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Pump-and-Dump the Junior Negotiator

117 skill checks

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Pump-and-Dump the Junior Negotiator

Conditions

Frederik What's Going On

hershel · KnowsFredIsEMTERR

Frederik Pump & Dump WCs

Both Fred Pump WCs

frederick · TraversedTheGapFromFred

Resets

Make an assessment of the phoneline hog.

frederick · SawHisStressoskar_metamoto · MentionedFrederikexpilots · PhoneHoggerEMTERRconditioning · timeBonusActiveconditioning · noExertActive

Gäng up on him.

frederick · ShowedFrederikTrainfrederick · HardShoveSucceedconditioning · timeBonusActiveconditioning · noExertActive

Use Duchess's canny method to fill in the gap.

frederick · SawHisStressduchess · ProudOfYounpc_names · ZoeKnownduchess · EmptySpaceIsCrewduchess · ProudOfYounpc_names · ZoeKnownconditioning · timeBonusActiveconditioning · noExertActive

This man matches the description of 'Frederik' given by Oskar Metamoto, the EMTERR negotiator.

A prisoner of his own desire.

A bubble just waiting to be burst.

Blood rush. Boiling. Fist clench.

There. The little mental tickle -- that's your brain telling you you're close to something important.

modifier +1

If it weren't for the handset he's clutching you would've laid him right out.

In this man's mental-life, physical violence is what happens to other people.

But also attention. He won't brush you off so easily now.

THE ENEMY FLEES FROM THE POST-HISTORICAL DUSTBIN.

At last, now you can use the phone.

Now's your chance to see what this 'Miracle Line' is all about.

COWED BY THE LIQUID ENEMY. YOU'VE BROUGHT DISCREDIT TO THE PEOPLE'S SPIES.

But also attention. He won't brush you off so easily now.

Superiority. Contempt.

He won't brush you aside so easily now.

Your approach is laughably unbalanced. See how he deflects you with a flurry of maladroit gestures.

The physical body often telegraphs the feelings that trouble the insides.

Anxious disposition. Cold sweat. Likely stomach problems. It's all there...

You've seen yourself like this before.

This 'mysterious gap' may be connected to the Grand Lich's arrival. You should investigate.

A pained intensity in his lowered voice that strains his vocal chords.

Old pilots? He must be referring to the table of nattering old men you passed on the way here.

UNACCEPTABLE. THE PEOPLE'S REPRESENTATIVE WON'T BE OBSTRUCTED.

This rocket is close to lift off. No room for a co-pilot in that command capsule.

Beneath the pleated folds of his trousers stirs something fleshy and horrible.

For his services at this payphone he is paid nothing -- and yet, he remains number one employee of the month, every month.

Make an assessment of the phoneline hog.

modifier +1

His only source of relief is the sweat seeping into the fabric of his wind-whipped collar.

Stop. Scent of prey. Pupils dilate.

EMTERR, a.k.a. L'Empire sans Territoire, a.k.a. 'The Bank'. Equal parts global development fund and spy service. Linchpin of the Developed World.

THE BLOODY HAND OF TRANSNATIONAL CAPITAL.

He is all limbs, an unloved body at home only in the most ergonomic of chairs.

Pale, moist, clammy. Like a deformed frog plucked from the canal there.

Already set on life's glide path, and all it cost him was his humanity.

He may be delusional, but he's not attempting to deceive. He believes every word.

The bazaar full of genuine Luzian tech -- gadgets outnumbering people, their bodies crawling with fresh devices... yes...

REGULATE THEM STRAIGHT TO THE LUNAR CADMIUM MINES AND THE MATTER WILL NOT ARISE.

Especially him.

A GROSS UNDERESTIMATION OF THE PEOPLE'S ARSENAL. THERE ARE STILL THOUSANDS OF LANDMINES BURIED FROM THE LAST WARS.

It would be an honour to be the ground beneath a Luzian L-56. Their tracks print the initials of their most decorated generals.

Kill this little shit.

THIS CLASS-FOE MUST BE MADE TO RELINQUISH THE PUBLIC'S INFRASTRUCTURE.

If you want to use the phone you're going to need to dislodge him first.

ONE OF CAPITAL'S ARCH-VILES. A CLASS-FOE PAR EXCELLENCE.

It's stirring some very counter-revolutionary feelings deep down.

A feeling like an ice-dagger pierces your gut.

You suspect this is going to cost you another drink at least.

Hopefully he hasn't completely passed out yet.

Oskar Metamoto... the Party Alley casualty.

An orgiastic dance that, in another time, would summon a fertilitous god from the boil of the sky.

Motions entirely devoid of grace. A complete lack of bodily control.

SUCH AN INSULT TO THE PEOPLE'S DRIP CANNOT GO UNANSWERED.

May be time to make a visit to the Party Alley tailor.

We can't stand for this disrespect any longer. Time to Assemble!

The way forward is obvious. Duchess surely knows what this 'gap' is all about.

Engaging with the flesh is pointless. This problem demands a more elegant techno solution.

You've already brought RADIAN back into your orbit. He should make short work of this task.

You've already located RADIAN. Get him back on his medication and he'll surely make short work of this task.

This task screams RADIAN. If you can locate your former asset, he'll surely make short work of this task.

Whoever's on the other end of that call surely knows what this 'gap' is all about.

Immediate terror. Real, unfeigned, unkinky terror.

True admiration. Even now he regards the reassembled model-kit with appropriate reverence.

It takes all his strength to negate what the model train is doing to him, but it has already had its effect. Pliancy increased tenfold.

Can't even convince himself with the insults jittering out of his brain.

The wheel itself isn't distinguishing enough -- it could belong to a number of high-end model sets.

His eyes skimmed right over it, almost as if it wasn't there.

Gäng up on him.

modifier +1

An intervention.

THE REALLOCATION OF RESOURCES.

Witness his true form emerge: A spittle-licker, specially bred to feel utter contempt for anyone below them and pants-wetting fear of anyone above.

EMTERR's personnel department. Infamous for their hands-on approach to quarterly check-ins.

His own febrile logic has turned in on itself. He'll believe anything you tell him now.

He thinks he's about to be dismissed.

You're under no obligation to stop your opponent from making a mistake.

Anticipation. Building. Bursting.

No spouse. No friends. No passions. No beliefs. Just this.

The sound of desire, freshly unearthed. L'Appel de gap.

So that's it -- a gap in the Grand Lich's official itinerary, unknown even to EMTERR. Wide enough for a bullet to go through.

A cryptonym. Meaning...

A name, the last thing to be traded away.

The way he says it, he's not sure whether that's really true.

Shortness of breath. Pale, sweaty complexion. Nosebleeds. Symptoms of hypertension.

If he keeps going like this, he's going to stroke out in his 30s.

High-velocity gap pondering tool. Also the only way you've ever tidied your apartment.

All around you, thousands of copper strands reach out in as many directions. The electricity buzzes softly with unheard voices.

You've wrung what you need from this limp rag. Time to move on.

The way he says it, he's not sure whether he'd consider that a negative or not.

YOU MAY NEVER TOUCH THE MASTER OF CAPITAL BUT YOU CAN TAKE A STEAMING DUMP ON HIS CREATURES.

He may shortly find himself on flight D513 bound for Ile-de-Söze.

He may shortly find himself on a flight to an unmarked labour camp.

Incomprehension, mixed with a taste of horror.

You already know her name. It rang out to you across the noumenal plane.

A fellow supplicant at Her altar.

High-end threadware, to seize his attention.

THE RUNNING DOG ANSWERS ONLY TO SIGNIFIERS OF WEALTH. ACQUIRE THESE AND HE'LL SUCK YOUR HAUTE BOURGEOIS TOES.

It may be time to reconsider the wiretapping solution.

The way forward is obvious. Duchess surely knows what this 'gap' is all about.

There's no point going meat-to-meat. You need a more techno solution.

You've already brought RADIAN back into your orbit. He should make short work of this task.

You've already located RADIAN. Get him back on his medication and he'll surely make short work of this task.

This task screams RADIAN. If you can locate your former asset, he'll surely make short work of this task.

Use Duchess's canny method to fill in the gap.

modifier +1gates.IsFlagSetgates.IsFlagNotSet

A Merillian SJ6. Top speed 90 km/h, 150cc engine. Entry-level model popular with metropolitan professionals and a subset of hardcore national chauvinists.

He just permanently forgot his first handjob from a boy. They were fourteen, watching foreign movies in the dark. They never looked each other in the eye again.

You know this man's connected with EMTERR. He may be one of the two negotiators you've caught wind of.

This man matches the description you've received of one of the two EMTERR negotiators said to be handling this 'secret treaty'.

He's been going on about this mysterious gap for a while. It may be time to get to the bottom of it.

You're a true Shape-Changer, a high archon of fashion.

Pre-orgasmic tremors jiggle the padded shoulders of his jacket.

Metamoto did say his junior 'Frederik' would be under a great deal of stress.

So this is what the 'miracle' looks like first hand.

Could this have anything to do with the 'sensuous' phone card you found on PSEUDOPOD?

He practically clings to it, like a shipwreck-survivor holding onto a piece of driftwood.

The line appears to be occupied.

His glasses are half-fogged from the sweat beading on his upper lip.

His tie is loose, beads of sweat glint off his neck. A desperate odour emanates off him.

Pump-and-Dump the Junior Negotiator - ZERO PARADES Checks