaves his slightly-worse-for-wear hat on the table and follows her.

Several of the old pilots' ears perk up and heads turn at the interesting sounds outside.

Peering outside reveals the source of the engine noise to be a vintage Sky Shark Systems KA-67 Great Grey Mk. I jetbike ... the kind that still has the front nose of the craft sculpted to resemble a shark's head, albeit a bit cartoony in detail. (The newer versions are much more sleek and efficient, with only a stylized hint of the shark appearance left.)

The jetbike has been stripped down from the military version -- there's no sign of the usual built-in machine gun mounted underneath -- but it still looks to be sturdy and heavily armored. It's large enough to fill a regular parking space, but only seats a single driver ... unless a passenger is brave enough to try to squeeze in behind him on the same seat.

"Great Durand in space!" exclaims the dog-man.

The jetbike swerves into the parking lot a bit shakily, then drifts around a bit before finally getting (more or less) over a parking space. The helmeted figure astride it is just about the right size, shape, and build to be familiar...

Gandolph, the resident tinker, and a veteran of the Second Corporate Wars, adjusts his spectacles. "Well, I'll be. Haven't seen one of those in working order in these parts for ... long as I can recollect!"

Duffy shakes his head, looking up at the pilot. "You got a license for that thing?" he says as he plants his hands on his hips. "Or did you just sneak it out of the scrapyard yonder?" The edges of his lips betray a grin despite his attempt to play the officious cop.

The bike settles down, crookedly parked, and the engine's whine slowly dies down. Jimbo removes his helmet, grinning like an idiot. "Honest officer, my wallet's in my other pants pocket."

The dog-man slaps Jimbo on the back. "Lucky for you I'm buying you dinner then," he says. "As long as you tell me how you laid hands on one of those things. Straight out of the kiddy shows, man, Captain Starlock and his carrier-airship with those sky shark riders."

Once he's sure the bike is settled onto its struts, the blondish officer clambers down, his helmet tucked under his arm. "Well, at the start of the concert, Antonia came flying in on this very vehicle. I found it outside my pad, complete with bow. I guess it's a little 'thanks for not blowing us up' present."

Duffy laughs! "Sweet, Jay. Very sweet."

The dog-man leads Jimbo back to the action-figure-garnished table. "My partner in crime-fighting," he tells Shandra. "And I bet you thought I was talking about the Inquisitor."

Shandra just smirks and shakes her head, getting back to the business of setting menus in front of the places in the booth. "Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?"

"Some of your homebrew rootbeer would hit the spot," Duffy opines.

"Better make it the same for me; no telling what a beer might do to my control of that thing." Jimbo laughs, and plunks himself down. "Whew! It's a kick, but it's a bit weird to control! It'll take me a while to get the hang of, I think."

Gandolph slaps down the latest newspaper on the edge of the table. "Hey! This is your mug on the front page, isn't it?" There's a photo on the front page of the Wednesday edition of the Luna Chronicle of a surprised-looking, lanky individual in shorts and flip-flops, looking like someone caught him barbecuing in his backyard or maybe at some sort of a family picnic or whatnot.

The door opens again, and in steps a shadow of a person that could only be the black kitsune himself. He pauses after walking a few steps from the door to gaze around the room.

Shandra turns to Jimbo. "And will it be another rootbeer for you, too?"

Duffy waves Taro over. "C'mere, we were just about to start!"

Gandolph just cackles, and leaves the newspaper on the table, heading back to his own booth, giving Jimbo a thumbs-up on the way.

Jimbo smacks himself in the face at the sight of the newspaper photo. "Urgh!"

Duffy glances over at Jay. "What?" A glance at the paper causes his eyebrow to rise. "Not your best side, is it?"

"Yeah, Shandra, and put it in a bowl so I can dunk my head in it in case anybody sees me!" says the lanky man, grinning ruefully. He shakes his head. "Sheesh, those reporters'll stop at nothing to put their hooks in you. Even if you aren't even there."

Taro inclines his head to Duffy hello before he begins walking towards the two. "I got your message. I am also sorry I could not return with your gifts. Are you two feeling better?" he asks.

Duffy chuckles. "Nah, I got myself a souvenir; don't worry about it, Taro." He waves the Inquisitor at Taro and then deepens his voice. "Admit your crimes, young kitsune. Confession is good for the soul." Switching to a normal tone, he continues, "We're both feeling spiffy. Jay's got a new ride, even."

Shandra starts to dutifully scribble down "put it in a bowl" ... but then scratches it out, casting Jimbo a mock glare. She looks to Taro, then says, "Shall I make it three root beers?"

The kitsune just looks at the action figure silently for a moment, before he shifts his gaze over towards Shandra. "That will be fine," he tells her.

Jimbo just grins at Shandra, then at Taro.

The dog-man adds, "How 'bout some tater skins for a starter, too? After days of hospital food, I'm desperate for some real sustenance!"

"I see you both have souvenirs, Duffy, Jimbo. I noticed the hoverbike when I was walking over." Taro smoothes his clothes down a bit before he settles into a seat. Once comfortable, he folds his hands on the table and looks between the other two officers.

Shandra Kay nods and heads back to the kitchen.

The blonde officer tips back in his chair. "Isn't it something? I'll probably tool around on it a little while, get my giggles, and then park it for good, if I don't kill myself on it. Heck, maybe I'll even learn how to fly it."

"Darkin', Jay, a bike like that's too cool to waste away in a garage," Duffy opines. "'Sides, think of the advantage it'd give you in a car chase like the one Jet and Collins were having with that truck full of punks."

Taro glances out towards the parking lot and tilts his head. "I would be careful, given the terrorist attacks on zeppelins by hoverbikers recently."

"Man, this is a collector's item!" laughs Jimbo, slapping his thigh. He tilts his head forward to peer out from the hollows of his eyes. "Even if I was crazy enough to blast down city streets in hot pursuit of the criminal element on this thing like some hackneyed superhero wannabe, I barely have the skills to park it."

Shandra Kay comes back out with a tray, and sets down three root beers in frosty mugs, and a plate of "tater skins".

Shandra observes the conversation going on between the threesome and says, "I take it you'll need a little more time to decide your orders?"

Jimbo scratches his chin. "Oh, a medium-rare chiliburger and seasoned fries'll do it for me, Shandra. Spicy on the chili!"

"Nah, I'll have the porterhouse," Duffy replies. "Make it rare; I wanna hear it moo. Baked potato with everything on it, and mixed veggies on the side."

Shandra writes down the order, giggling at the "hear it moo" comment, then looks to Taro. "And you, sir?"

Duffy grins at Jay, obviously sure that he's not going to leave the bike parked forever.

"A salad and some water is enough for me, Shandra," answers the kitsune.

Jimbo reaches out to pick at the tater-skins, stretching some cheese away from a gooey hunk. "I know what you think, but my wilder days are behind me, honest. I might even sell it or put it in a museum..." There's some hesitation on the word 'might'.

Shandra nods, and heads off to the kitchen again, with a swish of her white lupine tail behind her.

"I believe that as much as you believe I'm going to go on a diet," Duffy says. He pops a tater skin whole, chomping away greasily.

Duffy leans over toward Taro and speaks more discreetly. "Hey... Listen, friend, do you have any issues with the Brotherhood? Seemed like you didn't cotton much to the Mystic. And being that the Brotherhood's boots are leaving big 'ol treadmarks over the whole area, well, there's always a chance we might meet some of them."

At the question, Taro turns to look directly at Duffy. Even with those dark glasses, it's clear he's looking right at the dog-man. "It is no secret Mishima and the Brotherhood have an uneasy relationship. Nothing is so obviously Mishima as a kitsune, and though I left Mercury, I respect the Mishima way. I do not entirely approve of the Brotherhood's methods in some things. I would rather avoid dealing with them," he answers in a low voice.

Duffy rubs his chin and looks over to Jay, then back to Taro. "Nothing more ... personal than that?"

Jimbo just chews silently, his eyes flicking back and forth between his companions as though he were watching a tennis match.

Taro sits up and removes his hands from the table. "I have had some mildly unpleasant dealings with them in the past, ones I would rather not repeat. There is nothing more," he replies.

"All right. Just wanted you to have a heads up; odds are pretty good that 'The Man' is probably not done with his business in this area," Duffy says mildly. "He might be back. And you might have to deal with him in line of duty."

Duffy toys with Inquisitor Mel and voices for the action figure, "Good may be set back, but in the end, it shall prevail over all evil!" He chuckles and tucks the action figure away into a trenchcoat pocket before it gets too greasy.

Shandra comes back, carefully balancing trays, and, in a balancing feat, sets the plates down one by one in front of the officers. "Here you go! I hope you enjoy." She smiles and her tail wags slightly as she takes the empty trays back to the kitchen.

Duffy beams, his tail wagging as well. "Thanks, Shandra! You're a lifesaver in an ocean of gooey hospital jello."

"Then I will do my duty. But forgive me if I avoid the Brotherhood otherwise. I am certain there is no love lost if we need not meet again," says the fox. He eyes the action figure for a moment, then gathers up a napkin before reaching for a "tater skin". The napkin of course is used as a buffer between the grease and his paw.

Jimbo rubs his hands together in anticipation. "Thanks, Shandra! Well, we all have our hang-ups, but let's not let them get our food cold...."

*** GM Note: 1 point awarded per PC for "light roleplay" session

*** GM Note: Totals to date -- Duffy: 20; Ice: 9; Jamie: 10; Jet: 13; Jimbo: 19; Taro: 11

Log stopped on Wednesday, 26 Apr 2000, 10:46 PM EST by "Greywolf" at "Holodeck 5"