08-05-2013, 05:58 PM
Hood stopped what he was doing, polite enough to give Candy his attention for her short speel. About time they got things sorted out on their end. Sooner this was over, the sooner the brat would move on. She was a tough one, sure, probably a result of her attitude. Maybe it was a learning disability? Or maybe she was a masochist? But they usually had more piercings. Her under the breath muttering, while muffled, was obvious enough by her tone. He didn't catch the exact words of choice, but could extrapolate well enough.
Aria stepped out, and again demonstred the two were like night and day in their attitudes. Probably some major differences between how the two were brought up. Hood opted not to make a comment, instead just pulling the garage door closed, then he walked over to and picking up the errant can of 'beer.' He frowned at the label; PBR, the beer of hipsters, a blight of the early 21st century that had somehow managed to hang on even into the '40s. It made no sense; PBR had gone main stream ages ago, and all hipsters seemed to drink the crap, so why the hell did they still do it? Pretentious twits.
The can was set neatly on the step, sandwhiched between the bottles of Alexander Kieths he had been drinking earlier, where it wouldn't likely blow away. "Rule 3. Clean up your own messes. I'm not asking much of you, am I kid? One of the locals helps themself to any recyclables left on the step. They need the money, so be considerate. Now, tour."
He climbed the steps past her and stepped around Aria to lead the way back into the house. In the living room there were few details to point out, save one. He tapped the wall next to a light switch for the kitchen, nestled on the wall between kitchen and bathroom, "Here. Punch through the drywall. There's a pipe with a handle. Pull the handle. Diverts gas from the oven, vents it into the walls. Pull the handle to let the gas out, then next to it is a green cylinder with a pin. Pull the pin down, it's on a spring. Let go. It'll ignite a thirty-second length of time fuse. Thirty seconds, a detonator goes off. Ignites the gas. Burns the place out."
He gestured to the right of the kitchen and the closed door there, "That will be a spare bedroom. Currently storing tools, wood, and drywall. You can move your cots in there, but lots of sawdust in the air, and isn't insulated. Your call."
Next he led the way into a narrow storage room between the laundry room and bedroom, and slid a few boxes out of the way. A floor board was lifted out and set aside, revealing a metal trap door which was lifted to reveal the hidden sea-can beneath the house. "This is the armoury and bolt-hole. Access to some defunct service tunnels, which eventually lead into the main tunnels and sewer lines. Motion sensors and CCTV cameras monitor the tunnel. The trap door into the tunnel is rigged HME (home made explosives), enough to frag whoever is trying to come up. I'll show you how to disarm that later. Not far from here is a sub-basement from one of the old apartment blocks, and is still accessible from the tunnels. That's where you can keep your rougarou friend once we deal with them."
Then he dropped down the hole, flicking a switch to bring the lights on. "The sensors and cameras are motion sensitive; they pick up anything, the alarm panel upstairs will flash blue. Internet here is secure. Even if they track it, it'll land them at an apartment six hundred meters away. That's where main reuter is. Laser comm feed between the reuter here and that one, almost untraceable unless they find the emmiter. For future reference, Wallets can be tracked, if someone is bothering to look for you."
Aria stepped out, and again demonstred the two were like night and day in their attitudes. Probably some major differences between how the two were brought up. Hood opted not to make a comment, instead just pulling the garage door closed, then he walked over to and picking up the errant can of 'beer.' He frowned at the label; PBR, the beer of hipsters, a blight of the early 21st century that had somehow managed to hang on even into the '40s. It made no sense; PBR had gone main stream ages ago, and all hipsters seemed to drink the crap, so why the hell did they still do it? Pretentious twits.
The can was set neatly on the step, sandwhiched between the bottles of Alexander Kieths he had been drinking earlier, where it wouldn't likely blow away. "Rule 3. Clean up your own messes. I'm not asking much of you, am I kid? One of the locals helps themself to any recyclables left on the step. They need the money, so be considerate. Now, tour."
He climbed the steps past her and stepped around Aria to lead the way back into the house. In the living room there were few details to point out, save one. He tapped the wall next to a light switch for the kitchen, nestled on the wall between kitchen and bathroom, "Here. Punch through the drywall. There's a pipe with a handle. Pull the handle. Diverts gas from the oven, vents it into the walls. Pull the handle to let the gas out, then next to it is a green cylinder with a pin. Pull the pin down, it's on a spring. Let go. It'll ignite a thirty-second length of time fuse. Thirty seconds, a detonator goes off. Ignites the gas. Burns the place out."
He gestured to the right of the kitchen and the closed door there, "That will be a spare bedroom. Currently storing tools, wood, and drywall. You can move your cots in there, but lots of sawdust in the air, and isn't insulated. Your call."
Next he led the way into a narrow storage room between the laundry room and bedroom, and slid a few boxes out of the way. A floor board was lifted out and set aside, revealing a metal trap door which was lifted to reveal the hidden sea-can beneath the house. "This is the armoury and bolt-hole. Access to some defunct service tunnels, which eventually lead into the main tunnels and sewer lines. Motion sensors and CCTV cameras monitor the tunnel. The trap door into the tunnel is rigged HME (home made explosives), enough to frag whoever is trying to come up. I'll show you how to disarm that later. Not far from here is a sub-basement from one of the old apartment blocks, and is still accessible from the tunnels. That's where you can keep your rougarou friend once we deal with them."
Then he dropped down the hole, flicking a switch to bring the lights on. "The sensors and cameras are motion sensitive; they pick up anything, the alarm panel upstairs will flash blue. Internet here is secure. Even if they track it, it'll land them at an apartment six hundred meters away. That's where main reuter is. Laser comm feed between the reuter here and that one, almost untraceable unless they find the emmiter. For future reference, Wallets can be tracked, if someone is bothering to look for you."