Patrollogs
(Novel's bribery attempt)
[Thu Aug 29 2024]
On Warden's Way Piercing the Wood to Reveal the White Oak Institute
Smooth asphalt roads continue through this part of town, bordered on either side by well maintained concrete sidewalks. Where the street is widest small median islands appear with old twisted trees planted in them. The buildings that line the street seem quaint, but well maintained.
It is night, about 92F(33C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining. There is a waning crescent moon.
Novel slickens out his hair, producing a sigh and stepping right up towards the psychiatrist. His smile is ghoulish - horrible. "Hey, buddy," He remarks with forced, obviously faked cheer. "Seems like you're around to fucking HELP us. You know how it is. Someone going on and on about magic and monsters - all kindsa fucking bullshit, right? No reason to pay attention to it given what-all everyone fucking knows."
Novel continues on, breezily as can be, sweeping a heavy, strong arm right over the poor psychiatrist's shoulder. "Now if you ask me is it REALLY fucking worth it to go with one person's rambling? I mean - come on. Some stupid ass nonsense, not worth worrying about, and a little -pressure- to help make people's live easier." He squeezes none-too-gently with an arm around the person's shoulders. "You put lotsa people away for all sortsa fucking reasons, just a bit of work in your clinics after this and they should be good to go anyway. You love your experiments, right? Could get you a goddamn fucking paper or something."
Novel pats the psych's chest. A heavy thump-thump of open palm, a lazy smirk as he presses the bills in. "Honestly, that should fucking do it, right? No need to get... everyone else involved. We all walk away a winner."
Fayad parks his van with practiced precision, seeing the HSD deputy waiting just beyond the grand, wrought-iron gates that marked the entrance to Town Hall. The officer stood beneath a flickering streetlamp, his uniform a stark contrast against the encroaching twilight. The deputy's posture was relaxed, almost nonchalant, but Fayad could sense the undercurrent of anticipation, a subtle acknowledgement of the transaction about to unfold. Approaching with the steely determination of a man accustomed to navigating the underbelly of power, Fayad greets the deputy with a curt nod. The officer's eyes, hidden behind the glint of his sunglasses, betrayed a flicker of recognition, followed by a shrewd, calculating glint. The two exchange terse pleasantries, their words clipped and laden with an unspoken agreement. Fayad's hand slips into his pocket and retrieves a bundle of crisp hundred dollar bills. He places it into the deputy's gloved hand with deliberate care. The officer's fingers brush against the envelope's surface, his expression betraying nothing but a slight tightening of his lips - a silent acknowledgment of the bribe's heft. With a practiced, almost rehearsed motion, the deputy pocketed the envelope, his eyes never leaving Fayad's face. In return, the officer handed over a folded sheet of paper - a newly drafted police report, its contents meticulously tailored to absolve the Disruptors of any involvement in the recent skirmishes with Vetr Global. The words on the page were a meticulously crafted fiction, designed to shield Fayad and his comrades from the scrutiny of both the public eye and the legal system.
Fayad says "Give Euphemia that address to the wilds?"
Novels Bribery Attempt 240830
(Novel's bribery attempt)
[Thu Aug 29 2024]
On Warden's Way Piercing the Wood to Reveal the White Oak Institute
Smooth asphalt roads continue through this part of town, bordered on either side by well maintained concrete sidewalks. Where the street is widest small median islands appear with old twisted trees planted in them. The buildings that line the street seem quaint, but well maintained.
It is night, about 92F(33C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining. There is a waning crescent moon.
Novel slickens out his hair, producing a sigh and stepping right up towards the psychiatrist. His smile is ghoulish - horrible. "Hey, buddy," He remarks with forced, obviously faked cheer. "Seems like you're around to fucking HELP us. You know how it is. Someone going on and on about magic and monsters - all kindsa fucking bullshit, right? No reason to pay attention to it given what-all everyone fucking knows."
Novel continues on, breezily as can be, sweeping a heavy, strong arm right over the poor psychiatrist's shoulder. "Now if you ask me is it REALLY fucking worth it to go with one person's rambling? I mean - come on. Some stupid ass nonsense, not worth worrying about, and a little -pressure- to help make people's live easier." He squeezes none-too-gently with an arm around the person's shoulders. "You put lotsa people away for all sortsa fucking reasons, just a bit of work in your clinics after this and they should be good to go anyway. You love your experiments, right? Could get you a goddamn fucking paper or something."
Novel pats the psych's chest. A heavy thump-thump of open palm, a lazy smirk as he presses the bills in. "Honestly, that should fucking do it, right? No need to get... everyone else involved. We all walk away a winner."
Fayad parks his van with practiced precision, seeing the HSD deputy waiting just beyond the grand, wrought-iron gates that marked the entrance to Town Hall. The officer stood beneath a flickering streetlamp, his uniform a stark contrast against the encroaching twilight. The deputy's posture was relaxed, almost nonchalant, but Fayad could sense the undercurrent of anticipation, a subtle acknowledgement of the transaction about to unfold. Approaching with the steely determination of a man accustomed to navigating the underbelly of power, Fayad greets the deputy with a curt nod. The officer's eyes, hidden behind the glint of his sunglasses, betrayed a flicker of recognition, followed by a shrewd, calculating glint. The two exchange terse pleasantries, their words clipped and laden with an unspoken agreement. Fayad's hand slips into his pocket and retrieves a bundle of crisp hundred dollar bills. He places it into the deputy's gloved hand with deliberate care. The officer's fingers brush against the envelope's surface, his expression betraying nothing but a slight tightening of his lips - a silent acknowledgment of the bribe's heft. With a practiced, almost rehearsed motion, the deputy pocketed the envelope, his eyes never leaving Fayad's face. In return, the officer handed over a folded sheet of paper - a newly drafted police report, its contents meticulously tailored to absolve the Disruptors of any involvement in the recent skirmishes with Vetr Global. The words on the page were a meticulously crafted fiction, designed to shield Fayad and his comrades from the scrutiny of both the public eye and the legal system.
Fayad says "Give Euphemia that address to the wilds?"