[ti]Ep 3[/ti]"One Black Sheep"
Jan 21, 2021 16:57:12 GMT -5
Post by Feldspar on Jan 21, 2021 16:57:12 GMT -5
Week 3, Day 2 - a little bit after noon!
Nathan and Dart (with a little NPC fun thrown in for spice XD)
It was a stormy, cold afternoon in Seattle.
At least the inside of Nathan's rented Charger was warm and dry. It was a decent car, and Fowler seemed to have known the sort of vehicle he'd want to drive if it wasn't his truck. The blue Dodge had lot of get up and go under the hood, but it wasn't super flashy or obvious. It handled nicely, had an excellent radio, and moved smoothly through the traffic.
When he'd been called into Fowler's office a few days ago, he'd been asked if he'd be willing to go meet a military liaison up here in Seattle. Apparently they had some information about MECH that they wanted to pass on to Fowler, but unfortunately, he himself been assigned to talk to someone back in Nevada during that time. So he needed someone he trusted with the whole Alien Robot thing to head out here and see if the information was not only viable, but something they needed to act on immediately.
Had to be in person, though, for the meeting. That request didn't seem to surprise Fowler at all.
These folks are little different, he'd warned Nathan. Always thinking some super secret organization is listening in, I guess, who knows. Oh, they're good people, through and through. Best of the best! Not when dealing with Cybertronians, that's us, we've got that hands down. These guys deal with of weird things though. And if I think it's weird..."
He'd thumped his desk with his hand and sat back in his chair, but in the course of conversation never explained exactly what he thought was weird.
He did go on about his new backyard barbeque. Apparently it grilled a mean steak.
The trip had been mellow at least. Nothing out of the ordinary. He was able to catch a lift on a military plane into McChord in Tacoma. Sure, there was a little turbulence when leaving Vegas, but that was pretty much a given. He'd been dropped at his rental car with no issue, and gotten onto I5 as easy as could be.
His instructions were fairly simple. Meet down at the Seattle waterfront, in front of a place there called the Ye Old Curiosity shop.
Fowler had sent him a text that said, they're with a really big dog. Apparently you can't miss them. Didn't give their name. So hey, I didn't give yours either. Figured you and him could work it out on how you want to introduce yourselves and leave it at that.
Hopefully they weren't having a Waterfront Park big dog brigade outing today. How many really big dogs were in Seattle, anyway?
Finding a place to park down by the waterfront had been a bit tight, but doable. The traffic was busy, the sounds of construction everywhere. He would be able to see the harbor in the distance, hazed by the rain. The gusts of wind were tossing the waves about, frothing them up into restless whitecaps. A tour boat lumbered by, bobbing up and down on the harbor. A few tourists stood on the deck, braving the weather, but most were huddled up behind the glass in various stages of hunched under the overhead heaters. Or they just didn't want to stand up; the water was rough and more than a few people were regretting this three hour tour.
Dramamine was your friend at times like that. So much Dramamine.
The front of the building that he was supposed to meet this person was bold and obvious. Gold lettering scrawled across the front, and the facade was blue and grey and framed with a series of tall, colorful totem poles.
Oh... and there was also a dog.
A massive red and black German Shepherd. It was wearing a bright neon orange mesh vest with several patches sewn on it, including an obvious red and white medical cross. The huge animal was sitting patently on a loose lead, watching the people walking around them as it waited.
The owner seemed to be a slim woman.
True to Seattle logic, she carried no umbrella in this weather. Instead, she was tucked into a grey sweatshirt that was way, way too big. A corner of her army-green overshirt poked out from the edge, folded over the pocket of her jeans. The sleeves were bunched up and crinkled around her wrists, and her hood was casually plunked over her head, even though they were standing under the overhang of the building.
She was looking down at her phone and tapping casually on the screen, making it hard to see her face. Once in a while, she'd appear to glance up and then go back to tapping.
Nathan and Dart (with a little NPC fun thrown in for spice XD)
It was a stormy, cold afternoon in Seattle.
At least the inside of Nathan's rented Charger was warm and dry. It was a decent car, and Fowler seemed to have known the sort of vehicle he'd want to drive if it wasn't his truck. The blue Dodge had lot of get up and go under the hood, but it wasn't super flashy or obvious. It handled nicely, had an excellent radio, and moved smoothly through the traffic.
When he'd been called into Fowler's office a few days ago, he'd been asked if he'd be willing to go meet a military liaison up here in Seattle. Apparently they had some information about MECH that they wanted to pass on to Fowler, but unfortunately, he himself been assigned to talk to someone back in Nevada during that time. So he needed someone he trusted with the whole Alien Robot thing to head out here and see if the information was not only viable, but something they needed to act on immediately.
Had to be in person, though, for the meeting. That request didn't seem to surprise Fowler at all.
These folks are little different, he'd warned Nathan. Always thinking some super secret organization is listening in, I guess, who knows. Oh, they're good people, through and through. Best of the best! Not when dealing with Cybertronians, that's us, we've got that hands down. These guys deal with of weird things though. And if I think it's weird..."
He'd thumped his desk with his hand and sat back in his chair, but in the course of conversation never explained exactly what he thought was weird.
He did go on about his new backyard barbeque. Apparently it grilled a mean steak.
The trip had been mellow at least. Nothing out of the ordinary. He was able to catch a lift on a military plane into McChord in Tacoma. Sure, there was a little turbulence when leaving Vegas, but that was pretty much a given. He'd been dropped at his rental car with no issue, and gotten onto I5 as easy as could be.
His instructions were fairly simple. Meet down at the Seattle waterfront, in front of a place there called the Ye Old Curiosity shop.
Fowler had sent him a text that said, they're with a really big dog. Apparently you can't miss them. Didn't give their name. So hey, I didn't give yours either. Figured you and him could work it out on how you want to introduce yourselves and leave it at that.
Hopefully they weren't having a Waterfront Park big dog brigade outing today. How many really big dogs were in Seattle, anyway?
Finding a place to park down by the waterfront had been a bit tight, but doable. The traffic was busy, the sounds of construction everywhere. He would be able to see the harbor in the distance, hazed by the rain. The gusts of wind were tossing the waves about, frothing them up into restless whitecaps. A tour boat lumbered by, bobbing up and down on the harbor. A few tourists stood on the deck, braving the weather, but most were huddled up behind the glass in various stages of hunched under the overhead heaters. Or they just didn't want to stand up; the water was rough and more than a few people were regretting this three hour tour.
Dramamine was your friend at times like that. So much Dramamine.
The front of the building that he was supposed to meet this person was bold and obvious. Gold lettering scrawled across the front, and the facade was blue and grey and framed with a series of tall, colorful totem poles.
Oh... and there was also a dog.
A massive red and black German Shepherd. It was wearing a bright neon orange mesh vest with several patches sewn on it, including an obvious red and white medical cross. The huge animal was sitting patently on a loose lead, watching the people walking around them as it waited.
The owner seemed to be a slim woman.
True to Seattle logic, she carried no umbrella in this weather. Instead, she was tucked into a grey sweatshirt that was way, way too big. A corner of her army-green overshirt poked out from the edge, folded over the pocket of her jeans. The sleeves were bunched up and crinkled around her wrists, and her hood was casually plunked over her head, even though they were standing under the overhang of the building.
She was looking down at her phone and tapping casually on the screen, making it hard to see her face. Once in a while, she'd appear to glance up and then go back to tapping.