#ic-offline

> What’s this? You were walking down the hall when you found a trail of petals on the floor, leading off... Somewhere. You’re not sure where they came from, where they’re going, or who put them there. 

It’s not often that you go out for jobs without at least one Scoundrel at your side, but for once you decided that you’d like to do a bit of debt collecting on your own. Well, debt reminding, they never have the money when you ask for it.

After chasing down today’s debtor halfway across town (so inconvenient, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the thrill of the hunt), you’ve finally cornered him in an alleyway and backed him up against a wall.

> Alright, so you’ve got the cans of fake snow, and you’ve got a few ideas. You’re partially waiting on what Crowbar is going to say what he thinks you’re going to do so you can do that, too, but the few plans you have will suffice.

> You could also use a partner in crime for this one, considering the number of cans you have, and you know exactly who to go to.

“Yo kid, you there?”

Scofflaw had hurried over to Innovator’s residence post-haste due to a quite literal anonymous tip that they may be in danger. No, not just danger, but dying. He couldn’t risk losing them. He couldn’t risk losing any Scoundrel, not after everything he’s done to run this town. He needed each part of his well-oiled machine, and Innovator was a key part.

He keeps tabs on those who work for him, and those tabs never fail, but Innovator just... 

Disappeared.

Taking the cigarette from his mouth, he puts it out in the ash tray that was sitting on the window sill before pulling the blinds shut. Now, the room was only lit by the dim lamp that sat on his desk. He liked the dark, how dramatic and mysterious it was, but he didn’t enjoy being left in it metaphorically. He needed to know everything. Everything that went on in his city, every little bit of information that was out of place or out of the ordinary.

No matter.

> That’s the sound of you falling out of bed. You slowly push yourself to sit up and look around. You’re just in your room, lights off and the only source of illumination being that of your computer screen over on your desk.

> How long were you out? Hopefully no one’s been looking for you, you’d hate to let any of your fellas down.

> Maybe you just had a rush and blacked out. Yeah, that’s probably what happened.

> Pushing away from your desk, you grab your mug and head for the office coffee maker. You desperately need some of that godsent caffeine to keep you going at… What time is it? 3 AM? Not that bad. You wish you were at home with your cat, but you’ve still got plenty of paperwork to do. This is what you get for always pushing your reports off to the last second. Granted, you always get it done right on time, having the stacks of folders on Crowbar and Snowman’s desks waiting for them for when they come in the next morning.

> Oh great, it’s empty. You’re fairly certain there had been at least a mug left last time you were here, and there’s no one else in the room with you right now. Now you have to wait. At the very least it leaves you to have some time with your thoughts, something you rarely allow yourself to have. Let’s see...

> Nope. Not happening.

> All you can think about is work. The bank robberies, the hold ups, the muggings, the GTAs… Everything in your reports are just bouncing around your head all willy nilly, it’s a miracle they haven’t driven you mad yet. Rubbing your eyes to try to ground yourself and clear your mind, you sigh.