Play@YSDC

This morningcycle, this warehouse was an Armed Forces bunker. Now, the large banner over the door declares it to be the DCODOAD. A grizzled veteran wearing a bright orange copy of an old time drill sergeants hat armed with a cone rifle stands watch outside. Behind him, through partially open blast doors you can see shelves stacked with all kinds of military tech and hardware.

The grizzled veteran’s name badge identifies him as CLINT-O as you approach he performs a complicated rifle drill, which ends with you looking down the barrel.

“Good morning girls!” he screams in a standard military voice, “I have orders to shoot to kill any unauthorized tresspassers. Where are your permits of authorization?” he releases the safety selector and switches the dial all the way to 11, “You look like goddamn commie terrorists come to make trouble. Well let me tell you no goddamn commie mutant is going to walk in here and steal what they want, no sir not on CLINT-O’s watch!”

Francine-B immediately takes out her PDC and reports this citizen for threatening BLUE clearance citizens without just cause. After which, she silently points to the badge on her RED jumpsuit indicating her promotion.

Ola-B takes her PDC and show it to Clint-O and then in a discreet manner, gets out of the way, in case any of her companions is actually a comunist/mutant/traitor.

"And a fine job you're doing soldier!" says Brannon-B. "I'm glad you're doing your duty for friend Computer. We hate commie mutant traitors just as much as you, and I'll be the first to join you in shooting them full of holes if you spot any! Here is our authorization." He shows Clint-O the appropriate clearance on his PDC.

"Just a moment there son, the weapons inside form a vital part of Complex defence therefore it is against orders for me to release them without the proper triple copy requisition orders" He eyes the various PDC's that are being held before him, "Those goddamn things don't mean squat, any half assed commie mutant traitor worth his salt can programme those things to say anything he likes" He takes a step back and points the muzzle of the rifle directly at the. inflated, chest of BRANNON-B, "Now you run along sonny before I you become little more than a distant memory in your next clones imagination. Either come back with the proper documentation or don't come back, your decision ladies"

There is a madness in his eyes that his old stlye aviator sunglasses don't quite hide. He lovingly pats the SynthiPlast stock of the cone rifle and starts chanting, "This is my rifle. There is no other rifle like it..."

Rob-B-RAE-1 remains at his spot in front of Clint-O while the dutiful guard strokes his gun.
Smugly, Rob-B-RAE-1 squint his left eye and says, " I demand that you let me in, I'm a rainbow above you in rank, Clinton. You better Lewinsky to the side or I'll report you to Summary Execution, orange scum!"

"Your belief that the Computer's equipment is faulty and easily hackable by any commie mutant traitor is being sent to IntSec for evaluation." Francine-B reports the citizen.

Brannon-B carefully steps back from the deadly barrel of the cone rifle. I've got to get me one of those once we get past this guy, he thinks. "Easy there, Citizen," he says, raising his hands. "We could go back and get the paper forms, but that would take precious time. There are commie mutant traitors that need killing, making their dastardly plots while we wait. Every minute you keep us from the guns is a minute more they have to do their dirty work. So, in effect, by delaying us you are helping them."

"Why you goddamn commie mutant traitorus SOBs" screams the soldier, his eyes now dancing the hoola behind the shades, "I'll teach you!!" incensed by the idea of him being labeled as a commie mutant traitor has not only his facial muscles leaping like a SynthiPopcicle in a MicroWave but also the muzzle of the cone rifle starts to waver like a SweepoBot in a turmoil.
Then suddenly his face relaxes for an instant and the rifle discharges, sending the slug hurtling toward...no not BRANNON-B despite his adoption of a supercillious 'shoot me then, see if I care' expression', but toward the face of the ususpecting OLA-B, whom it narrowly misses leaving a neat hole in a nearby wall.

OLA-B faints with a whimper of suprise, while the unlucky CLINT-O hits the reload switch and smiles as the metalic sound of another round being seated in the breech rings through the stunned silence, A silence only broken by the metallic voice of FRANCINE-B's/b] PDC confirming reception of her report, smll sobs from floor level, and the wail of a distant fire alarm.

Rob-B-RAE-1 seems not moved at all by the little incident, he only pulls the pin off from the fire extinguisher and sprays Ola-B's face with it. "Come on, toots. We're moving on." He takes a step towards Clint-O and says, "Move aside, soldier! Or I'll rip off your head and spray foam down tour neck! Orange scumbag! That would really, MAKE MY DAY!"

Brannon-B reacts quickly, unslinging his slug rifle and leveling it at Clint-O's face, his finger tense on the trigger. "You just fired at a member of my team!" he shouts. Only I'm allowed to do that! he thinks. "That is a violation of more regulations than I can count! You will lower your weapon and put it down slowly! I would hate for the Computer's property to get damaged."

CLINT-O's face now takes on an expression of pure joy - combat!
In a confused fashion he nows swings the still smoking barrel from BRANNON to ROB to FRANCINE in a frenzy of choice again the gun roars and a hot piece of SythiLead flies towards...

Not waiting for permission to pass, Rob-B-RAE-1 fires the extinguisher at Clint-O's face.

Rolling,[dice]0[/dice] Spends 1 p-point on quickly reaction speed...

Brannon-B instinctively squeezes the trigger...

OOC,Spending one Perversity Point. [dice]0[/dice] I'm not sure I did that right. Was I supposed to add a point, or subtract one?

Francine-B dives behind cover
[dice]0[/dice]

OOC: Can Ola act?

Once again CLINT-O's enthusiasm outmatches his aim and the slug hurtles forward toward BRANNON-B's expectant chest but rising fast all the time. By the time it reaches the smug DCOD official the PlastiSteel [sup]c[/sup] bullet has drifted high above BRANNON-B's head to strike the very top of the wall (more destruction of official property his list of crimes against the computer grows by the moment).
This time however our intrepid troubleshooters strike back. First a rather large hole appears in the centre of CLINT-O's chest, then his face is liberaly coated in EasyClean [sup]c[/sup] fire extinguishing foam. FRANCINE-B showing her ability to act in a crisis throws herself floorward where she immediately covers her head with her arms. From her PDC the mettalic voice speaks in that annoying sickly tone accompanied by a rather bland peice of music, "ATTENTION CITIZEN. YOUR REPORT HAS BEEN RECIEVED AND A TEAM HAS BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION. PLEASE AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. HAVE A NICE DAY"

OOC:   Ola is free to act at any stage

OOC:   AWESOME

Rob-B-RAE-1 doesn't wait for an invitation, he walks into the ARMORY'R'US and looks for his correctly assigned equipment.

With a pained expression of suprise (it wasn't quite this way in the old vids) CLINT-O drops the cone rifle and falls to the floor, the soles of his highly polished military style boots mere inches from where OLA-B's foam covered head, face upward, lies. Spitting foam bubbles in all directions OLA-B says, "Spit, spit bubble, bubble, Spit &%£*" which roughly translated means,
"So, can we get now the weapons, commander?"

Meanwhile having finished his discharge with a flourish, ROB-B walks, nay skips, in child like wonder into the stocked DCODAD.
His eyes radiate pure joy, never has he seen so much equipment.

On the shelves there are;
Multiple suits of ArmourAll [sup]c[/sup] ballistic defence armour
Racks of Cone rifles
Boxes of HEAT cone rifle shells and napalm projectiles
At least 15 flamethrower units
Grenades (lots and lots of grenades)
A single (rare) force sword (of the humming variety)
One Secur-O-Mat [sup]c[/sup] Combot with stereo upgrade and wing mirrors

Besides the green Amazonic bikini-woman-giant of the comics, Rob-B-RAE-1 remembers a knight in red and blue metal. Iron-Man. What an odd name. Why have a name after a household object? Still, Rob feels he'd look splashing in a blue metal envelope. And.. it's time to move a foam thrower for something with a little more fire.

Spreading his arms in sacred awe, he gawks at the splendor of the items.

"UTOPIA!" He exclaims. "That's what Gandalf, the hobbit said to get inside the caves of Arwen." He turns around to the team. "I know such things, I'm well read." Rob stands now, with arms folded. A smug face with eyes doing an ennie, meeni, miney, moe across the shelves.

"Another traitor eliminated!" says Brannon-B, slinging his rifle on his back once more and wiping his hands together. "He left a bit of a mess, though." Taking out some KleenE-WIpez, he mops up the worst of the blood and then cleans his own hands before disposing of them and proceeding into the armory, where he basks in the glow of the assembled instruments of violence. "Just what we need to rid Alpha Complex of more commie mutant traitors for friend Computer!" He straps on a blue suit of ArmourAll, then helps himself to a cone rifle, some HEAT shells and napalm projectiles, a flamethrower, and a bunch of grenades (some of which he loads into his grenade launcher). Somehow he is able to carry his entire arsenal and still retain his balance.

-Gandalf? What class of citizen he was?- Says with suspicion Ola-B.
Ola-B gets an armour suit, lot's of grenades and a heat cone rifle with lot's of shells.
-Ready to go hunt some commie/mutants/traitors, sir!- Says Ola-B.

"Where is Francine-B?" says Brannon-B, looking around. "Either she has gone AWOL during a mission, or some commie mutant traitor has waylaid her! Either way, we must track her down!"

-Oh, then we must find her and eliminate her before she gives info about our mission!
Ola-B prepares her weapons and start searching for the traitor/commie/traitor.

Sadly the search for the missing FRANCINE/muttie/commie/traitor (delete as appropriate) whatever she is, is suddenly rudely interupted by the arrival of an enormous black vehicle that oozes both danger and SynthiOil in huge quantities. It is covered in stickers and flashing lights, multi toned sirens blare loud enough to deafen the stone deaf.
It screams to a halt and the rear doors slide open ominously to allow a dozen heavilly armed and armoured figures to leap alertly from within. One of the twelve, his uniform somewhat cleaner than the rest, springs smartly to attention, throws the most splendid example of a military salute at BRANNON-B and in a crisp military manner barks,
‘SIRS, DCODMODSQUAD ZERO-ZEROZERO-FOUR REPORTING FOR DUTY, SIRS! I AM CARMICHAEL-R-RED-2, SIRS, CLEARANCE DEE CEE OH DEE ALPHA, SIRS.’
He finishes with a repeat of the salute and stands expectantly at a rigid attention. You just know he is looking at the dead body of CLINT-O

OOC:   DCOMOD stands for DCOD MOBILE OPERATIONS DETACHMENT. Congratulations you have staff/lackeys/minions whatever

-Oh, now we have reinforcements! We can now hunt the traitor Francine-B and after make our mission!
Ola-B salutes the new soldier.

"Girl, she was just there!" Rob-B-RAE-1 counters. "She probably had to go to the female-citizens-facility-booth to put on some Blue-SoDA mak-up to go with her prestige-full promotion." He pulls down one of the flame throwers and flips off the safety, letting a small flame whosh out of the barrel. "Is this working properly?" He makes a 360 turn mimicking a wave-sound while not pushing the trigger.

"Off course, it's working properly! It's been approved by the COMPUTER, our friend."

Rob-B-RAE-1 gets dressed in the cleanest of the blue AABDA. To got with the suit he reaches out to grab the light saber...

Brannon-B returns Carmichael-R's salute with one equally elaborate and perfect. I like this guy, he thinks. "I'm glad you're here, soldier!" he shouts back. He indicates Clint-O's corpse. "This traitor tried to obstruct our mission! His body needs to be disposed of, and his next clone activated - unless, of course, that was his last. In which case, this Depot still needs a new guard!"

"SIRS YES SIRS!" CARMICHAEL-R continues to hover about three feet in front of BRANNON-B while the other squad members fan out to form a kind of moving perimeter, weapons covering all directions.
From the inside of the MOV (Mobile Operations Vehicle) the latest in robotic security hardware trundles, rather shakily, into view - an AlertBot.

On its two stumpy legs, the AlertBot (covered in warning stickers, flashing lights, extra speakers, cameras, weapon tubes, and several items that look like fireworks), moves in an ungainly fashion towards the store room, at the same moment that ROB-B is emerging festooned in armour, weapons and a large flame thrower.

The 'head' of the AlertBot suddenly flashes and a message appears written on a screen,
++++ ALERT!! ++++ UNRECOGNISED CITIZEN WITH DANGEROUS WEAPONRY ++++ POSSIBLETRAITOR ++++ TERMINATE ++++ TERMINATE ++++ TERMINATE!! ++++
On that final 'TERMINATE' the Bot begins shaking uncontrollably. Sirens begin to howl, lights begin to flash...

"Where?!" shouts Brannon-B, hastily loading his cone rifle. He looks back at Rob-B. "You mean him? That's Rob-B, a member of our team!"

"What?!" Rob-B-RAE-1 stops humming and lowers the flamethrower.

He waves at Brannon-B, then salutes his team leader. That's expected of you, right?

"Ready to commence mission, sir!"

Slowly the AlertBot winds down, one flashing light and one of the many sirens at a time. After a few minutes your hearing returns. The bot's head screen is no longer flashing, it would appear that BRANNON-B's timely intervention had forestalled a nasty incident. With a click of safety's being re-engaged the grim looking squad relax to a less alert posture.

Suddenly it begins to flash and whine once more and the large head screen of the Bot displays the following message;
++++ALERT! ++++ ALERT!! ++++ INTRUDER IN UNRECOGNISABLE COSTUME ++++ TERROR LEVEL HIGH ++++ CATEGORY 3 ++++ ALERT! ++++ ALERT ++++
It would seem that the Bot is responding to the sudden appearance, from behind the MOV of FRANCINE-B who is dressed in a most unregulatory fashion.

Once again the grim faced squad realeases their safety's and point their weapons in the direction of FRANCINE-B. As they do so BRANNON-B finds his sleeve being nervously plucked by OLA-B, either she wants the nearest girl's room or she has important news to impart.

Suddenly vigilant of the imminent danger to the COMPUTER's property Rob-B-RAE-1 Shuts the loading bay doors to the supply room of the GUNS'N'AMMO'SPECIAL-PRICE-FOR-YOU(promise)-O-RAMA and puts his back to it. He makes a thumbs up to the obligatory surveillance cameras in the storage area.

Via the ARMOURALL's intracom he reports to the team leader. "Area secured, sir!"

Francine-B halts when she notices the guns pointed at her and slowly, relunctantly, raises her hands in surrender. Do not stare at her lack of clothing bar leopard striped undergarments, that would probably be treasonous.

Previously said:   Uh, Brannon-B, sir? I think there may be some mistake, as I'm not a threat, I'm a part of your team. I can't even be a threat, I've not got any equipment besides this shower stopper.

She lifts the umbrella higher

-Maybe she is rigth and she isn't using a weapon.
Ola-B look at her cloths. Francine is really pushing too hard...

Brannon-B listens to Ola-B's whispering, then turns to face Francine-B. "That is another member of my team," he says, "but something is wrong. Francine-B, you are out of uniform! Explain yourself!"

"Well apparently I was vaporized, but my suit survived unarmed. It was decided I would simply decant and retrieve my previous suit so as not to waste the resources of this great Complex! Hail the Friend Computer!"

Even through the opaque visor of his PlastiSteel high velocity anti-ballistic helmet (regulation of course) you can tell that CARMICHAEL-R is quite impressed as his gaze never leaves the semi naked form of FRANCINE-B despite her attempts to cover her embarrassment with the helpful shower device.

Luckily, or not, the moment is rudely interupted by the AlertBot who, with sirens blaring and lights flashing, subtely attracts the teams attention.
++++ ATTENTION! ++++ ALERT +++++ IMMEDIATE ELEVATED SECURITY ALERT ++++ COMMIE/MUTANT/TRAITOR ACTIVITY CONFIRMED +++++ YOD SECTOR MULTILEVEL TRANSPORT NEXUS AND SHOPPING FUNSPERIENCE +++++ DCOD PRESENCE REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY ++++

OOC:   You have your first mission. Now all you have to decide is who is going to drive the MOV

Francine-B winks at the RED citizen before donning her suit and reporting for duty in uniform

"Let's move out, team!" shouts Brannon-B. "I need a volunteer to drive the vehicle!"

Francine-B uses her newfound skill at hiding herself to remain from being spotted by Brannon-B
[dice]0[/dice]

"I shall drive! Obviously!!!" Rob-B-RAE-1 steps past anyone who might be interested, elbowing if must. "I'm in charge if this vehicle as equipment officer! Fasten your seatbelts!!!" Before taking off in a forward motion, Rob will test the reverse speed as well as emergency brakes.

Pushing past BRANNON-B, ignoring the hiding FRANCINE-B and thrusting, with elbows locked, OLA-B to one side, ROB-B stides towards the controls of the huge, armoured vehicle, despite the large amount of equipment he has gathered and has hung all over himself, and having no driving skill at all. But hey, ROB-B is not the kind of guy to let a small thing like that stop him.
He flexes his fingers and proceeds to push various buttons, based on colour attraction, slide the large silver shift to a more pleasing forard position, then mash the 'go faster' pedal floorward and with a whoosh of disturbing thrust the vehicle launches it self in a direct line for the equipment store.
"Whoa, Sir!" screams Carmichael-R, still attempting to buckle his seat restraint while avoiding the emptying of nearby citizens stomachs and bladders, "Reverse. Reverse!. Reverse Sir!!!"

OOC:   ROB, since you have decided to drive, and as you have no vehicle control skill, please choose a suitable skill from your sheet, or think of one and give a reason why you might have it, to use as a replacement. Please make your reasons for choosing that skill as plausible as possible and then roll 1d20.

"This is just as the fire fighting sims!" Rob shouts. "Push the red button to eject!"

OOC:   fire fighting 10 [dice]0[/dice]

Nonchalantly, seeming unfazed by the MOV's proximity to the metal doors of the store room, ROB-B, waving his finger in a circular motion three times, presses a red coloured button on the dashboard, instantly the heavy armoured vehicles warning sirens begin to howl and a metallic voice warns loudly outside,

++++ WARNING! ++++ ATTENTION! ++++ PROXIMITY ALERT! ++++
WARNING!! +++++

"Yippee!" screams an unknown voice from within the vehicle, a voice half crazed with fear and laughter.

Luckily CARMICHAEL-R swiftly leans forward and pulls the siver shift thingee backward, and with a screech of protesting motors the heavy vehicle flings itself rearward, ROB-B's foot still holding the go faster pedal to the floor.

For a few moment pandemonium breaks out inside the MOV as its passenger are subjected to levels of G-Force that threaten to tear heads off and send them hurtling about the interior of the vehicle like shrapnel.

However, with a jerk that almost sends the unlucky CARMICHAEL-R to land face down in FRANCINE-B's lap, the vehicle comes to a complete halt accompanied by the rending of metal and screams of pain and terror from outside.

OOC:   That sounded bad, however ROB you still control? the vehicle

"That was fun..." Rob turns to Francine, "Fancy a drive?"

OOC:   Eh, on second thought, Francine is allowed to drive now.

Francine-B turns to a fellow, "Can you give me coordinates to our destination?"

"Yes, I think it's best that you leave the driving to someone else," Brannon-B says to Rob-B.

"The AlertBot didn't tell us how many enemies there are," says Brannon-B. "It's a good thing we've got lots of ammo, in case there's a bunch of them. We'll just have to stay alert!"

-very well boss!
Ola-B starts looking everywhere with her glass to see if she sees a traitor to shoot...

The heavy vehicle has come to a halt. ROB-B hastily vacates the drivers seat and almost wrestles FRANCINE-B in as a replacement.

Immediately assuming a superior manner she demands the cordinates of their target destination, to be confronted by a host of blank stares and visors. It seems there are no coordinates.

Elsewhere in the cramped interior BRANNON-B seems to be fending off some difficult questions from OLA-B, who from somewhere has produced some form of magnyfying glass and is busy looking for clues.

From outside the vehicle a chorus of sobs and whines would seem to indicate the presence of injured citizens, but no-one inside the MOV seems to notice (or they are doing their best to ignore them)

Showing a level of panace that no-one knew she had FRANCINE-B, newly designated as driver, wrenches the steering wheel to the left and slams a foot on the 'go faster' pedal.

OOC:   FRANCINE as you have taken over the driving responsability and have no skill to cover it, please follow ROB's glorious example and come up with a suitable skill from your list to cover this. When you have please roll a d20

"I'm not going anywhere until I know where I'm going!"

"We're going to the YOD Sector Multilevel Transport Nexus and Shopping Funsperience!" says Brannon-B. "My guess is that would be in YOD Sector."

"Right! I'll scout ahead! Come along,CARMICHAEL-R!"
Francine-B puts grabs the least likely to betray her citizen, Carmichael, and teleports to the designated area. Hopefully.
With Carmichael.
Hopefully.
[dice]0[/dice]

Suddenly in a flash of light, both FRANCINE-B and CARMICHAEL-R are gone - vanished without trace. All that remains to show their presence is a pair of leopard print ladies smalls and a diminishing scream of terror.

It is a scream that is joined immediately by other screams within the MOV. With the sudden disapearance of FRANCINE-B the drivers seat is empty, unfortunately the heavy vehicle thunders on, its speed barely lessened. One of the seated troopers, mouth open in a silent scream, points, with a shaking finger at a large Citizen Transport Vehicle (bus) that has had the temerity to join the expressway expecting to blend in with other traffic. As the distance between your vehicle and the unsuspecting Citizen Transport Vehicle closes, several curious faces can be seen looking through the SynthiPlex Armoured Glass side windows at the onrushing armoured behemoth.

From its securing harness in the rear of the MOV the AlertBot begins a loud alarm screaming, lights begin to flash and whirr,

++++ALERT! ++++ ALERT!! ++++ DANGER OF COLLISION IMMINENT ++++ PRESS BUTTON MARKED COLLISION AVOIDANCE ON CONTROL PANEL ++++

For a non human bot, it does a fair impression of panic...

OOC:   Please roll D20 + any skill you think may be appropriate to get to the panel before the inevitable collision

Always ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, Brannon-B quickly lunges for the button, glad that the gloves he wears will protect him from the germs of whoever touched it last.

While the majority of the MOV's occupants sit in frozen horror at the inevitability of the oncoming crash, BRANNON-B, showing the true characteristics of a born leader and a total disregard for personal safety, leaps into action. With moments to spare his questing, surgicaly gloved, finger finds and presses the button marked in tiny letters 'Collision Avoidance' and illuminated by a flashing red light.
With a scream of highly maintained, state of the art, servomotors, several things happen with instantaneous precision, first the heavy vehicle veers sharply aside into the middle lane, sideswiping a rather nice two seater luxury class personal transport vehicle (car) across the central barrier and into the oncoming rush of vehicles on the opposite side of the freeway; and second, amidst an increased whine of warning sirens and flashing lights, a panel in the front of the MOV opens and two black cylindrical barrels apear aimed at the unsuspecting Transport Vehicle. With a flickering burst of red, blue light the vehicle suddenly disappears.

With its speed having barely diminshed, despite its lack of driver, the MOV continues its headlong journey. For a moment the front viewscreen is coated in a thick black sludge that soon vanishes in the turbulence of motion. For all the world it looked like ash.

++++ COLLISION AVOIDED ++++ ALERT STATUS REDUCED TO AWARENESS LEVEL ++++ COLLISION AVOIDED ++++

OOC:   The MOV still requires a driver. Anyone willing to take up this position will receive 2 Perversity Points. Doing so will require the driver to choose one of their skills that is felt to best apply to the art of driving and roll on a D20.

"I need a new volunteer!" barks Brannon-B. "One who won't disappear mysteriously in the middle of driving!" He turns to the red crew that had come with the vehicle. "Which of you was driving when you arrived?" Don't say Carmichael-R, he thinks. Don't say Carmichael-R...

One of the uniformed squad members, a female, leaps to her feet in a regulation attention pose with a clang of PlexiSteel Ballistic Helmet hittling a storage compartment which had been foolisly left open, Despite the obvious pain, through gritted teeth she screams, in a regulation manner,
"Sir. CARMICHAEL-R. Sir"

I asked you not to say that, thinks Brannon-B, returning her salute with a bit more aplomb and less head-banging. "Are any of the rest of you good at driving?" he asks. "Or even not terrible?"

-I have never tried but I once saw a movie and it must be very similar, after all it's an intelectual skill and all that matter is the brain, not the body, please, please, please let me try, I promiss I won't try to kill us so we may finish this mission in safety, well, I cannot guarantee that, maybe we find some mutant/traitors/comunist who sabotage the mission, but that won't be my fault...- says Ola-B

"Thank you for volunteering, Citizen!" says Brannon-B to Ola-B, getting out of her way. "The controls are yours!"

-Very well sir! You think i could get that piece of cloths of her? Not to use in duty of course!- says Ola-B

"I can't imagine why anyone would want to wear them," says Brannon-B. "It looks like something an Outside-loving bunch of traitors would wear." I'll never understand the Sierra Club, he thinks. Don't they know the Outside is full of horrible germs? Here in Alpha Complex, the Computer makes sure everything stays clean. "However, the clothes are evidence, so they shuold be collected for later testing - when you're not busy driving, of course."

Ola-B doesn't say anything: she is quite sure that with such piece of cloths everyone will like her and forget her bad eyes.
-Well, chief, let's see if I can drive this, I'm sure I will be able, Did I ever told you that time that I was with a group- wait, of course, I couldn't told you, I have met you recently, but like I was saying, I was once with a group and one of the members was driving the car, I'm quite sure he was in love of me, he looked at me once and almost touched my arm when the car was at high speed, well, maybe it was me, but it doesn't matter, and I'm pretty sure he was ready to declare himself but he was very shy, so he started to date another girl, a blonde girl, but that was only because he didn't find the courage to start with me.

"Maybe he was just paying too much attention to his driving," says Brannon-B. "When you're driving at high speed, you can't afford to be distracted." He looks nervously through the windshield. "Like now, for instance."

"Yes, an excellent idea!" says Brannon-B. "Of course, it may have to be your next clone that does it if you don't start paying attention to the road!"

"Good to know, Citizen!" says Brannon-B, though he still stays strapped in and braced. "Carry on, then!"