|Mission Report: Sattelite of Sinn|
|Date||June 9, 2042|
|Internal Series||◀ Explosificate! (series), #2|
Mission Report: Knight 15 on June 9th, 2042
"Sattelite of Sinn"
What a day. I think after this report I'm going to take a long and much needed bath, though washing off the stink of that place is going to take some time. As you know, Sgt. Rickard of the Orbital Authorities contacted us a few days back and asked us to look into a certain illegal VR station, fittingly called the "Sinners Sattelite." That's two T's, one L, in case you're wondering. The OA have been tracking and shutting down these brothel stations for over a year now but considering the sheer size and popularity of this particular one, they thought we should have a look. And look we did... well, Wade did a little more than look but I won't get into that just yet.
So the plan was simple. Infiltrate the station as a high-profile client and then observe and report. We weren't there to shut them down, that's the OA's job. They just wanted us to have a look and report our findings to the Global Senate. I believe this operation proves the OA is becoming overwhelmed by these stations and are reaching out for help. And as this Sinner's Sattelite proves, these dens of debauchery are only getting bigger and better funded.
So, through a contact of Wade's - don't ask me who because I certainly didn't ask - we were given two passes aboard a private jet with "Brack's Honey" elegantly sketched across the side. The jet took off from an airfield in northern Germany before docking with a privately owned TOOL and ultimately taking Wade and me to the station. Wade insisted he go instead of Bishop Eight, and considering we weren't expecting any trouble, I agreed. Plus, I knew he could use a little fun since we haven't had a real mission in weeks and he's been getting pretty antsy up there in the cockpit.
According to what records did exist with Xancorp, the TOOL used was purchased privately and all recorded trips have had their records deleted. Sgt. Rickard says this is how most illegal traffic to and from Orbit operates, with privately owned TOOL's purchased with the added option of "specially priced full admin control." In other words, pay Xancorp more and they won't keep records on your activities. Xancorp is very openly catering to a criminal element here and if we don't do something soon then before long orbit will be completely overrun. As Wade says, it's like the Wild West up there and the outlaws are winning.
Now, the station. Upon arriving, Wade and I plus about a dozen other passengers were immediately greeted by two scantily clad women. No surprise there. They asked to see identification which they then apparently checked and copied for security reasons. Thankfully those ID's the OA gave us checked out... well, at least they checked out long enough to get a look around.
I think my presence was unusual for the two female greeters, though I can't imagine why. One of the girls, her name was Betty Sue according to a nametag, told us that they receive plenty of women, just none quite like me. I honestly thought I was playing the part well, and of course Wade eventually had no problem convincing them I belonged in such a highly esteemed place of sin. I believe he called me his "uncompromising mistress." I'll never hear the end of that one, I'm sure of it.
Once past the docking bay and security check, we entered the station proper and it turned out the OA weren't kidding - that place is gigantic. The lobby we entered was a huge circular room, with three open balcony levels stacked twenty feet above each other and wrapped all around. There were easily over three hundred people present at any given time. Boil it all down and the room looked like a great big Vegas strip club packed to the brim with every type of person imaginable from rich businessmen in their fancy suits, to a clearly dodgy criminal element. I even saw some clergy. Wade witnessed at least four separate riffer deals taking place out in the open and although it may be considered a VR brothel, there was also a live prostitution ring being run out of the place. I myself witnessed several flesh transactions as at least a dozen male and female prostitutes worked the room and brought their quarry through a door on the second level marked, "Hush-Hush." It certainly didn't take long to realize that the owners of the station have absolutely no issues openly breaking orbital law. They weren't even trying to hide it.
Spaced all around the giant lobby were half a dozen other double doors with more colourful names. One door was labelled, "Explosificate Things," another, "Exhibitionizer's Exhibit," and Wade's personal favorite, "Clementine's Transfatted Eatery" which of course was the only restaurant aboard the station. I refused to go anywhere near the bloody place as I could smell the grease and fat from a kilometre away, but Wade couldn't resist. He tells me that Clementine can cook one hell of a good beef burger; though he wasn't entirely convinced it was beef he'd eaten. Not that it stopped him from eating it and ordering seconds.
Anyway, while Wade was enjoying his mystery burgers, I was approached by what turned out to be the station's head of security. He called himself Jed, though I quickly discovered every employee was given a different stereotypically redneck handle; Jed, Betty Sue, Billy Ray, Bobby Joe, Buddy, Cletus, Buck, Bud, Clarice, Earl, Brandine... on and on the nametags went. So, Jed told me that I had to follow him or there would be consequences. Something had apparently "come up" when our IDs were checked and his "boss" wanted to speak with me. Like I said before, the OA supplied fake ID's only got us so far.
I followed Jed to a security room on the far end of the lobby and in that room is where I met Uncle Brack, the nutter from that broadcast. It's important I explain this encounter properly, as I don't think we'll be seeing the last of him. The room itself was rather tiny and simple, four walls with a desk in the center. Posters of naked girls on the right wall, probably a hundred or more pictures of firearms on the left. Brack was sitting in the center of the room behind the desk, oak, one of those writing desks that likely weighed a couple hundred kilograms. Not too much heavier than Brack himself who easily weighed in at three hundred and sported a multiple thousand dollar pinstripe suit, which of course was wildly out of place. Plus, I haven't seen a pinstripe in twenty years. Sitting there behind his desk, he smiled at me with comically exaggerated facial features - something like a character out of that uh, that VR Roger Rabbit thing I keep seeing advertised, except... this man was not funny, nor cute, nor goofy. And no, I actually wouldn't call the look he gave me a smile. He was grinning from ear to ear and I could tell right away he knew who I was and didn't give a damn.
I think the easy way to explain what happened next would be to instead run a piece from my C.M.C. log:
<begin external audio feed>
Brack: Welcome, welcome. Come on in, and I apologize for Jed here... he barely knows left from right but he's loyal.
Knight15: It's no problem. And who are you?
Brack: Well I'm Uncle Brackstone, of course.
Knight15: Of course. What about your real name?
Brack: Always investigationing and trying to solvify everything in sight. You officer-types are all the same.
Knight15: So you're not quite as stupid as you look, and sound. Keep in mind that I'm only here as an observer and I've certainly seen enough to know this station should be thrown into the Sun.
Brack: Has anyone ever told you that you've got an extremely sexy voice? Brack likes his women on the offensive, isn't that right Jed?
Jed: Brack likes all women, all the time.
Brack: Haha, that's right! He does! But especially these authoritatively beautifying types. What do you think, Jed, should we keep her?
Jed: Whatever you say, boss.
Knight15: Real cute. If you know who I am, then you know this can only end one way.
Brack: Of course Uncle Brack knows who you are, those fakes Rickard likely gave you are a joke! Taryn Fisher, formerly of the Canadian Peace Corps, now commanding officer Knight 15 of the Consortium. Yep, right here it says you're the commander of Zenlil. Is the gentleman you came here with perhaps the offensively infamous Bishop Eight?
Jed: Answer the question!
Brack: It's alright, Jed, this sweet little piece o' pie here doesn't yet realize what sort of trouble she's in.
Knight15: Do you really want to make an enemy of the Consortium?
Brack: I wasn't planning on it, but I'd certainly like to ask that you do-gooder types mind your own business. This place is owned and operated entirely outside of your orbital law, and will be defended as such.
Knight15: Is that a threat?
Brack: I don't need to threaten you. What happens within these steel walls stays within these steel walls, and no law - orbital or otherwise - can touch us. How do you like that?
Knight15: You're delusional. The Orbital Authorities will shut you down, you can count on that.
Brack: Hahah! Who? Sgt. Rickard? He has no authority here, and neither do the Consortium. Why do you think he sent you? He's hoping you can make a difference but the truth is you can't. What part of 'there is no law on this here station' don't you understand?
Knight15: Your station falls under the same orbital law as every other one up here. You have no choice but to abide, it's sort of how the law works.
Brack: Hahaha well thanks, princess, for letting Uncle Brack know how the law works. But if you cared to look a little deeper into this rule destroyifying station here, you'd see it is privately owned and operated by Dandacorp. Almost like their own little country in space and I'm the dictator telling you what's what. Essentially, sweetheart, everything we do here is none of your damned business.
Knight15: Dandacorp... the porn doll distributor? And call me sweetheart again. Please.
Brack: "Porn" is such a crude word. No, honey-babes, Dandacorp produce and distribute modern adult companionship and companionship tools. This station is their pride and joy, and Uncle Brack its proprietor for all things sinfully delicious! Now why can't you and I get along like that, sweet-pea?
Knight15: Well we'll see what happens when the King has a little talk with Dandacorp's C.E.O.
Brack: Who, Alex Jr.? When his father, Alex Valero, died a few years back, Jr. practically became Uncle Brack's own son. His army of lawyers have ensured this station is outside your law and they'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.
Knight15: So... what now?
Brack: Oh, you're free to leave if you wish. You're far too lovely a specimen to make disappear. Your co-worker it seems though has gotten himself into some trouble in our explosificate lounge, so Uncle Brack only asks you take him with you and never come back. Deal?
Knight15: Or else what?
Brack: No 'or else.' You'll listen because you have no choice and because Brack is irresistibly charming.
Brack: Excellent! Jed, will you escort Taryn and her guest to the docking bay and put them on the next TOOL out?
Knight15: I'll see you again, real soon.
Brack: And I'll be sure my group VR suite is ready for us when you do. Good bye, Taryn Fisher.
Jed: Move it!
<end external audio feed>
Wade and I made it clear of the station with no further interruptions. I absolutely cannot believe the arrogance of this Uncle Brackstone character! Initial investigation tells me he doesn't even exist or has managed to erase his real identity. I have a feeling there's more going on than he claims, but I'd still suggest someone having a chat with Alex Valero Jr. of Dandacorp. He may help determine what our next and best course of action should be. Oh, and I'm also hoping Valero will spill the beans on Brack's identity... though, that's probably too much to hope for.
This is Knight 15 and it is 14:55 on June 9th, 2042. Signing off.