destinystrings | Rerouted Delivery

Who: The Courier and you!
Where: Taurus District, nighttime.
Summary: A new arrival has a bit of unfortunate luck...
Warnings: General warnings that apply to the red light district.

One thing's for sure: this isn't home. It's an alleyway. Another thing - her back hurts from a less than pleasant landing. After standing up, a woman clad in a dirty grey jumpsuit stumbles out of the alley, and out into a main street of the Taurus District.

On first glance, the lights and adverts almost look like New Vegas. On second glance?

It certainly ain't Vegas. It's too...nice. Things aren't falling apart at the seams, and there's no walls of welded scrap caging everything in. No robots or overzealous soldiers patrolling to keep the peace - it seems peaceful enough, even if some of the beings wandering around are certainly strange-looking. And having seen the things Gina's seen, that says a lot. Her hand goes to her hip, and finds the comforting, well-worn grip of her plasma pistol. She keeps it holstered, however, and moves to a sidewalk. After looking to find someone who doesn't look confused, or doesn't look like they're too focused on finding entertainment in a place like this, she'll cut right to the point when she gets their attention.

"Where the hell am I?"

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[And as luck should have it, there's a certain ex mob boss penguin heading down the streets of the Taurus District getting ready to open up his club for the night. Not exactly the most savory sort to get an introduction from, but there are probably few who know these particular streets as well as he does.]

Another newbie, huh? Don't worry, happens to the best of us. This city's called Hinoto-Ri, and you just landed smack in the middle of the red light district.

[Not quite the person she was intending to get an answer from, but an answer's an answer, right?

That's usually what she'd think, but this was a big bird-guy. Do pardon Gina as she gives him a look that quite plainly says she doesn't believe that she's seeing what's in front of her, and checks her pulse and a few other things - just to make sure this isn't some kind of bad, accidental chem trip. Thoroughly unsatisfied with nothing she can assign blame to, she huffs out a sigh, then adjusts her glasses.]

...well then.

Any idea who dropped me in an alley, and which way it is back to New Vegas?

[DeDeDe just waits impassively while she works through all that in her head. He's used to it by now.]

Yep, sure do. You're not gonna like the answer, though.

[Well, that's a first for experiences like this.]

Usually never do in situations like this. Then again, I usually don't get an answer so quickly - so what's the catch?

You remember Madam Butterfly? Jerk in a fancy-lookin' mask who talked to you in your dreams? Name's Philemon. This shit's all his fault. And I got no clue where New Vegas is, but it sure as hell ain't anywhere around here. They don't let folk outside the city.

You mean that wasn't...

[It's at this point that Gina raises one hand to her head. And then the other, and she wipes at her face out of frustrated annoyance.]

Goddamnit.

Yeah. Wasn't a dream. But the good news is, this city ain't all that bad once you get used to it. Better'n a lotta places, I can tell you that for damn sure.

Uuuuuggggh. I'm either far too sober for this, or not sober enough. Schrödinger's sobriety, just what I needed.

It may not be, but I'm not exactly a fan of getting uprooted like this. It usually comes with a heaping side of doing bullshit errands for psychotics - if that not-a-dream was right like you say, then it looks like I'm stuck doing it.

Well, if it's drinks ya need, you're in luck. I run a little club not too far from here. Might help to take the edge off a little.

...tempting, but no. Not right now, at least.

[She reaches down, patting the various pockets of her jumpsuit.] And even if I did want to right off, I'm a bit lacking in caps at the moment.

Gonna assume you mean cash. And if you're lookin' to make a spare buck, I could set you up with a job.

Well, yes. Guessing bottlecaps aren't the currency of choice in these parts?

[If not, well, guess her hands are tied. Good thing she's used to doing odd jobs for money.]

...what kind of job?

Nope. Not baseball cards, either.

[Seriously, what is this, kindergarten?]

We deal in cash around here.

[He takes out a bill before folding it back into his parka.]

As for the job... that all depends on what you're good at.

[Nope, just the end of the world, man. She does seem to recognize the idea of paper money, though.]

I see.

[She sighs a bit, then shoves her hands in her pockets. Wasn't quite planning on giving a verbal resume today, but hey.]

I'm a courier by trade - you need something delivered, I'll get it there. Even in dangerous territory, but I won't exactly be happy about that part. Hazard pay tends to put me in a better mood about that, though. Other than that, I'm good at fixing tech, could probably open a doctor's office if I wanted to, and I'm a damn good shot.

[There's a pause, as she realizes that likely sounds a bit outlandish, and she raises a hand to adjust her glasses.]

...need those kind of skills to get through what I call 'dangerous territory'.

Runnin' packages and messages, huh? Sure sounds like somethin' I could use. Confidentiality guaranteed, I assume?

[This kind of thing is always useful when you're running illegal clubs and trying to become a local crime boss.]

Generally.

[At this point, Gina folds her arms.]

Long as you're not out to actively ruin society as a whole or piss all over a bunch of innocent folks just trying to get by, I don't have a problem.

Nope, just a businessman. I've found society does a good enough job destroyin' itself on its own.

[That gets a look of bitter amusement out of the woman, followed by a sigh.]

That's true enough. Tentatively count me in, then.

I'll let you know when I've got somethin' for ya. 'Till then, feel free to stop by the club whenever you want. It's just up the way here.

[He points his hammer toward what looks like a warehouse entrance, with a sign above the door reading Penguin's Nest.]

Don't think I ever caught your name, either.

Gina. Gina Thomas, nothing fancy.

[She does look at the sign, and upon reading it, lets out a weary, half-amused sigh. She's really giving her name and offering her services to a hammer-wielding giant penguin that runs a club.]

Still not convinced of my sobriety, though.

Pleased to make your acquaintance, then. Name's DeDeDe. You can call me D, Big D, Triple D, the Penguin, whatever you want. I've heard 'em all.

[That list gets a raised eyebrow.]

Likewise, and I think I'll just stick with DeDeDe, if it's all the same to you.

That's just fine by me.

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