The backstory for this is that I was given a writing challenge to combine three different...
The Books They Are Burning (Alt. Earth/Crossover Multiverse)
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The Books They Are Burning: Prologue Part One
The backstory for this is that I was given a writing challenge to combine three different concepts into a single story. My concepts were: Mickey Mouse, Al Qaida, and Cyber Noir. A lot of this first post is world-building and I'm trying to find the right balance of info dumping without giving things away.
My premise is that because of some unknown event fictional characters started spawning on Earth with their power levels determined by how well known they are in the human population. Obviously this would have horrific effects on civilization so the setting became something of a dystopian/apocalypse scenario ala Judge Dredd.
Let me know what you think.
You jolted awake as the alarm clock blared into your ear, it's repetitive tone both annoying and welcome. You relaxed your grip on the pistol you kept stashed under your pillow. One angry ex-wife and two girlfriends later, you still hadn't changed that particularly habit. They could never understand.
Mornings were the same every day. First, you would relieve yourself in the bathroom. Next you would fry up two eggs and two pieces of bacon, scraping the contents of the pan into a bowl of vegetable greens for breakfast. You would shower, dress, and then finish with a meditative smoke break on the balcony of your apartment. This was your favorite part of the day, watching the bustling of the lights below as people scurried to get their daily functions, the glass of the surrounding skyscrapers reflecting the coming dawn. It was the only time that you felt like one of them. The only time that you didn't feel the burden of what you knew and what you could never share.
You walked out of the door of your apartment, your gun and its holster attached to your hip.
****
It was still dark out when you walked out of the complex. The building was spartan looking, its walls of solid concrete and shatter-proof windows stretching a hundred stories high. It was one of New Alexandria's latest public projects and you didn't know what all the fuss was about. There were pictures and handshakes, speeches of how it was a "symbol of the continued prosperity of the human race." It was all bullshit. We were just as fucked now as we were yesterday. All they did was build a massive target for the next Inker that goes a little crazy.
You walked to work everyday, your new home smack dab in the middle of the megacity and in the center of the government district. Officially, it was the safest area in the city, but you still kept your Glock loaded and ready.
An eastern asian man nodded at you as you walked past his stand. Its displays were teeming with fresh apples and oranges from the public farms just outside the city walls. You tossed him a coin and he tossed you a green apple. No words were said and no words were needed.
The Jap had been there as long as you could remember. You never took the time to learn his name, but there was always a silent camaraderie between the foreign refugees of New Alexandria. With you, it was doubly so. Japan had been hit almost as hard as the States during the Event. Not many humans got out of those places alive.
You took a right turn down an alley, the last before your final stretch to your department at the Hearth. Posters lined its walls, their messages disguised by intricate fonts and graphics.
"God is a lie. And lies are illegal."
"Information is truth. Ideas are dangerous."
Frankly, you thought the propaganda was unnecessary. Without their media, Inkers couldn't be Awakened. And without public internet or television, it was hard for anybody to spread new ideas far enough to matter. Since all content was regulated, the chance for contamination in the population was minimal.
You turned another corner and a tall building dominated the skyline, looming over the other buildings like a lord over its servants. The Hearth. Its design was dull and uninspired like most of the city. But its drab appearance was deceiving, the organization inside was arguably the most important in the city. And you were a part of it.
The sliding doors beeped twice as you walked inside. A pretty middle-eastern woman looked up at you from behind the front desk. "Mr. Salamander, you're in early today." Her smile showed off her pearly, white teeth, though the coffee in her hand would soon sully them.
"Aliya," you greeted. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned forward, the smell of her coffee wafting into your nose. "Anything big happen I should know about?"
She shook her head, a few strands of hair loosening from the bun on the back. "Nothing major, just a few unregistered Inkers over the weekend." She blew the strands out of her eyes. "Mr. Coil took care of it."
You kept your face relaxed but inside you were scowling. Gavin Coil was a prick. Well actually, you had never heard a bad word about him from anybody. And you had never actually talked to him yourself, either. But he was still a prick. He and his Inker partner had busted one minor Awakening and suddenly everyone was kissing his ass.
How anyone could work with one of those black-blooded bastards was beyond you. What was its name again? Larry Starwalker or something?
You mentally shook your head. Now was not the time. You gestured to the electronically locked door to the right. "Buzz me in, please."
Aliya smiled nervously at you, one finger twirling some hair on the side of her head. "Uh, what department were you in again?"
You sighed but smiled back. "I thought we were closer than that, Aliya. I'm in the :
(Choose One)
[X] Science Fiction Department: One of the most important divisions in the Hearth. Many relevant Inkers were granted partial Awakening so the agency could better utilize their technological expertise. Much of the cities advanced technology could be traced to this department and you help manage their spread.
[X] Gaming Department: A small but important division that regulates the Inkers with video game origins. While many of them had been destroyed in America and Japan, a few stragglers stumbled into New Alexandria. With escalating strengths, these Inkers tended to be some of the most dangerous, so you have the training to match.
[X] Fantasy Department: One of the largest divisions in the agency, the fantasy Inkers make up a significant portion of the Inker population. The Undercity was crawling with them. Many of the partially Awakened sell magical products on the black market. It is your job to confiscate the most dangerous of these.
[X] Literature Department: Most of the Inkers you regulate look like normal humans and have similar desires and aptitudes. While many in the agency think of this division as a place for the lazy and unambitious, the fact that most of these Inkers could adapt to modern society meant you had a lot of contacts in different places.
[X] Horror Department: Another small division, this section of the Hearth regulates an obscure grouping of Inkers. While not necessarily tough, they often take specialized knowledge to destroy. Some Inkers in this department are given partial Awakening so they can teach these methods to their fellow agents.
[X] Religion Department: Awakened Inkers of this type are as powerful as they are rare. It only took only one to destroy the entire United States. Which is why this division was given the funding to match. You have the best resources available and the authority to use them. Most of your work is spent suppressing the older generations that refuse to give up their beliefs for the city's safety.
[X] Manga Department: Many of the eastern Inkers were destroyed during the events that wiped out that part of the world. But like the Gaming Inkers, their determination begets power. Some of this mindset has rubbed off on you and you find you are more effective the more stress you are under.
[X] Superhero Department: Another rare breed of Inker, the majority were wiped out during the fall of the United States. Those that remain tend to gravitate towards the Hearth's service, giving this division some of the most powerful Inker agents on the roster, though their very nature tends to come with both specialized obstacles and enemies.
"Oh yeah," she said, pushing one of the many buttons on her desk with a sheepish laugh, "Have a nice day!"
"And you."
****
The elevators took you to your department section on the fifty-second floor. While it wasn't as prestigious as being on the top ten, it was decent placement. It wasn't too high as to have the survival of the city heaped upon your shoulders with every decision, but not low enough to be written off by your superiors. The higher you were the more bureaucratic red tape you would have to deal with. Nope, the fifty-second floor would serve you just fine.
The elevator doors opened up to controlled chaos. A dozen junior agents scurried about with stacks of printed documents for review. Another dozen vigorously typed at their desk, the click-clacking of keyboards creating a symphony with the scanners and shredders in the back.
As you walked by, a man in a tailored navy suit waved you in through his office window.
Shit.
You cracked open his door and leaned in. "Hey Bakir, you need something?"
"Salamander," your handler greeted. The lack of ambient lighting in the room had shadows stretching across his face. His skin, which would have normally been a pleasant caramel brown, was dark and gloomy. "Internal Affairs forwarded me your reports from last week."
Double shit.
You sat in the seat in front of his desk as a digital screen lit up behind him. The headshots from the three Inkers you had busted last week took up the entire wall.
"Damnit, Salamander, this needs to stop." His voice was terse and serious.
You bristled, meeting his gaze with your own. "I did my job, sir. Those Inkers were unregistered."
"And was this necessary?" A picture of a bruised and bloody young man appeared on the screen.
"He resisted."
Bakir slammed his hand on his desk, rattling all the knickknacks and office supplies sitting on it. "The war is long over. These people have just as much of a right to live in this city now as you."
"And who will protect it from them, sir."
It was so subtle that you almost missed it, but your boss slumped in his seat. "I need you to work with me here. If it wasn't for your record, you'd already be gone."
It always came down to that case. Back when you were a junior agent, a copy of Lolita had been leaked to the public. As a result, Harold Leigh, Inker designation 'Humbert Humbert' had Awakened from his normal life as a divorced, middle-aged school archivist. What followed was a string of missing children and a girl's half decomposed corpse dumped in a park. It was one of the worst Awakened cases in the last decade.
Your mentor had been an incompetent fool, too worried about the red tape to be effective. So you had gone off into the Undercity on your own. After days of investigations and some 'aggressive' interrogations, you had found the Awakened Inker in a basement of an abandoned hostel near the city's outskirts. It had begged and pleaded for compassion and understanding. The little tart had seduced me, he had said.
A bullet shut him up.
That bust had jump started your rise in the Hearth and you were immediately promoted to 'Burner' status, an agent authorized to use lethal force on Awakened Inkers if given just cause. Any Inker sympathizers were too horrified of Humbert's crimes to make a fuss about it.
Internal Affairs never did discover who was stupid enough to leak the novel, though you discovered the source during your final investigation. Which was why it was paramount that said person kept his or her head down. And why it was advantageous for said person to keep you very, very happy.
And right now you were definitely not. "What can you do to make this go away?"
Bakir twitched and folded his hands in front of him. "Some of the higher ups are calling for more oversight. An Inker agent will be assigned to you sometime this week."
You shook your head. "Unacceptable. I work best alone. And especially not with one of them."
He shrugged and held up his hands. "There's nothing I can do. These orders are coming from the Librarian himself."
You let the silence draw out.
Your handler shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We'll talk about this again after your next case," he said finally. A file appeared on the wall screen behind him and with a gesture your boss transferred it to you. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.
(Choose One)
[X] There are rumors of a possible contamination in the Undercity. The place of interest is one of your old haunts, a bar run by a Mr. Michael Mouser. Last time you checked he was still on the agency payroll.
[X] A young girl was reported missing from the residential district a few days ago. The police had called off the search this morning, but your department had been called in to review the investigation.
[X] There was an attempted break-in of a high security vault in the Hearth. Nothing was officially reported stolen, but the Librarian has requested an agent from each department to look into it.
****
Author's Note:
This is a writing challenge I took to get my creative juices flowing again. I'm going to try a Mazrick experience system. Every not shitpost between updates is 1xp, which can be used to purchase boons throughout the quest.
My premise is that because of some unknown event fictional characters started spawning on Earth with their power levels determined by how well known they are in the human population. Obviously this would have horrific effects on civilization so the setting became something of a dystopian/apocalypse scenario ala Judge Dredd.
Let me know what you think.
-------
The Books They Are Burning
-------
Prologue Part One
-------
The Books They Are Burning
-------
Prologue Part One
-------
You jolted awake as the alarm clock blared into your ear, it's repetitive tone both annoying and welcome. You relaxed your grip on the pistol you kept stashed under your pillow. One angry ex-wife and two girlfriends later, you still hadn't changed that particularly habit. They could never understand.
Mornings were the same every day. First, you would relieve yourself in the bathroom. Next you would fry up two eggs and two pieces of bacon, scraping the contents of the pan into a bowl of vegetable greens for breakfast. You would shower, dress, and then finish with a meditative smoke break on the balcony of your apartment. This was your favorite part of the day, watching the bustling of the lights below as people scurried to get their daily functions, the glass of the surrounding skyscrapers reflecting the coming dawn. It was the only time that you felt like one of them. The only time that you didn't feel the burden of what you knew and what you could never share.
You walked out of the door of your apartment, your gun and its holster attached to your hip.
****
It was still dark out when you walked out of the complex. The building was spartan looking, its walls of solid concrete and shatter-proof windows stretching a hundred stories high. It was one of New Alexandria's latest public projects and you didn't know what all the fuss was about. There were pictures and handshakes, speeches of how it was a "symbol of the continued prosperity of the human race." It was all bullshit. We were just as fucked now as we were yesterday. All they did was build a massive target for the next Inker that goes a little crazy.
You walked to work everyday, your new home smack dab in the middle of the megacity and in the center of the government district. Officially, it was the safest area in the city, but you still kept your Glock loaded and ready.
An eastern asian man nodded at you as you walked past his stand. Its displays were teeming with fresh apples and oranges from the public farms just outside the city walls. You tossed him a coin and he tossed you a green apple. No words were said and no words were needed.
The Jap had been there as long as you could remember. You never took the time to learn his name, but there was always a silent camaraderie between the foreign refugees of New Alexandria. With you, it was doubly so. Japan had been hit almost as hard as the States during the Event. Not many humans got out of those places alive.
You took a right turn down an alley, the last before your final stretch to your department at the Hearth. Posters lined its walls, their messages disguised by intricate fonts and graphics.
"God is a lie. And lies are illegal."
"Information is truth. Ideas are dangerous."
Frankly, you thought the propaganda was unnecessary. Without their media, Inkers couldn't be Awakened. And without public internet or television, it was hard for anybody to spread new ideas far enough to matter. Since all content was regulated, the chance for contamination in the population was minimal.
You turned another corner and a tall building dominated the skyline, looming over the other buildings like a lord over its servants. The Hearth. Its design was dull and uninspired like most of the city. But its drab appearance was deceiving, the organization inside was arguably the most important in the city. And you were a part of it.
The sliding doors beeped twice as you walked inside. A pretty middle-eastern woman looked up at you from behind the front desk. "Mr. Salamander, you're in early today." Her smile showed off her pearly, white teeth, though the coffee in her hand would soon sully them.
"Aliya," you greeted. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned forward, the smell of her coffee wafting into your nose. "Anything big happen I should know about?"
She shook her head, a few strands of hair loosening from the bun on the back. "Nothing major, just a few unregistered Inkers over the weekend." She blew the strands out of her eyes. "Mr. Coil took care of it."
You kept your face relaxed but inside you were scowling. Gavin Coil was a prick. Well actually, you had never heard a bad word about him from anybody. And you had never actually talked to him yourself, either. But he was still a prick. He and his Inker partner had busted one minor Awakening and suddenly everyone was kissing his ass.
How anyone could work with one of those black-blooded bastards was beyond you. What was its name again? Larry Starwalker or something?
You mentally shook your head. Now was not the time. You gestured to the electronically locked door to the right. "Buzz me in, please."
Aliya smiled nervously at you, one finger twirling some hair on the side of her head. "Uh, what department were you in again?"
You sighed but smiled back. "I thought we were closer than that, Aliya. I'm in the :
(Choose One)
[X] Science Fiction Department: One of the most important divisions in the Hearth. Many relevant Inkers were granted partial Awakening so the agency could better utilize their technological expertise. Much of the cities advanced technology could be traced to this department and you help manage their spread.
[X] Gaming Department: A small but important division that regulates the Inkers with video game origins. While many of them had been destroyed in America and Japan, a few stragglers stumbled into New Alexandria. With escalating strengths, these Inkers tended to be some of the most dangerous, so you have the training to match.
[X] Fantasy Department: One of the largest divisions in the agency, the fantasy Inkers make up a significant portion of the Inker population. The Undercity was crawling with them. Many of the partially Awakened sell magical products on the black market. It is your job to confiscate the most dangerous of these.
[X] Literature Department: Most of the Inkers you regulate look like normal humans and have similar desires and aptitudes. While many in the agency think of this division as a place for the lazy and unambitious, the fact that most of these Inkers could adapt to modern society meant you had a lot of contacts in different places.
[X] Horror Department: Another small division, this section of the Hearth regulates an obscure grouping of Inkers. While not necessarily tough, they often take specialized knowledge to destroy. Some Inkers in this department are given partial Awakening so they can teach these methods to their fellow agents.
[X] Religion Department: Awakened Inkers of this type are as powerful as they are rare. It only took only one to destroy the entire United States. Which is why this division was given the funding to match. You have the best resources available and the authority to use them. Most of your work is spent suppressing the older generations that refuse to give up their beliefs for the city's safety.
[X] Manga Department: Many of the eastern Inkers were destroyed during the events that wiped out that part of the world. But like the Gaming Inkers, their determination begets power. Some of this mindset has rubbed off on you and you find you are more effective the more stress you are under.
[X] Superhero Department: Another rare breed of Inker, the majority were wiped out during the fall of the United States. Those that remain tend to gravitate towards the Hearth's service, giving this division some of the most powerful Inker agents on the roster, though their very nature tends to come with both specialized obstacles and enemies.
"Oh yeah," she said, pushing one of the many buttons on her desk with a sheepish laugh, "Have a nice day!"
"And you."
****
The elevators took you to your department section on the fifty-second floor. While it wasn't as prestigious as being on the top ten, it was decent placement. It wasn't too high as to have the survival of the city heaped upon your shoulders with every decision, but not low enough to be written off by your superiors. The higher you were the more bureaucratic red tape you would have to deal with. Nope, the fifty-second floor would serve you just fine.
The elevator doors opened up to controlled chaos. A dozen junior agents scurried about with stacks of printed documents for review. Another dozen vigorously typed at their desk, the click-clacking of keyboards creating a symphony with the scanners and shredders in the back.
As you walked by, a man in a tailored navy suit waved you in through his office window.
Shit.
You cracked open his door and leaned in. "Hey Bakir, you need something?"
"Salamander," your handler greeted. The lack of ambient lighting in the room had shadows stretching across his face. His skin, which would have normally been a pleasant caramel brown, was dark and gloomy. "Internal Affairs forwarded me your reports from last week."
Double shit.
You sat in the seat in front of his desk as a digital screen lit up behind him. The headshots from the three Inkers you had busted last week took up the entire wall.
"Damnit, Salamander, this needs to stop." His voice was terse and serious.
You bristled, meeting his gaze with your own. "I did my job, sir. Those Inkers were unregistered."
"And was this necessary?" A picture of a bruised and bloody young man appeared on the screen.
"He resisted."
Bakir slammed his hand on his desk, rattling all the knickknacks and office supplies sitting on it. "The war is long over. These people have just as much of a right to live in this city now as you."
"And who will protect it from them, sir."
It was so subtle that you almost missed it, but your boss slumped in his seat. "I need you to work with me here. If it wasn't for your record, you'd already be gone."
It always came down to that case. Back when you were a junior agent, a copy of Lolita had been leaked to the public. As a result, Harold Leigh, Inker designation 'Humbert Humbert' had Awakened from his normal life as a divorced, middle-aged school archivist. What followed was a string of missing children and a girl's half decomposed corpse dumped in a park. It was one of the worst Awakened cases in the last decade.
Your mentor had been an incompetent fool, too worried about the red tape to be effective. So you had gone off into the Undercity on your own. After days of investigations and some 'aggressive' interrogations, you had found the Awakened Inker in a basement of an abandoned hostel near the city's outskirts. It had begged and pleaded for compassion and understanding. The little tart had seduced me, he had said.
A bullet shut him up.
That bust had jump started your rise in the Hearth and you were immediately promoted to 'Burner' status, an agent authorized to use lethal force on Awakened Inkers if given just cause. Any Inker sympathizers were too horrified of Humbert's crimes to make a fuss about it.
Internal Affairs never did discover who was stupid enough to leak the novel, though you discovered the source during your final investigation. Which was why it was paramount that said person kept his or her head down. And why it was advantageous for said person to keep you very, very happy.
And right now you were definitely not. "What can you do to make this go away?"
Bakir twitched and folded his hands in front of him. "Some of the higher ups are calling for more oversight. An Inker agent will be assigned to you sometime this week."
You shook your head. "Unacceptable. I work best alone. And especially not with one of them."
He shrugged and held up his hands. "There's nothing I can do. These orders are coming from the Librarian himself."
You let the silence draw out.
Your handler shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We'll talk about this again after your next case," he said finally. A file appeared on the wall screen behind him and with a gesture your boss transferred it to you. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.
(Choose One)
[X] There are rumors of a possible contamination in the Undercity. The place of interest is one of your old haunts, a bar run by a Mr. Michael Mouser. Last time you checked he was still on the agency payroll.
[X] A young girl was reported missing from the residential district a few days ago. The police had called off the search this morning, but your department had been called in to review the investigation.
[X] There was an attempted break-in of a high security vault in the Hearth. Nothing was officially reported stolen, but the Librarian has requested an agent from each department to look into it.
****
Author's Note:
This is a writing challenge I took to get my creative juices flowing again. I'm going to try a Mazrick experience system. Every not shitpost between updates is 1xp, which can be used to purchase boons throughout the quest.
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The Books They Are Burning: Prologue Part Two
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The Books They Are Burning
-------
Prologue Part Two
-------
The Books They Are Burning
-------
Prologue Part Two
-------
You flipped through the file on your phone. "Looks like a by-the-books kidnapping to me."
Your handler shrugged. "Not my call. Someone wants an agent on it and an agent they will get."
"Great," you muttered, "Hearth is really making us earn our paychecks today, eh?"
Both of our phones vibrated and an office location materialized on the wall screen.
"That's you," Bakir said, "You're the face of our division. Make us proud."
You smirked back at him as you walked out the door, "Don't I always?"
****
You took the elevator to the third floor, one of several reserved for meetings with local officials and such. The metal box smelled of cleaning chemicals and coffee, the scent of bureaucratic hell. The doors opened with its customary double ring and a red beam scanned you as you walked out. "You have arrived on floor three. Have a nice day," a patronizing female voice announced to your departing figure.
Do they have to put Inkertech in everything, you asked yourself for the hundredth time. You hated the term. And hated how it never failed to earn a laugh from the Hero division. Relying on Inker scientists to maintain the city's infrastructure seemed like a bad idea, but it wasn't your department's jurisdiction. That was for the Librarian to decide.
Two officers were already waiting in the conference room, an older man with graying hair and a younger man who was pacing back and forth. Both were white, obviously refugee citizens. The older immediately stuck his hand out. "Detective Phillips."
You gave his hand a firm shake. "Salamander, nice to meet you."
The younger cop didn't extend his. "Officer Page," he grunted out.
You nodded at him politely. You knew his type. All three of you took seat at the lone table in the center of the room. The room itself was empty, except for a centralized glass ball on the ceiling. "What can I do for you this morning?" you asked, turning back to the older detective.
The man stood a little straighter. "Missing persons case. A young Debbie Baum disappeared from her school last Tuesday. We checked with friends and families, no dice. She was last seen on the street cams walking on a sidewalk towards Lowtown."
You liked this guy already. Precise and to the point. He would have made a good agent. "Did you forward the case to our crime analysts?"
Before Phillips could react, Officer Page took the lull as an opportunity to speak. "This isn't our first case, sir." His last words dripped with indignation.
Phillips put a hand on his partner's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He turned back to you, "She wasn't in the census archive nor the population database."
Ah.
You pulled up a program on your phone and blew it up on a wallscreen. "Authorization to run search in registered Hearth archives. Agent designation: Salamander."
A red light emitted from the hanging orb. It encompassed the entire room for a few seconds before going black. "Access Denied. Unauthorized actors in field."
Officer Page almost leapt out of his seat. "That's fucking bullshit, this is our case!"
You gave Phillips an apologetic look. "I don't have authorization to bring in a third party."
He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Hearth business is dangerous business. My wife would thank you." He looked you directly in the eyes. "What will happen to the girl?"
You met his gaze evenly. "If she is found, Hearth will take care of her needs for the foreseeable future."
Officer Page was almost frothing at the mouth now, his face taking on a red tinge. "You bastards are going to kill her! She's just a little girl!"
No she's not, you thought. Not that they would ever know.
Phillips literally growled at his younger partner. "You know the rules. We don't ask questions." He got up from his seat and pulled his partner out from his. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Salamander," you heard him say, before the two of them disappeared out the sliding doors.
You waited until you could hear the ding of the elevator closing before accessing the Inker's file. There was little on her.
"Debbie Baum. Inker Designation: Dorothy Gale. Status: Appropriation. Handler: Literature."
That explains the interest from the higher-ups and her lack of public files. Appropriation status was reserved for Inkers that may be of use to the agency. And her lack of personal history suggested she may be a recent version. It wasn't unheard of for Hearth to "spawn" another version of a dead Inker. Nor to partially Awaken them to confiscate items of interest. You had heard it called "Farming" once from someone in the Science division. It was too early to say what the case was here.
Your phone vibrated and a thumbnail of Bakir appeared on the corner of the wallscreen. You gestured to the accept button.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"The girl's a tagged VIP. It's why they put me on the case."
You could hear the shift of interest in Bakir's voice. "She a waifu?" he asked, referring to the archaic term used to identify manga-oriented female Inkers.
"Negative. She's in the Lit department." It was something of a misconception that one would only handle Inkers relevant to one's department. Field agents needed to be ready to handle Inkers of all types, as most encounters are when said Inkers are still unidentified.
"Ah." The disinterest was back again. "I'll have a list of partner candidates on your desk when you return."
"Wonderful," you said, hoping he could hear the sarcasm dripping out of your throat. "She was last seen in Lowtown. I'll be taking an autocar and a full kit."
"That's a negative on the full kit. The last thing we need is a Hearth agent with full-auto weapons running around the "Inkertown". The Inker Rights groups will have a spat. You can have one clip for your Glock and as many stun rounds as you think you'll need."
"Perfect," you said in the same tone as before. "I'll be sure to ask the kidnappers to just lay down and die for me."
You're heading to Lowtown, the home district of many of the human-like Inkers who could adapt to New Alexandria society. You're going in blind but you know a few people that might have a lead. (Choose One)
[X] There's a private investigator that Hearth occasionally contracts out. He's good, almost as skilled as a seasoned agent, if a little paranoid. On his turf, he could find an individual needle in a stack of needles. If only he didn't wear that stupid red, hunting hat.
[X] With the advent of Inkertech, much of the cities infrastructure and maintenance is converting to automation. Lowtown isn't very high on their priority list. The eccentric owner of the White Whale bus company was useful during the Humbert Humbert case. You might be able to leverage his help again.
[X] The gangs have a significant hold on a part of Lowtown. You actually saved the boss of one of the stronger ones during your time as a junior agent. He owes you a favor, but don't get in a twist if he's forgotten.
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