Poughkeepsie Attacks!!!: Team Smith Brothers

[gone_byebye]

The Smith Brothers were once upon a time considered the Beards Who Made Poughkeepsie Famous. In many a world, their old factory has long since shut down and their product is now manufactured in Chicago. Not so here; the same factory continues to operate, churning out lozenges by the gross.

Or they do during the day, anyway. Tonight the place is crawling with security. Who knew that non-prescription cough drops needed so many guardians?

Comments

[gone_byebye]

Ordinarily, the factory would be quiet by now. Smith Brothers is a firm that holds onto some fairly old-fashioned values, and while that meant they resisted unionization and workplace safety changes for a long time, it later meant that they held onto the concept of ensuring worker loyalty longer than other companies. They're not slave drivers here.

They're not Novartis or Coca-Cola, either, so it's not as if the sprawling, herbal-smelling complex has all that much of anything to hide.

As a matter of fact, there appear to be rather more security types on the premises than there are stations for them to be placed at.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"...They are worryingly over-patrolled," Tilda comments, observing the security force with raised eyebrows. "I can think of several ways to distract the patrols in question, but I'd rather not blow anything up or levitate anyone unless it's truly the last option. What've you got up your sleeve as regards ways to get into that building undetected?"

[stilljustandrew]

Well, there's probably no way we can bluff our way in there as, I dunno, health inspectors ... and there's too many of them to get them all running away from the posts they're supposed to be guarding.

*He gives her a sudden speculative look.*

How much weight can you levitate?

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"...I've managed a sizeable truck full of fireworks before," she says, and if she's glowing pridefully it's probably just a trick of the light. "I'm not sure if I could go drastically more than that on short notice, but I'd certainly be willing to do my best. Why do you ask?"

[stilljustandrew]

*The thing about being a certain kind of geek: spending hours arguing about which of two given superheroes would win in a fight gives one a great deal of practice in examining the possible applications of every superpower ever put into print.*

Do you think you could levitate us?

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"...I'm not entirely certain."

She tilts her head hesitantly, giving Andrew a look of appraisal.

"I could, indubitably, levitate you from anywhere to anywhere else provided I managed unbroken line-of-sight along the way, but there's a slight pulling-oneself-up-by-one's-bootstraps issue to levitating myself. I've never tried."

This is a Considering Expression she has on her face.

A glance to herself, to the ground, to her feet on the ground -
(come on, lift, self, lift)
- A pause -
(ground, go down - yes, that's it, keep going - lift, self - sink, ground)
- and, with a frown of concentration, she levitates up a few inches and hovers for a moment before settling carefully back down again.

"I do so love the laws of thermodynamics," she says, beaming triumphantly at Andrew. "Before I see if I can manage both of us simultaneously, what was it you had in mind?"

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew grins. It's a little manic.*

I'm thinking if Francis here -- *A pat for the metal dog's head.* -- were to create a diversion around one side of the factory, even if it doesn't divert everyone from their posts, they'll be focused on something big happening. And maybe not look up to notice something moving in silently towards the roof.

Wanna give it a shot?

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"I," declares Matilda with an adorably devilish grin, "approve wholeheartedly of this plan. Er, I hope you don't mind being carried, however. The logistics may be somewhat uncomfortable, but I assure you you won't get dropped, at least."

She's already flicking through scenarios in her head, trying to figure out the most efficient and least awkward way to get them both in the air.

After a moment, "Possibly it would help if we could secure ourselves to a small platform of some kind."

[stilljustandrew]

Like a flying carpet sort of effect, *he agrees. And adds, mumbling:* Wish I still had my old skaterug from Tim...

It should be something dark, though, so it won't show up against the sky.

[gone_byebye]

There's a very quiet "WHURF" from Francis, and the yellow eye-light blinks on and off for a moment. The dog rears up on its hind legs and attempts to nose at one of the radios that Ray made sure everyone had.

A moment later there's a whispered, "Hey, guys? This is Ecto. I can ask Francis to find you something?" over the radio.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

Tilda beams at the robot dog, and says quietly back, "That would be extremely convenient, Ecto, thank you."

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew adds a whispered thanks as Francis trots off, and hunkers down by the shrubbery they're using as cover.*

You see the water tower up there? I'm thinking try and set us down near that.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"Yes."

Matilda peers at it.

"It seems like a reasonable destination. Oh, I do so wish I'd brought my binoculars. Being able to see the area in greater detail would be quite useful at this stage, but I packed for offensive power, not reconnaissance capability."

This translates to 'I brought lots of things that explode and very few things that do anything else'.

[gone_byebye]

There's a sound of takka-takka-takka from somewhere in the shadows, and a bit later Francis arrives, head held as high as the neck mechanisms can manage and a sizable square of sheet metal hanging from the magnet in his chin.

Apparently, it's election season in Poughkeepsie. The Democratic candidate for sheriff is going to wonder what happened to that.

[stilljustandrew]

Thanks, Francis. Okay, this'll work -- wait, hang on.

*Andrew frowns at the sign in thought, reaching out to turn the square of metal back and forth.*

It could be kind of eye-catching.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

Watch Matilda ponder. Ponder, Matilda, ponder.

"Well, if we sit on the side that says DONNER FOR SHERIFF-- ooh, hang on."

The shapeless grey bag comes off her shoulder, and she starts rooting through it. Carefully. A few loose sheets of notebook paper (Pascal's Triangle in base twenty-eight, a passable translation of the Canterbury Tales' General Prologue into Latin, and a sketch of the chemical composition of caffeine) drift to the ground before she finds what she's looking for.

"We can use this to cover up the other side," she says triumphantly, pulling out a large roll of black duct tape and a medium-sized pad of construction paper (also black). The top sheet has writing on it in blue chalk (Aurebesh letters, Russian words), but the back is just as dark as the rest of them. "Goodness, I'd nearly forgotten about that. Here, care to help?"

Matilda hands Andrew the duct tape and starts lining up rectangles of construction paper in neat, orderly rows across the metal back of the sign.

[stilljustandrew]

Smart thinking.

*Andrew starts carefully tearing pieces of duct tape, pausing to glance up over the shrubbery. The security types don't appear to have noticed them yet.*

Francis, can you stand guard and nudge me or something if anyone starts heading in this direction?

[gone_byebye]

The dog's front end bobs up and down briefly in something like a play-bow, but he then trots a few paces away to stand guard, his yellow eye-light dimmed to a less noticeable level.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"Right."

It doesn't take long until the sign is nicely backed in construction paper and duct tape. Matilda puts the roll and the depleted remains of the pad back in her bag, tucks in the fallen notebook pages on top, and zips the whole thing shut. Again, carefully. There are some brown paper packages in there she'd really rather not disturb.

"A trial run, I think - if you'd care to stand on the sign?"

She lays it gently on the ground, construction side down, and steps onto the letter D. Six-year-olds, thankfully, do not take up terribly much space - though that bag, she quickly discovers, should probably be put on the shoulder that faces out of the square. Less optimal for weight distribution, but it allows Andrew to actually fit.

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew studies the sign for a moment, and steps onto the double-F at the opposite corner. His foot covers most of the word.*

We're gonna have to sort of hold on to each other. And I'm thinking stay low, too, to lower our wind resistance and our visibility.

*Suiting action to word, he crouches down and holds out an arm to her.*

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"That's reasonable," she agrees, and suits actions to words by crouching beside him and huddling close, her small hands gripping the edge of the sign.

(up sign, down ground, up sign, down ground, come on, there we go, lift lift lift, sink sink sink--)

It's slow and wobbly at first, but Tilda's a quick learner. Soon they're hovering steadily about three feet off the ground as she waits for him to give Francis his orders regarding distraction of the security force.

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew's got one arm around her, half-protective, half to maintain balance as he leans forward to speak to Francis.*

Okay, boy -- go make some noise. Make them think you're serious about trying to get in.

Do I need to tell you not to hurt anyone if you can help it?

[gone_byebye]

Francis turns around and blinks his eyelight at Andrew a couple of times. What that means is anybody's guess, but he turns again, backs up a few paces, and charges towards the gates.

"WHURF WHURF WHURF WHURF WHURF," is the last thing the robot dog says before the pattern of its limbs change and it leaps.

Francis was a hunter-seeker once, after all. He was designed for the chase and the neutralization- not the kill, the neutralization- of enemies of the Librian state. Sometimes, that meant getting over obstacles.

There's shortly going to be an awful lot of angry, poorly trained men running around the Smith Brothers property trying to catch up with a dog that can do thirty miles an hour in its sleep.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

Matilda is highly entertained by this.

She'd be much more so if she didn't have to stare intently at the edge of the sign.

"I'll need you to keep an eye out horizontally and tell me if I get off course," she tells Andrew, blinking (which causes a momentary, barely perceptible wobble). "I have to maintain eye contact to keep us in the air."

And with that, off they go - rising steadily and gliding in the direction of the factory roof. When they pass over the fence that surrounds the property, it's close enough that Andrew could probably reach out and touch it if he were foolish enough to let go of Tilda or their impromptu hovercraft for the purpose.

[stilljustandrew]

Little higher if you can. *He's barely breathing the words.*

*Below them there are already men starting to run -- not, Andrew is unsurprised to see, all of them, and not in a mob; discipline is holding. For the moment.*

Left a bit.