Endgame

"Greetings to ya too," Decker says, a little surprised by the creature he was interacting with. He'd only ever seen his species in passing and in pictures. "We wanted to inquire about an I. Machen? You look the observant type... don't suppose ya know anything."

Decker pockets the doodads. "Thank ya kindly." "He... Certainly does like mushrooms. Wonder if he samples his own product, way he stares. Qoron Vinoq sounds like the next place we gotta go for sure, though - do you agree, friend?" Decker says, turning to Ronin. Decker returns his attention to Pip. "Ya've been a real pal. Keep your head down and you'll make it through this."

"Hey, if it makes ya happy, never let anyone tell ya otherwise." There was always something poignant about people trying their damndest to get by doing what they cared about. Decker plucked a bulb with a coiled fuse inside off of the pile. Back in his younger days he hooked one of these bad boys up to a battery and made a cool reading lamp. Not that I ever read as much as Ma needled me to, Decker thinks to himself. "Say, what's the price on this? Ten credits fair?" Decker had no clue what the fair price was, but by golly he believed in supporting small businesses. Mostly just buying this as a strictly RP item, no pressure to tether stats to it. "That guy sounds like he may very well be his next lead. Do ya have a name to give, friend? ...It's not the elf guy, is it? He kinda gives me the willies." Decker mutters back. "Ain't weird at all. I don't think Pip is lyin' to us, but someone in this equation is, is my guess. That, or there's a really bad actor done in those sewers, if there's multiple people vanishin'. I say we scour the rest of this street for anyone who has more info." "A... bunch of people." Decker says, growing uneasy. "But he was a secondhand witness, you think, saw it on a newsreel somewhere. Maybe we oughta just find a copy of last week's paper and see what's up." Decker laughs.

No worries on the delay, you're good! I'm really digging Pip/his stockpile.

Decker looks around the basement storage unit, glancing at the pile of junk with some fondness. "When I was a bit shorter I'd spend all day tinkerin' with piles of old tech that looked just like that one. Never junk to me, no sir. You... You move any of this product, Pip?" Decker listens along. "Hah. Never maintenanced, huh. That's rich. So sounds to me like ya got roped into a smuggling gig. Do you have any idea what it was in those bags they were dropping off? And can you tell us a bit more about the character that came around askin' about this side hustle o' yours? It sounds like we've all gotten tangle dup in somethin' less than savory, and if all goes well, we find our man and you get this whole off your back. Fair trade for information, yeah?" Decker thinks for a second, how much discretion he wants to exercise. This robot fella seemed a little loose lipped. "Greg's a poor soul that had to maintenance that claptrap of filth and dung they call a sewer line, and is currently MIA. We're a coupla concerned souls. ...That sound fair enough?" Decker says, glancing towards Ronin.

"The crap that's crawling around down there, or so I hear, ya really ought to be armed... but ya know what, fair. Ya got a place you wanna talk?" Better not ambush us. "Let's go talk then. Lead the way." Decker remembers the elf behind him. "Eh... Sorry pal, gonna be a bit longer. If ya'd excuse me."

You people, Decker thinks to himself. But our only distinguishing feature is our uniforms. But that means that... Ah, jesus, what the hell is our employer getting mixed into? He looks over to Ronin, seeing the steel of his blade reveal itself. "Not sure if I woulda gone there so quickly, but eh, ta hell with it, we are where we are now," Decker shrugs. "You have a name, friend? Listen, sounds to me like you've found yourself mixed up in some business with people dressed a lot like us? Am I right on the path here, or?" Decker attempts to be at least a little bit persuasive. "Listen, whatever you were afraid, whatever people you were afraid were gonna come a-knockin', we have to be at least a little nicer off the bat than what you had in your head, yeah? So let's talk shop, why don't we." Decker feels the tug on his sleeve, noting the elf. "Hey pal. Dig the hat. I can talk a bit more after me and my friend wrap up this business here, if that's alright with you?"

"Might just have to drop in there and grab something, then, I could go for some Nenda-Cola." Decker muses. "Hector, Helena, pleasure to meetcha. Name's..." think Decker think Decker c'mon boy think faster "Theo. I'd offer you a handshake, but, well, plumbin' work means gettin' your hands dirty. You two take care now." Decker walks over to the stall manned by the Adamite. "And whatcha carrying here, sir?" Decker says, surveying the wares. "Don't suppose any good sales today?"

The din reaches Decker's ears, and he smiles. Nice change of pace from the oppressive, moaning quiet of the sewers. This place wasn't entirely on the up and up, but at least he wasn't wading through waste. Decker stamps his boots, so that he doesn't track too much muck around. He walks up to the brown haired woman. "Pardon me, miss, any place around here a technician could grab a quick drink?" he asks, mostly as an excuse to get closer to the Adamite's stall and see what transaction was happening. ...plus, he was thirsty.

In my defense, I thought for sure that those mushrooms were gonna make me drop dead just for going near them. Due caution was being exercised!

I'm still having an alright time! I was traveling since December 30th, came back Jan 9th, and caught Omicron from someone at home, go figure. That's why things have been a little spotty. "Hey, I've 'eard of these before. if these things really are Shuelji mushrooms, then we can pop a few with the right spices and have a decent evenin'." Decker stalks forward, flicking on his flashlight and picking a mushroom from the patch, just for the sake of... "evidence," one could call it. "I'm thinking manhole next. But we have to move quickly, I'm gettin' nervous about Greg."

"Mushrooms," Decker muses. "Wonder how they glow like that?" Decker glances at his toxicity meter to make sure being near the mushrooms' spores wasn't driving it crazy.

Decker nodded as Ronin sliced through the bars like a hot knife through butter. "Is that what Mervin gave ya? He geared ya up pretty good, huh?" Decker walked over, watching the orange molten metal sizzle out. "On one hand, our man might be in here, and we could get outta here easy. On tha other, we might be rushing into an ambush. I'm down to either keep goin' here or takin' a peek around the blind corner. What's your call, Ronin?"

Decker watches as Ronin tries to hack through the bars. "Someone was down here, Ronin. They whacked Greg. Smart enough to unhook the latch on his cable before draggin' him off, too, otherwise tha cable woulda gotten pinned under the gate..." Decker shakes his head. "I'm not feelin' great about this."

Decker paces around the scene of the crime. "Let's... Okay, not my strong suit here, but let's riddle this one out. Lessee here. It looks like our pal followed the righthand walls, staying away from highly toxic areas. Okay, fair enough. He gets here. There's some sorta struggle, judgin' by the blood and such..." Decker takes another look at the flashlight, tries to pick it up and turn it on. Was it damaged in any way? "Seein' as the blood is by the flashlight and not the hardhat, my guess is that the hardhat must've gotten knocked off his block first, and then he got whacked, making the first blood stain..." Decker also inspects the hard hat closer. Was it dented? Any sign of a struggle? "But there's blood on the other side of this gate too. At a certain point in all of this, they must've undone the harness on 'im too, but Iunno when... They whacked him one last time when they got him pas' the threshold of the gate too." Decker crosses his arms and turns to Ronin. "Does anythin' about this bother you, friend? Didn't Gregory go missing a week ago? How was there still a trail here? You'd think the sewage would wash away his tracks, no...? Maybe I'm paranoid..."

Decker sweeps his flashlight across the scene, and scowls upon finding the broken flashlight. "See that, Ronin? We're on the right path... Assuming that's ol' Greg's." Decker inspects the busted flashlight to see how thoroughly steeped it is in sewage. Was it recently discarded? "And this grate... Hrmm." Decker checks the ceiling and the area around the large grate, trying to see if there was a mechanism of sorts keeping the grate shut.

Decker takes up the shield just as his Yul'Yom scope materializes in the back pocket of his suit. He slings the shield across on his back and attaches the scope to his shotgun, before proceeding along. "Think we ought to be following those marks, Ronin? Someone had to have left those. Seeing as its trailing from the pipe drip, we mus' be behind 'em."

Decker shines a flashlight down the small opening at the base of the wall. Did the water go deep enough where crawling or wading under would be possible? "Do I even wanna know if this is possible?" Decker grunts. "Mark the wall Ronin. We should go backwards to where we were before, and take the passage leading right. Well, left on the way back, but you know what I mean."

"Lead? Is that... Why?" Decker says, dumbfounded, planting his hands on his knees to recover his breath. "Well, Ronin, this, uh, may not 'ave been the most fruitful venture. Let's keep going..." Decker begins to walk in the direction of the floating light, trying to catch a glance at the floating square (anything could be evidence down here. Or a pile of filth) as he proceeded.

Decker reeled a bit as his bludgeon skimmed right off the wall. "Ronin, want to give this a shot with me, or d'ya think we're better off trying elsewhere?"

"Solid thinking there. That'll do nicely." Decker grasps the unloaded pistol in his hand and takes a swing at the large leftside rust patch, seeing if he could bludgeon down the panel.

Hopefully the Hall has showers.

Decker has only a few moments to contemplate his failure before sploshing into the water. Before he even has a chance to pop up and help Ronin, Ronin suffers a similar fate. "Hey, listen," Decker says, clambering up. "You never mention my fall, I never mention yours. Deal?" Decker unseals his helmet briefly to flush out a tiny bit of sewage that found its way in, but is assaulted so quickly by the smell he reseals the second he can. "NOPE no no nooooo, augh, gods that smell..." "We may want to think 'bout markin' our travels or makin' a map soon. This place sure is a labryinth." Decker uses the flashlight to inspect the walls, seeing if any appear weak or have significantly rusted, such that they could be knocked down.

Decker assessed the roadblock in front of him. Hm... That muck hardly looked inviting. "Hey, Ronin, I've been doin' some cardio after all that time runnin' around in the tundra. Check this out. Once I get over I'll do my best to help ya over an' across." Using his new athletics training, Decker gets as much of a running start as he can and tries to vault/clamber over the pipes.

Sorry for the absence - the holidays got a little busier than expected! Decker shaked his head. "Who's dumpin' whole buckets of Seatopia sealant down the loo? That stuff is expensive! The way people waste credits sometimes, I tell ya." Decker swung his flashlight towards the filthy pile, afraid he already knew what it was, but he had to confirm in case he was somehow missing evidence. This job was by no means glorious. "Ronin, unless this thing is a major clue, I think we might just have ta pick a direction an' walk. I'm feelin' left."