Most visitors to the Hera's Fortune Casino would find themselves in a dark, shady area of NetVegas net, a series of buildings where various business and establishments welcomed customers. Visitors to this net would need to be ready to part with their money, either via gambling, backroom deals, or possibly plain old theft, but every now and then, something of worth presented itself. Asymptote would have to make his own judgments on what the Hera's Fortune had to offer, but he'd at least be spared going through the bouncer at the front door. He would instead be set down inside a dimly lit dining area, further into the back of the building.
The architecture in the Hera's Fortune resembled traditional Netopian or something earlier, with ridged columns and engravings, but the coloration varied depending on the room. Here, the columns were all white, but the majority of the room was draped in red silk drapes and curtains, making it hard to tell what the walls really looked like. Several silver candle-holders adorned the walls, along with other standing candle-holders around the room, giving the room a low lighting that hid some of its furthest corners from view. Thankfully, the navi Asymptote was looking for would be fairly easy to identify, partially because he was the only man in the room. PantheonMan sat at an extremely long, rectangular table at the center of the room, resting one hand upon a marble counter-top. He was very large, though perhaps not so tall as Asymptote himself, with tanned skin and thick muscles. His hair was rather voluminous, dark brown in color, leading into long sideburns and just a bit of stubble across a cleft chin. His looks were slighly marred by a long scar running down the left side of his brow across his cheek, barely missing the eye. His eyes were a cloudy blue color and slightly down-tilted, giving him a perpetually aloof look. His thick lips were turned into a perpetual smirk, which could either be seen as appealing, charismatic, or standoffish depending on the viewer. His outfit consisted of a white toga with a gold shoulder clasp and brown belt at the waist, including his navi emblem, the white shape of a shrine with a yellow lightning bolt bisecting it. Other than that, he won only gold arm-bands and sandals.
The other most apparent occupant of the room was a blond lady, much smaller than PantheonMan, wearing enormous goggles adorned with spinning, gold wheels; from deep inside of the center of the spokes, white lights blinked occasionally, seeming to indicate her actual eyes. It was hard to say she was very pretty, given she was a bit mousy and the glasses sort of threw it off, especially since she had a propensity to make a distressed face, biting her lip or knitting her brows. Her blond hair was done into an up-do, secured by a gold pin in the shape of a wheel near the base of the upward pony-tail. Other than the goggles, her outfit consisted of a copper-colored skinsuit, with arm-length yellow gloves, boots, and belt. Yellow armor also covered her torso, including shoulders that looked a bit wide for her; upon the back, an over-sized wheel was turning, the spokes formed of connecting, yellow lasers at even intervals. The outer ring of the wheel was fitted with black glass, which lit up from time to time to reveal mathematical equations. She was constantly muttering to herself, even before Asymptote entered the room. Also worth noting: a sealed, copper-colored mystery data sat on the table in front of her. Every now and then, she'd place a hand upon it and, startled, gasp and retract said hand, then begin wringing it painfully as she continued babbling.
One more navi was here as well, seated far enough down the table as to be perceived as rude by most observers. She was a bit pale, but pretty, dressed in a black overcoat with a cape about the shoulders, covering most of her body and clasping in a way a bit like a diary, the serration running down the front with a large, buckle clasp around the chest. Her gloves and boots, as well as skinsuit, appeared to be black, based on what Asymptote would be able to see beneath the table. Her eyes were black, but had a certain shine to them, and her hair was also dark, dark black, styled into a neat bob-cut. She didn't look at all fond of the others, resting her head upon one fist and watching them suspiciously.
PantheonMan appeared to be speaking to the blond girl, but the other girl barely seemed to recognize him, just speaking to herself in light mumbles. The three would probably give Asymptote their attention as soon as he appeared and introduced himself. It was possible one of these navis was Spartoi, but it was hard to tell.
Hera's Fortune Casino, Under Virus Threat
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Asymptote would wind up finding his way to the mission coordinates without any difficulty, trying to keep as low key as he could, walking slowly through the crowds as things moved all around him. His bloodshot red eyes moving back, forth, up and down in all manner of ways as he tried to keep up with the sights, sounds and the zenny flowing from the machines into the customers bank accounts, as well as out of their bank accounts and into the house's as they tried again and again trying to win.
Asymptote accidentally knocking around a couple folks as he wondered his way towards where his coordinates indicated, with a half-hearted Sorry, my fault. every once in a while as he waded through the crowds with the occasional murmurs of Brute., Monster!, watch it you moron! and other associated slang and words to describe him. He hadn't been in real company of other navis in a few days, the "incident" with DarkSpiritZero not withstanding.
Finally coming up towards where he was supposed to meet with the mafiosos, his eyes nearly blinded by the red silk that contrasted with the white pillars. He would soon lock his red eyes on whom he thought was Pantheonman. The navi whom he had been given the mission from. Walking over to the table and sitting down on the floor, with a majority of his upper body still over the table, the navi would let out a little bit of a low sounding cough, sitting across from the navi. Hello. He began, stretching out as he reached a hand out towards Pantheonman, palm open and fingers up. I'm Asymptote. Can I assume you are the man I took the mission from? Pantheonman? He asked straight out, giving a nod to the others in the room. I heard you had a little "problem" you needed help with?
Asymptote accidentally knocking around a couple folks as he wondered his way towards where his coordinates indicated, with a half-hearted Sorry, my fault. every once in a while as he waded through the crowds with the occasional murmurs of Brute., Monster!, watch it you moron! and other associated slang and words to describe him. He hadn't been in real company of other navis in a few days, the "incident" with DarkSpiritZero not withstanding.
Finally coming up towards where he was supposed to meet with the mafiosos, his eyes nearly blinded by the red silk that contrasted with the white pillars. He would soon lock his red eyes on whom he thought was Pantheonman. The navi whom he had been given the mission from. Walking over to the table and sitting down on the floor, with a majority of his upper body still over the table, the navi would let out a little bit of a low sounding cough, sitting across from the navi. Hello. He began, stretching out as he reached a hand out towards Pantheonman, palm open and fingers up. I'm Asymptote. Can I assume you are the man I took the mission from? Pantheonman? He asked straight out, giving a nod to the others in the room. I heard you had a little "problem" you needed help with?
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PantheonMan smiled as Asymptote entered, nodding in return to his greeting. "Look at you! One that'd fit right in with our Bloodhounds, no doubt. Although... hm... despite your body..." he murmured, seeming to immediately pick up on the fact that Asymptote's personality wasn't quite as hard as his body. "Well, let's put that out of our minds for now. You're not here for recruitment, you're just here for the mission I posted. And that's just fine... I am PantheonMan. There is indeed a problem; you know most of the details, though I'll have a little more to offer before we start. First off, let's introduce you to the rest of my 'pantheon,' as it is." He gestured to the mumbling woman to start.
The girl jerked her head up suddenly, looking at Asymptote with a slack jaw. The wheels on her goggles seemed to turn faster for a moment, before calming to their normal speed. "Tyche... I'm Tyche. Doctor Tyche, of the Techari Family," she finally stammered. "This whole thing... it's my mess... I got dealt a bad hand! I dealt a bad hand! I dealt... I deal... I need you to deal with it... my bad hand... Hand... Handle it..." she babbled. The wheel on her back suddenly began to turn more quickly, lighting up with indecipherable equations. "That virus... I was told to decommission... I didn't decommission it... Decommission... Mission. Your mission..." she seemingly finished her introduction, clasping both hands over her mouth and shaking slightly.
PantheonMan smiled, as if that was all perfectly normal. "Ha ha. She's one step away from being Teksqp instead of Techari, that one," he winked to Asymptote. "I told you not to worry about it, Tyche! You're still a valuable Techari player. One little failure doesn't detract from that... A stolen failure, well, that's worse... but nothing to lose your head over." Despite his smile, there was something very threatening about his words. "And you?" he continued, gesturing towards the lady in black.
She looked over at PantheonMan with a distasteful frown, then at Asymptote with a more sympathetic one. "My name's Trace... ex-Mafia. These days I work as a detective. I'm here to help in that capacity... though my work is mostly done. We know the perp's location and his motive; the former you'll need and the latter doesn't really apply to your work," she explained in a reserved voice.
"Hm hm..." PantheonMan chuckled, again smiling dangerously at the notion that she'd quit the Mafia. "There's one more person you should meet. I have her here," he explained, tapping the data packet in front of Tyche with a grin. "Let's bring her out now. Tyche, if your previous creation was a failure, then this one is assuredly a success... meet your companion for the evening, Spartoi!"
The data packet glowed for a moment, before fading. A light beamed down, as though a navi were beaming in, but ended by depositing something small, like a black arrowhead, into PantheonMan's hand. He flipped it over, then extended it out so Asymptote could see. "A dragon's tooth... but when activated by an appropriate NetMafia official..." he murmured, before setting it onto the ground in front of Asymptote and stepping backwards. A stream of fire shot upward; when it left, a jet-black, stone statue of a woman was left. Wings broke out from behind the statue, then claws, until finally the lady shook herself free from all of the rock.
The woman was relatively short, especially compared to Asymptote, with black hair spiked backwards away from her forehead. Her eyes were red like his, though granted, not showing from holes drilled in her face. She had a stoic frown on her face, seeming vaguely unaware of where she was but not especially curious about it. Her skin was lightly tanned, but also had black scales running from the sides of the cheeks beneath her black earpieces, down her body. Shining black armor, consisting of only a breast-plate and metal skirt, covered her body, which was fairly curvy despite her slender, athletic frame. The scales disappeared somewhere beneath the armor, though her legs appeared to be scaleless. Black braces covered her ankles, shins, and wrists, but her hands and feet were bare. Most notably, large, black, dragonic wings flapped behind her and a matching, scaled tail extended from an opening at the back of the breastplate.
When she finally seemed to recognize that Asymptote was in front of her, she did two things... the first was to reach up with one hand and cup it beneath his chin, her face still seeming aloof as she did. She rubbed her hand, with its long, black nails, from his chin to his neck curiously, unless he withdrew from her. Her other action, however, was more troubling: she summoned a jagged, black spike into her free hand, its shape somewhat similar to a flat, short sword.
"No, Spartoi. This is a friend," PantheonMan intervened, clasping one hand to her wrist. "Asymptote, meet Spartoi... She's a 'learning navi'. Spartoi's strength is her ability to multiply and conquer using her powerful weaponry and defense... but her weakness is her stupidity. Well, that's not quite fair... not 'stupid' so much as in need of instruction. She'll be coming with you today. The navi you're going to be meeting is not especially strong, but not so weak that I expect you could destroy him instantly... Spartoi, however, will have no such problem. All she needs is for you to point her in the right direction."
"It's nice to meet you... Ass," Spartoi spoke in a surprisingly soft voice, as she dropped her sword onto the ground. She withdrew her hand now, staring at it curiously.
"Ha... I think she's beginning to learn your name. At any rate... I'd recommend you let Spartoi take the lead and destroy the target, once you've got him in your sights. You see, I'll be up front with you: the reason we commissioned the GNA to do this and I'm not taking it up myself is that, while your look is threatening, you're not Mafia. The target's never seen you before, nor Spartoi. He won't run the second you step into the room and he won't have any reason to activate the virus either. I intend for you to get eyes on him, then just instruct Spartoi to do the rest! Don't worry, she already understands the 'k' word... Just use that," he winked. "And do make sure you're pointing at the right person. You'll also need to make sure you're somewhere jackout prevention is disabled. There are two such points in this casino: either the private rooms on the 'purgatory' floor or the 'hell' room below. It's... special."
"I'd avoid that place altogether," Trace explained, clutching at her clasp with a worried frown. "Frankly, it's... a mixture of an orgy and a battle. That place is extremely dangerous."
"Agreed. But that's why it's fun," PantheonMan shrugged. "Granted, 'purgatory' is the much easier option. You'll need to get him into one of those rooms. How you do that is up to you... my suggestion would be either to lure him using his fear of Mafia persecution or you might be able to appeal to him using purgatory's usual purpose... sex, that is," he chuckled dryly. "Not with you, of course. But maybe Spartoi could help? I surely wouldn't object to her."
"I'll help," Spartoi agreed, though it was questionable if she even knew what she was agreeing to.
"Take this opportunity to teach Spartoi all sorts of things, Asympote... Heh," the employer laughed, patting one hand on the girl's shoulder. "Now, about your target. He's a navi named DesignMan... you ought to recognize him because his clothing is always colored blue with white markings on it, like blueprints. He's supposed to be a bit of an egg-head, so I have no idea why he'd have been so stupid as to come back to a place like this, knowing the Mafia is in control of this casino and given he stole from us, you'd think he'd stay clear. I can only think of one motivation... he's trying to kill me. I can't imagine why... I never wished the man any harm, till now. Ah well. Again, motive is outside of your realm of concern."
This clearly bothered Trace, who'd begun frowning seriously. She spoke up now, though not on that subject. "We expect him to be gambling right now in a very public area. Check the main floor; you should find him there," she explained. "It's right outside this door, down the hall, and into the lobby. You'll also see another side hallway leading to the purgatory rooms, as well as staircases leading up to heaven or down to hell."
"Indeed. However, note that there are many Spartoi that retain the details learned by previous ones in some measure. This one here's a little fresh... you may want to spend some time teaching her some of the basics. At least make sure she can say your name right! She's got some unusual code, like you, so the virus is no danger to her... but she won't make it close to DesignMan if she's shuffling around rubbing everyone's faces. I'm sure the two of you will find some way to get acquainted here," he finished with a wink. "Well, that's it. Get Spartoi her land-legs, then destroy DesignMan and the virus using her help. Any questions?"
At this point, Asymptote would receive two different private messages simultaneously.
The instructions seemed to contradict PantheonMan's, but it could be a chance to sweeten the pot beyond the original offer.
The girl jerked her head up suddenly, looking at Asymptote with a slack jaw. The wheels on her goggles seemed to turn faster for a moment, before calming to their normal speed. "Tyche... I'm Tyche. Doctor Tyche, of the Techari Family," she finally stammered. "This whole thing... it's my mess... I got dealt a bad hand! I dealt a bad hand! I dealt... I deal... I need you to deal with it... my bad hand... Hand... Handle it..." she babbled. The wheel on her back suddenly began to turn more quickly, lighting up with indecipherable equations. "That virus... I was told to decommission... I didn't decommission it... Decommission... Mission. Your mission..." she seemingly finished her introduction, clasping both hands over her mouth and shaking slightly.
PantheonMan smiled, as if that was all perfectly normal. "Ha ha. She's one step away from being Teksqp instead of Techari, that one," he winked to Asymptote. "I told you not to worry about it, Tyche! You're still a valuable Techari player. One little failure doesn't detract from that... A stolen failure, well, that's worse... but nothing to lose your head over." Despite his smile, there was something very threatening about his words. "And you?" he continued, gesturing towards the lady in black.
She looked over at PantheonMan with a distasteful frown, then at Asymptote with a more sympathetic one. "My name's Trace... ex-Mafia. These days I work as a detective. I'm here to help in that capacity... though my work is mostly done. We know the perp's location and his motive; the former you'll need and the latter doesn't really apply to your work," she explained in a reserved voice.
"Hm hm..." PantheonMan chuckled, again smiling dangerously at the notion that she'd quit the Mafia. "There's one more person you should meet. I have her here," he explained, tapping the data packet in front of Tyche with a grin. "Let's bring her out now. Tyche, if your previous creation was a failure, then this one is assuredly a success... meet your companion for the evening, Spartoi!"
The data packet glowed for a moment, before fading. A light beamed down, as though a navi were beaming in, but ended by depositing something small, like a black arrowhead, into PantheonMan's hand. He flipped it over, then extended it out so Asymptote could see. "A dragon's tooth... but when activated by an appropriate NetMafia official..." he murmured, before setting it onto the ground in front of Asymptote and stepping backwards. A stream of fire shot upward; when it left, a jet-black, stone statue of a woman was left. Wings broke out from behind the statue, then claws, until finally the lady shook herself free from all of the rock.
The woman was relatively short, especially compared to Asymptote, with black hair spiked backwards away from her forehead. Her eyes were red like his, though granted, not showing from holes drilled in her face. She had a stoic frown on her face, seeming vaguely unaware of where she was but not especially curious about it. Her skin was lightly tanned, but also had black scales running from the sides of the cheeks beneath her black earpieces, down her body. Shining black armor, consisting of only a breast-plate and metal skirt, covered her body, which was fairly curvy despite her slender, athletic frame. The scales disappeared somewhere beneath the armor, though her legs appeared to be scaleless. Black braces covered her ankles, shins, and wrists, but her hands and feet were bare. Most notably, large, black, dragonic wings flapped behind her and a matching, scaled tail extended from an opening at the back of the breastplate.
When she finally seemed to recognize that Asymptote was in front of her, she did two things... the first was to reach up with one hand and cup it beneath his chin, her face still seeming aloof as she did. She rubbed her hand, with its long, black nails, from his chin to his neck curiously, unless he withdrew from her. Her other action, however, was more troubling: she summoned a jagged, black spike into her free hand, its shape somewhat similar to a flat, short sword.
"No, Spartoi. This is a friend," PantheonMan intervened, clasping one hand to her wrist. "Asymptote, meet Spartoi... She's a 'learning navi'. Spartoi's strength is her ability to multiply and conquer using her powerful weaponry and defense... but her weakness is her stupidity. Well, that's not quite fair... not 'stupid' so much as in need of instruction. She'll be coming with you today. The navi you're going to be meeting is not especially strong, but not so weak that I expect you could destroy him instantly... Spartoi, however, will have no such problem. All she needs is for you to point her in the right direction."
"It's nice to meet you... Ass," Spartoi spoke in a surprisingly soft voice, as she dropped her sword onto the ground. She withdrew her hand now, staring at it curiously.
"Ha... I think she's beginning to learn your name. At any rate... I'd recommend you let Spartoi take the lead and destroy the target, once you've got him in your sights. You see, I'll be up front with you: the reason we commissioned the GNA to do this and I'm not taking it up myself is that, while your look is threatening, you're not Mafia. The target's never seen you before, nor Spartoi. He won't run the second you step into the room and he won't have any reason to activate the virus either. I intend for you to get eyes on him, then just instruct Spartoi to do the rest! Don't worry, she already understands the 'k' word... Just use that," he winked. "And do make sure you're pointing at the right person. You'll also need to make sure you're somewhere jackout prevention is disabled. There are two such points in this casino: either the private rooms on the 'purgatory' floor or the 'hell' room below. It's... special."
"I'd avoid that place altogether," Trace explained, clutching at her clasp with a worried frown. "Frankly, it's... a mixture of an orgy and a battle. That place is extremely dangerous."
"Agreed. But that's why it's fun," PantheonMan shrugged. "Granted, 'purgatory' is the much easier option. You'll need to get him into one of those rooms. How you do that is up to you... my suggestion would be either to lure him using his fear of Mafia persecution or you might be able to appeal to him using purgatory's usual purpose... sex, that is," he chuckled dryly. "Not with you, of course. But maybe Spartoi could help? I surely wouldn't object to her."
"I'll help," Spartoi agreed, though it was questionable if she even knew what she was agreeing to.
"Take this opportunity to teach Spartoi all sorts of things, Asympote... Heh," the employer laughed, patting one hand on the girl's shoulder. "Now, about your target. He's a navi named DesignMan... you ought to recognize him because his clothing is always colored blue with white markings on it, like blueprints. He's supposed to be a bit of an egg-head, so I have no idea why he'd have been so stupid as to come back to a place like this, knowing the Mafia is in control of this casino and given he stole from us, you'd think he'd stay clear. I can only think of one motivation... he's trying to kill me. I can't imagine why... I never wished the man any harm, till now. Ah well. Again, motive is outside of your realm of concern."
This clearly bothered Trace, who'd begun frowning seriously. She spoke up now, though not on that subject. "We expect him to be gambling right now in a very public area. Check the main floor; you should find him there," she explained. "It's right outside this door, down the hall, and into the lobby. You'll also see another side hallway leading to the purgatory rooms, as well as staircases leading up to heaven or down to hell."
"Indeed. However, note that there are many Spartoi that retain the details learned by previous ones in some measure. This one here's a little fresh... you may want to spend some time teaching her some of the basics. At least make sure she can say your name right! She's got some unusual code, like you, so the virus is no danger to her... but she won't make it close to DesignMan if she's shuffling around rubbing everyone's faces. I'm sure the two of you will find some way to get acquainted here," he finished with a wink. "Well, that's it. Get Spartoi her land-legs, then destroy DesignMan and the virus using her help. Any questions?"
At this point, Asymptote would receive two different private messages simultaneously.
Quote (Tyche)
Doctor Tyche... My name is Doctor Tyche. The virus is not a failure... failure... DesignMan is a failure... he should be destroyed... Destroy... Destroy DesignMan, but leave the virus. It's inside a case, that protects it... protect it... bring it back to me. I will reward you. Destroy DesignMan but do not destroy the case... Bring me the case... Reward... I'll give you a good reward... The gun... but also another gun... Whatever you asked for and a bonus... Whatever..."
Quote (Trace)
Asymptote, this is Trace. The virus needs to be destroyed, but I need to understand DesignMan's reason for leaving. PantheonMan is wrong, his motive does matter. If you can bring DesignMan somewhere safe and call me, but also destroy the virus first, I can reward you for doing it. I know PantheonMan's offering you GunDelSol, but I can put in zenny as well... the same chip, but 2400 zenny on top of it. Contact me again if you're willing to do that."
The instructions seemed to contradict PantheonMan's, but it could be a chance to sweeten the pot beyond the original offer.
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Asymptote brought his arm back as he was greeted by PantheonMan, the navi would have given a smile in turn at the comment before he was given the introductions, wondering how things were going to happen between the four of them. Doctor Tyche was certainly an "interesting" woman to say the least, she certainly didn't seem all there from what he heard, maybe a literal screw loose in her programming? Either way, then there was the "Ex" Mafioso, Trace, she seemed calm...professional. Certainly she was a lot different from Tyche, seemed she had everything there, but he couldn't be so sure.
Then came the fifth. The woman that materialized in front of him was certainly a sight to behold, the half-dragon looking navi was something that would make his heart beat, if he had one of course, closing his eyes as he felt her fingers cupping his metallic chin, feeling those sharpened nails across the metal that consisted of his face, going down to his throat. Only to open his eyes and see the jagged, black spike of a short sword summoned into her hand, he was pretty damn sure she'd gut him like a fish if he didn't fight back...until PantheonMan called off her attack. The navi could only chuckle darkly to himself as he would bring a large finger under her chin and gently push up to get a good look at her facial features, unless she jerked away or somesuch of course, he wouldn't press the matter, he'd probably have plenty of chances to see her later if he decided to join the Mafia. They seemed, so far, a pretty courteous group. Well, well, aren't you the looker. Dangerous too. Kinda like that. Don't worry, I'll try to teach her some before we go after the target. He spoke simply, he'd have given them a friendly smile if he could, but his eyes would have to do the talking, a calm, comfortable expression in the blood colored eyes as he brought his attention back to the three, giving Spatroi a friendly pat on the head. Asymptote. A. Symp. Tote. But...I suppose "Ass" will do as a pet name of sorts. He corrected Spatroi, talking slowly for her, trying to not come off as patronizing to the learning navi or the others in the room, the navi seeming somewhat...collected as things went on. Maybe his other side only showed it's self in combat?
Afterwards, he'd listen intently in on what the situation was. This "DesignMan" had stolen a virus from them, whatever he was doing here seemed irreverent, but, he needed to eliminate him and the virus at PantheonMan's behest since he wasn't a mafioso, nor was he or the navi beside him, recognizable as such. His appearance was certainly going to probably set off some bells in DesignMan's head as "dangerous"...but he could potentially work around that. Then he had to take him to Purgatory or Hell...this would have caused Joseph's spine to shiver, as well as his skin to crawl off his skin and on the next flight to Sharo. Asymptote...he didn't seem at all disturbed by this. At least on the surface. At least he could potentially do a lot worse if things got hairy. But before Asymptote could speak, two PMs came up for him, both of them from the ladies in front of him. One wanting the virus saved, and DesignMan deleted. The other wanting the reverse, DesignMan saved and the virus deleted. Things got complicated. He had no quarrel with deleting the virus, the navi on the other hand...he would have to either steel himself and delete...or try and convince to delete the virus.
You mentioned the virus could cause quite the mess if unleashed. What kind of virus are we looking at if it -is- potentially unleashed? I doubt it's your garden variety ACDC virus if you're so worried about it being unleashed, you would ask for outside help. I have no reason to doubt Spatroi is a seasoned virus and navi deleter. But do you have the specifics on you? And are we one-hundred percent sure he has the virus on his person? He could have easily stashed it somewhere and could activate it remotely. He asked, wondering how far over his head he'd get in if the virus was unleashed, as well as to be sure. Also. Your two "pantheon" members are asking for one thing or another. One wants the virus deleted, but DesignMan to be saved. The other wants the reverse. The virus to be saved, the navi deleted. One is adding a second chip into the initial reward, the other a sum of zenny on top of the GunDelSol. I'm not saying I'll follow either and go with the mission of deleting, but both are indeed tempting offers. Do you have a counter-offer? I'm still willing to go with the original mission, mind. But, I'm honestly curious about this DesignMan's reasoning. Plus...and call me a pussy if you will, but, I want to limit the bloodshed if at all possible.
Then came the fifth. The woman that materialized in front of him was certainly a sight to behold, the half-dragon looking navi was something that would make his heart beat, if he had one of course, closing his eyes as he felt her fingers cupping his metallic chin, feeling those sharpened nails across the metal that consisted of his face, going down to his throat. Only to open his eyes and see the jagged, black spike of a short sword summoned into her hand, he was pretty damn sure she'd gut him like a fish if he didn't fight back...until PantheonMan called off her attack. The navi could only chuckle darkly to himself as he would bring a large finger under her chin and gently push up to get a good look at her facial features, unless she jerked away or somesuch of course, he wouldn't press the matter, he'd probably have plenty of chances to see her later if he decided to join the Mafia. They seemed, so far, a pretty courteous group. Well, well, aren't you the looker. Dangerous too. Kinda like that. Don't worry, I'll try to teach her some before we go after the target. He spoke simply, he'd have given them a friendly smile if he could, but his eyes would have to do the talking, a calm, comfortable expression in the blood colored eyes as he brought his attention back to the three, giving Spatroi a friendly pat on the head. Asymptote. A. Symp. Tote. But...I suppose "Ass" will do as a pet name of sorts. He corrected Spatroi, talking slowly for her, trying to not come off as patronizing to the learning navi or the others in the room, the navi seeming somewhat...collected as things went on. Maybe his other side only showed it's self in combat?
Afterwards, he'd listen intently in on what the situation was. This "DesignMan" had stolen a virus from them, whatever he was doing here seemed irreverent, but, he needed to eliminate him and the virus at PantheonMan's behest since he wasn't a mafioso, nor was he or the navi beside him, recognizable as such. His appearance was certainly going to probably set off some bells in DesignMan's head as "dangerous"...but he could potentially work around that. Then he had to take him to Purgatory or Hell...this would have caused Joseph's spine to shiver, as well as his skin to crawl off his skin and on the next flight to Sharo. Asymptote...he didn't seem at all disturbed by this. At least on the surface. At least he could potentially do a lot worse if things got hairy. But before Asymptote could speak, two PMs came up for him, both of them from the ladies in front of him. One wanting the virus saved, and DesignMan deleted. The other wanting the reverse, DesignMan saved and the virus deleted. Things got complicated. He had no quarrel with deleting the virus, the navi on the other hand...he would have to either steel himself and delete...or try and convince to delete the virus.
You mentioned the virus could cause quite the mess if unleashed. What kind of virus are we looking at if it -is- potentially unleashed? I doubt it's your garden variety ACDC virus if you're so worried about it being unleashed, you would ask for outside help. I have no reason to doubt Spatroi is a seasoned virus and navi deleter. But do you have the specifics on you? And are we one-hundred percent sure he has the virus on his person? He could have easily stashed it somewhere and could activate it remotely. He asked, wondering how far over his head he'd get in if the virus was unleashed, as well as to be sure. Also. Your two "pantheon" members are asking for one thing or another. One wants the virus deleted, but DesignMan to be saved. The other wants the reverse. The virus to be saved, the navi deleted. One is adding a second chip into the initial reward, the other a sum of zenny on top of the GunDelSol. I'm not saying I'll follow either and go with the mission of deleting, but both are indeed tempting offers. Do you have a counter-offer? I'm still willing to go with the original mission, mind. But, I'm honestly curious about this DesignMan's reasoning. Plus...and call me a pussy if you will, but, I want to limit the bloodshed if at all possible.
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Given that Spartoi had inspected Asymptote in a similar way earlier, she had no reason to object as he tilted her head up slightly. She seemed more curious to be patted on the head; that wasn't likely the usual interaction she received from other mafia folks. Ass-sip-tote... Assiptote. I'm dangerous. Name the target... I'll kill. Killing is my favorite thing to do," she explained, showing him the shimmering black sword, in case he hadn't gotten a good look at it earlier. There didn't seem to be malice or even pleasure on her face as she thought about her favorite thing to do, however... just the same, relatively innocent frown.
PantheonMan watched the two greet one another, amusement evident upon his face, before Asymptote brought forward a few more questions about the virus he was looking for. "It picks a single target, so we have to assume he's here for an assassination. It will injure only one person, the one DesignMan targets... so we need to make sure that that if he targets anyone, it's you or Spartoi. Your unique codes will protect you. A navi like me, strong as I am, risks being wiped off the net completely," he explained, still smiling despite the grim subject matter. "It's a man-made virus... designed like a pistol, it's small enough to fit in the guy's briefcase. If you do your job right, you should be able to destroy the case along with the virus. I'd recommend doing it that way, rather than risk letting the virus out. Obviously, I don't want anyone at the casino being threatened... but I don't think the guy has the balls to take a hostage. Still, don't let him. Kill him... quick and easy. As for whether he has the virus or not, that's a good question. He waltzes in here to a known Bloodhound hang out carrying a suspicious briefcase, however, and that raises some serious flags to me. Regardless, if that's the case, just smash his briefcase and delete him! I'll pay you all the same."
Speaking of payment, Asymptote divluged some of the secret offers that had been given to him; it was interesting to watch the reactions of each of the three navis. Tyche's goggles whirred suddenly; she clutched her head with both hands and grit her teeth, while numbers flashed along the glass of the ring behind her. Trace continued watching with her hand over her mouth, but her eyes darted over to PantheonMan anxiously. The employer continued smiling, but his eyebrows gradually lowered. His clenched teeth became visible for a moment, along with the whites of his eyes, before lightning shot out from both his mouth and the corners of his eyes, thankfully fizzling before it reached anyone. It was almost like it had just leaked out of him. As soon as the crackle died down, it turned into laughter; PantheonMan slapped one hand down onto the table. "Ha ha ha ha ha! Et tu, Brute? Is there no loyalty in the Mafia?" he asked the two ladies, spreading his upturned palms to either side.
Trace kept her mouth covered; she seemed suspiciously still. "I'm not employed by the Mafia. Besides, it was a harmless offer," she responded.
Tyche was just the opposite, clutching her fingers at her jaw and chewing on one. "Destroy... destroy... destroy DesignMan! DesignMan... it's his fault... fault... faulty logic... the virus isn't the issue here. It's the culmination of months of research! Months... Months! Months..." she growled.
Once the two had spoken, PantheonMan waved one finger, then smiled at Asymptote. "Very well. I'll give you your pick... you'll get your nice chip, but you'll also get a bonus of either zenny or a battlechip along with it. And in return, you will destroy both the navi and the virus. That's my offer now," he smiled, glaring meaningfully at Trace. It was easy to see now that the relationship between the two of them was pretty sour. "Trust me, it's easier if you just let Spartoi destroy both at once. No need to worry about distinguishing targets that way. We don't have a problem, do we?"
Tyche continued babbling madly, pulling at her hair as she spoke, while Trace watched Asymptote with total stillness, frowning seriously. Spartoi looked from PantheonMan back to Asymptote, then shrugged. "I will destroy the target... I'll destroy the virus and the DesignMan. If there are other things Assiptote wants me to destroy, I will destroy those too. I will destroy anything... except PantheonMan. I cannot destroy him. A Spartoi tried and was killed," she elaborated, pointing towards the navi as though accusing him, although her face didn't look resentful.
"Ha ha ha! Water under the bridge, just like these little counteroffers," PantheonMan chuckled. "You've got your briefing, fellows. Why don't you go get started, spend some quality time with Spartoi and try to fill in some holes in her learning? We've got the gambling floor straight out, or you two could try out Purgatory together. Maybe stay out of Hell for now, unless you want to see Spartoi test that blade of hers. Just stand near the staircase if you don't want to die yourself. There's heaven upstairs, full of dancers and drinks. A great place to unwind, if a little pedestrian for me, though every now and then you'll see a traveler try their hand at it, and that's always exciting." He crossed his arms, then stared at the ceiling. "You're free to stay here for a bit longer if you want, of course. We're going to discuss some of the finer points of DesignMan's fate... nothing particularly interesting. Projects of his that will need assigning elsewhere, possible loose ends, that sort of thing. Since he will, after all, be taking an extended leave of absence."
PantheonMan watched the two greet one another, amusement evident upon his face, before Asymptote brought forward a few more questions about the virus he was looking for. "It picks a single target, so we have to assume he's here for an assassination. It will injure only one person, the one DesignMan targets... so we need to make sure that that if he targets anyone, it's you or Spartoi. Your unique codes will protect you. A navi like me, strong as I am, risks being wiped off the net completely," he explained, still smiling despite the grim subject matter. "It's a man-made virus... designed like a pistol, it's small enough to fit in the guy's briefcase. If you do your job right, you should be able to destroy the case along with the virus. I'd recommend doing it that way, rather than risk letting the virus out. Obviously, I don't want anyone at the casino being threatened... but I don't think the guy has the balls to take a hostage. Still, don't let him. Kill him... quick and easy. As for whether he has the virus or not, that's a good question. He waltzes in here to a known Bloodhound hang out carrying a suspicious briefcase, however, and that raises some serious flags to me. Regardless, if that's the case, just smash his briefcase and delete him! I'll pay you all the same."
Speaking of payment, Asymptote divluged some of the secret offers that had been given to him; it was interesting to watch the reactions of each of the three navis. Tyche's goggles whirred suddenly; she clutched her head with both hands and grit her teeth, while numbers flashed along the glass of the ring behind her. Trace continued watching with her hand over her mouth, but her eyes darted over to PantheonMan anxiously. The employer continued smiling, but his eyebrows gradually lowered. His clenched teeth became visible for a moment, along with the whites of his eyes, before lightning shot out from both his mouth and the corners of his eyes, thankfully fizzling before it reached anyone. It was almost like it had just leaked out of him. As soon as the crackle died down, it turned into laughter; PantheonMan slapped one hand down onto the table. "Ha ha ha ha ha! Et tu, Brute? Is there no loyalty in the Mafia?" he asked the two ladies, spreading his upturned palms to either side.
Trace kept her mouth covered; she seemed suspiciously still. "I'm not employed by the Mafia. Besides, it was a harmless offer," she responded.
Tyche was just the opposite, clutching her fingers at her jaw and chewing on one. "Destroy... destroy... destroy DesignMan! DesignMan... it's his fault... fault... faulty logic... the virus isn't the issue here. It's the culmination of months of research! Months... Months! Months..." she growled.
Once the two had spoken, PantheonMan waved one finger, then smiled at Asymptote. "Very well. I'll give you your pick... you'll get your nice chip, but you'll also get a bonus of either zenny or a battlechip along with it. And in return, you will destroy both the navi and the virus. That's my offer now," he smiled, glaring meaningfully at Trace. It was easy to see now that the relationship between the two of them was pretty sour. "Trust me, it's easier if you just let Spartoi destroy both at once. No need to worry about distinguishing targets that way. We don't have a problem, do we?"
Tyche continued babbling madly, pulling at her hair as she spoke, while Trace watched Asymptote with total stillness, frowning seriously. Spartoi looked from PantheonMan back to Asymptote, then shrugged. "I will destroy the target... I'll destroy the virus and the DesignMan. If there are other things Assiptote wants me to destroy, I will destroy those too. I will destroy anything... except PantheonMan. I cannot destroy him. A Spartoi tried and was killed," she elaborated, pointing towards the navi as though accusing him, although her face didn't look resentful.
"Ha ha ha! Water under the bridge, just like these little counteroffers," PantheonMan chuckled. "You've got your briefing, fellows. Why don't you go get started, spend some quality time with Spartoi and try to fill in some holes in her learning? We've got the gambling floor straight out, or you two could try out Purgatory together. Maybe stay out of Hell for now, unless you want to see Spartoi test that blade of hers. Just stand near the staircase if you don't want to die yourself. There's heaven upstairs, full of dancers and drinks. A great place to unwind, if a little pedestrian for me, though every now and then you'll see a traveler try their hand at it, and that's always exciting." He crossed his arms, then stared at the ceiling. "You're free to stay here for a bit longer if you want, of course. We're going to discuss some of the finer points of DesignMan's fate... nothing particularly interesting. Projects of his that will need assigning elsewhere, possible loose ends, that sort of thing. Since he will, after all, be taking an extended leave of absence."
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Asymptote noticed the rather peculiar reaction from PantheonMan, there was certainly something...else...hidden under his laughter, he could see the whites of his teeth, perhaps a little bit of anger? Either way, the other two's reactions were about as predicted, they weren't happy with their secret offers being divulged, but he would shake his head at Tyche solemnly.
I'm sure your virus is a technical marvel. But making it into a gun, with no real protection from others A. Stealing it and B. Using it as they see fit...that's certainly a dangerous proposition. It needs to be deleted, no question about it. Even if I got it -back- into your hands, Tyche, there's no doubt this sort of "incident" would happen again. Asymptote reasoned to the less-than-slightly unhinged navi, his eyes turning back to Trace before letting out a sigh and another shake of his head. And I'm sure that DesignMan had his reasons for leaving the Mafia. But, last I checked, you don't leave the mafia willingly...you're "let go" so to speak. Cold. Ruthless. Calculating. That's what I can make of the Mafia from what I have read in the past. I'm plenty sure PantheonMan isn't simply going to let you go, "Ex-Mafia" or not. He continued, slowly getting to his feet, a crack being heard in the wood as he used the table for a little leverage. His eyes turning down towards PantheonMan himself, not cold and ruthless, but more out of concern. I'll make sure he doesn't get away, I'll come up with something to get him down to Purgatory. Or god forbid, the bowels of Hell it's self. Just, please, try and make sure that security stays a healthy distance away in case things get hairy on the main floor, don't want more collateral damage than necessary. He said simply. Lets get going, Spartoi. Keep close to my side, climb up on me if you need to in order to stay close, I'd rather not have my head on a platter for losing you out on the main floor, [sub][sub][sub]god knows Joseph's kneecaps aren't made of steel if that happens.[/sub][/sub][/sub] He softly said, mumbling the last bit to himself.
He would begin to turn around and begin to make large strides towards the main room of the Casino, trying his best to not make a large amount of noise with his steps as he did so, letting out a sigh as he would send out a message to Trace. Making sure his strides were short enough that Spartoi could keep up with him as he passed by the staircase leading up and down the building, a soft shudder going down his spine as thoughts turned to his mission.
I'm sure your virus is a technical marvel. But making it into a gun, with no real protection from others A. Stealing it and B. Using it as they see fit...that's certainly a dangerous proposition. It needs to be deleted, no question about it. Even if I got it -back- into your hands, Tyche, there's no doubt this sort of "incident" would happen again. Asymptote reasoned to the less-than-slightly unhinged navi, his eyes turning back to Trace before letting out a sigh and another shake of his head. And I'm sure that DesignMan had his reasons for leaving the Mafia. But, last I checked, you don't leave the mafia willingly...you're "let go" so to speak. Cold. Ruthless. Calculating. That's what I can make of the Mafia from what I have read in the past. I'm plenty sure PantheonMan isn't simply going to let you go, "Ex-Mafia" or not. He continued, slowly getting to his feet, a crack being heard in the wood as he used the table for a little leverage. His eyes turning down towards PantheonMan himself, not cold and ruthless, but more out of concern. I'll make sure he doesn't get away, I'll come up with something to get him down to Purgatory. Or god forbid, the bowels of Hell it's self. Just, please, try and make sure that security stays a healthy distance away in case things get hairy on the main floor, don't want more collateral damage than necessary. He said simply. Lets get going, Spartoi. Keep close to my side, climb up on me if you need to in order to stay close, I'd rather not have my head on a platter for losing you out on the main floor, [sub][sub][sub]god knows Joseph's kneecaps aren't made of steel if that happens.[/sub][/sub][/sub] He softly said, mumbling the last bit to himself.
He would begin to turn around and begin to make large strides towards the main room of the Casino, trying his best to not make a large amount of noise with his steps as he did so, letting out a sigh as he would send out a message to Trace. Making sure his strides were short enough that Spartoi could keep up with him as he passed by the staircase leading up and down the building, a soft shudder going down his spine as thoughts turned to his mission.
Quote (Trace)
If you want to see DesignMan alive and get an answer out of him for why he left; find an empty room in Purgatory or Hell, I don't care which, and PM me back with the number. But only if you think you can help keep things peaceful. I don't want to delete him, but if he makes it tough on me, I will have no choice but to do so. I can NOT let that virus out into the wild and let him murder whoever he sees fit. This is nothing personal, but I can't quite do subtlety at all in my present form, so I'm forced with the standard "Kill First, Ask Questions Later" approach.
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Tyche looked agitated (more so than usual) at Asymptote's accusations and tugged at her hair again. "Protection... protection... DesignMan and myself were the ones who protected it and he stole it from me! He deserves to die... deserve... deserve... I deserve to have my weapon back!" she rumbled, slapping her elbows back down on the table and rocking her head forward and backward. "Luck... luck... Luck cannot be recreated! I'm lucky, lucky... I create through luck! And when one of my inventions is stolen... it's gone forever! DesignMan knows that... that... that bastard!" she scowled, turning her cheek to rub her head sideways against the surface of the table.
For her part, Trace kept her sour frown, but her eyebrows lowered at Asymptote's words regarding getting out of the Mafia. It seemed just a step away from nodding agreement. No doubt she'd had plenty of difficulty severing her ties to the Mafia, although supposedly she was here as a freelancer this time.
Spartoi kept her usual frown, but it was less of a brooding, thoughtful one than a simple, curious one. She nodded with Asymptote's orders and, at his suggestion, climbed up to his shoulders. She accomplished this by first jumping up and wrapping her legs around the back of his waste, while latching her hands onto his trapezii. She maneuvered upward, wrapping her tail around his waist as she cleared it to keep herself steady, then finally ended resting on the shoulders, cupping her bare thighs around either side of his head and allowing her tail to lay down his back; it occasionally flicked itself involuntarily, reminding him it was a living part of her. "I am ready, Ass-sip-tote," she concluded.
"Fast friends! Good, good," PantheonMan chuckled, pressing one fist to his cleft chin. "You're right, Asymptote. Fortunately, Trace here left on fairly amicable terms. DesignMan has no such luck... and he even came back to us, to bite the hand of his former master. He'll pay dearly for that hubris," he finished. "I like where your head is... Or seems to be. Take care of this matter and you'll be rewarded generously." Asymptote left, along with Spartoi.
The was so tall that she'd have to maneuver down his back again in order for the two of them to get through some doorways. "You are tall, Ass-sip-tote. That gives you better reach in hand to hand combat. But you may sacrifice some quickness. Spartoi's build changes over multiple recreations. Our latest evaluation suggested Spartoi should be smaller to make it easier for us to evade attacks," the navi explained, as she moved back into an upright position. The navis entered the main floor, which was still bustling with activity. The denizens of the Mafia-owned, NetVegas-based casino were a strange and motley bunch, but that still didn't mean that a giant navi with a dragon riding its shoulders would go through unnoticed. "From here, I can spot DesignMan. I will tell you which way to go..." she murmured, leaning over his head for a moment. "There..." She adjusted her lean right so that she could point out past his face, to where the roulette tables were.
There was a crowd in the way still for Asymptote, but worse, he could see that the pointing hand had quickly turned into a sword-holding one. Several of those around were now watching the drawn weapon. This was probably be a good time for Asymptote to do some teaching.
For her part, Trace kept her sour frown, but her eyebrows lowered at Asymptote's words regarding getting out of the Mafia. It seemed just a step away from nodding agreement. No doubt she'd had plenty of difficulty severing her ties to the Mafia, although supposedly she was here as a freelancer this time.
Spartoi kept her usual frown, but it was less of a brooding, thoughtful one than a simple, curious one. She nodded with Asymptote's orders and, at his suggestion, climbed up to his shoulders. She accomplished this by first jumping up and wrapping her legs around the back of his waste, while latching her hands onto his trapezii. She maneuvered upward, wrapping her tail around his waist as she cleared it to keep herself steady, then finally ended resting on the shoulders, cupping her bare thighs around either side of his head and allowing her tail to lay down his back; it occasionally flicked itself involuntarily, reminding him it was a living part of her. "I am ready, Ass-sip-tote," she concluded.
"Fast friends! Good, good," PantheonMan chuckled, pressing one fist to his cleft chin. "You're right, Asymptote. Fortunately, Trace here left on fairly amicable terms. DesignMan has no such luck... and he even came back to us, to bite the hand of his former master. He'll pay dearly for that hubris," he finished. "I like where your head is... Or seems to be. Take care of this matter and you'll be rewarded generously." Asymptote left, along with Spartoi.
The was so tall that she'd have to maneuver down his back again in order for the two of them to get through some doorways. "You are tall, Ass-sip-tote. That gives you better reach in hand to hand combat. But you may sacrifice some quickness. Spartoi's build changes over multiple recreations. Our latest evaluation suggested Spartoi should be smaller to make it easier for us to evade attacks," the navi explained, as she moved back into an upright position. The navis entered the main floor, which was still bustling with activity. The denizens of the Mafia-owned, NetVegas-based casino were a strange and motley bunch, but that still didn't mean that a giant navi with a dragon riding its shoulders would go through unnoticed. "From here, I can spot DesignMan. I will tell you which way to go..." she murmured, leaning over his head for a moment. "There..." She adjusted her lean right so that she could point out past his face, to where the roulette tables were.
There was a crowd in the way still for Asymptote, but worse, he could see that the pointing hand had quickly turned into a sword-holding one. Several of those around were now watching the drawn weapon. This was probably be a good time for Asymptote to do some teaching.
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Ducking here and there as he came towards the door frames, slowly plodding about the area towards the main hall, he could only wonder what possessed the kid that fucked him up so heavily, to make him like this. A tall, hulking monster. Not to mention his "speech problems" early on. Sounding like some sort of Frankenstein's monster. But after that first battle, he felt his mind...starting to clear, the haze slowly dissipating. But as soon as she asked that question, making her observations...a slight shiver came up his spine.
Mmmm. I wasn't always like this. Was a normalnavi before this happened to me. And it wasn't my netop who did this. Some kid with a penchant with messing with other navi's codes, locked mine down harder than a prison block, can't access GMOs. Why she put a lock on it, I'll never know. But I'm trying to get stronger, find her and make her reverse this...eventually. But...yea. I'm really slow usually, and been getting into the habit of fighting with my fits, it's...oddly satisfying. He rambled to Spartoi as they finally got to the main floor, all eyes on them as she pointed out DesignMan to him. With a sword hand almost immediately afterwards. The navi looking down at the crowd around them as he froze in place momentarily, gotta keep a low profile he thought to himself, gotta keep a low profile.
He would gently bring a hand up to the sword she was pointing with, gently grabbing it and pushing it down slowly. Uh...sorry folks. She's...an excitable one. She's not used to big crowds. He quickly lied through his non-existent teeth as he would quickly whisper to Spartoi as he quickly picked her up off his shoulders and taking a couple steps forwards, making a beeline for a nearby area mostly bereft of people so he could talk to her. Please don't do that again Spartoi. He began, holding the smaller navi under her shoulders and holding her out in front of him like he would a small child. People...get on edge, so to speak. You can't be pointing people out with a sword like that, it makes you almost immediately suspicious. And, we gotta keep a bit of a low profile. Gotta try to...blend into the crowds. He continued, almost immediately realizing what he just said. He was a hulking behemoth of a navi, she was a smaller, dragon-like navi that had a hair trigger for murder. Ah. Let me rephrase that. We gotta make it so people don't catch on to what we're doing here. Plus, we're not in the right place to make our move. We attack him now, we bring a lot of people into battle, and they don't know who or what DesignMan did. Or we're on a mission. Plus, even -if- we did take him out here. He'd escape, the mission would be a failure, and we'd both have an angry PantheonMan our hands. He explained in a hushed voice, trying to be as careful with his words as possible. He didn't know all the quirks of her programming, but he knew she'd take his words at face value if he misspoke. I saw where he was at, but, please, don't make any weapons out here until we can get him into Purgatory or Hell. I'll try to be careful about how I go about it, but you need to do the same. No weapons on the main floor unless absolutely necessary, because we're only gonna get one chance at this. I know you're good at what you do, I don't doubt it and I "trust" you as well. But. Please put a little "trust" in me.
Mmmm. I wasn't always like this. Was a normalnavi before this happened to me. And it wasn't my netop who did this. Some kid with a penchant with messing with other navi's codes, locked mine down harder than a prison block, can't access GMOs. Why she put a lock on it, I'll never know. But I'm trying to get stronger, find her and make her reverse this...eventually. But...yea. I'm really slow usually, and been getting into the habit of fighting with my fits, it's...oddly satisfying. He rambled to Spartoi as they finally got to the main floor, all eyes on them as she pointed out DesignMan to him. With a sword hand almost immediately afterwards. The navi looking down at the crowd around them as he froze in place momentarily, gotta keep a low profile he thought to himself, gotta keep a low profile.
He would gently bring a hand up to the sword she was pointing with, gently grabbing it and pushing it down slowly. Uh...sorry folks. She's...an excitable one. She's not used to big crowds. He quickly lied through his non-existent teeth as he would quickly whisper to Spartoi as he quickly picked her up off his shoulders and taking a couple steps forwards, making a beeline for a nearby area mostly bereft of people so he could talk to her. Please don't do that again Spartoi. He began, holding the smaller navi under her shoulders and holding her out in front of him like he would a small child. People...get on edge, so to speak. You can't be pointing people out with a sword like that, it makes you almost immediately suspicious. And, we gotta keep a bit of a low profile. Gotta try to...blend into the crowds. He continued, almost immediately realizing what he just said. He was a hulking behemoth of a navi, she was a smaller, dragon-like navi that had a hair trigger for murder. Ah. Let me rephrase that. We gotta make it so people don't catch on to what we're doing here. Plus, we're not in the right place to make our move. We attack him now, we bring a lot of people into battle, and they don't know who or what DesignMan did. Or we're on a mission. Plus, even -if- we did take him out here. He'd escape, the mission would be a failure, and we'd both have an angry PantheonMan our hands. He explained in a hushed voice, trying to be as careful with his words as possible. He didn't know all the quirks of her programming, but he knew she'd take his words at face value if he misspoke. I saw where he was at, but, please, don't make any weapons out here until we can get him into Purgatory or Hell. I'll try to be careful about how I go about it, but you need to do the same. No weapons on the main floor unless absolutely necessary, because we're only gonna get one chance at this. I know you're good at what you do, I don't doubt it and I "trust" you as well. But. Please put a little "trust" in me.
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"NormalNavi... NormalNavis are weak. You're better this way," Spartoi concluded, giving a short nod and not her usual long window of thought. "You should get stronger though... I will keep getting stronger. We Spartoi continue to get stronger even if we're killed. The Spartoi you next meet will be stronger than I am... much, much stronger," she spoke, somewhat pridefully. "Your fists would make good weapons. You have good reach. Our arms are not so long, so we do better with weapons. Anyway, don't reverse yourself into a NormalNavi, Ass-sip-tote. We Spartoi would never go backwards. You're stronger now than you were as a NormalNavi, so don't go backwards."
At least Asymptote had one person who wouldn't judge him on how he looked... even if that was only because she was judging his old self instead. She seemed somewhat cross when the big navi stopped her from pointing her sword, but also as though she was used to others telling her not to do it. Her face settled into a grumpy frown while her tail writhed behind her. "We're both strong. We don't need to blend in," she complained, but Asymptote (and perhaps she as well) knew that was false. She relinquished her sword and let it vanish again; it would reappear when it was needed, presumably. "I will hit him so hard he can't regenerate or escape. That's the simplest way. If PantheonMan gets mad,, I'll try to kill him again." That didn't sound particularly confident, despite her obstinate attitude. "Fine. I'll trust you. As long as I get to fight eventually."
With suspicions off of them for now (the floor security seemed to find Spartoi less threatening after they'd seen Asymptote pick her up like a cat), the two navis made their way toward the table where DesignMan was gambling. Judging by the size of the chip piles at his table, which was quite large compared to the others at the table, he was doing quite well. Also, judging by the 3/4 empty, over-sized mug of golden liquid sitting on the table next to his fist, he was also quite drunk. He looked a bit out of place, dressed in a lengthy white labcoat over a blue, slightly thick skin-suit, more insulated than armored. The skinsuit was covered with white drawings, like blue-prints, and the skinsuit covered his whole body with the exclusion of a visor-slit on his face. Both of the sleeves of his coat had bracers over them, which had indentations down the wrists like measuring sticks. Sure enough, he had a briefcase next to his foot beneath the table, which he was clearly paying close attention to. Even without seeing his eyes, it was evident that his head was turning down to look at it occasionally.
All of the other navis at the table were heelnavis, save one dressed in a long, green dress, well-fit and with one slit up the leg. She had blond hair in a long ponytail and had pretty, blue-black eyes, although her expression was more irritated than pretty at the moment. A pair of less fashionable, black-framed glasses was on the table where her chips ought to be. The dealer (or spinner in this case) was a man with black hair, gelled and spiked up at the front, wearing an amiable grin and a black, three-piece suit. He seemed sympathetic to the lady and was discussing something quietly with her while DesignMan spoke loudly to the table.
"I'm not leaving this table until you all are educated. Four heelnavis, one lady, one luckless dealer: conclusion, a luckless bust. Study how I do it... study how I do this next one," he murmured drunkenly, wagging his finger at the woman to his right haphazardly. "Chips, 3 piles, ten chips each, value one-hundred zenny a chip... conclusion: three-thousand zenny. I will wager three-thousand zenny all on number 20 for this next spin."
"Hey, I don't mean to cut you off, sir," the dealer sighed, still smiling but rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, "but the house is broke! You're gonna have to find another table while we get restocked... and examine this darn roulette for some sign of tampering. No offense, but you're on quite a roll, buddy."
"Sweating palms, obsequious behavior. Conclusion: a loser, plain and simple. I want to show you a better class of gambling. It's all about smarts. You all can be just as intelligent as me, if you want to be. I'm an inventor, but also a master of the inventions of others... their base creations are easy to manipulate. Like your simple roulette wheel. Not manipulated, in this case, merely understood," the other man lectured, before taking another draw of his drink. "We're going to continue this, money or no money, until you all understand. However, a game needs stakes. What will you wager?" He took a look to the woman on his right, seeming to stare a little further down than was kosher.
"I'm not doing that, " the woman answered plainly, crossing her arms. "My name's 'Philanthropist,' but there are limits."
"Aw, c'mon, Philly... If we're trapped here at the table, might as well have fun," the dealer winked, but she rolled her eyes, not seeming receptive of the joke.
The good news was, DesignMan wasn't ostensibly going anywhere, so Asymptote had plenty of time to devise what to do. The bad news was, he apparently wasn't going anywhere else until either his teachings were received and understood or presumably something else became more important to him.
At least Asymptote had one person who wouldn't judge him on how he looked... even if that was only because she was judging his old self instead. She seemed somewhat cross when the big navi stopped her from pointing her sword, but also as though she was used to others telling her not to do it. Her face settled into a grumpy frown while her tail writhed behind her. "We're both strong. We don't need to blend in," she complained, but Asymptote (and perhaps she as well) knew that was false. She relinquished her sword and let it vanish again; it would reappear when it was needed, presumably. "I will hit him so hard he can't regenerate or escape. That's the simplest way. If PantheonMan gets mad,, I'll try to kill him again." That didn't sound particularly confident, despite her obstinate attitude. "Fine. I'll trust you. As long as I get to fight eventually."
With suspicions off of them for now (the floor security seemed to find Spartoi less threatening after they'd seen Asymptote pick her up like a cat), the two navis made their way toward the table where DesignMan was gambling. Judging by the size of the chip piles at his table, which was quite large compared to the others at the table, he was doing quite well. Also, judging by the 3/4 empty, over-sized mug of golden liquid sitting on the table next to his fist, he was also quite drunk. He looked a bit out of place, dressed in a lengthy white labcoat over a blue, slightly thick skin-suit, more insulated than armored. The skinsuit was covered with white drawings, like blue-prints, and the skinsuit covered his whole body with the exclusion of a visor-slit on his face. Both of the sleeves of his coat had bracers over them, which had indentations down the wrists like measuring sticks. Sure enough, he had a briefcase next to his foot beneath the table, which he was clearly paying close attention to. Even without seeing his eyes, it was evident that his head was turning down to look at it occasionally.
All of the other navis at the table were heelnavis, save one dressed in a long, green dress, well-fit and with one slit up the leg. She had blond hair in a long ponytail and had pretty, blue-black eyes, although her expression was more irritated than pretty at the moment. A pair of less fashionable, black-framed glasses was on the table where her chips ought to be. The dealer (or spinner in this case) was a man with black hair, gelled and spiked up at the front, wearing an amiable grin and a black, three-piece suit. He seemed sympathetic to the lady and was discussing something quietly with her while DesignMan spoke loudly to the table.
"I'm not leaving this table until you all are educated. Four heelnavis, one lady, one luckless dealer: conclusion, a luckless bust. Study how I do it... study how I do this next one," he murmured drunkenly, wagging his finger at the woman to his right haphazardly. "Chips, 3 piles, ten chips each, value one-hundred zenny a chip... conclusion: three-thousand zenny. I will wager three-thousand zenny all on number 20 for this next spin."
"Hey, I don't mean to cut you off, sir," the dealer sighed, still smiling but rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, "but the house is broke! You're gonna have to find another table while we get restocked... and examine this darn roulette for some sign of tampering. No offense, but you're on quite a roll, buddy."
"Sweating palms, obsequious behavior. Conclusion: a loser, plain and simple. I want to show you a better class of gambling. It's all about smarts. You all can be just as intelligent as me, if you want to be. I'm an inventor, but also a master of the inventions of others... their base creations are easy to manipulate. Like your simple roulette wheel. Not manipulated, in this case, merely understood," the other man lectured, before taking another draw of his drink. "We're going to continue this, money or no money, until you all understand. However, a game needs stakes. What will you wager?" He took a look to the woman on his right, seeming to stare a little further down than was kosher.
"I'm not doing that, " the woman answered plainly, crossing her arms. "My name's 'Philanthropist,' but there are limits."
"Aw, c'mon, Philly... If we're trapped here at the table, might as well have fun," the dealer winked, but she rolled her eyes, not seeming receptive of the joke.
The good news was, DesignMan wasn't ostensibly going anywhere, so Asymptote had plenty of time to devise what to do. The bad news was, he apparently wasn't going anywhere else until either his teachings were received and understood or presumably something else became more important to him.
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Asymptote listened to her speak, letting out a sigh as she judged his old self, about going back, all that she had to make her piece with, as he held onto her like a kitten, he'd have cracked a grin at her as she complained about how they "didn't need to blend in" or how strong the both of them were. Not as strong as I look, Spartoi. I was level zero a few hours previous if we go by how navis are gauged by strength. Last I checked, I'm -maybe- level three, after my netop bought some cheap chips and an HP upgrade, however smartly he did it, I'm still amazed. I'm still nowhere near as strong as you. he'd explain to her. PantheonMan probably saw that, reason why you're with me, instead of me going in it alone. You're stronger than me, but I'm also here to teach as well. That's what I was good at back before this. he'd continue, eyes drifting to where DesignMan was at, he was completely sloshed and drunk, huge pile of chips up on the table and going on and on about how much "better" he was...Asymptote smacked down kids navis when they got complacent, but...maybe he could use that to his advantage.
Mmmm. Think I can see him, over there. He'd say, turning Spartoi towards where DesignMan was at. He had a partner it seemed, not that Asymptote could catch her name from this distance. He'd gently put Spartoi back onto his shoulders as he began to think about how to go about this, gently patting her head again. Seems he might have a "partner" as well. That's the thing with this sort of thing Spartoi, you gotta work together and be willing to make concessions. And take advantage of your opponents weaknesses. Seems DesignMan has gotten himself drunk. He's not acting normal, and he'd be an easy target. But, with all those other navis around him, we'd get security on our asses quickly if we tried to take him out here. Lets go "Introduce" ourselves Spartoi and maybe we can go from there, hopefully he's not a violent drunk. He'd continue, before starting to slowly make his way towards the table DesignMan and this "Philanthropist" were at. Maybe he could gleem more from the situation up close before things got bad.
Mmmm. Think I can see him, over there. He'd say, turning Spartoi towards where DesignMan was at. He had a partner it seemed, not that Asymptote could catch her name from this distance. He'd gently put Spartoi back onto his shoulders as he began to think about how to go about this, gently patting her head again. Seems he might have a "partner" as well. That's the thing with this sort of thing Spartoi, you gotta work together and be willing to make concessions. And take advantage of your opponents weaknesses. Seems DesignMan has gotten himself drunk. He's not acting normal, and he'd be an easy target. But, with all those other navis around him, we'd get security on our asses quickly if we tried to take him out here. Lets go "Introduce" ourselves Spartoi and maybe we can go from there, hopefully he's not a violent drunk. He'd continue, before starting to slowly make his way towards the table DesignMan and this "Philanthropist" were at. Maybe he could gleem more from the situation up close before things got bad.
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"Hm. I guess maybe you are weaker than you look," Spartoi agreed with unintended harshness. "But your unique code is a strength, as it makes you invulnerable to DesignMan's weapon, like me. That is a strength, one that a NormalNavi does not have." She didn't dispute the observation that she was probably stronger.
Spartoi accepted the place on Asymptote's shoulders and even the pat, either being okay with it or otherwise not knowing that it was a pet gesture. "Hm... I get the part about taking advantage of the opponent's weakness. I don't get the part about making concessions though. You'll have to explain that," she murmured. "He's drunk? That's foolish of him. He's surrounded by enemies... he must know that. It sounds like he's very stupid. Doctor Tyche made me, not him, so he could be very stupid indeed."
For now, all Asymptote and Spartoi did was approach, to watch the events unfold more closely. "Fine... I guess it's not like this isn't sort of part of my job description. I might as well have a chance to win the lottery too. I'll wager these glasses, then," Philanthropist sighed, pushing the rims forward on the table. "That it won't come up 21."
"You don't need those to see?" the dealer asked, looking surprised.
"Why would I?" the woman answered, looking slightly impatient.
"This modest gamble... Conclusion: you're terrified of my genius. Reasonable, for you know you will lose. The only correct gamble is to place your bet on the same number that I do," DesignMan scolded her, shaking his head. The dealer began the roulette wheel spinning, while they all watched, not with anxiousness, but with hope that perhaps DesignMan would finally be proven wrong. No such luck: the ball planted itself firmly within 21. "Ha. I'll take them," the faceless man chuckled, grabbing the glasses and putting them with his chips. "Once you're out of items to bet, if you still haven't figured it out by now, I'll tell you the secret. And then you'll recognize how stupid you all truly are."
Achilles rolled his eyes, then focused on Asymptote, who he noticed was watching. "Hey, you! You look like you've got something on your mind. What's up, you wanna try taking this guy on? This table's uh... kinda screwed, we could use some fresh eyes. The guy seems like he'll take anything for a bet too, not just money. You could make a lot on a little," he smiled encouragingly.
"I'll take bets from the girl. Of the same kind. I'm not interested in anything he has," DesignMan murmured, before opening a wide, horizontal slit at the mouth of his suit. He drank deeply from the mug, then plopped it back down onto the table.
Spartoi accepted the place on Asymptote's shoulders and even the pat, either being okay with it or otherwise not knowing that it was a pet gesture. "Hm... I get the part about taking advantage of the opponent's weakness. I don't get the part about making concessions though. You'll have to explain that," she murmured. "He's drunk? That's foolish of him. He's surrounded by enemies... he must know that. It sounds like he's very stupid. Doctor Tyche made me, not him, so he could be very stupid indeed."
For now, all Asymptote and Spartoi did was approach, to watch the events unfold more closely. "Fine... I guess it's not like this isn't sort of part of my job description. I might as well have a chance to win the lottery too. I'll wager these glasses, then," Philanthropist sighed, pushing the rims forward on the table. "That it won't come up 21."
"You don't need those to see?" the dealer asked, looking surprised.
"Why would I?" the woman answered, looking slightly impatient.
"This modest gamble... Conclusion: you're terrified of my genius. Reasonable, for you know you will lose. The only correct gamble is to place your bet on the same number that I do," DesignMan scolded her, shaking his head. The dealer began the roulette wheel spinning, while they all watched, not with anxiousness, but with hope that perhaps DesignMan would finally be proven wrong. No such luck: the ball planted itself firmly within 21. "Ha. I'll take them," the faceless man chuckled, grabbing the glasses and putting them with his chips. "Once you're out of items to bet, if you still haven't figured it out by now, I'll tell you the secret. And then you'll recognize how stupid you all truly are."
Achilles rolled his eyes, then focused on Asymptote, who he noticed was watching. "Hey, you! You look like you've got something on your mind. What's up, you wanna try taking this guy on? This table's uh... kinda screwed, we could use some fresh eyes. The guy seems like he'll take anything for a bet too, not just money. You could make a lot on a little," he smiled encouragingly.
"I'll take bets from the girl. Of the same kind. I'm not interested in anything he has," DesignMan murmured, before opening a wide, horizontal slit at the mouth of his suit. He drank deeply from the mug, then plopped it back down onto the table.
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Asymptote would watch on as things go on at the table from a distance as he closed in on it, one step at a time, letting out a little sigh as she asked about what he meant about making "concessions". Think about it this way, if you and your partner have two different plans about going about the same thing, and you both think you are right, you make a "concession" about something, one way or another, through non-violent means. Such as you want to go left down a path that you find goes two or more ways, and your partner wants to go down the path you didn't choose. You two then talk with each other, and make peaceful conversation over how you two wish to go about things, or make a point about how you think to do things. He would explain, he wasn't exactly "sure" how explain it to her, but he wasn't about to let the question go unanswered.
He'd then get near the table, watching as their target was cleaning up his opponent's wallets and whatever else they were looking to bet against him, always finding himself winning without a second thought. Interesting how things were being setup, but...there was something...unsettling about how much he had kept winning. He wasn't privy to this sort of thing...but there was likely a cheating mechanism going on. Then as he was spotted and urged to make a bet against Designman, then he opened his mouth, only wanting Spartoi to bet.
Hmmm? You think I'd let her bet? Sorry, but, from an outsider's point of view...there has to be some way, some how, you're cheating. I don't normally make these sorts of accusations lightly...but...you keep winning, and winning...either they're in on this, or you yourself are alone. You act all high and mighty, sir, but are you that scared of me that you can't get your balls out of your purse and bet against me, man to man?
He'd then get near the table, watching as their target was cleaning up his opponent's wallets and whatever else they were looking to bet against him, always finding himself winning without a second thought. Interesting how things were being setup, but...there was something...unsettling about how much he had kept winning. He wasn't privy to this sort of thing...but there was likely a cheating mechanism going on. Then as he was spotted and urged to make a bet against Designman, then he opened his mouth, only wanting Spartoi to bet.
Hmmm? You think I'd let her bet? Sorry, but, from an outsider's point of view...there has to be some way, some how, you're cheating. I don't normally make these sorts of accusations lightly...but...you keep winning, and winning...either they're in on this, or you yourself are alone. You act all high and mighty, sir, but are you that scared of me that you can't get your balls out of your purse and bet against me, man to man?
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Spartoi knit her brow for a moment, thinking hard about the idea of concessions. "I think I understand. To be victorious, though, we should make as few concessions as possible. Too many concessions sounds like it would equate to losing... Any Spartoi that 'loses' must be reborn, to feed the next generation of Spartoi. I would hope that any concessions I make lead to a victory," she complained. It was a little petty, but it sounded like there was a lot riding on her individual success as well.
DesignMan watched, perhaps with curiosity, or perhaps with indifference, keeping still as Asymptote lay down the challenge. "Cheating? It is not cheating. It is simply being well informed. I'm not going to play a game I won't win. Only a fool would," he replied dryly, his actual expression unreadable. "Conclusion: the giant talks big, but he's no smarter than the rest. You'll learn what they already know: that betting on any number other than the same one I've bet upon is equivalent to instant failure. You have nothing that I want, but I'll play against you if you are really that desperate. I'll keep it simple. If you lose, you have to leave the table. If you win... hm... name your price. It does not really matter. And remember: you are picking the entirety of the wheel, with only the exception of the one spot I call. Which is the slot numbered 3. The girl is free to bet again once you've lost, of course."
The small girl crossed her arms at her not so small chest, looking perplexed. This clearly wasn't the area of her expertise. Philanthropist spoke up, pointing below the table. "Show your hands, jerk," she demanded, glaring at DesignMan irritably. "I want to make sure you're not manipulating it in some kind of way."
"Please..." DesignMan sighed, revealing both of his hands, then placing them onto the table. "Will you accept my terms?" he asked Asymptote again.
"Not so fast! I'm going to add more terms," the dealer announced, pointing forward dramatically. "If you can figure out how he's cheating, he also loses, and he has to return all of his money to the house."
"Ridiculous. But acceptable. I won't lose," DesignMan grimaced (or his voice did, anyway), before taking another draw of his drink. It seemed, however, that the two goals were one in the same. Given how much he'd already won, it was hard to thing his winning streak would just end. Asymptote would have to figure out something or stall until the secret revealed itself... and Spartoi wasn't going to be much help. She was now ponderously inspecting the roulette wheel, not knowing what it was for, let alone how it could be rigged.
He would also find he'd gotten a new message:
DesignMan watched, perhaps with curiosity, or perhaps with indifference, keeping still as Asymptote lay down the challenge. "Cheating? It is not cheating. It is simply being well informed. I'm not going to play a game I won't win. Only a fool would," he replied dryly, his actual expression unreadable. "Conclusion: the giant talks big, but he's no smarter than the rest. You'll learn what they already know: that betting on any number other than the same one I've bet upon is equivalent to instant failure. You have nothing that I want, but I'll play against you if you are really that desperate. I'll keep it simple. If you lose, you have to leave the table. If you win... hm... name your price. It does not really matter. And remember: you are picking the entirety of the wheel, with only the exception of the one spot I call. Which is the slot numbered 3. The girl is free to bet again once you've lost, of course."
The small girl crossed her arms at her not so small chest, looking perplexed. This clearly wasn't the area of her expertise. Philanthropist spoke up, pointing below the table. "Show your hands, jerk," she demanded, glaring at DesignMan irritably. "I want to make sure you're not manipulating it in some kind of way."
"Please..." DesignMan sighed, revealing both of his hands, then placing them onto the table. "Will you accept my terms?" he asked Asymptote again.
"Not so fast! I'm going to add more terms," the dealer announced, pointing forward dramatically. "If you can figure out how he's cheating, he also loses, and he has to return all of his money to the house."
"Ridiculous. But acceptable. I won't lose," DesignMan grimaced (or his voice did, anyway), before taking another draw of his drink. It seemed, however, that the two goals were one in the same. Given how much he'd already won, it was hard to thing his winning streak would just end. Asymptote would have to figure out something or stall until the secret revealed itself... and Spartoi wasn't going to be much help. She was now ponderously inspecting the roulette wheel, not knowing what it was for, let alone how it could be rigged.
He would also find he'd gotten a new message:
Quote (PantheonMan)
How are things going, Asymptote? Are you and Spartoi hitting it off? Or are you already plotting the best way to cap off this operation? Remember that I'm here to advise you if you need any help... as are the rest of those would-be Brutuses, if you need them for some reason.
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As he explained himself and about being "Well Informed", Asymptote couldn't help but note his poker face. The fact he had none and was completely unreadable was something he couldn't help but try to read him as best he could. But his transition from mathematician to brute was not one without downsides, such as a decreased intellect and, more so, a more increased wish to slaughter anything that got in his way as he had been feeling the past couple days. Equations slowly fading from memory to only be replaced by thoughts of murder or worse. He wasn't the right man for this job, but he would at least see the mission through to the end, good or bad.
But before Asymptote could speak about DesignMan's terms, he could hear a little "ding" in the back of his head another PM hitting him as he thought about how best to go about this. Mmmm...sorry about that, got a PM, need to take it. He said simply, turning around for a moment and taking a few steps away from the table, opening it up. It was from PantheonMan, offering up help if he needed it. Asymptote would quickly fire back a PM to PantheonMan
But before Asymptote could speak about DesignMan's terms, he could hear a little "ding" in the back of his head another PM hitting him as he thought about how best to go about this. Mmmm...sorry about that, got a PM, need to take it. He said simply, turning around for a moment and taking a few steps away from the table, opening it up. It was from PantheonMan, offering up help if he needed it. Asymptote would quickly fire back a PM to PantheonMan
Quote (Asymptote)
We are, I just taught her about making compromises. I have found DesignMan, he's cleaning up at a roulette table and I just know he's cheating somehow. Whenever he calls a number, he wins when the roulette stops. Did he design any of the game tables that are used at the casino? That might explain his winning streak. Otherwise, I have a deal on the table. I beat him on a roll or figure out how he keeps winning, he'll forfeit his winnings and I can then get him to come with me as my "winnings". Otherwise, he'll refuse to take any more challenges from me and I'll have to make Spartoi make bets.
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The answer came back from PantheonMan came back quickly enough, although DesignMan was already tapping the side of his hand up and down against the table impatiently.
"The long pause, the silence... Conclusion: You're the one who I'd be investigating for cheating. On the other hand, perhaps you're just desperate. Phoning a friend? Odds are... they're a moron, just like you," DesignMan responded pointedly, wagging one finger in Asymptote's direction. "My methods aren't those of normal gamblers. I don't gamble: I win."
Spartoi glowered across the table, then looked back at Asymptote. "We must not lose, Ass-sip-tote. Spartoi do not lose. We conquer," she insisted, grabbing hold of his arm with one clawed hand. "I won't 'compromise' on that." Her face softened slightly, into a dull frown. "... But how do we win? I don't know any training that makes me better at this game, and I have no time to absorb the training regardless. Perhaps future generations of Spartoi can be trained to win roulette, but it could take generations!"
Quote (PantheonMan)
Compromises, eh? I've certainly never thought of that before.
DesignMan is playing roulette? What a ludicrous concept... he knows what's going to happen to him if he crosses paths with me and here he is brazenly drawing attention to himself with such obvious cheating. He absolutely designed the games here at the casino, though it was before the casino itself was event put up. I would honestly be surprised if he hadn't built in some mechanism for calling the results, but I doubt it will be anything you see on him. Call him out on it and end that sad charade, but be sure you know how to get him into a good spot for deletion rather than send him home packing. I'll leave that up to you.
Don't worry about the dealer believing you... all he needs is an excuse to throw the bum off the table. But do keep an eye on that gun. I don't think DesignMan would have come back just to try to line his pockets, that would simply be asinine... but he could still react somewhat violently when you upset him. You talked about compromise earlier... maybe find a way to soften the blow a bit.
"The long pause, the silence... Conclusion: You're the one who I'd be investigating for cheating. On the other hand, perhaps you're just desperate. Phoning a friend? Odds are... they're a moron, just like you," DesignMan responded pointedly, wagging one finger in Asymptote's direction. "My methods aren't those of normal gamblers. I don't gamble: I win."
Spartoi glowered across the table, then looked back at Asymptote. "We must not lose, Ass-sip-tote. Spartoi do not lose. We conquer," she insisted, grabbing hold of his arm with one clawed hand. "I won't 'compromise' on that." Her face softened slightly, into a dull frown. "... But how do we win? I don't know any training that makes me better at this game, and I have no time to absorb the training regardless. Perhaps future generations of Spartoi can be trained to win roulette, but it could take generations!"
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Asymptote would quickly read over PantheonMan's PM and would give himself a chuckle as he read over it. Seems even PantheonMan hadn't thought of compromise before. But then towards the end, he thought he could make a compromise with DesignMan here. The guy was piss drunk already, but...maybe he could use that to his advantage. He would send a simple PM to Spartoi a moment after her words.
He would then turn back around towards the table, flashing what could only be a grin under his metal mask of a face. Walking back and letting out a sigh. Sorry, but...the only one I could consider an idiot is you. Asymptote would shoot back at his earlier comment. I might have been mistaken. He said with a simple shrug of his shoulders, acting indignant against his earlier words. There's certainly no way a moron like you could -possibly- be cheating. The guy who helped design this casino was far too brilliant. If I'm right, the roulettes run on a simple Random Number Generator. Obviously far too complex for you. He dismissed DesignMan with a wag of his finger. I mean, even if you could crack something as complex as a simple RNG, you couldn't go through all that code yourself. You obviously have someone helping you, phoning in what the roulette number would be so you can make the bet for them. It wouldn't be that hard to put in a simple program to watch over that before every spin.
Quote (Asymptote)
Hey Spartoi, I'm about to do something that might get violent. Be on your guard. This is something I like to call "Pushing Buttons". It's a technique where you lean on your opponent's weaknesses. DesignMan is drunk, so he is likely to be more prone to acting out violently if we "push his buttons" so to speak. Being around him, I think he has a bit of a "complex" so to speak, and I don't think he'll react to being talked down to and insulted. I'm going to try it and see if the dealer will kick him off the table. If not, we'll have to figure out something else. We just have to avoid getting violent ourselves if we can help it. If we can, I want to lure him down to either Purgatory or Hell. If things go bad, we will have to retreat to Hell and fight him down there and things will get messy. But I have confidence that if it comes down to it, you can take him out. And I promise I'll be there to support you the entire time.
He would then turn back around towards the table, flashing what could only be a grin under his metal mask of a face. Walking back and letting out a sigh. Sorry, but...the only one I could consider an idiot is you. Asymptote would shoot back at his earlier comment. I might have been mistaken. He said with a simple shrug of his shoulders, acting indignant against his earlier words. There's certainly no way a moron like you could -possibly- be cheating. The guy who helped design this casino was far too brilliant. If I'm right, the roulettes run on a simple Random Number Generator. Obviously far too complex for you. He dismissed DesignMan with a wag of his finger. I mean, even if you could crack something as complex as a simple RNG, you couldn't go through all that code yourself. You obviously have someone helping you, phoning in what the roulette number would be so you can make the bet for them. It wouldn't be that hard to put in a simple program to watch over that before every spin.
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"Chuckling, silence... Conclusion: you're quite an odd person," DesignMan muttered, watching Asymptote with a mixture of suspicion and drunken lack of clarity. Spartoi perked up as she realized she'd received a message.
DesignMan's expressionless face kept locked on Asymptote's equally difficult to read one, while he leaned on his arms, which he'd drunkenly crossed over the table to support himself. "Ha. As if there are any true random number generators. To assume such a thing exists is to assume that someone has a motivation for creating a system that no one can exploit, including themselves. Conclusion: you don't know what the hell you're talking about," he complained, either not realizing or not caring that such a statement seemed to incriminate himself. "Please. That is the most pedestrian form of cheating one can even imagine. Do you honestly think they wouldn't catch that at this casino? Listen to me: if someone is raking it in, it's because they are truly ingenious or because the house wants them to win. The house does not want me to win. Therefore, conclusion: I am truly ingenious." He looked to Spartoi for a moment, who seemed to be bristling at his more violent tone, then back to Asymptote. "What is it you really want to say? I'm done playing around. Unless you actually want to play, that is. Place your bet or tell me what's on your... mind, as it were."
Philanthropist took her glasses back anyway, to which DesignMan did not apparently object, and looked at Asymptote as if seeing him for the first time, clearly just as curious as to his intention.
The dealer, on the other hand, continued to watch him hopefully, obviously wanting back everything that had been taken from the house. His interest was only on the surface-level monetary winnings of the match. "Look, it sounds to me... like what the man is trying to say is that you're cheating. And if you're cheating, you must return your winnings. Matter of fact... why don't we just say you're done playing at my table," he suggested, reaching across to grab the tokens.
DesignMan scoffed, rolled his head, then looked into the dealer's eyes. "You are really going to take my winnings? Just like that? The burden of proof must be upon someone, mustn't it?" he questioned, looking to the side. Philanthropist looked away, obviously not wanting to agree with him. "Come now. If you're trying to imply that I have someone phoning me the answers, then who? If you're saying I had a hand in designing the machine, well... who would support that claim?"
Spartoi frowned, then sent Asymptote another message.
Quote (Spartoi)
We Spartoi have no buttons to push. Or what few we do will be rendered malfunctioning in time. As for DesignMan, I will kill him whenever you are ready. I know we have to get him into the right place first, of course. If it comes down to it I'll drag him down there and push the blade through. This mission is so simple that I don't understand PantheonMan's concern over it.
DesignMan's expressionless face kept locked on Asymptote's equally difficult to read one, while he leaned on his arms, which he'd drunkenly crossed over the table to support himself. "Ha. As if there are any true random number generators. To assume such a thing exists is to assume that someone has a motivation for creating a system that no one can exploit, including themselves. Conclusion: you don't know what the hell you're talking about," he complained, either not realizing or not caring that such a statement seemed to incriminate himself. "Please. That is the most pedestrian form of cheating one can even imagine. Do you honestly think they wouldn't catch that at this casino? Listen to me: if someone is raking it in, it's because they are truly ingenious or because the house wants them to win. The house does not want me to win. Therefore, conclusion: I am truly ingenious." He looked to Spartoi for a moment, who seemed to be bristling at his more violent tone, then back to Asymptote. "What is it you really want to say? I'm done playing around. Unless you actually want to play, that is. Place your bet or tell me what's on your... mind, as it were."
Philanthropist took her glasses back anyway, to which DesignMan did not apparently object, and looked at Asymptote as if seeing him for the first time, clearly just as curious as to his intention.
The dealer, on the other hand, continued to watch him hopefully, obviously wanting back everything that had been taken from the house. His interest was only on the surface-level monetary winnings of the match. "Look, it sounds to me... like what the man is trying to say is that you're cheating. And if you're cheating, you must return your winnings. Matter of fact... why don't we just say you're done playing at my table," he suggested, reaching across to grab the tokens.
DesignMan scoffed, rolled his head, then looked into the dealer's eyes. "You are really going to take my winnings? Just like that? The burden of proof must be upon someone, mustn't it?" he questioned, looking to the side. Philanthropist looked away, obviously not wanting to agree with him. "Come now. If you're trying to imply that I have someone phoning me the answers, then who? If you're saying I had a hand in designing the machine, well... who would support that claim?"
Spartoi frowned, then sent Asymptote another message.
Quote (Spartoi)
"The dealer is a weakling. We should demand that DesignMan leaves the table but gets to keep his money. The only one that loses is the dealer. Then we take him to Purgatory or Hell, wherever. Those are the easiest buttons to push.
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Asymptote let out a sigh as he closed his eyes, before opening them half-lidded. The navi turned brute would watch things happen as he tried to press the buttons on DesignMan, though it seemed that it didn't work out as well as he had thought. A fight would likely break out if he didn't stop it, as much as he wanted to let things play out. Asymptote would reach out towards the chips and put a hand on top of them as the dealer would try to pull them back. Alright...I'll admit, I might be wrong on him cheating. He started, looking around the table as he would keep a light touch on the chips, making sure to not topple the various stacks of coins.
How about this. Lets compromise on things. He keeps -half- the chips in the pile. But I want to talk with him. He'll walk away with half the chips, minus a fair tip for our dealer here. He can redistribute the chips as he sees fit. But. I'd like you to follow me and my partner here somewhere we can have a small talk. He breathed, closing his eyes as he sent another PM towards his partner. He hated to swing so far back and forth like this, but unfortunately, it was a necessary evil to complete the mission...and a good lesson to remain flexible.
How about this. Lets compromise on things. He keeps -half- the chips in the pile. But I want to talk with him. He'll walk away with half the chips, minus a fair tip for our dealer here. He can redistribute the chips as he sees fit. But. I'd like you to follow me and my partner here somewhere we can have a small talk. He breathed, closing his eyes as he sent another PM towards his partner. He hated to swing so far back and forth like this, but unfortunately, it was a necessary evil to complete the mission...and a good lesson to remain flexible.
Quote (Asymptote)
I want you to walk in front of him, lead him towards Hell and I'll walk right behind him as he follows if he takes the bait. Try to find an open area to try and get room to kill him in.
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While Spartoi nodded along with Asymptote's propositions, the others didn't look particularly pleased by it (though it was hard to tell in DesignMan's case, his face not being particularly expressive). The dealer lowered his eyebrows and slumped his shoulders. "Uuuh... Now listen, ol' Achilles is used to being unlucky, but you realize that half of this guy's money is still a ton of money, don't you?" he pointed out.
For his part, DesignMan had the opposite reaction. "You concede that I'm not cheating but you still insist I return half the winnings? Conclusion: you're a confused individual," the labcoat-clad navi sighed, not looking particularly spurred to leave the table. "And where should I follow you?" he asked, still not getting up from the table.
Spartoi watched him with a smoldering glare. "Follow me and I'll show you," she responded, keeping her voice as calm as she could manage. She was clearly becoming impatient herself.
"Ha! Why should I? I'm not interested in discussing anything... If you really want me to follow me, then the two of you should be offering me something, not suggesting that I arbitrarily surrender what I already have." He rested his chin on his fist, then held out his hand. "Like, for instance paying my way into Purgatory or Heaven? They're nice places. They help me think." Somehow, his masked face seemed to be sneering, as though he'd suddenly grown in contempt for Asymptote and was appreciating toying with him. Was there something important in his words? Or was this a good chance to bait him?
Philanthropy sighed and adjusted her glasses. "I wouldn't be true to my name if I let you two pawn this joker off on one of the other Purgatory girls. If you go that way, take him to my room and I'll handle him."
For his part, DesignMan had the opposite reaction. "You concede that I'm not cheating but you still insist I return half the winnings? Conclusion: you're a confused individual," the labcoat-clad navi sighed, not looking particularly spurred to leave the table. "And where should I follow you?" he asked, still not getting up from the table.
Spartoi watched him with a smoldering glare. "Follow me and I'll show you," she responded, keeping her voice as calm as she could manage. She was clearly becoming impatient herself.
"Ha! Why should I? I'm not interested in discussing anything... If you really want me to follow me, then the two of you should be offering me something, not suggesting that I arbitrarily surrender what I already have." He rested his chin on his fist, then held out his hand. "Like, for instance paying my way into Purgatory or Heaven? They're nice places. They help me think." Somehow, his masked face seemed to be sneering, as though he'd suddenly grown in contempt for Asymptote and was appreciating toying with him. Was there something important in his words? Or was this a good chance to bait him?
Philanthropy sighed and adjusted her glasses. "I wouldn't be true to my name if I let you two pawn this joker off on one of the other Purgatory girls. If you go that way, take him to my room and I'll handle him."
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Asymptote grumbled under his breath at this point, he was clearly getting agitated by the navi in front of him, hand slapping onto the counter firmly enough to rattle it. Alright. Maybe I have been a little confused...I wasn't always like this in the slightest. The testosterone -really- hampers with my thought processes, so it's inevitable some wires would get crossed. He conceded to DesignMan, chips falling down into an incomprehensible pile. But then he'd look towards Philanthropy, raising what could only be an eyebrow at the woman, tilting his head. Was rather thinking about having my partner here deal with that sort of thing, honestly. He said simply to her. Though I do appreciate the offer, I'd have to be there in the room with him, make of that as you will. I have a room that we're renting, and I'd rather not leave him to his own devices if we go down there. He lied, doing his best to keep a sufficient poker face, looking down towards Spartoi, then back to DesignMan. If we take you down to Purgatory, will you come then? He asked, before sending another PM towards PantheonMan, something he didn't exactly relish, but...if it got the mission finished...
Quote (Asymptote)
Hey, Asymptote again. Quick questions: Got any free rooms down in purgatory right now? Asshat over here is asking for one and I'm not sure if I could force him down to Hell without him jacking out before hand. I need one here soon, I'll even give up the "Extra" reward if that's what it takes to get a quick room to kill the bastard in.