HEART, AND EAR, AND EYE
Job 5: It's Electric!
Carmelita leaves the safe-house and makes her way through town, only going to the rooftops when Bentley reminds her. Unlike the rest of them, sneaking still isn't in her first nature, or even her second or third; before she went to Egypt, she would've said it wasn't in any of her natures. She growls and shakes her head, clearing that thought, and reaches the roof across from the bakery.
She pulls up the binoc-u-com and focuses. "There's no way to do this legally?"
"Sure, we could spend a couple weeks gathering evidence," says Bentley. "Tomorrow's opening night. It's act now and against the law or let The Contessa get away with whatever she's planning."
Carmelita scowls, but she doesn't argue. "Fine. What's my objective?"
"The equipment in that bakery is involved in adding spice to the food," says Bentley. "Use your shock pistol to render the entire operation useless. If you see anything particularly fragile, break it, or something you can take as evidence, do so. And move fast. Once you've taken out the bakery, I'll head on my mission, and Sly will head out when you're done with the pastry parlor."
"All right."
With a burst of static, Sly cuts in. "You be careful in there, okay Carm?"
"You're one to talk."
"I know, but... at least keep an eye out for The Contessa. We're gonna be making a mess, so if you see her, stay clear until she leaves for another target."
"Already had that figured out, Sly. I'll see you back at the safe-house."
Carmelita tucks away her binoc-u-com and studies the building in front of her. Squat. Two stories. Closed door.
How is she supposed to get in? If she had a no-knock warrant, kicking down the door would be one thing, but she doesn't want to attract attention from the street. Is there another door?
She circles the building once, studying it. There are a number of windows on the second floor, but they're all closed. And there aren't any other doors. What is she supposed to do, break something?
"Try checking to see if things are locked," says Bentley in her ear. "They don't have alarms in this era, so if something isn't latched, they won't be able to tell you're there if you're quiet."
Carmelita growls under her breath but does as instructed. One of the windows on the second floor slides open, and she slips inside, shutting it behind her.
Laser security greets her. Fences across the room, three of them, the lasers moving in three unique patterns.
Carmelita's first instinct is to call Interpol for back-up or for expert assistance, followed by the realization that she's not exactly within the rule of law now, and any assistance would rightfully arrest her. Her second instinct is to stop what illegal thing she's doing and leave, but that isn't an option here. It's not like she hasn't gone through security systems before, but this is different.
Only, how different is it, really? She has her shock pistol in hand, she's going to stop a crime, and she's going to catch a criminal. If she was willing to swallow her pride, she'd even have back-up; Sly or Bentley would be happy to come with her if she needed it. Which she does not.
All this she mutters to herself, argues to herself, as she studies the fences and times her dodges through them, avoiding the lasers and making her way to a staircase. She pauses at the top to listen before going down.
The bakery is unlike any bakery she's ever seen. Sure, there are ovens, and sure, there are bread ingredients. There are even lasers going around the edges of the walls, normal security (well, considering the lasers already there, anyway. Bit overkill for most bakeries, really.) But there's also this massive... dancing... mechanical... bread-making... octopus... thing. Kneading the bread, and stirring some bowls, and small containers of red spice dust in each of its arms, mixing it in as it goes about all of its tasks.
It's at this point that Carmelita wonders if she ate or drank some spice herself, because this must be a hallucination. "All right," she says, holding up her shock pistol. "Henriette had Sushi, but now, I'm gonna make me some metal Sashimi."
She shoots the thing's giant, bulbous 'head', where it doesn't seem to do any damage but attracts its attention. The thing turns to her, gears where its eyes should be. They spin as they see her, and it raises several of its tentacles in a threatening posture, revealing red targets flashing under their first joints.
It doesn't take a crackshot to figure out what needs to be done here. Carmelita ducks and dodges, jumping over swiping metallic tentacles and shooting whenever the targets appear. Its limbs flare bright red when shot, then stop working, hanging limp. When Carmelita shoots the last tentacle, it slumps over, exposing the top of its head and a last target.
"That was easy," comments Carmelita, lowering her pistol. The lasers on the edges of the room flicker off. She nudges the smoking husk of Sashimi with her boot. "Okay Bentley, I'm done in the first bakery."
"I just detected a wireless signal sent to the theater. That must be alerting the Contessa. I'm sure it'll lure her out."
"All according to plan, isn't that right?" asks Carmelita.
"It's perfect. I'll upload the pastry parlor into your binoc-u-com, then head out. But be careful. With The Contessa on the move, there's no telling where she could be, and we don't have enough people to tail her right now."
With the flash of a loading screen, Carmelita exits the bakery. As she emerges onto the roof, Sly speaks into her ear. "Bentley's on his way to the theater. How you doing?"
"I'm just fine, Ringtail," she says, locating the next waypoint and leaping across the street to the next rooftop. A few quick shots with her shockpistol and the guard's unconscious. "You should keep an eye on Bentley."
"He hasn't made it to the theater yet," Sly says in her ear as she makes her way from rooftop to rooftop. It's not second nature for her, not like it is for him, and she takes to the streets far more often than she needs to; she's navigating more like Murray, only using the rooftops when necessary, even though she has several times his skill and could stay up there forever. "The Contessa's either on her way to the bakery you just dealt with or is going to check on her other things, like the tea shop or the pastry parlor you're heading for. And..."
Carmelita jumps to another rooftop. The pastry parlor's in sight. "And?"
"And I like watching you."
Carmelita doesn't have anything to say to that. Instead, she approaches the parlor. This time, the front door is unlocked; she just walks right in.
Cakes, cookies, and any number of other red-flecked desserts lay in cases awaiting purchase, though the shop has closed for the night; flour dusts the floor. Carmelita leaves footprints in it as she walks forward, looking around. Behind the counter is a staff-only door; she eases it open.
A staircase leading down and a wave of heat greets her, orange and red light flickering on the walls. It's obvious as the pistol in her hands that there will be ovens down there.
Almost as obvious is the second dancing mechanical octopus thing, only this one is making pies, not bread. "All right," Carmelita says, readying her shock pistol. "It's time to take down some Onigiri."
It's shorter, it's faster, it keeps trying to crush her in something that's either frosting or cement, but at least this one doesn't try to knead her, and the debris it drops as she shoots it stays where it is instead of spreading and going away like clouds of flour. She's got the thing electrocuted and broken for good very quickly.
"Nice work," says Sly. "I'll upload the coordinates of the tea shop, then Thaddeus and I will head out and leave Murray in charge of the binoc-u-com."
"That'll be fine," says Carmelita, holstering her pistol. "Oh. Once we're done in England, Sly, could we go back and see Rioichi?"
"You want to go to Feudal Japan?" Sly asked. "I mean... I think Bentley would object, but... what brought this on?"
"He's an ancestor of yours I haven't met yet," Carmelita says, making her way up the stairs. "He invented sushi, right?"
"Do you want to go to feudal Japan just to get sushi?" Sly asks, his voice tinged with laughter. "You know, there's this really good restaurant in Tokyo I haven't taken you to yet. If Bentley doesn't agree, why don't we go there? Or even if he does."
"It's not just for sushi." Carmelita makes her way to the roof. "And it's a date."
"Great. We can eat at Rioichi's and there, see how it measures up. I'll work on convincing Bentley later. Right now, I've got a job. You should have the next waypoint in sight."
Carmelita does indeed have another waypoint to get to. And of course, it's halfway across the city. Criminals never seem to put their labs doing evil and wicked things near each other, and even if they did, Bentley would never make you go after two places next to each other right in a row. Too easy for people to go from inspecting the place you just hit to the next place you're hitting.
Which is something Carmelita did several times, wait nearby only to hear an alert that a location clear across town had been robbed by the Cooper Gang, but it was just as likely she'd go in the wrong direction if she tried to anticipate them. Much as all this walking back and forth irritates her, she can appreciate what it's doing: if The Contessa is investigating the destroyed shops, she's unlikely to investigate the tea shop. And she's almost looking forward to dealing with Nigiri.
"Bentley's notes say to remind you about the rooftops, Carmelita," says Murray. "I guess he thinks you can forget."
Carmelita growls under her breath as she realizes she is not, in fact, on the rooftops. "I don't need to be reminded."
"Well, okay. Bentley's fine, by the way," he adds. "Hacking, so he can't talk much. Oh! I need to give Sly instructions now."
Carmelita reaches the tea shop. The doors, front and back, are both locked; all the windows are closed and tightly barred. Carmelita growls under her breath and pulls out her binoc-u-com. "Hey Murray, you there?"
"Yeah," he says.
"Do not tell Sly or Bentley, but I can't get in." Her voice is barely above a growl.
"There's no smoke coming from the chimney. Did you try going down there? Places with really old chimneys and real chimneys sometimes even have enough room for me!"
The mental image makes Carmelita chuckle. "Just like Santa?"
"Yeah! Only, I'm not so good at getting out that way, like Sly can. I've been practicing, though."
"You'd make a good Santa Claus," she tells him. "You ever decide to give up this thief schtick, I bet you could make a living that way."
"Right! Now I have to practice even harder!"
"Later, big guy. I'll go try the chimney now."
Carmelita stows her binoc-u-com in her pocket and gets on the building's roof. Murray was right: the chimney is wide enough for her to slip down, and if she wanted, she could probably climb up it as well, though she'd probably strain a few muscles. She emerges at the bottom covered in soot and sneezing, and takes a moment to brush herself off and survey the room, looking for the tea shop's version of the dancing tentacled octopus that was at the last two locations.
Instead, she sees lasers barring the doors and windows in impenetrable barriers and a bare stone floor that slopes downward sharply, into the basement; water pours from a pump in the ceiling into it, making the whole area slick. Several troughs, filled with liquids of different colors—clear, red-flecked, gold, white—go down as well, disappearing from view.
Carmelita takes only a few steps before her feet go out from under her and she's going down a rather steep slide. She gets her bearings after a few moments—not enough to stop, but enough to jump over the laser security and pay attention to what's going on around her. Like targets she has to shoot to turn off impenetrable laser barriers and the troughs emptying around her, mixing together as the slide splits and she winds up in a juice (or milk, or tea, or Guru-knows-what) slide.
And you didn't hear this from me, but she may have started laughing part of the way down.
When she's deposited at the bottom, clean of soot and her uniform soaked through and dripping, she rings out her tail and looks around. All the liquid from the slide drips through drains and into casks and bottles, different types based on how it was mixed, and there's lots of delicate-looking equipment controlling it.
It only takes a few shots to handle the equipment. "No more spiced goods for The Contessa."
"Swell," says Murray. "But is there anything there without spice you can bring back? I'm kinda hungry."
JOB COMPLETE
Carmelita poses with her gun, grinning, then looks at the water-free but still damp slide and starts climbing her way back up.