Intersection of Tradewinds & Povich

There’s an apartment complex at the intersection of Tradewinds & Povich. Well, I call it that, but it’s a misnomer. It’s like a housing development, I guess, but it’s structured more like an apartment complex in rows. Each unit is like a duplex or row house almost, but there are three to each. They all look very similar but not identical. Each cross street is marked somatically: first, second, third, and so on. There’s maybe eleven of them.

The general area—part of town, you might say—is industrial. It’s one of the industrial parts of town. It’s newer Soma, but it doesn’t look that way. It looks rundown and back up again, two or three times around that cycle.

Anyway, the neighborhood is there and some things will happen there later.

But this time, we go past those houses, maybe six blocks—so that’s ‘up’ Povich Avenue, you know, away from the river—and then turn right on to E. Clapton Boulevard. Left onto some other street—which is a more central street so its name should be important but I don’t know it; make it up if you must—then hook back left rather quickly onto a side street, and one more left turn into a parking lot. We have to turn left again to pull into the space, so it’s giving you a bit of a spiral feeling, this little trek of ours.

I turn off Clara, and we sit there.

You ask about it, if you want, like why we’re there. Or, if you don’t, we just sit there.

I’m not sure, I say. But this is where something happened.

I’m being cagey. I know what happened. You can make a perception check to discern that. (Ed. v.i., play procedures.)

Normally I drive with music on, but this trip’s silent. We’re sitting in the car, staring at the brick wall with two gray doors, one on each side. It’s the rear of the building, so it’s unglamorous in every way.

If you want to just sit there, that’s what we do. You can go now. To the next chapter or your news feed, or whatever.

If you want to make out with me, you’ll find I am unusually not into it here, and while I will not ask you to stop, I’m clearly preoccupied.

Should you ask to go inside, I immediately say, Okay. I open the door, get out, and go to the scanner on the back door entrance.

The robot scanner scans my face and says: “Ministry of Secrets private operative Master Secretist Willa Teresa Anderson, S.O.S., authorized for general clearance. Granting access …”

The maglock clicks open, and I go in the building.

If you’re just reading, that’s it. That’s the end of the chapter. See you in the next one.

If you’re playing, then take a second to read the play procedures and come back here. I know, I know, it’s a bit of a pain, but I think the formatting is better this way instead of just mumbling a bunch of gamespeak shit in the middle of my fancy prose, m’kay.

All caught up? Okay, then let’s carry on.

You manage to stay on my trail, but can’t quite catch up to me before I slip through another door. Or even if you get there right as I do, once you’re inside, I am nowhere to be found.

It is a room, raw and unfinished warehouse space—though on the top floor, and the ceiling isn’t that tall. There are two very large windows, one on the east facing wall, one on the north. There is a bed to your right, the north. A baroque couch at the other end of the room, facing north, but on the south wall, just behind the east window.

That’s it. That’s all that’s here.

Play procedures

• You can make a perception check (or use a similar trait, if you have another one that would make sense) to determine that I’m tight-lipped. If you have no such trait, you may assign one now. Success means you think I know more than I’m saying. Great success means that you think it has to do with my family—not my family of origin, like my wife and kids.

• If you’ve convinced me to explain, you can just come with me into the building. If not, and you want to get into the building, you have a few main options.

  • You can try to catch the door before it closes behind me. This requires an athletics check or some similar trait. If you don’t have one, you can assign one now. Failure results in the door shutting. Extreme failure—say like on the lowest possible roll—results in hurt fingers as well. Success means you catch the door. Great success means you are able to catch up with me, too.

  • You can try to gain entrance by using the face scanner. If you have appropriate credentials, you can gain access by scanning your face as I did; however, remember that this will be logged and stored somewhere. I don’t give a shit about that, but you might. People seem to.

  • It’s not feasible to force your way into the building. It’s well-fortified and alarmed. But you can try to hack the terminal, I suppose, if you have skill in something related to that.

• Once inside the building, you will find it has a labyrinthine character. There are stairs winding up. There are large floors that have waferboard walls with many doors. The whole place gives the feeling of being under construction, but with the additional flavor that perhaps it will never be complete and that it’s okay with its inhabitants that this is the case. If you think you need a roll to discern all that, fine, make a roll. Otherwise, it’s just kind of weird and a bit confusing. You will need a roll to follow me, since I have the ghosting ability. If you, too, are Tauran and have the ability, then it’s markedly easier, but still requires a check. Failure means you lose me, and there’s not much to do here. Success means you stay on my trail and can carry on reading above.

• While this chapter may feel anticlimactic and frustrating, you can use it later on, as we get deeper into the book.