Mens Rea, Will a guilty mind betray the soul? Options

[Nikoli]

{June 17th 2073 21:05}
Redmond, an empty lot in the rough side of town
A European man in a sharp suit speaks in hushed tones with a pretty, young Hispanic woman kneeling across from him. The two men standing to either side of her resting their hands on her shoulders ready to quell any notion of standing.
"I'm so happy you could join me tonight Miss Torres, my employer would like a word with you." The suited man tosses a small bag to the woman while watching her reactions. She isn't struggling, but neither is she resigned. The tension in her jaw speaks volumes as to her feelings on the matter. "Inside that change of clothes. You will place everything on you inside and wear what has been provided tonight. Refuse and you'll wear nothing. Either way will please my associate. I'm certain you understand."
The woman spits on the speaking mans shoes. In response he nods curtly to the goons holding her. One draws a small blade and begins removing her garments. She stifles a scream, refusing to give any measure of victory. She doesn't thrash, she simply goes limp, becoming dead weight in the other goons hands. She never noticed the injector being applied to her neck.

The two goons finish their task and load the young woman into the back of the unmarked van, several other women in a similar state stacked in like so much cord wood. The suited man speaks up again as all three take a seat inside the van.
"Almost full gentlemen, time to go make the rounds."

[Nikoli]

{June 24th 2073 13:17}
MezKal's Commlink
Incoming Message. ID: Dragonov
Omae, just got wind of some work, not your usual stuff but not too far off the beaten path either. Thought you might have some friends that could help this guy out. He says he's looking for his girlfriend, he'll give you the details. He says he'd like to discuss it with you over some beers at Toohey's Pub in Redmond tomorrow around 7PM. Just ask the bartender for Mickey's Table.

[Ears]

{24th June 2073/ 13:28}
A small house in South Bellevue, almost Renton
Loud music(?) is playing, Faces starts to poke his head out from under his bed covers.
"I'm awake, I'm awake! Strange, doesn't feel like 5PM to me..."
"House, time."
A holgraphic woman in a decidedly anachronistic dress (20th century?) appears in the middle of the room, saying "It's 13:28".
"Shit! Why the fuck did you wake me... ah, never mind answering that."
Having noticed his comm, blinking its "You've got an important message, look at it already!" pattern, he slouches over to it to see what it's about.
Hmm, missing person. Yup, not the beaten path. But then, I wanted to branch out. Speaking of which, my head feels like someone beat antler seed into them and now they've started to branch out.

He walks into the bathroom to look for his headache pills, sniffling. A cold again? Great start for a day. Was a nice evening, though.
...
Hmm, missing girlfriend. KE's useless, of course. Assuming he's not overreacting and a regular PI really won't cut it, this might get interesting. And if he does, easy money.
{24th June 2073/ 14:04}

To: Dragonov
Sure, I think I know some people who might be interested. Gonna contact them right away.
Where exactly is this Pub in Redmond and how seedy is it?
Oh, and what can you tell me about this guy?


Next up, seeing whether someone's actually interested.

To: <multiple recipients (5)>
Hi,
just got a job offered that could require your various talents. Someone's girlfriend's gone missing and he'd like some help looking for her.
Guy's arranged a meet tomorrow night to hash out any details, such as payment. If you're interested I'll send you the time/location.


Yawing, he stumbles back into the bedroom...

[Touch]

{24th June 2073/ 14:04}
A large house, Bellevue
A commlink vibrates in notification on a desk covered in files. The sound blares in contrast to the silence, Truth looks up from the file he was reading not startled, just aware. The sound had freed him from his thoughts. He sets the file he was reading down on top of a neat stack of similar files. He had every word in ever one of the files memorized, and he could recite them by heart, but that didn't stop him from studying them on an almost daily ritual. He reaches for his commlink, hesitant to look at the message It's not about her, it's not about her. He was preparing himself for the disappointment for that the message would feel him with.
He finally brought himself to read the message.

A kidnapping, it sounds almost too innocent for these guys, and it probably isn't as simple as they used to be. Well, at least I can do some good here.

Truth prepared a reply, but stood in front of a mirror in a dark corner of the room before he sent it. He didn't see himself in the mirror, but instead the pictures on the sides of the mirror. He first looked to the one on the left, a mug shot of a ruff looking man. The picture filled Truth's heart with regret, but not as much as when he looked at the picture on the right. It was a worn picture of a beautiful human girl. Truth reached to touch the picture, but he stopped just before he made contact.

"For you..." Truth said in a quiet voice before hitting send on his commlink.

To: Faces
I'm in if you still need me, send me the information.

[RelentlessImp]

[06/24/2073 14:14]
An Apartment Building in Downtown
Professor came awake with a start as the vibrating beats of the music that alerted him to a message hammered through the earbuds plugged into his ears. Fumbling for his goggles, he pulled them on, then the gloves, tapping at the AROs to draw the message up. Peering quietly at the message, he sighed. Well, he needed the money; his rent was due in a few weeks, and he'd managed to squander quite a bit on everything but. The dark skinned man tapped the reply key.

To: Faces
Sounds like a plan. Hit me up with the details and I'll be there on time, as always. If there's money in it, you know I'm good for it.

With that done, he pulled the goggles and gloves off, dropping them on the bedside table, closing his eyes and insisting on going back to sleep. If there was a meet tomorrow night, he needed his beauty rest, after all. One doesn't go scaring the locals on low sleep.

[Ears]

{24th June 2073/ 14:05}
A small house in South Bellevue, almost Renton

Barely had he hit the mattres that Faces was disturbed again by a message.
New plan: Stay awake, deal with it right now and somehow, somehow suffer through this boring arts exhibition tonight on no sleep at all.
"Shitty plan, though."
Getting back up, he looks at his comm wishing he could make it explode then decides on reading and responding to the message waiting for him instead.


To: Truth
Sure, I'd still like you in. I'm on foreign ground with kidnappings, better to have someone at my back.
Guy said to come to Toohey's Pub in Redmond tomorrow around 7PM and to "just ask the bartender for Mickey's Table".
Haven't heard from the other guys yet, I'll send you a message before the meet, telling you who else has responded.


Damn, gotta ask Sam one day whether there's some kind of crash course in this kind of stuff.
"House, get the coffee maker working! Extra strong! Do we have any fresh bagels left? Turn up the volume!"

Once again, a hologram of a woman appears, following him, while he walks back towards the bathroom. "One can of extra strong coffee coming up. The fridge reports 7 bagels left, that are considered 'stale' by its factory standards but 'fresh' by the definition you inputted two weeks ago." His last command is acknowledged by the simple fact that "Skul Krashers'" new album "Fyne Read Myst" becomes louder.
...
A hot shower, two cups of coffee and four bagles (still OK) later, Faces is ready to check his messages again.


To: Professor
Good to hear from you; guy hasn't just called a PI, so I guess he's ready to hire some real talent. We'll convince him he's gotta pay for what he gets and nobody has to go home hungry.
Message said to come to Toohey's Pub in Redmond tomorrow around 7PM and to "just ask the bartender for Mickey's Table".
Just got a yes from Truth as welll, I'll tell you whom else to expect before the meet.


So, whatever happens at this pub, I at least got two guns - one of which slings mojo - on my side. Just hope it's not overkill for what the guy actually wants. Well, one problem at a time. Let's get the address of this pub first...

Hitting a 'trix site about Seattle bars, Faces starts looking for "Toohey's Pub" in conjunction with "Redmond"...

[almost normal]

{24th June 2073/ 13:30}
The crowded skies above Downtown Seattle

Pleasant wind swept through Kasha's body, shaping his meditation. He dreamt he was a majestic Condor, gracefully soaring over the Rocky Mountains. Their white caps below him, puffy white clouds around him, and above him, nothing but the heavens. From this pleasant mental state, he became aware of his surroundings as his commlink vibrated his flesh. He sighed, trying to re-calm his mind, to go back to those skies, but it was too late. Reality had set in.

With a frown, he opened his eyes, looking down at the streets below him as he flew by. His body responded to his thoughts, as he felt the warm hard metal of the Security Chopper on his hands, feet, and back. The adept had snuck underneath the vehicle when it landed atop a skyscraper hours ago, and used his gecko equipment to firmly plant himself onto it's belly upon it's ascent. It was the activity he loved the most here in Seattle, the feeling of flying through the skies, unhindered by controls and electronics. One day he'd work up the courage to pull the same feat off on an airplane, flying high in the skies, without the safety-net of nearby buildings.

That day was not today.

He took a moment to read and reply to the message.

To: Faces.

*Inserted image from Kasha's commlink, displaying an aerial view of Downtown Seattle*

Kasha overhead
Seattle alive below
Ancestors smile wide

It is pleasant to receive word from you. I am interested in this proposal. Please relay to me the address you wish me to observe.

Your friend
Kasha

[taeksosin]

{24th June 2073/14:45}
A run down warehouse a ways into Redmond

Some things never change. The sun rises and sets. Politicians promise free money for all while raising taxes. Rednecks love the drek out of Freebird.
"Aaaaand this bird you cannot chaaaaaange, whoaoaoaoa!" emanates off-key from underneath a rather plain looking GMC Hermes. The source appears to be the pair of legs sticking out from under the side of the vehicle, feet twitching in time with some beat. With a grunt, TripB comes sliding out from under the van on top of a dolly and springs to his feet. A quick glance around to verify no one else is present, he starts to play air guitar with the appropriate sounds coming from his mouth. Midway through what appears to be an epic guitar solo, he finally settles down and stares off into space while talking out loud to himself.

"Junk, junk, junk, lan'lo'd wantin' his rent, junk. Shet mah mouth!.. whut's this?" TripB's eyes flicker back and forth as he reads the message from Faces.
Lookin' fo' his galfriend? Not th' usual line of wawk ah git into, but ah guess it's sumpin t'make some nuyen t'git mah truck outta hock fum Paw.

To: Faces
ah guess ah can he'p out on this hyar one. Mebbe we'll git lucky, an' th' damsel will be in distress an' oh so thankful t'her noble rexcuers. Whar is we meetin' him, an' does we haf a name? I'll poke aroun' on th' Matrix t'see eff'n ah can find ennythin' out ahaid of time thet might he'p in negotiashuns. Let me knows if ennyone needs a ride.

Grinning at the prospect of work, TripB rolls back under the van to keep grease monkeying away to the strains of Sweet Home Alabama.

[Ears]

{24th June 2073/ 14:45}
A small house in South Bellevue, almost Renton

Still digging through the results of his search - the address seemed to be clear, there weren't many results from Redmond and only one relating to a bar, though there were a lot of hits from all over the UCAS that shouldn't even be there -, Faces was happy to see one - no, two, when did Kasha reply? - more confirmation pop up.

Damn, really gotta get better at this stuff, knew why I used to lie to people right where they stood.

He decides to read both of them, then reply.


To: Kasha
Nice image. If I ever settle down somewhere I'll have to ask you to make me some aerial shots.
The place is called Toohey's Pub, some dive in Redmond, and I'm supposed to meet the guy tomorrow around 7PM.
Guess there's gonna be enough abandoned buildings nearby to give you a crow's nest.
So far, Truth, Professor and TripB have said they're interested as well, so don't be surprised to see them there.
I'll give you an update before the meet to make sure everybody's on the same page.
Oh, and make sure you get an A/V feed from inside.



To: TripB
Well, we are looking at working for the damsel's boyfriend, so we should be vary what the gratitude looks like - at least until we've gotten paid.
The meet's tomorrow around 7Pm at Toohey's Pub in Redmond.
I'd love to give you a name, but the initial message didn't include one. I asked for more info on this guy, but haven't heard back from my contact yet.
I'll ping you if/when I get some details.
Truth, Professor and Kasha have also called in and agreed to come to the meet - well, Kasha's gonna stay outside to have a look on things there -, so we've almost assembled the crew from last time. I'll pass around your offer of transportation.


So, we're four guys inside, one for backup, better hope that guy expects the army he's getting. And better hope he's got the cred to pay us all.
Other than that, should I get a car? So far travelling light has served me well

Faces looks around for a second - rented home, leased furniture and decorations - then decides to postpone this decision.
With a chuckle, he goes back to sifting through junk, wondering whether Proxy would jumo in too.

[almost normal]

To Faces

Understood. Please leave the bug you would like me to place on the roof of your building. I shall collect it at 23:37:15. Note that the time of the rendezvous will be in broad daylight. If the meet wishes to betray you, it will likely be a frontal assault. Wear a cup.

Your friend,
Kasha

[d'Ark]

{24th June 2073/15:59}
A clean, if dingy apartment in Renton

Awaking with a start, Proxy sits upright on the moth eaten sofa he'd fallen asleep on at some deeply uncivilised hour the night before. Pulling his commlink out from under the sofa cushions, he pulls up the message which had woken him up, briefly scanning it before composing a quick reply.

To: Faces
Send me the details for the meet location and I'll be there. Proxy out.

That message sent, he slumps back on the sofa, rubbing at his temples.

Gods above, if Amelia ever offers me that Russian swill again I'm saying no..

[Nikoli]

{June 24th 2073 17:15}
Faces' Commlink
From: Dragonov
Dug up some more information for you on the Johnson and the location.
Jaime Garrate, freelance media representative, think agent but slightly less of a scum-bag. Seems the girlfriend is also his star client and she's late for filing a story. Still can't verify if he's really looking for her or just the story she was working on. Girl's name is Guadalupe Torres.

As far as the bar, it's at 2500 C. Street in Auburn. Used to be a cop bar, but with the fall of the 'Star, it's become the goto watering hole for the staff at Community General across the road. Not seedy, but not exactly bright and happy either. Subdued is the word you're looking for. Patrons seem to like their privacy indulged and their humor black. The house specialties are named after medical conditions. So you should definitely bone up on the parlance if you want to fit in. A Subdural Hematoma is a Bloody Brain and a Cardial Infarction is Red Bull with vodka.

[Ears]

{24th June 2073 / 17:45}
Yang's Arts, downtown

Walking away from another insipid conversation with a wannabe arts pundit, Faces looks longingly at the last glass of champagne in sight being snatched up by yet the host.
Yup, just as boring as expected. Doesn't help that I gotta keep up the sharade as bad Ork-poser human, we came up for MezKaL. almost as stupid as the name. This nagging feeling I've forgotten something doesn't help, either...

Just as an annoying young girl - an admirer with absolutely no taste in art (or clothing) - is about to approach him, it hits him.

"Motherfragging bastard of a slitch!"

Storming right past the stunned girl, Faces heads for the toilets.
...

To: Karvusta
Hi, a friend of mine is looking for some talent to find a missing woman.
If you're interested, message me and I'll send you the details for the meet with the J.
Some common friends are gonna be there, btw.


Damn, too stupid to count. We were seven; me and the five guys I messaged, that's six.

"One plus five is six is less than seven!"

He can hear someone laugh from outside his stall.

That and the explosion before should at least give the pundits something to write about. Crazy artist even crazier than thought.


To: James
Think my faking being crazy or some kind of retard could boost sales?
Do some mystery shit about some mental asylum, only allowed out under supervision, that kinda thing?
And no, I'm not gonna wear a straightjacket!


Walking back out, he tries to ignore the knowing glances and heads for the bar.

Damn, I better apologise to Karvusta before he finds out. Afterwards is even harder.

With a sigh - and a drink -, he looks around to see where that admirer - annoying? yes; stupid? yes; his only fan tonight? sadly, yes - has gone.

[taeksosin]

{24th June 2073/17:17}
A run down warehouse a ways into Redmond

A binglebingle noise in TripB's ear coincides with his music pausing and the message from Faces popping up in front of him.

Wal...a name an' a place. ah doesn't knows if ah like th' idea of a-gonna a docko' bar, but wif th' stuff them mizzuable fraggers hafta put up wif, th' six packs ought t'be fine an' strong! Cain't haf mo'e than one unless ah's hankerin' ev'ryone reckonin' thet ah's unreliable though.

To: Faces, Proxy
Soun's fine Faces. I'll see whut ah can dig up on th' place an' on our John-Boyson. Proxy, yer hankerin' t'do th' same an' we'll compare results? Yo' full time hacker types sometimes miss the dawgoned-est obvious stuff.

Setting his wrench down, TripB begins stabbing at the air in front of his face, setting the various filters and queries that'll hopefully result in something.

[almost normal]

Reply To : All

Please acquire the home address of Mr. Garrate.

Your friend
Kasha

[d'Ark]

{24th June 2073/18:32}
A clean, if dingy apartment in Renton

His hangover mostly dealth with, Proxy checks his 'link again, seeing a message from Faces about the meet.

To: Faces
Someone needs to watch the rest of the place, just in case. If Kasha has the outside covered I'll be there, but not at the table

That dealt with, he puts on a pair of AR gloves, the shiny faux-leather styled along the lines of driving gloves, and begins to surf the local blogs and news nets, checking the few details he had for accuracy.

[RelentlessImp]

[06/24/2073; 18:36]
An Apartment Building in Downtown
His commlink was busy today. He grumbled as he sat up in bed, pulling his goggles and gloves back on, accessing the messages and reading through them. Shaking his head, he sighed, leaning back on his elbows onto his pillow for a few moments. He still wasn't sure about this 'running business, but he most definitely wasn't going to offer his services to anything resembling a corp; that didn't leave him many choices. He tilted his head back, clearing the AROs for a moment and staring at the ceiling, frowning. Putting my life on the line for a bit of change; my research is going to take the rest of my life at this rate.

Pulling the objects back up, he tapped a few quick replies.

Re: Faces
CC: Kasha, Proxy, TripB, Truth
Sounds like a great place for a meet. I'll see you guys there; I'll take a quick look at the place on the Astral and see if there's anything you guys should know about the place.

To: TripB
Omae, think you can pick me up? Address attached, I'll be ready about two hours before the meet. Just buzz apartment 1A and gimme a minute or so to get out the door.

With that done, he laid back on his bed, quickly checking a map for 2500 C. Street to make sure he knew where he was going. Then he closed his eyes and fell into the pattern of mental exercises that allowed his mind to calm and separate consciousness from the flesh. Spiraling up out of his body and onto the Astral, he moved across the plane at a fast rate, coming to a stop some distance above the place where the meet was. He focused his senses first on the bar, then the hospital across the way to see if there was anything peculiar about the astral signature of the surroundings or their inhabitants.

Assensing; 6d6.hits(5)=2

[Nikoli]

{6/24/2073 18:37}
Astral Space
The view near hospitals is always a bit hazy with all the strong emotions associated within. The bar itself is mostly a mixture of anger and remorse. The patrons all too often blame themselves for those that could not be saved as well as blaming those that caused the hurt.

[Ears]

{24th June 2073 / 17:45}
Yang's Arts, downtown

Walking away from another insipid conversation with a wannabe arts pundit, Faces looks longingly at the last glass of champagne in sight being snatched up by yet the host.
Yup, just as boring as expected. Doesn't help that I gotta keep up the sharade as bad Ork-poser human, we came up for MezKaL. almost as stupid as the name. This nagging feeling I've forgotten something doesn't help, either...

Just as an annoying young girl - an admirer with absolutely no taste in art (or clothing) - is about to approach him, it hits him.

"Motherfragging bastard of a slitch!"

Storming right past the stunned girl, Faces heads for the toilets.
...

To: Karvusta
Hi, a friend of mine is looking for some talent to find a missing woman.
If you're interested, message me and I'll send you the details for the meet with the J.
Some common friends are gonna be there, btw.


Damn, too stupid to count. We were seven; me and the five guys I messaged, that's six.

"One plus five is six is less than seven!"

He can hear someone laugh from outside his stall.

That and the explosion before should at least give the pundits something to write about. Crazy artist even crazier than thought.


To: James
Think my faking being crazy or some kind of retard could boost sales?
Do some mystery shit about some mental asylum, only allowed out under supervision, that kinda thing?
And no, I'm not gonna wear a straightjacket!


Walking back out, he tries to ignore the knowing glances and heads for the bar.

Damn, I better apologise to Karvusta before he finds out. Afterwards is even harder.

With a sigh - and a drink -, he looks around to see where that admirer - annoying? yes; stupid? yes; his only fan tonight? sadly, yes - has gone.

[Bucklesworth]

{24th June 2073 / 18:03}
A dingy ork bar in a dingy ork neighborhood

Take a shot, pop Jaw, spark a cigarette. Repeat until you're thinking like a different person. Best drinking game there is.

Karvusta sat at nearly empty bar in his home district of Redmond idly watching the Mariners game on the AR tv set behind the bar. He wasn't paying much attention. His commlink buzzed in his pocket and a message popped up in his peripheral vision. Willing it to the forefront he read it and thought it over for a second.

To: Faces
What's the take and where's the meet?

Another day, another job.

He raised his empty glass at the bartender who filled it again without a word.

[Ears]

{24th June 2073 / 18:05}
Yang's Arts, downtown

"... and see that's just the first layer, if you look at my paintings from the Tekyl'a set..."

The usual BS, but she's buying it, so why bother with something more creative? At least gives me the time to deal with something more important while my mouth's on autopilot.


To: Karvusta
The take's up for negotiation, but I got the feeling there's some serious cred in it.
The meet's at Toohey's Pub, a doctor's bar with the humour that goes with it at 2500 C. Street in Auburn at 7PM tomorrow.
J's name's Jaime Garrate, freelance media representative looking for his girlfriend and client, Guadelupe Torres, who disappeared in the middle of researching a story. Maybe he's more after the inof than the girl.
Anyway, TripB's already started digging. Proxy probably too.
TripB's offered to pick up anyone who wants it.
Oh, and Truth, Kasha and Professor are in, as well, so we'll have all bases covered.

[Bucklesworth]

{24th June 2073 / 18:03}
A dingy ork bar in a dingy ork neighborhood

To: Faces
Sounds good. I'll be there. Expecting anything funny at the meet?

[taeksosin]

To: All

Soun's like our John-Boyson is a-gonna be purdy desperate fo' us t'find this hyar gal, o' at least her sto'y. He's runnin' outta clients faster than a fambly reunion goes through patootie salad. As fo' th' gal, thar was a missin' varmints repo't filed on her on th' 22nd. Her commlink was foun' foun', but looked like it had been helter-skelter ovah. Clo'es matchin' hers were foun' in Redmond, they were lop off her. Funny thin' is, th' cuts start off jagged like she was resistin', but hoof it smooth an' easy like she suddenly stopped. Drugs, o' mebbe it's some sex game she plays wif her noo fellafriend? Apparently, thar was a camera thet may haf caught sumpin, but Knight Errant kin't figger out who owns it, so they ain't gotten th' footage. Proxy, yer hankerin' t'see eff'n yo' kin figger out whut camera it is an' git us th' footage? Eff'n yo' need a han' wif it, let me know. An' eff'n yer hankerin' a ride, gimme an address so ah can map out th' bess route an' not hoof it back an' fo'th acrost town.

To: Kasha

Kasha, inclosed is th' address fo' th' John-Boyson. Have fun, stay safe, an' make sho'nuff he don't spotcha.

TripB

[RelentlessImp]

[24/06/2073; 18:74]
Astral Space
This was a really informative trip, the ork thinks sourly, shaking his head. Darting back across astral space and back into his body, sitting up on the bed and rubbing at his face. Tilting his head, his nostrils flaring slightly as he smells something... burning. He looks up at the ceiling. "Is... something burning?" he asked of the CHN installed into the home.

"Yes, sir. The oven has started a grease fire. Will there be anything else?" The annoying chiming voice of the CHN spoke.

"Drek!" he swore and came up out of the bed, darting into the kitchen to deal with the grease fire on the stove.

[24/06/2073; 19:00]
An Apartment Building in Downtown

Covered in smudges and a few minor burn marks, he mutters under his breath, "This is why I eat out most of the time" as he trudges out of the kitchen, annoyed. He didn't need the electronics in his home; he could easily do without them. He wouldn't put it past the critters living in his wireless connections in the home to have started that fire deliberately, but that would have taken all the devices they inhabited away had it gotten out of hand. Maybe the AI was playing with the meatspace boy.

He took his smoke-smelling butt to the shower to get himself cleaned off. "You just gimme til tomorrow and I'll be gone a few days," he grumbles to whatever technological constructs are listening as he starts the water. "You'll have the place to yourself to do whatever you want with, alright? I just need to sleep here, you know, you don't need to remind me that you're there with these little incidents." Not that he was expecting a response; he often bitched to the AI and sprites living inside of his devices and never expected a response. He just hoped they listened and took it easy on him.

[d'Ark]

{24th June 2073 / 19:00}
The Matrix

Within the Matrix, Proxy was studying the few details he'd been able to dig up on the Johnson from public nodes when a new message from TripB appeared. Turning his baleful digital gaze to the letter, he reread it several times to decipher the message One of these days I'll write a linguasoft just for this guy he thought to himself somewhat sourly as he pieced together the meaning of TripB's heavily accented speech. Still, bloke has a point. Time to do my thing. Logging on to the public area of Jaime Garrates node he had the curious impression of travelling at immense speed without actually moving. Right then, lets see what we have shall we...