It's night

Talk to Almond McKissinger.​

 

Talk to your shoes about how much you don't want to talk to Almond McKissinger.

 

The next best shooter in the show is this young gun from Texas, he's broken a few records and you can't say you're not impressed, but Almond-- yes, that is his name-- isn't anything to write home about. You've never timed your quickdraw but if it came down to it you'd be the one walking from that deal. That's why it bothers you so much that he's always trying to talk to you about stuff. He's still more than 5 years your senior. Doesn't he know that it's really skeevy? He's talking at you and has been for a couple of minutes. So you started to untie your shoes like your were going to take them off so you wouldn't have to look interested and when he didn't bother finishing you just tied them again and looked back up at his stupid mug for a second before the bile rising up from your gut forced your eyes back down. After what felt like hours of ignoring him you tell him that you have to go. He tips his hat and drawls something pointless.

Closer inspection of your watch informed you that it takes five minutes to untie and tie your shoes six times. Good to know. You need something to do other than talk to Jeremy and Fulton, your left and right shoes. You named them because the mass produced strips of cloth and rubber have more personality than anyone your father has introduced you to at this show. You think that he might want you to get it with McKissinger-- yes, that's also his name-- though. He came to the show after your debut, he's the closest pro gunslinger to your age in the world, probably. Your dad also has this wild idea that you're his own personal Annie Oakley clone. No, you actually don't like performing and shooting. You like guns and working with them, but getting up in front of people and actually using them has always been a point of annoyance for you. It's kind of like a story you read once about a guy who had a sword so sharp that leaves avoided the edge or something. It's hard to explain but you feel like the gun is supposed to be that sword. The gun is a work of art and firing it at something for show is a way to dull the edge, to dirty it or something. It's hard to remember.

You're sitting in your little alcove where your costume is. It's not exactly tasteful but at least it isn't skanky or anything. But what it doesn't show in skin it shows in tackiness. It's a standard old west getup tailored to be as feminine as your limited figure will allow. You take a quick look around to make sure no one's looking and change up. That's one thing you hate about being backstage, you need to stay low in case of stray bullets and you need to stay aware in case of stray glances. You're not the only girl there, there are a few ring girl types that do intermission, but they're all sluts who've given it to half and more of the cast so you don't imagine they give much of a shit.

You're dressed in the ridiculous outfit now. You're never gonna live this down, but it's worth it for a chance to test your modifications a bit. You should...

[] Prep your gun.
[] Wake up.
[] Wake up.

 

Wake up. You feel McKissinger is on the rise.​

 

Wake up. This is all a horrible nightmare, and you're actually in your bed, in the hotel you haven't gone to school yet dear god please wake up.

 

Hurry, hurry. Wake up.​

 

You wake with a start and sit bolt upright whipping your head around for a moment. You've never been so disoriented before in your life, he must have been better than you expected. You're starting to remember now. You ended up leaving with Travis and getting kind of physical. You told yourself you wouldn't, but he was too hot. You just had to, it's like a feather in your cap for the rest of your life and he was actually a lot more polite during and after than before. You glance over at him, he's sacked out on the couch and you realize that you're on the reclining chair. In the next room the bed mattress is sitting upturned against the wall. You guys went wild, apparently. Your memory is still kind of hazy, probably because you're still kind of drunk. That was probably a bad decision. Well, while you're making bad decisions at least they were the kind that feel real good at the time. You retrieve your clothes from the ceiling fan, the minifridge, the cat and the television.

When you've showered and feel in general half decent about yourself again you find Travis again and nudge him awake. He's still got the orange shades on, he never takes those off it seems. He mumbles something about his favorite show and stares at you for a second. His jaw drops and he does the internal dance of joy, you've seen a lot of guys do that after scoring with you. You then take the opportunity to remind him that he's still on the clock until he hands over the retrieved text message on that damn phone. He scrawls something out and hands it to you. He says that's all he found.

You ask what it is and he tells you that it's a passcode probably. That or a geotag. Geowhat? (Self Note: Don't say these things aloud.) He laughs and gives your bottom a sound grope. He explains that a geotag is just a location signature that gets put at certain locations to identify them in various programs. AR stuff is getting popular and a good way to know where a thing is, is to check the geotag. Okay, so it's a map thingie. No sweat. You...

[] ask if there's anything else.
[] smack him upside the head and leave.
[] tell him to put some pants on.

 

Tell him to put some pants on and ask if there's anything else you should know.​

 

Pants. On. Geotag. Direct.

 

He's a little bit perturbed by the terse quality of your response, but you're not exactly in a caring mood, you're kind of done here. It's always like this with guys, they have this thing where they think that if you stay the night, they bloody own you. Well, no. No caging this badass, no commitments-- barring financial ones-- and most importantly no relationships. That's why Leadfoot is you best friend forever forever, he knows what's up.

In a few minutes Travis is mousing through some map pages and explaining how this particular geotag is tied to an AR app released in Germany four years ago. That little app is apparently the go to program for most tourists and businessmen for guided tours, directions and whatever else the traveler needs. There are even some people who use it to drop each other messages and play weird geotag games. The app, ARigato, was initially conceived by Edwin Braun and Naoki Fujimura while they were at an Oktoberfest event and the rest is history. You ask him why that matters and he just says that it's good to know. You shrug and ask if he's found it yet. It's not a properly listed geotag he says. It follows the format to a tee and it gives you a directional arrow towards it from the detected location but it doesn't have a destination set. Tags like this one are the kind used in those games he mentioned earlier. So someone is playing a game with Sheephead. No, they're playing a game with you now. And they should learn that you're not to into games. You snatch his phone and tell him you might give it back later as you rush out of his apartment.

A few minutes later you're following what appears to be a path of red arrows overlaid onto reality via the phone's built in video camera. Oh, how you hate this day and age. What you wouldn't give to have been born a century ago. Well, maybe not that long ago. Anyhow, the path is doing something stupid. The red arrows keep going up one direction and a new set of green ones go the opposite way. You should...

[] Follow green.
[] Follow red.

 

Stop and think about baby cats (aka kittens) and weasels, your two favorite animals, for a little while and then follow red arrows.​

 

Think about not walking into a wall, follow the red arrows and walk into a wall.

 

You think for a moment. Well, you were following red before and red is your favorite color. Well, pink is because that's the color of kitten and weasel noses and the plumes of blood erupting from people struck by lead moving at the speed of sound and a half. There are lots of reasons you like pink. Red is basically undilute pink, so it's more pink than pink is. But bricks are also red in a sense but a brown kind of red not a pure kind of red and that's a wall over there that the arrows are headed through. Better not follow them directly it seems.

You survey the area where the arrows disappear. Maybe the thing i out of date and the building is new. You look up at it. Nope, not new. Well, that's non-ideal. You decide to walk around the building and see if any arrows leave. Not that you can tell, only way to know is to enter. You knock on the door. There's a rustling inside before the door opens. It's a person with a paper bag on their head. They clearly don't get much sunlight or much bathing. They stare out through two roughly cut holes in the bag. You frown at them and look back at the phone. Now that is interesting. On the phone the person is showing up as a rather fetching looking young woman in an adorable Victorian dress. She's smiling at you and waving you in. In the real world baghead is walking back inside already. You should...

[] Follow.
[] Double back. Green is also a nice color sometimes.

 

Follow baghead.​

 

My head is telling me green arrows, but my gut is telling me to follow baghead. Baghead, it is.

 

You bite your lip, it's times like these where your mettle is truly tested. You're unarmed and unsure of what this place has in store, but you know that something is in there. But is it worth the risk. Snowflake would walk, she has no guts, she's just a stupid bitch who happens to be good at planning. Anyone can plan, it's guts and determination that really moves the mountains. It's not the conventional, safe route that leads to finding that new world... But come on, now. This is screaming trap, it's practically got "You're dead." painted across the walls.

Fuck it. You follow her. You're not doing this to spite your rival. You're not doing this to gamble. You're doing this because that's how the Queen rolls, and the Queen ain't named Lizzie or Kat. Her name is MOTHERFUCKIN' CHARLOTTE BRINK!

She leads you into a drawing room that's in disrepair other than a bank of computers in the far corner. That part looks decently kept. The AR apparition smiles at you and motions for you to go ahead and take a look. You decide to ask her who she is. She shakes her head and points at the screens. You shrug and take a look. Baghead is right next to you breathing somewhat heavily, like she's nervous. The fetching lass, though, looks perfectly composed. The screens are filled with a bunch of science gibberish that you don't get at all. You ask what it means. Baghead clears her throat and starts typing into her own phone. The fetching lass starts spitting out word bubbles with a detailed-- if somewhat quick-- explanation.

What you pull from it is that she was a part of an independent scientific research lab that was recently bought out by Thorsen Technologies. Okay. Problem was they discovered something during the merger that they shouldn't have, everyone else from the lab has gone missing. Baghead as the resident database wizard and hacker is the only one who managed to escape by making herself into a data ghost. No one knows she exists right now. Except for you. The information that you're seeing is stuff she harvested from Thorsen recently. It's research and some discussion involving a new line of weaponry that finally makes the human element obsolete on the battlefield. He's not planning on selling it though. He's planning on using it. That's what she thinks at least. You frown.

Why did she ask you? Thorsen sent an emissary to you several days ago. She thought you might be involved so she looked you up and found out that you were an assassin. She decided that she would pay you to kill Thorsen before the line hits because you're already close. You tell her that you declined that job. Both girls seem to shrink before you. She asks why? You say that it just seemed suspect. She sinks more. You tell her this, though, if she's willing to drop at least the same amount Thorsen offered, she can start looking up coffin measurements for half a Thorsen. Baghead types something in and then hugs you. Apparently, her mother was one of the scientists and her father has since gone missing after looking for her.

You tell her that it's about the money and the rep, not her personal problems before pushing her off somewhat brusquely. Her avatar is still smiling. So you ask what the green arrows were all about if she wanted you here.

What green arrows?

 

The dumb green arrows that were plastered everywhere else except here. The green arrows that would probably have led to burgers, or milkshakes, or pizza. Those green arrows.

 

Show her the green arrows, provided they're still there.​

 

She looks somewhat dismayed. You drag her towards the door but she shrieks at a pitch that makes you hold your ears. It wasn't even loud, it was just... piercing. You ask, what the bloody hell that was for. She types something. She can scream but she can't talk? Whatever. The AR app lets you see that she can't go outside because Thorsen's agents are all over the major cities of the UK prepping for his arrival in three days. You frown at her. Wasn't she a ghost? In on sense, but there's also that there was all the physical evidence of her presence at the office that she couldn't clean up. They know someone was there, they know whoever it was liked Strike Witches and Girls Und Panzer. You ask how that is relevant. It's not. It's just that they may not know what she looks like or who she is but they know she's interfering and they know that she's in the UK based on her last hacking attempt. Well, isn't that just ducky? You tell her then, that there are a set of green arrows that diverge from her red ones down the street. She says it's probably just some other person messing with the app. Why did the paths overlap at one point then? Coincidence? She's becoming quickly useless. You tell her that all she has to do is wire you the money when the job is done and let you figure out the rest. It's also probably prudent if she'd leave this place as soon as humanly possible. She nods.

There's one more thing you want to know. Why the bag? It makes her feel more comfortable. Great, a lunatic is hiring you to kill one of the most important men on the planet. You're so buggered.

You leave the house and check for people watching you or responding in any way. Nope. Nothing. Okay, so you go back to where the green arrows were. Now they're no longer accompanied by the red arrows. You notice that they don't only extend in front of you as the red arrows seemed to. They also go backwards. You should...

[] Go back.
[] Go ahead.