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10.08.2015
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Valencia is somewhere in Europe! She's collecting more intel.
She's a little sleepy, but occasionally tensing her muscles and blinking hard to keep herself awake.
While sleep-warping is a decent defense should worse come to worst, never has she ever been able control it. Her dreams have warped up creations ranging from the benign to deadly. The stability of her magic and power depended on her mind staying alert. The Empire has learned from many of her break-ins, and their tech has gotten increasingly advanced over the years. At this point, she doesn't know what else they could learn from her capture, but she wouldn't want to risk it.
Contrary to the countries on the outer edges of the Chthonic Empire, there's very little public violence. Citizens, while poor, are generally not mistreated.
However, nearly every street corner has a so called "Edbot", watching and listening for any murmurs or discontent.
Two men pass by Valencia, whispering quietly to each other, and she hears the word "taxes" spoken with disdain.
Valencia is wearing sunglasses, and definitely not in her more black ops-y outfit. Her eyes are glued to the German-English dictionary app on her phone. She waits to see how sensitive the bots' hearing are. She'll tail them once it's safe and there's enough distance.
The Edbots are a good distance away, and while one appears to glance in hers and the men's direction, its gaze continues on afterwards.
The men keep grumbling to each other, heading towards what looks like a pub, though it's not particularly crowded. There's only a dozen or so other patrons inside.
Valencia will have to keep that one bot in mind. She follows into the pub and briefly glances around to get a sense of how secure the location is. Where the cameras and potential exits were, for starters. If the place is old enough, she may be in luck and there won't be anything too high tech installed anywhere.
Alright. Hoo-boy. Places like these are special for a woman who doesn't drink. Special in an un-fun, personal hell sort of way. But she'll manage.
She sits at the bar a little ways away and orders a pina colada. Reluctantly. She learned her lesson a long time ago that ordering something non-alcoholic at a bar looks fishy.
It's pretty crappy, and obviously previously frozen.
Val can pick out certain phrases, including dictator, Hitler, and being poor/downtrodden . The men seem to be complaining that most of their wages are being taken by yet more taxes that were introduced fairly recently.
Nasty. And the drink being alcoholic was bad enough.
Meanwhile, Val felt as sympathetic to the plight of the citizens as she was annoyed with the Empire. Bleeding its people dry... How did it expect to last? What else could its people pay them under rule? Its currency must be weak. But hey, maybe it was a sign that the Empire was weakening over the years.
Oh, so much for not being heard. But now she's caught in a pickle where she has to weigh the lives of innocent people against her need to not blow her cover. Crap... The bot is in too close a range, its sensing capabilities are sensitive, there's another bot outside, and the running men make it too hard for her to pin the blame on something else...
It pains her to do this, but she keeps her head low.
Val leaves the wallets with whatever unit or method of currency behind. Not saying they would have much worth in this economy, but every bit should help.
"Fine. There you go."
She keeps the phones and the cross, and leaves the pub before it looks like she's giving the bodies too much respect to draw attention.
That... Is... CREEPY. WHY. FLESH. Well, Tavin took the picture for a reason. Maybe he has more intel at his place. Maybe he's part of a rebellion. Who knows? She heads there first, copying the picture to her phone. She checks around to keep note of the Edbots' positions along the way.