[ It would of course follow that tracking down Freelancer technology would lead to a secured remote facility. One conveniently off the beaten (literal mountain) path and branded in an oh-so-familiar logo. A page out of their own sordid history. But who would have thought to find Charon Industries out here?
The security personnel weren't much of a concern. Not with her life experience and skillsets. But in this specific case, that would only get them so far -- her skills with locks were rudimentary at best and while Epsilon's occasional knack for sneaking past certain encryption levels was an increasingly useful blessing in disguise, he didn't have any other AI here that he could influence to lend them a hand. (That she knew of, anyway..)
And whoever owned this particular location certainly hadn't skimped on buying the best of what little was still available in this neglected neck of the universe. Better than, even. But the data trail indicated that the likeliest armor piece held here was the healing unit...And she couldn't leave it here.
So. Carolina did what any other mercenary did at a time like this: touched base with contacts of varying disrepute in the local black market. Chief amongst those on the southern continent was an almost unnnervingly cheerfully individual called 'Vic Jr.'.
Who, allegedly, knew someone who met her skill needs exactly.
In spite of Vic's claims, however, she wasn't about to hire just anyone without some form of interview first. Leaving Epsilon in a separate safe location in case they'd been double-crossed, the former Freelancer had settled her self at one of the rear booth tables in one of the somewhat less seedy dives in the nearest city.
For now, the mark-VI armor and its ridiculous helmet remained in place, active chameleon unit painting it an unobtrusive brown with grey stripes rather than its more memorable cyan shade. The bored tilt of her helmet hides the fact she's paying close attention to anyone coming and going through the establishment's doors.. ]
YOU'RE ALIVE au - chorus reunion edition
The security personnel weren't much of a concern. Not with her life experience and skillsets. But in this specific case, that would only get them so far -- her skills with locks were rudimentary at best and while Epsilon's occasional knack for sneaking past certain encryption levels was an increasingly useful blessing in disguise, he didn't have any other AI here that he could influence to lend them a hand. (That she knew of, anyway..)
And whoever owned this particular location certainly hadn't skimped on buying the best of what little was still available in this neglected neck of the universe. Better than, even. But the data trail indicated that the likeliest armor piece held here was the healing unit...And she couldn't leave it here.
So. Carolina did what any other mercenary did at a time like this: touched base with contacts of varying disrepute in the local black market. Chief amongst those on the southern continent was an almost unnnervingly cheerfully individual called 'Vic Jr.'.
Who, allegedly, knew someone who met her skill needs exactly.
In spite of Vic's claims, however, she wasn't about to hire just anyone without some form of interview first. Leaving Epsilon in a separate safe location in case they'd been double-crossed, the former Freelancer had settled her self at one of the rear booth tables in one of the somewhat less seedy dives in the nearest city.
For now, the mark-VI armor and its ridiculous helmet remained in place, active chameleon unit painting it an unobtrusive brown with grey stripes rather than its more memorable cyan shade. The bored tilt of her helmet hides the fact she's paying close attention to anyone coming and going through the establishment's doors.. ]