Part 39: Hurrying Slowly

Part 39 - Hurrying Slowly







Continuing our efforts to get Blitz off the meat hook, we next find ourselves in the dilapidated bank's main lobby. You'd think they at least had cameras or something in a place like this, but maybe they got stolen or something. Or the boss pocketed the security budget.

There's a tantalizing crate visible behind the glass in the center of the room, but we can't reach it from here as breaking the glass to grab the goodies is sadly no more an option for us than it was back in the prologue.



Someone else has tried to though, by the looks of those windows. The giant chasm on the floor is a nice touch too, must be one of those pitfalls of investment banking you always hear about.



Since the main doors are locked (and it's not like we broke in just so that we could immediately leave anyway) we'll instead try this one decorated with a dragon ornament that feels really out of place amid its decrepit surroundings. Between that, the marble floors and these pools with their fancy railings, it's easy to imagine this building having been quite impressive back in its heyday.



Watch your step.

Yeah yeah, breaking our leg here would make this take even longer, we know.



Now then, time to continue our desk inspection tour.



Huh. This desk is actually... organized. Must belong to somebody in Management.

My thoughts exactly.

[He glances at the chronometer on his PDA.]

Time's wasting. Let's keep moving.

Tell you what: I'll let you know when I'm ready to move on, and until then, you'll stop badgering me about it. Deal?

Whatever, just hurry your ass up.

Grandpa clearly forgot to take his chill pills this morning, that's the dangers of old age for you.





A financial crime ring is involved in insider trading? Shocking. Now, can we please move on?

If we were your daughter we'd dump you in a retirement home at the earliest opportunity and never come visit.





Unfortunately getting this stubborn drawer open requires 4 Strength and Hasenkamp is obviously not up for it, meaning we miss out on the 100-200 nuyen credstick within. Oh well.

All done.

You sure? Maybe there are some nice binder clips in there for you to play with, or a staple remover for you to steal.

Really? Well then, maybe I should take another look...

Forget I said anything. Let's go.



Hasenkamp can whine all he wants, but you can bet your ass we're also gonna dig through the contents of this computer terminal in the corner. At this point it's really a matter of principle.



Perhaps this Albert is the juice-providing "A" mentioned earlier in one of the notes?



It's kind of ironic that Blitz's personal mission is one of the few where we have nobody to help us pass these damn Decking checks. The correct password is also not written down anywhere, so guessing is the only non-Decking way through this thing.

What could it be?





























Just call us Master Hacker Rosa from now on.

We're dealing with a winner here.





Wow. The Landenberg Ring really needs to start keeping a closer eye on its employees.

I'm not surprised. It's only a matter of time before Plotz runs this place into the ground.

I've heard that name before. Who is he?



I'd imagine that he's not a huge fan of you, either.

Can't say it's a particularly hard thing to imagine either.

No. No, he's not. Anyway. In the end, it doesn't matter. Mr. Grinder will get paid, and Plotz is gonna write the check.

Works for me. Let's keep moving.



And we do just that, heading through the room's northern door which leads to a long hallway with so many inaccessible doors that it's only one haunted wheelchair away from qualifying as a Silent Hill cameo.



The one room we are able to access isn't very exciting either. We do pocket some Cram, but the only other thing here is a vent which would require a drone to get through. Despite Hasenkamp's obvious fondness for both venting and droning on about us taking too long, stuffing the man into the duct is regrettably not an option.



We've now looked through everything we have access to, so we reluctantly return to the path of actual mission progress which can be found through the door north from where we initially entered the building.

The door to the right here leads to the behind-counter section of the main lobby where we saw that crate earlier, but we have no way through at the moment.



Let's try the one on the opposite instead, at least this one has a console attached.



We obviously don't have a key card and bypassing the 4-digit keycode requires Decking 5 (or a really good guess but I don't think this one's meant to be guessable), so we have no choice but to try the commlink.



...Blitz did have some kind of a backup plan in the really rather foreseeable case that we'd end up locked out of the computer we needed to access, right?





The icon here is reused from the Brotherhood security system from DMS and there presumably isn't an actual camera attached.

Who wants to know?

Who? WHO? JON BERGFALK, that's who! *I'm* the one who keeps these servers *protected.* And I *can't do it* if you *KEEP INTERRUPTING ME!*

[The voice calms. Goes soft. Somehow, it isn't an improvement.]

Now, you tell me who you are. Answer up. Chop-chop.

Bergfalk, this charmer is the juice connoisseur who wrote those notes we found. This is a bit of an awkward situation what with us being here to rob the place and all, but we've talked ourselves through worse.

(Charisma 5) Who the hell do you think I am?

[There is a long pause, then the voice warbles out again.]

...Albert?

That's right. Albert. Now open the door.

[Wariness creeps into the voice on the other side of the speaker.]

You don't sound like Albert.

I have a cold. Just open the door.

You... you know that you're not supposed to be in here. Not after what happened last time. We've already gotten our "one and only warning," remember?

Normally this'd be a dead end for this conversation, but we know a little something about this guy and his buddy Albert thanks to our sharply-honed garbage digging skills.

Yeah, sure. I know. But I also know that I've got a bottle of the good stuff in my bag.



That was definitely easier than it had any right to be.





Shhhh, Jon, shhh. It's late you know, just go lie down while we do our thing.



Our target is in sight, but looting always comes first.





The server room connects to the hallway from earlier, and this particular keycard opens up the room there which we could've sent a drone in had we had one.



No treasure here other than the satisfaction of getting to search through another desk.



Well, these sure are familiar names.



We'd better keep moving, huh, Hasenkamp? Like you said, Grinder is waiting.

Yeah, yeah. Hang on a second. This is important.

It's awfully tempting to tell him that we're in too much of a hurry and simply have to move on right away, but somebody has to be the adult in the room.

Just wanted to hear you say it. Now, why would Plotz have Grinder's financial records?

To steal from him, most likely. But these records... they don't make any sense.

Care to explain that to the rest of us?

[The accountant frowns, staring at the paper printouts in front of him.]

I know Mr. Grinder's books. I tend them for him. And I'm telling you, what I'm seeing in here doesn't add up.

Why would you want it to? If the Landenberg Ring has a file on Grinder, isn't it better that it's wrong?

Well, sure, but what I'm seeing here... it looks neat. Professional. This isn't amateur work. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to write out projections for all of Mr. Grinder's future profits, and those projections are *way* outside the scope of what our organization brings in annually.

Maybe there's something going on that you don't know about. Could Grinder be working a deal under your nose? Something he wants to keep you insulated from, maybe?

No. No way. That would be financial suicide. Mr. Grinder is good at intimidating people and breaking kneecaps. When it comes to keeping the business running, I'm the man that he turns to. Have been for a dozen years.

Maybe you should ask Grinder about it when we're done with the run.



Guess Blitz wasn't wrong, the plot does seem to be growing thicker like a chunk of pig's head cheese.



But what it all means will have to wait until later. This ended up being a lot of sidetracking, but maybe next time we'll finally roll up our sleeves and get to work proper.

Until then.




***






While we managed to slip under Jon Bergfalk's less than watchful eye smoothly thanks to our thorough investigating and charisma, there's a bunch of alternate dialogue here which I figured would better fit into its own section. Oh and incidentally, the correct code for the door is 8814.



First of all, you can opt to simply not say anything after using the comm.

Who the HELL are you, and why are you leaning on the GODDAMNED door buzzer?

[Stay quiet.]

[After a pregnant pause, you hear the voice again.]

Stupid thing. Must be busted again.



Alternatively you can respond to him once and then fall silent when he asks for your identity a second time:

Now, you tell me who you are. Answer up. Chop-chop.

[Stay quiet.]

[After a pregnant pause, you hear the voice again.]

I... I guess I must've imagined it. Gotta lay off the stims, Jon... they're making you go all squirrelly again.

Either way, if you buzz him yet again:



[Stay quiet.]

Twice in a row? What is this thing's problem?

Third time's the charm, bzzzzz!



Staying quiet now causes him to charge out, so let's instead answer the guy.

All right, calm down and put the pen away. You wouldn't hurt your old friend Albert, would you?

Don't test me, Albert. You've always been a royal pain in the ass, you know that?

[There is a burst of static as he coughs into the microphone.]

...By the way, what happened to your voice? You don't sound like yourself.

I have a cold.

Yeah? Well, you deserve it. Now tell me why you're pestering me, and make it quick. My patience for you dried up months ago.

And now you can mention the bottle of goods in your bag if you know about it. Or...

[Lean on the comm button again.] No particular reason. I'm just having fun driving you nuts.



And then not-albert proceeds to promptly murder his face, though at least this way it was technically in self-defense.

So whenever you think you're having the absolute worst day at work, remember the fate of poor Jon Bergfalk.