05:00 <tom> The piles of boxes and machinery wedged into the far corner of the safehouse is starting to look like an actual workshop. 05:03 <tom> A neat row of tables now lines the building’s far wall, cluttered with machinery, spiderwebbed with power cords leading to a mess of power drills, angle grinders, and the like. Bob’s there, in the middle of the wreckage, piling together the last of the empty cardboard and tape into an ugly tangle that he’s trying to gather up into his arms to toss in the dumpster outside. 05:05 <tom> That done, he dusts off his hands and returns to his work, fussing over a tub full of a foul-smelling tea-colored mixture containing a block of wood covered in felt cutting guides. 05:05 <Quaker> The front door creaks open, revealing Badawi pulling a huge dolly behind her. On it are a pair of filing cabinets, some corkboard, and other assorted office supplies. 05:06 <Quaker> “Good morning, Mr. Goreman.” She wheels the dolly over to an unoccupied corner of the room. 05:06 <tom> “There’s fresh coffee in the pot if you want it,” Bob remarks at the direction of the noise, still unsure who precisely- ah. 05:06 <tom> “Oh hey. Ma’am.” 05:07 <tom> “You need help with that truck, or?” 05:07 <tom> What’s she building in there... 05:10 <Quaker> “No, thank you.” Once the cabinets are slid off the dolly with a minimum of metal scraping sounds, she goes to the kitchen and pours herself a mug of coffee. The mug has a picture of an orange cartoon cat on a pink background, clasping its hands. Text above reads “Am I Cute Or What?” 05:10 <Quaker> “Been here long?” 05:11 <tom> “Oh you know, just getting cozy in my nest. Haven’t heard hide nor tail from you since we got paid. Not sure you were coming back.” 05:13 <tom> Bob swings his chair around so he can face her while he talks. Don’t wanna be rude. It’s not that big of a room anyway, so he can talk while he works. He’s still nursing his left leg, carefully setting it down to let the knee support itself on the leg of his table while he polishes a metal block with a rough square of sandpaper with his hands. 05:13 <Quaker> “I took a few days to myself first. Better to decompress a few hours away from here.” She lifts a pair of very large corkboards from the dolly, propping them up against the wall while she gets out the adhesive strips to hang them on. 05:14 <Quaker> “How is the whole impact zone side of your body feeling?” 05:17 <tom> “Oh, complete dogshit. But doc says it’s just a patellar fracture.” He pronounces every syllable. Pah-tell-ar. ”So I won’t even get to beg out on sick leave the next time you guys need me hit with a truck.” 05:18 <tom> “I didn’t see you sweating it much. Didn’t see you much at all at the farm. You were up in that grain silo, yeah?” 05:19 <Quaker> “Up in the windmill. How long does it take a kneecap to mend? Two months?” 05:20 <tom> “Word.” He drums his free hand on the table, winces as the vibrations beat through the table’s leg into his knee. 05:20 <tom> “God I hope not, at the rate we’re making money I could miss out on like half a mil doing that cute shit. A week or two, tops.” 05:21 <tom> “You ever get fucked up like that?” 05:22 <tom> “I imagine not, if they stick you with that railgun and put you half a click back.” 05:22 <Quaker> “No need to rush back. Your kneecap is what happens when we don’t have enough time to plan for jobs. I’m sure you felt how rushed we were.” 05:22 <tom> “Yeah but I’m tactical. Rushed is how we do things.” 05:23 <Quaker> She hangs one corkboard, bracing the bottom against her waist until the top secures. “Yes, I’ve been fucked up like that. Or worse.” 05:23 <Quaker> “Well, let’s not make it a habit. Or you’ll end up with titanium kneecaps.” 05:24 <tom> “Shit, titanium? I’d settle for plastic.” He doesn’t have a good sense for the way her body language changes as she answers, but the vibes are bad. So he drops it. 05:25 <tom> He’s wincing a bit as he asks: ”You look like you like to have a plan.” 05:25 <tom> Gesturing toward the board: ”I’m guessing that’s for intel?” 05:26 <Quaker> She hangs the other one. “Have you ever heard of the Seers of the Throne?” 05:26 <tom> “I only made it half-way through the first book.” 05:27 <Quaker> “Oh, there’s a book about it? The mages mentioned it.” 05:27 <tom> “By George R. R. Martin?” 05:27 <tom> He’s not a smart man, Bob, but he can tell when the circuits are crossed. 05:28 <tom> “I don’t think it’s the same book.” 05:29 <Quaker> “Oh, you mean the dragon thing. No, this was different.” She digs through the pile of office supplies, coming up with a pile of post it notes, a sharpie, pins, and colored thread. 05:29 <tom> Honestly, calling it the ‘Dragon Thing’ is probably the most charitable way Bob would characterize what he read. 05:29 <tom> “Then no. What’s a ‘Seer of the Throne’?” 05:29 <Quaker> “Hmm.” Better to put index cards as the category heading. 05:30 <Quaker> Badawi writes “Manchester Mysterium” on one index card, and “Seers of the Throne” on another. Then, she pins them on the board and places a red thread linking the two. 05:31 <tom> “Please tell me the Mysterium isn’t something people go around callin’ themselves.” 05:31 <Quaker> “Some kind of rival organization to the local wizards. Not sure what they actually are.” 05:32 <tom> The ‘local’ wizards, eh? ”I’m starting to think ‘wizards’ is a general term.” 05:32 <Quaker> “From what I can tell, the Mysterium is just one of their branches. They specialize in research and artifacts. Nice enough, if a bit awkward.” 05:32 <tom> “They also specialize in sick fucking Soviet Surplus kit & ammo?” 05:33 <Quaker> Under Seers of the Throne, she puts ‘Janissary’ on a post-it note. Under Mysterium, she puts ‘Vivi’ and ‘Octocat.’ “Not their birth names, I don’t think.” 05:33 <tom> Bob, who fully considers a working Dragunov to be on the same order as Excalibur: ”Because that’s magic to me.” 05:33 <tom> “What about those two guys we met out on the mission? You know, Wolf bro?” 05:34 <tom> “Who’s Vivi, she alright? And Octocat better not be homie’s real name.” 05:34 <Quaker> Badawi puts the Wolf-mourners’ names on notes of their own and puts them on the board to the side. 05:34 <Quaker> “Vivi is a man. And yes, he’s alright.” 05:35 <Quaker> “Are you a gun guy, Mr. Goreman?” 05:35 <tom> “Oh man that’s so cool. You’re doing the cute little cord lines.” 05:35 <tom> Bob, who is currently surrounded by the disassembled pieces of multiple firearms: ”What gave you that impression, miss?” 05:37 <Quaker> “The rifle was from an associate who specializes in smuggling illicit firearms across borders. I didn’t ask for the model specifically, I just told him the kind of job I was doing and he found something he thought suitable. You can have it, if you like it so much.” 05:37 <Quaker> On another index card, she writes “Vampires” and pins it on the same latitude as the mage organizations. 05:38 <tom> Bob sets the polished block, which is starting to take a more flared shape with repeated polishing, and lifts his hands. ”What? No way am I stealing your thunder like that.” 05:38 <tom> “’Sides, if I took the gun now everyone would know it’s just cus I felt small PP about it.” 05:38 <Quaker> She taps on the index card. “Haven’t met any of these, actually. But they don’t keep a very low profile.” 05:39 <Quaker> Badawi shrugs. “It’s just another gun.” 05:39 <tom> “It is a very good gun, ma’am. And I didn’t see you shaking when you popped that Deere’s underbelly gas tank at, what..” He thinks. 05:39 <tom> “At least two hundred meters?” 05:39 <tom> “That is a hell of a shot.” 05:40 <tom> “So I don’t know if I should be gushing or shaking in my boots at you.” 05:40 <tom> “Even with the fire- it was night.” 05:41 <tom> “No ma’am, I think you do that rifle just fine. But uh, does your supplier ever tell you what it’s like to hand-load every bullet, individually?” 05:41 <Quaker> “Well, as you saw, it’s the little things that get the job done, like Rolf’s special paint rounds and goggles. We should probably liberate a few crates of necessary equipment from the Human Office soon.” Speaking of, she labels an index card “Human Office” and puts it up. “Thank you for the flattery. But I think actually getting hit by the tractor and then walking around afterward is more impressive.” 05:41 <Quaker> “He does not. Why?” 05:42 <tom> “’Cause it is a real pain in the ass.” 05:42 <tom> “I got money, I will pay you.” 05:42 <Quaker> “I can imagine. That’s why I pay him.” 05:42 <tom> “Okay, sick. Because right now like a fourth of my time in the shop is making home-made primers from matchboxes.” 05:43 <tom> “And if Aster ever sees me doing that I will fucking die.” 05:43 <tom> They can hash out the details later: ”Do you want help filling out that chart?” 05:44 <Quaker> She stands back to look at what’s up on the corkboard so far. “Well, I’m no occult expert. It will have to be fleshed out once our scholar turns up. But if you want to put your cards on the table and add what you know…” 05:44 <Quaker> “Why do you do all the gun things by hand, by the way? Isn’t it easier to just buy what you need from contacts?” 05:44 <tom> “There’s another group of wizards. I don’t wanna like, give up my people, they’re a real scaredy bunch.” 05:44 <tom> Incredulously: ”What contacts?” 05:45 <Quaker> “Well, you don’t need to name any individuals if you’re not comfortable with it. But what are they called?” 05:45 <tom> “Ma’am I am off the reservation in every sense of the word. I am in this country only because every grunt in F.O.R.T. knows we don’t go here.” 05:45 <tom> “Why the hell else would I choose England?” 05:45 <Quaker> “Don’t call me ma’am. But I see your point.” 05:46 <tom> That’s only half the reason, really, but he’s not going to broach that topic. ”I am running out of things to call you, miss. Just saying Badawi sounds like I’m trying to say a slur.” 05:46 <tom> “Maybe I could say Specialist Badawi.” 05:47 <Quaker> “Just call me Miss Badawi. Or Agostina, if you can’t pronounce it. I’m not in the army.” 05:47 <Quaker> “Were you?” 05:47 <tom> He walks over- still limping a bit, and picks up an assortment of four cards. He carefully, in his best (still chickenscratch) handwriting, writes ‘Winter’, ‘Spring’, ‘Autumn’, and ‘Summer’ and hands them to Badawi. 05:48 <tom> “Oh good, I thought I was the only one not getting dossiers. Yes Ma’- miss, Corporal Bob Goreman, at your service.” Weak salute. He hobbles back over to his workstation. 05:48 <tom> “You shoot pretty good for ‘not in the army’.” 05:49 <tom> “They’ve got like a seasonal thing where they trade off based on the time of year. Hope you don’t mind if I can’t speak frankly on details.” 05:49 <tom> “Some people are just trying to stay out of the line of fire.” 05:49 <Quaker> “Glad to have you, Corporal. Are these…seasons…friendly to each other? Enemies?” 05:50 <tom> “I know one gal who went from one to another. They seem to have deals of some kind.” 05:50 <tom> “But they’re wizards alright. Some kind, anyway. You wouldn’t know anything about that, I bet.” 05:50 <tom> “Your Mysterium pals teach you that neat active-camo track?” 05:50 <tom> trick** 05:51 <Quaker> “Ah. Well, we’ll have red stand for ‘shoot on sight’.” She strings green thread between the four once she’s put them up. 05:51 <Quaker> “They did not. If they can help it, they wouldn’t teach anyone anything about magic. They seem to have a pretty dull view on it being used at all unless strictly necessary, actually.” 05:52 <tom> “Lame.” 05:52 <Quaker> “So who is ‘shoot on sight’ for you, Mr. Goreman?” 05:52 <tom> “Oh, don’t you fret. I am working on that list.” 05:52 <tom> “Took a lot not to waste those bagmen, though.” 05:52 <tom> “You fuck with Cheiron?” 05:52 <tom> He’s glancing back, uncertain. 05:53 <Quaker> “Not really. I came across them once or twice in my line of work before I came to England, but we didn’t talk. I always got the impression that they considered themselves superior to whoever else was interested in the field.” 05:54 <Quaker> “I assume that you didn’t leave on good terms. Or on terms at all.” 05:54 <tom> “Yeah, well. I caught up stripping college girls for parts once. So,” 05:54 <tom> “Red’s not a bad color.” 05:54 <tom> caught em* 05:54 <tom> “There’s some real sick shit people get up to when money’s on the line.” 05:54 <tom> And promotions. 05:55 <Quaker> “Like us?” 05:55 <tom> “If I have to.” 05:55 <tom> Do I have to? 05:55 <tom> “Nnnot for cash, if that’s what you mean. Sometimes you just gotta wild out.” 05:56 <Quaker> “Well, don’t worry. I’m sure the mysterious, omnipotent, anonymous and wealthy person we work for has never done anything wrong.” 05:56 <tom> “Yeah. I got some very specific good news on that front at least. I can tell you with complete confidence Soi-” Stops himself. ”Sourjack, at least, is not an unseelie fae.” 05:57 <tom> Does that mean anything to her? Should it? But it seems to mean something very important to Bob. 05:57 <Quaker> “And what is an unseelie fae?” 05:57 <tom> “That’s starting to get into NDA territory, Agostina. But-” he licks his lips, raps his knuckles on the table. ”I know they’re about as bad news as you can get.” 05:58 <tom> “So right now I’m just crossing my fingers he isn’t based out of Paris, so I can keep this up.” 05:59 <tom> “-If those nerds didn’t show you how to windwalk, you pick that up yourself.” 05:59 <tom> ? 06:00 <Quaker> “You’re awfully eager to talk about everyone else’s traumatic past, including your own…funny that you’re so reluctant on the topic of the seasons.” She writes ‘unseelie fae’ on an index card and puts it up. 06:00 <tom> “You can’t blame me for wanting to know what to expect,” he chuckles. ”What if you bump into me in your Hogwarts cloak and I flip and blast you?” 06:01 <tom> “I think you know what to expect from me by now, so it’s only fair.” He pouts. 06:02 <Quaker> “It’s alchemy. Special elixirs I can make and consume that grant me specific powers. I learned it from alchemists.” 06:02 <Quaker> “That’s who I worked for before I came here.” 06:02 <tom> “Okay if I’m buying bullets from you-” 06:03 <tom> “You got potions?” 06:03 <tom> “Like the glowing blue ones, with the corks?” 06:03 <tom> “Can I-” 06:04 <tom> He gestures, imbibing an invisible concoction, throwing his head back. 06:05 <Quaker> “You could. You would feel pretty ill, I think. Or die.” 06:06 <tom> “Oh, you’re a Witcher.” He does not expand on this. ”Got it. Bone hurting juice.” 06:06 <Quaker> “You need special training in order to metabolize the reagents inside your body. Otherwise you’re just eating or applying some very expensive poison.” 06:06 <tom> He looks crestfallen. It just figures. 06:06 <Quaker> “Sorry to disappoint.” 06:08 <tom> “Oh, I’m not about to cry over it. I just- imagine what you could do with five shitkickers in active camo.” 06:08 <tom> “I guess that’s why you keep it in the select stock, huh. So that doesn’t happen.” 06:09 <tom> “Well, Potion Seller, if you need a guinea pig to try your bug juice on, I’m always here.” 06:09 <Quaker> Badawi shrugs. “They recruit out of necessity as much as anyone. It takes all kinds, despite what they say about the proper moral makeup of their members.” She looks at the index cards for a while. 06:09 <Quaker> “If there’s an Unseelie Fae, is there a…Seelie Fae?” 06:10 <tom> He slots the rough block into a vice on his table and throws the handle, pinning the piece in place. ”Yeah but I’m not sure they’re organized. Even the Unseelie, I’m told, are more like a.. type?” 06:10 <tom> “It’s goblins and gremlins to me, honest. I don’t really get it.” 06:10 <Quaker> “Hm.” 06:11 <tom> “I always thought it’d be more freak shit out of Cheiron labs, you know- not like- red caps.” 06:11 <Quaker> She writes ‘Seelie Fae’ on a card, and underneath pins a post-it reading “Goblins?” 06:11 <tom> “Fucking Red caps.” 06:12 <tom> He takes up an angle grinder and flips down the protective lenses on his visor. ”Sorry, it’s about to get loud for a minute.” 06:13 <Quaker> Goblins? 06:14 <Quaker> Are we about to meet mummies, werewolves, and Frankenstein, as well?