#V:You've been struck by a Smooth criminal

[gentlemansalamander]

Updated tag dump

[gentlemansalamander]

Ottomo, his goons and local hires pause, turning to face the new intruders. Terror grace the faces of the ones who recognize the Agents and their capabilities, while the goons carried a air of wariness and Ottomo outright seemed disinterested.

"Evening. Is there a problem here?" The Robot's voice is deceptively calm. As if he wasn't even bothered by being caught. Had the machine have eyebrows, it would have raised one at the sight of Black. However there were more pressing matters at hand, like trying to see what Black and her partner were going to do. And more importantly, how to escape it.

Ottomo raises their hands, seemingly in surrender...

gentlemansalamander​:

The Machine sees his crew just barely putting their goods down, a sneer gracing the pilot’s face inside as Tom seizes control from the machine, his hoarse and harsh voice contrasting the Machine’s “What in the fuck are you bozos doing? This shit should have done hours ago!”

The goons, likewise, quickly start unloading at their bosses request/demand. The machine takes back control, chiding its pilot. “You really should watch your volume. You’ll attract the wrong crowd.” the Machine responds back to Tom, the pilot angrily grumbling in his seat.

Ottomo back in control, the machine walks around the contraband, A.I. and Pilot making comparisons to their notes for the supplies needed. The locals they had hired approached the banned items, grabbing them and starting to split them while the rest of his crew watched them with intense eyes. Ottomo likewise pulled out a cigar, lighting it and ‘smoking’ it. Everything seemed going mostly to plan so far….

However, perhaps due to a lifetime of working for the ASG and then the Medici, Tom couldn’t help but feel…something was off.

Black flinched at the voice she heard coming from the machine. It wasn’t the voice she had heard during her encounter with him at One Concern HQ, and it was loud enough to set off her headache from that far away. Once again, she pressed her fingers to her head before turning towards White.

“Well, it seems nobody’s noticed us yet.” she whispered. “What’s say we go ahead and make ourselves known, White?”

White gave a silent, affirmative nod. The two agents made their way out into the open, with Black following closely behind White. Once they had stepped out into the open, White made their presences known by loudly and ostentatiously clearing his throat.

“This sure is a neat operation you all have going on.” Black idly remarked. “I sure hope we aren’t…interrupting anything.” The machine was worried about attracting the wrong crowd, and attract the wrong crowd they did.

[gentlemansalamander]

Does your character feel like their in the wrong? If so does it bother them?

Technically Yes and No. Ottomo and Tom are aware that the shit they do is several kinds of wrong given the crimes they commit. However, they don't either care, actively don't mind it or, because of personal headcanons for how they ended up working for the Medicis, Tom feels like he owes Lorenzo too much for "saving his ass" and admittedly, considering his influences, Tom himself is a horrible person and effectively acknowledges this. He's apparently friends with Dahlia somehow, and I do play him as quite cruel at times.

That said, sometimes he does have moments where he does consider his actions, but he still comes to the same conclusion: He likes being a bastard, especially considering how he felt his life was going before he served the Medicis, but if he's gonna be a bastard, he's gonna be a pragmatic one. That said, he does have some distinctly "non-villainous" elements to him, but they rarely show and when they do, its usually for a selfish or a pragmatic reason. Usually.

[gentlemansalamander]

"Good Evening, The Trinity has let me live another day and I'm perfectly willing to be make it everyone's problem"

[gentlemansalamander]

@avian-alchemist​ “....” The machine blinks, almost comically at the other before them. Was.....was that some sort of Plague doctor?

“Er....pardon me, but I’m afraid you’re in the wrong building. Circus auditons are several streets over. I’m afraid you’ll have to take your sideshow act with Regina over there.”

[gentlemansalamander]

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline And most things in between-closed rp

@hexes-and-headaches It had been some time since the Machine and their pilot had set up shop in this...”place”. Whatever it was, it was simply known as “the Planet” and it was home to some rather....odd resources. Plants bore some resemblance to one’s they’ve seen, but the planet...for lack of a better term, bled some sort of strange substance called Ivory. And it seems the leading...’government’ was harvesting this Ivory for financial and cultural gain. Admittedly, given what he was able to find out, the Ivory would be something fascinating to observe in a more controlled environment. But at last, he had to focus priorities other aspects first. Like his smuggling ring/market gig they have set up here. It had taken a not-a-insignificant amount of effort to see exactly what kind of wares this place would be susceptible to. And given this One Concern, the people here were almost hysterically sheltered on what really should be basic skills for a society. In particular, it seem the masses sense of entertainment and knowledge for basic mechanical skills was a laughable pit of emptiness. A pit that was easily filled with the easiest kind of shit to smuggle here. Oh, guns and weapons were always gonna be big sellers. That’s just the nature of life, at least as Tom saw it. However, the drive and demand for knowledge and arts was almost hysterical to the Pilot and Bot, given it reminded them of the worse of the Franz’s Reign. And like all reigns of the most controlling sort, the demand for contrabands was high. In normal circumstances, Ottomo and Tom would let one of their goons run the errands between the smuggling ringings. However, Ottomo and Tom felt that given the...circumstances, a more careful and hands on approach was needed. So for potentially big sales or markets, the two make it a point to show up. Both for instructions but also to make sure there wasn’t any sneaking hands in the metaphorical cookie jar, so to speak. Especially given that only a very small handful of his crew knew about the...circumstances of this potential avenue for influence and material, and that to avoid the prying eyes of the Egrets, most of those running the markets were ‘locals’ they recruited due to their knowledge of the area and understanding of the culture. It helped that while most of them were given weapons that while effective, didn’t really do much to the machine if they tried getting a bit uppity. And the butler wasn’t above making examples. Ottomo and Tom slip inside the pathway that leads them to this place, the machine’s long legs letting them cover ground quickly and makes the quick walk to the headquarters of the ‘market’ they had set up. The few of his crew in the know dropped off a massive amount of contraband for sell and trade in this world and if Ottomo was able to keep his head low long enough, he get a nice amount of materials and goods for it...

[gentlemansalamander]

@hexes-and-headaches​

“Err...excuse me, I’m afraid I’m lost, do you know where I am?”

The machine towers over the other, enough that one would have to crane their neck up a bit to actually see their face. Despite their intimidating height, the robot’s voice was pleasant, chipper and formal, dressed in a fine suit, abet tailored for its odd proportions, and even a matching bowler hat. It made a strange contrast.

[gentlemansalamander]

“May we help you?” The machine’s tone is pleasant, chipper even, yet despite the robot’s decorous behavior, anyone who knew anything, truly anything, about the Medici’s and their infamy, that the robot was not one to be trifled with, not without some serious backing. 

[gentlemansalamander]

@martialartscompendium

It was the start of sports season in New Meridian, meaning that inevitably bookies come out of the woodwork to make their bets. For the more...unscrupulous types, it also meant fixing the games.

Hence, why at the moment, the butler was calmly waiting for his would-be "target". Normally, he'd have a random underling of his do this particular job, but given the recent attacks in Maplecrest, the sighting of the SG and Lorenzo's....condition, it was encourage to be out and about to spot any sighting.

Regardless, they waited for the-would-be "target"

[gentlemansalamander]

@stretchnplay​

“...Ottomo...where the FUCK are we now?!”

The machine and his pilot was running a errand, a quick check up on their little “foreign” smuggling rings. On their way back, it seems whatever force was behind the strange.. 'gaps' that divided the different locations, decided to force them into a detour.

And by detour, the machine and pilot find themselves in some sort of... gaudily colored factory. They think it's a factory. The walkways they found themselves on were old and admittedly more rickety sounding then the machine would have liked. The walls, what they could see at least, seem to have some sort of scratched and peeling mural.

Yeah. They were definitely lost.

[gentlemansalamander]

Ottomo’s just enjoying the chaos of other’s realization going on below, up on a balcony and sipping a tea. Goddess, its almost hysterical the response.

[gentlemansalamander]

“Trees huh?”

[gentlemansalamander]

Thoughts on Agent Black?

"She reminds us of a more angry member of the ASG Labs. Just as stubborn as well." "I'll give her credit, she was a tough broad, but still a obstacle we had to deal with."

[gentlemansalamander]

📝 (and now, the reverse)

(that's absolutely fair)

Their first impression: "A really bitter women who offends easily."

Their current impression: "Stubborn little b-" "Tomas"

What they like the most about your muse: "...Begrudgingly her tenacity."

What they dislike the most about your muse: "Doesn't know when to quit while ahead."

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.): "Enemy". "But that list is long, I'm afraid."

A general opinion of their relationship: "I have a bad feeling it's not gonna be the last time we see that Agent." "None the less, we can handle ourselves."

If applicable, something they wish to reveal: N/A

[gentlemansalamander]

Like bobbing Bait...

@voicesofrapture​

New Meridian’s summer, ever so warm and blazing like the rest of the month, was cooling to a low heat, wind starting to blow through, giving a moment’s relief. This wind, in particular, seem to be coming from the oceanside of New Meridian. Out of its numerous districts, the local district of Little Innsmouth seem to be getting the best spot of the wind, the tide now in and submerging the below sea level streets, allowing only the walkways scattered around it to be walked on for the Non-Dagonian residents. Ottomo was looking down on the districts on one of its’ numerous balcony, the building being a small warehouse he owned when he had to run one of his numerous in and out of city errands and business transactions. It wasn’t one he often visit, but he was here to stash the loot from a previous smuggling ring that admittedly at the moment went up in smoke. Literally. Provided, that wouldn’t stop him, oh no, he had plans to set up shop again soon. Especially given before his little rings discovery, he was able to make a neat little sum and a sampling of the local fauna and materials. Meanwhile, he figure he have the goons take inventory and get the samples he snatched tested and recoup, making the necessary adjustments to now deal with the next batch of trouble.

Ottomo lights a cigar, handing it to Tom as machine and pilot muse on their next move, wind picking up and carrying that distinct summer breeze....

Despite the calmness of the scene, cigar’s strong scent in the air, it was soon betrayed but a sudden jolt, like a earthquake, that seem to shake all of the coastline, the ocean waves likewise now erratic. Ottomo quickly clings to the railing, as Tom braces for potential impact as the sudden earthquake seem to come out of nowhere.

Then the alarms in Ottomo’s suit goes off, Tom, with a cigar still in mouth, grabs the readings being printed in the pilot’s seat, quickly reading it.... “The fuck?” Tom mutters as he looks at the Machine. Both of them with the look of confusion... as....that....really can’t be right? A energy reading....the size of a decently sized city...near here..?!

Machine and pilot look at the coordinates of said spike before glancing at the ocean ahead....

[gentlemansalamander]

Ottomo just says nothing, calmly sipping a whisky and lighting a Cigar. Internally though, Tom had to resist the urge to laugh.