[IC] Color Me Confused - Lacuna

[StormyWaters21]

"The city, she is beautiful. Where she exists none can say, but even still we can visit her. Sure, it may take large doses of chemicals not intended for human use, but we've found the entrance. There is still the matter of the pit, however..."

You awaken on the floor of a bathroom, the cold, hard tile pressing against your cheeks. How long have you been here? Overhead, a fluorescent light flickers and buzzes, casting shifting shadows across the walls and floor. Your head is pounding, and you don't recognize this place. The smell of mold is strong and the air is thick with age. You recognize the other Agents, awakening around you, but why are you all here again? Who sent you, and how did you get here?

In the next room, you hear the ringing of what must be an ancient telephone from the sound of it.

[AgentConrad]

I check for my sidearm, my badge, and my wallet as I rise to my feet

[StormyWaters21]

I check for my sidearm, my badge, and my wallet as I rise to my feet

Feeling your pockets, you realize you are devoid of all but simple clothing. You are wearing a plain t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Your pockets are empty and your head is pounding to the point of near-nausea. You notice that your face and neck are coated in a cold sweat, in spite of the warmth of the room.

[AgentConrad]

Rubbing my temples as I walk towards the door
White. Edison. On your feet. Now.

[AgentEdison]

I stand up to follow Agent Conrad

[StormyWaters21]

Stepping out of the bathroom, you find yourselves in a sparsely-furnished living room. Gray light streaks in and a light rain patters on the windows to your right. Through them, you see a large city bustling with the day-to-day activities of its citizens.

The smell of mold is less pronounced here, though not entirely absent. Dingy white paint is cracking on the walls and the carpet has been worn and stained beyond repair. A pair of faded yellow couches sit to one side of the room, facing each other, and a lamp sits on a nearby table. The small table between the couches is old, with coffee stains and cracks in the wood. Atop the coffee table is a black rotary phone, strangely new-looking given the state of the room and the age of the technology. Its ring continues to pierce the near-silent room, despite the dozens of rings that have already passed.

Directly across from the bathroom is a steel door with a brass knob, deadbolt, and peephole. Notably absent in this apartment are any other rooms - no bedrooms, no kitchen, no appliances whatsoever.

[AgentConrad]

I motion to my fellow agents to do a more thorough scan of the room. I put the phone to my ear and say nothing.

[StormyWaters21]

A voice comes in over the phone line. It's the voice of a man, mid-40s, who seems rather chipper and eager to please.

Control (1)

Hello? Are you there? This is Control, checking in to make sure your insertion went well. Sorry for the terrible confusion with previous transmissions, things are always a little touch-and-go when you're in the slip. I trust you arrived safely?

[AgentConrad]

Control, Agent Conrad. Where are we? Disoriented. I have no recollection of our current mission.

[StormyWaters21]

Control (1):

"God damn it! I didn't think they were rolling out the new formula until next week. They never tell us anything! Okay so look, this is gonna be a rough crash course; if I spend too much time on the line the message gets distorted and **** goes wrong. For now, I'll give you the rough and dirty and when you get back to base we'll clear this mess up.

You're government agents and you're asleep in the room right next to mine. What you're seeing is a group hallucination - a city that exists but also doesn't. It's a dream world where sometimes things don't make sense, but if you die in there, you die for real, so keep your heads on straight.

You need to track this criminal down, and you are ordered to not kill him. You have a device - ****, you didn't get your gear then either - well you will soon have a device called a Lacuna Device. You need to attach it to the man - it's like a pin - and then press the red button. That's it, your only task.

Go outside. I'll have your gear and dossier dropped for you. If you need me, you just need to find a phone - that's how this whole **** works, at least as far as we understand it.

Find the man, pin him, and hit the button. Don't get killed. Any questions?

[AgentConrad]

Understood. Conrad out.

I hang up the phone.

To my comrades:

The voice said it was control. He told me we are government agents on a mission and that this is not reality as we know it. We are supposed to be asleep in a room back at control. Our objective is to locate and "pin" a criminal with something called the "Lacuna Device." We need to go outside. Our materials will be waiting for us.

I know that I am an agent, and I recognize both of you. I don't recognize that voice, I don't know where we are really, and I don't remember anything about this mission until this point. If you know something that I don't, speak up. Otherwise, we WILL follow directives.

I pause and look for a response from either White or Edison

[AgentWhite]

I stand bleary-eyed for a moment before shaking out the cobwebs.

We're on the same page, Conrad, and it seems we have our orders.

I move to the steel door and look through the peephole.

[AgentEdison]

I nod in agreement and wait to hear what Agent White can see

[AgentConrad]

Moving towards the the steel door
What do you see, White?

[StormyWaters21]

Glancing through the peephole, you see an empty hallway. Across from you is a door that appears identical to the door behind which you currently stand. Affixed to the door is the number "4". The walls in the hallway have peeling wallpaper and you can see a large crack extending halfway down the wall from the ceiling. To the left you can see the flickering of an unseen overhead light, and to the right the hallway appears darkened, giving the impression of an absent bulb. You don't hear any other tenants in the hallway.

[AgentWhite]

I lean back from the peephole.

Hallway. Badly lit. Seems clear, though. (Glancing around the room) More of the same lavish decor. Apartment 4 is across the way.

(Gesturing toward the door)

After you.

[AgentConrad]

One last scan across the room to see if there is anything I can use as a weapon. If I find something, I take it. If not, I make my way through the door.
Edison, cover my back. White, wait 15 seconds and trail us.
I walk at a brisk pace, but not so brisk as to seem unnatural should we run into any onlookers. I try to find my way outside, examining as much of our surroundings as possible looking for any clues to where we might be.

[StormyWaters21]

One last scan across the room to see if there is anything I can use as a weapon. If I find something, I take it. If not, I make my way through the door.
Edison, cover my back. White, wait 15 seconds and trail us.
I walk at a brisk pace, but not so brisk as to seem unnatural should we run into any onlookers. I try to find my way outside, examining as much of our surroundings as possible looking for any clues to where we might be.

Looking around the room, you determine that the only things that could serve as a makeshift weapon might be a table leg, the phone, or the lamp. The apartment is strangely devoid of other possessions.

Stepping into the hallway, you can see several other apartments on this floor. To the left, you can see what appears to be the front door just beyond a small lobby. To the right, an emergency exit sits closed, with a faded red paddle stating "ALARM WILL SOUND".

As you pass toward the lobby, you hear the sounds of life in some of the apartments. People chatting, watching TV, cooking. The lobby itself is little more than a rounded entryway with a bank of mailboxes to the right and a door to the left. In the cracked wooden door is set a frosted glass window with the word "Office" stenciled but chipping. The darkness beyond the window seems to indicate nobody is present.

[AgentWhite]

I wait 14 seconds and then follow my fellow agents to the lobby.

I give the lobby a once-over. I take a quick look around the mailboxes for any packages.

(In a low voice, to the others) Check the office?

[AgentConrad]

Irrelevant to our current objective. Outside.

I walk through the front door.

[AgentWhite]

(To no one in particular) Very well.

Unless there's anything obviously useful lying around the mailboxes, I wait a brief moment for sounds of trouble before casually following Conrad out the door.

If there's a clock in the lobby, I also check the time.

[StormyWaters21]

Before you step outside, you spot a clock on the wall, though its face seems strangely difficult to track as it shifts, bends, and distorts. The hands seem to tick back and forth as numbers fade in and out of focus...

4...8...15...16...

Pushing on the glass door and stepping outside, you are greeted by a blast of cool air and the sweet scent of rain. The disconcerting quiet of the lobby is replaced by the sounds of a workaday metropolis - footsteps tapping the sidewalks, the idle chit chat between pedestrians, the steady clip-clop of horseshoes striking the cobblestone streets, and behind it all the gentle white noise of rainfall.

Down the streets you see buildings as far as the eye can see, a mixture of squat, aging storefronts and towering glass monstrosities clawing at the dreary gray skies.

As you take in your surroundings, you hear the roar of an automobile engine from somewhere out of sight. Before you can react, you see a black van careen around the next corner, tires screeching as they leave a trail of scorched rubber on the streets. As it speeds past you, you spot the open side door just as a faded green ruck sack lands at your feet. You watch as the van disappears around the next corner, suddenly falling silent.

None of the pedestrians seem to react to the van.

[AgentWhite]

(At the clock) That's different.

I continue out the door.

Without breaking stride, and as nonchalantly as possible, I scoop up the rucksack and walk directly back into the lobby with Edison. Looking back at Conrad, I jerk my head toward the door.

Special delivery, eh? Seemed like a bad idea to open it up right on the street.

I glance around, then open the sack and look inside.

[StormyWaters21]

As you unzip the bag, you find it to be mostly empty. The meager contents seem a godsend given your current state of affairs however. You find three snub-nosed revolvers with a box of fifty rounds for each. You find a small, pocket-sized notebook with a pen nestled inside the spiral binding, a pack of cigarettes with a lighter tucked inside, and a pint of whiskey. Additionally there are three round steel pins, thick and quite heavy for their size; set into the face of each is a red button with a stylized question-mark printed on its surface. At the bottom of the bag is a fifty-foot coil of nylon rope and a roll of silvery duct-tape. Beneath them, a manila envelope containing a single piece of paper, labeled "Target Dossier (https://onedrive.live.com/redir?resid=9B0EEEEC7298BAF5!3402&authkey=!ANAGMW-YKdZteeM&ithint=file%2cpdf)".

[AgentConrad]

I take a revolver, check if it is loaded, and (assuming that it is) conceal it on my person.
Keep them concealed, agents.

I take a pin and put it in my left front hand pocket.
The Lacuna Device.

To both: Take your weapons and pins. I will hold on to the rucksack.

I take the dossier and proceed to read it to myself

[AgentEdison]

I grab a revolver and surreptitiously start to load it

Ok, gentleman. How shall we proceed?

[AgentWhite]

I grab the remaining revolver, load it if it's not loaded, stick it securely in my waistband, then pull my shirt down over it. I grab a pin and drop it in my left front pocket. I grab a dozen rounds and drop them in my right front pocket.

I examine the pack of cigarettes.

Not my brand.

I put them in my right back pocket anyway.

Finally, when Conrad is finished with it, I read the dossier. I jot down the target's physical description and pertinent information in the small notebook, then put the notebook in my left back pocket.

I hand the dossier and envelope to Edison. I toss the sack to Conrad.

Well, I'm inclined to exhaust the most obvious methods first. Before we start tromping toward the ghetto, I say we check for this guy in a phone book or maybe on a computer if there's internet. Maybe in the office? Of course, if it were that easy, control would probably have just given us directions to his place.

If that doesn't prove fruitful, I say we go buy some drugs.

In either case, we need to get our bearings. Something like a map would be... just awesome.

[AgentConrad]

I look in the office for signs of a phone book or computer.

[StormyWaters21]

As you grab the tarnished metal doorknob, you find it locked. You can tell that the flimsy interior door would likely not withstand much force, should you choose to take that route.

[Force]

[AgentConrad]

I attempt to kick the door in.

Force Roll: [roll0]

[StormyWaters21]

The door's shoddy appearance belies its sturdiness. You feel it flex beneath your foot, but it does not give.

[AgentEdison]

Let me have a try

I try to force the door open

FORCE [roll0]

[StormyWaters21]

As you slam your shoulder into the door, the frame splinters and the door slams against the inner wall.

Glancing around the small, darkened office you see a plain wooden desk, papers sprawled across its surface. To one side of the room sits a dented steel filing cabinet, and to the other, a small potted fern sits beneath a closed and dusty window.

[AgentWhite]

I walk up to the remains of the door and give Edison a congratulatory slap on the back.

Well done.

I continue into the office, see the desk and the filing cabinet, then glance toward the potted plant.

Now wouldn't it be something if...

I walk directly to the fern and check in and around the pot for hidden keys.

[StormyWaters21]

As you sift through the damp, earthen soil of the plant, feeling around the clay pot in which it grows, searching the floor nearby, it dawns on you that whomever works in this office probably isn't a lunatic hiding keys in potted plants. By all accounts, it appears to be a simple office.

[AgentWhite]

(Wiping my hands on my pants) Oh well. Would have been really cool if I'd just walked in and found a hidden key.

I search the desk and filing cabinet for maps, phone books, informative documents, or any other mundane items that might be of any use.

[StormyWaters21]

The beat up filing cabinet creaks and groans as you slide the drawers open. Inside you find rows of folders, each stuffed near capacity with lease agreements, utility bills, eviction notices, and incident reports. Each folder is labeled as corresponding to a specific apartment: Apartment 4, Apartment 8, Apartment 15...

Rifling through the papers on top of the desk is more of the same - unpaid utility bills, letters to and from tenants, and a small desk calendar. Digging through the drawers of the desk, you find a yellowing phone book, pages curled from age and moisture, with a fold-out map affixed inside the cover. A rotary phone is nestled in the top drawer, the line running through the back of the drawer and connecting to the wall. In the bottom drawer you find a half-empty bottle of whiskey and a single highball glass.

Glancing over the map, you become slightly nauseated as the streets seem to twist and bend. The names shift, going in and out of focus, as you are assaulted by a sudden case of vertigo. Whatever is going on with this map, and the clock in the lobby, you get the impression Control didn't give you a complete picture of the nature of this place.

[AgentConrad]

I look at the phone book map. Seeing the shifting streets and names, I state:

This is not going to be of use. Leave it.

I look for our suspect's name in the white pages.

If I find it, I rip the page with his name out and put it in my pocket.

[StormyWaters21]

Scanning the curled pages, you find one page with several listings with the last name Escalderon, though none with a matching first name or initial.

[AgentWhite]

Maybe check the date on the phone book, Conrad. See if it's current. There's a calendar over there, too.

On a whim, I search for our friend Ramon in the apartment files.

[StormyWaters21]

Comparing the phone book with the calendar on the desk, it appears the phone book is six months old. The apartment files are large, but given a half hour, you discern that there is no Escalderon living here.

[AgentWhite]

Alright, the office was a total bust. Moving on to plan B.

I leave the office and walk back outside.

[AgentConrad]

I take the page with the Escaldaron listings. Put it in my back left hand pocket.

Edison, we are leaving.

I walk out the front door.

[AgentConrad]

I hail a taxi, if I can find one.

[StormyWaters21]

Stepping back out into the cool, damp air outside, you hail down a cab. A man wearing a grease-stained t-shirt and tweed cap tugs gently at the reins in his hands, guiding his horse to halt. In a strong Boston accent, he calls out to you:

"Hey bub, hahp in the caht. Wheah ya headed?"

[AgentConrad]

To the cab driver: Red light district, or whatever comes closest to one. And quickly.

I get in. I leave the door open behind me for Edison and White to follow suit.

[AgentWhite]

I get in the cab.

[StormyWaters21]

He gives you a sideways glance.

"Alright, mack."

He tugs the reins and the cart lurches forward. Passing through the heart of the city, you pass shining towers of glass and steel, stabbing into the overcast sky and vanishing in the clouds. Office buildings, banks, and high-rise apartments are punctuated by crumbling hovels and haste-built shanties, which serve only to make the monstrous buildings appear more wonderful in their dichotomy. The air is clean and crisp here, and light reflecting off the glass pillars casts an uplifting glow across the streets.

Exiting the downtown district, you pass several smaller tenements, hardware stores, and local co-op groceries, followed by town homes with the near-cliche white picket fence. Contrasted with the previous district, this seems plainly suburban, if it weren't for the fact that you can clearly see the city continuing for miles ahead.

He takes a sharp left and the cart rumbles across some railroad tracks. As the blocks slide by, you start to see factories, packaging plants, and shipping depots, some of which have broken and boarded windows and doors hanging off their hinges. Many are still in operation, with huge plumes of steam erupting from smokestacks atop their roofs. You hear the shouting of warehouse workers preparing the next day's shipment, the smell of coal and sulfur thick in the air.

After a few more minutes, he tugs at the reins and the cart jerks to a halt by a liquor store. Down on the next block, you can see a group of late-teen, early-twenties males in plaid shirts and jeans with blue bandannas tied with a front knot around their heads or alternatively tucked into their back pockets. Their sleeves are rolled up, showing a plethora of tattoos. A half-block in the other direction you see two women in short skirts and ripped fishnet leggings smoking cigarettes. Barred storefront windows and graffiti give the place an air of lawlessness and strife, and it somehow seems darker here than other places in the city, though the skies seem not to have changed.

Gruffly and curtly the driver barks at you, visibly anxious to be in this neighborhood. He seems to be expecting no payment.

"Heah ya go, quickly!"

[AgentWhite]

I thank the driver and hop down to the curb.

(Looking around) Yeah... now this place has character.

I check to see if the liquor store is open and if I can see through the windows. Does the shopkeep appear to be Mexican? If so, how old does he look?

[AgentConrad]

I scan for a corner drug dealer. If I do not see one, I approach the prostitutes

[AgentEdison]

(Heartrate - 81)

I hang back, seeing whether either party will need my assistance, whilst also trying my best to observe the young men down the block

[StormyWaters21]

The man in the liquor store is a balding white man in his forties. His face is red, glistening with sweat and his eyes dart back and forth, as though he is expecting something to happen.

Down the block, the men appear to be joking and laughing. You also see that they are scanning the streets, watching for something. There is an alertness about them the detracts from their otherwise carefree demeanor. Based solely on their appearance, you get the impression they may be drug dealers, though you obviously see no drugs or weapons visible. [Instinct](optional)

[AgentWhite]

(To myself) I doubt the liquor store owner would be much help... I'll leave him alone for now.

I look down the block at the men gathered there.

[Instinct 2]
[roll0]

I then look away, trying to appear inconspicuous.

edit: BPM is now 78.

edit 2: "I cannot tell if those young men are drug dealers. Can either of you tell if those young men are drug dealers?"

[StormyWaters21]

Agent White: The men seem to just be loitering. You don't notice anything out of the ordinary about them.

Agent Conrad: As you approach the women leaning against the wall, they both call out to you.

"Hey handsome, you looking for a party?

[AgentWhite]

While feigning interest in Conrad and the liquor store, I observe the young men for a few more minutes. How many of them are there exactly? Of what nationality do they appear to be? What language are they speaking? Does anyone else walk/drive up to them while I'm watching?

[StormyWaters21]

The group of Hispanic men standing down the block continue laughing and joking with each other in English, with a smattering of Spanish interspersed. There are five of them, though it seems that one of their group - and not always the same one - wanders around the corner every few minutes just out of sight. For the few minutes you manage to watch without raising any suspicion, you see three different people - bearing no readily apparent similarities - approach the group at different times, each offering nothing more than a handshake before leaving again.

[AgentWhite]

I walk up behind Conrad and tap him on the shoulder.

(To the prostitutes) Excuse us for a moment, ladies.

I steer Conrad away from the prostitutes and start walking him back toward the liquor store.

(Whispering in his ear) Hey, I've got an idea. But we'll need the contents of your rucksack. Hear me out. I'm reasonably certain the Hispanic guys over there are dealing. If so, they're our best lead. I think I can get some information out of them, but I obviously can't go over there without any money.

I say we knock over this liquor store.

We're all armed, and we've got duct tape and rope. It's just a matter subduing the owner. He looks like a pushover.

As we near the store, I amiably put my arms around Conrad and Edison and steer both of them around the side of the building. I then relay the plan to Edison.

So what do you guys think?

[AgentEdison]

I slip out from Agent White's arm

I don't like it. Robbing this poor guy. At the same time though, I see no other choice. But if we're doing this we are doing it right. Neighbourhood like this, no chance this shop owner doesn't have some kind of weapon behind that counter. So how do we approach this?

[AgentWhite]

I pause for a moment to recollect what I saw through the window of the liquor store... was the shopkeeper inside any kind of enclosure? Or was he just standing behind a counter?

[StormyWaters21]

Thinking back to the scene inside the shop, you recall the general layout of the room:

Inside the door, about fifteen feet to the right, is a semi-circle heavy wooden counter with a single opening blocked by a folding bar partition. The counter is attached to the wall on either side and there is an old metal register on either side of the counter. Just inside the door is a simple metal turnstile that appears to allow customers to enter, but they can only exit through a second door with a similar turnstile on the opposite side of the counter. To the left of the door, as well as along the far wall, are rows of simple metal-frame shelving lined with row after row of spirits in varying sizes and colors. Directly in front of the counter is a zig-zagged trail of velvet ropes, clearly used to direct customers into an orderly line.

[Instinct]

[AgentWhite]

[Instinct 2]
[roll0]

BPM: 86

[AgentWhite]

Rolling again (for some reason, multiple rolls don't seem to work in a single post).

[Instinct 2]
[roll0]

BPM: 93

[AgentWhite]

Once more.

[Instinct 2]
[roll0]

BPM: 102

I'm now within my target heart rate.

[AgentWhite]

Hey, why not? Again with 4 dice.

[Instinct 4]
[roll0]

Success!

BPM: 116

[StormyWaters21]

Taking in your surroundings - the obvious gang activity taking place down the block, the barred windows on storefronts including the one before which you stand, and the open criminal activity taking place on this street - you come to realize two things: Whatever happens in the immediate future, the police are not likely to arrive in an orderly manner, and the likelihood of the liquor store proprietor packing heat is rather high.

[AgentWhite]

I relay to my colleagues everything I remember about the interior of the store.

... so yeah, he's probably got a gun. But there's three of us. If we coordinate, I don't think he'll have time to pull anything or trigger any alarms. Even if he does manage to trigger something, the cops will be in no hurry to get here.

We all walk in together, friendly like. Edison picks up the sturdiest bottle of booze he can find. We walk up to the counter to pay for it. Edison decks the guy with the bottle just as Conrad and I scale the counter guns drawn. Then we knock him out (if he isn't out already)... gag him, tape him up, tie him up, and shove him in a closet or something. After we take what he's got, we turn off the lights, flip the 'open' sign to 'closed,' lock the doors and don't look back.

With our training, this should be easy enough. I'm open to any suggestions of course.

[AgentEdison]

Sounds like our best option. I'm in