Private Eastern Brisshal Sitting Stones

[Corsair]

"Why do you think I work with spirit magic now?" Corsair asked, a wry smile crossing her face at Brutus' assessment. "When you've done everything possible with flesh then what's left but the immaterial?"

She had to admit that the allure of a burning hot shower was tantalizing. What would it be like on her metallic skin? She had to assume she was waterproof, she could still drink after all, but just in case it would pay to keep an eye on her health.

Actually, now that she inspected herself more closely there were a number of rips and tears in her skin. Grass stains, exposed fibers. The gentle healing from Sam and Fujitsu wasn't putting her back together completely after every battle? A worrying thought, but one to file away until things were more serious. Wear and tear was natural on any mechanism, and if that was the price of her optimized body then so be it.

"I think I'll keep the water away from my servos, thank you, but this exterior could use a scrub, and something soothing sounds like an excellent change of pace." Corsair stretched her arms behind her, the joints extending noticeably beyond the regular range of motion. Her metallic spine crackled, making a sound like someone stepping on an empty plastic bottle. "Does this town have a bathhouse?" she asked, her feet taking her towards the rich part of town. "A massage parlor? Some place with lots of steam and smoke and perhaps a good welder? We've both earned and deserved it."

 

[Brutus Dahlgren]

He would muse on her words with a light smile across his lips. She was definately giving off mad scientist vibes right now, but honestly the fact that a smile had crossed her face while talking about all of that added a sense of...wholesome enthusiasm to it. It was race that she emoted like that, so he would take seeing her smile whenever he could.

"You know, I don't actually know about a bath parlor or something. If you wanna track down some tools to spruce yourself up" he motioned to the light crack on her elbow "I'll go do the Dahlgren special and hit the bricks like a gumshoe and see what I can hunt up eh? How bout we meet back up here in about...15 minutes? Maybe 30?" He would waggle an eyebrow at her while he backpedaled away, waiting for her reaction before scampering off to do his thing.

When the giant returned, the townspeople and their rumors like putty in his fingers after another bout of their heroic deeds had begun to circulate in the zeitgeist. He'd discovered a few things, some related to their task, like the location of a mudspring, but others relating to the state of how things were going in town. This hemomancer was just another weird outlier accident that beginning to take issues like this out of the fringe and bringing them closer and closer to being "normal"

That wasn't good at all.

When the robot woman returned he would give her a nod and ask "Yo! Find anything good?"

@Corsair

 

[Corsair]

They split up, and a brisk half-hour later reconvened, sharing their findings.

"I'm sorry but there is zero chance of me getting into a pit of boiling mud," Corsair said, waving a hand to dismiss the idea. "Dirt is the death of machinery Brutus. it gets into every tiny abrasion and causes havoc." She let the words of warning hang in the air. It was good to let her allies know her strengths and weaknesses. For the most part, the former were numerous and self-evident, and the latter were minor but extremely frustrating to deal with.

"I did find a place that does massage, and lucky for you they charge in fifteen minute increments and not by square footage." Just a little joke, delivered in her signature deadpan and followed immediately by pure business. "I say we head there and then see what they recommend in terms of a place to get clean afterwards. I assume they can recommend something sufficient."

They made their way uptown, into an area called 'The Comb'. It was a tight-set series of streets, not through poor planning but through the sheer price of the property. Each small shop here was worth a dozen times what the houses overlooking the marketplace were. This was the rich part of town, there were no residential spots to be seen, only perfume stores, art galleries, realtors, and jewelers.

It was beyond extravagant, and usually a place that Corsair usually avoided on sheer budgetary restrictions alone, but recently she'd set her foot in the waters and made a wonderful discovery: That it was also a fantastic place to make an incredible amount of money in a fast and completely illegal manner.

But Brutus didn't need to know about that right now. If Brutus was a man of the people, then Corsair was a woman of upper management; A body that moved through the corporate world of accounts and backstabbing behind and above the everyday folk.

They passed a specific gallery belonging to an absolutely loathsome dealer and Corsair piped up. "Brutus, on a scale of one to ten how loose are your morals? One being, well, some sort of saintly figure. Let's say a divine Buddha or some such sinless entity. And ten would be an amoral and repulsive slaughterer of thousands."

"Some sort of 'Genghis Khan', though in retrospect he was quite loyal to his clan and especially his family. This metaphor is getting away from me. Imagine the least moral figure you can and place them at ten," she ordered. "Now. Where are you on that scale?"

 

[Brutus Dahlgren]

Brutus would marvel at the wonderful buildings and the fancy shops for a moment. This was a part of town he'd rarely visited. He didn't care much for the elite, the fancy walls and the glitz and glamor. He scowled a bit, and then turned to Corsair raising an eyebrow.

"I would consider myself...a champion of the people. Not the one percent. I would rank my self on a scale of Jesus to Stalin something along the lines of a robin hood." He would waggled said raised eyebrow and then using his ace detective powers would turn to the Gallery.

"So if I'm putting two and two together, you're gonna want to explain to me the who's, the what's the how's and the why's, but I'll withhold judgment on anything and everything until you've laid your case before me." He shrugged, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew where this was going, and if it mattered at all, the idea of being a phantom thief excited him a little bit.

Persona 5 was his favorite retro classic JRPG of all time.

@Corsair

 

[Corsair]

"Robin Hood? That's very good to hear. Yes, very appropriate," Corsair said, tapping her chin. She'd stopped outside one of the galleries.

"Now Brutus, I have it on good authority that the man who owns this gallery is a crook." She dropped her voice, even though nobody was around. There was no need for subtlety, really, but it helped set the tone. And you could never be too careful.

"Not just a crook in the regular capitalist sense, but he owns a private collection of paintings that are all stolen from their rightful artists or owners." The whispers hung in the air like golden trails, each promising a trail of gold followed by the potent sting of justice.

"I even picked up a quest a while back to retrieve one of the paintings, though I had to abandon the mission after some fool tried to follow me." It had been a rather sore point to have to delay such a promising lead, but as always opportunity came knocking once more.

 

[Brutus Dahlgren]

"I see." Brutus rubbed his chin. "So we have a corrupt art thief, flaunting his wealth at the expense of others." He turned over the idea in his head. He would turn back to the robot and grin mischievously. "I took you for a prim and proper woman there Cor." He would put a hand on her shoulder and guide her away from the gallery and away from the guards. "I'm assuming you have a plan in mind then eh? Knowing you this isn't something half cocked you got cooking up, you've got it full cocked."

The idea of some sort of heist movie escapade got his heart pumping. Surely the two of them would need to assemble a crew, gather the best of the best. There would be a sick montage, they would convince people to reenter a life of crime for one last score.

You sons of a bitches Gundame, they would proclaim. I'm in.

"Let's get that spa day, get some drinks, and get to scheming eh?"

@Corsair

 

[Corsair]

"So the target is the head of the painter's guild," Corsair said, face down on the massage table as the burly masseuse worked the knots out of her steel-cabling. "His name is Uzias Guld, and he runs that gaudy shop we stopped outside. The shop isn't the target though." She spoke freely, and at an ultrasonic frequency, very certain that nobody nearby could hear what she was saying aside from Brutus.

"The painting we're after is in Uzias' home, potentially in a vault of some kind. I haven't had a chance to scope it out." Her words came out in short burst, punctuated by the pounding on her back. They'd opted for the massage and spa combo, and regardless of how well she reacted to the steaming hot bath in the next room the massage was an absolute treat.

She stopped talking for a moment as something in her wiring slid back into place with a jolt of satisfying pain. The masseuse stopped to get some more oil and she resumed talking. "It's called Blank Canvas, and the client is the original painter, though they haven't given me a name and I haven't been able to find any mention of the work anywhere." The man resumed his ministrations. but moved down to her lower back, freeing up her speech.

"Perhaps it was a commission that was never paid for? It's unclear. Either way we're being paid a massive sum of gold for safe retrieval of the work." She took a breath before delivering the kicker. "And the client was very particular about safety. We're not to be seen or heard, and if anyone is killed then the client goes to ground and we never hear from them again."

She took a deep breath, calves crunching under the strong hands of the masseuse. "So. We've got you and me. I'd say we need four people for a job like this, preferably people with heightened senses or with utility? Damage is not necessary here. Do you know anyone who fits that profile?"

 

[Brutus Dahlgren]

Brutus would groan as the masseuse worked a particularly rough knot out of his back, listening to the Robot intently as she spoke in basically their secret code. "Guld? What an ugly name. Sounds like oozing gold, what a prick of a name if I've ever heard." He would listen to the rest of her spiel thoughtfully, letting the words percolate.

"A blank canvas in the mans home. Could it be like...some kind of magic painting maybe? Or perhaps it's a paininting of someone getting ready to paint? Kinda meta but alright. So our nameless ghost client wants us to steal a mystery painting from some dudes house? Gotta keep it quick and quiet?" He chewed his lower lip and really thought about it. They couldn't kill anyone, but in theory they could subdue them physically if they moved fast enough. Speed, strength, stealth, and a good sense of hearing?

"Corsair, you son of a bitch I'm in, and I've got just the right crew for this."