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We left the workshop, then headed up to the surface, emerging from the sewer access tunnel into the quiet streets of the far northwest Eclipse District. The sun glaring off the December snow blinded me, and the sudden openness of the air - the chill of the wind and lack of echoes - hit like plunging into a pool.
While we were still in the quiet part of the far northwestern Eclipse District, we found ourselves an empty little park to sit in. There, I set the drone on the grass and powered it up. With nothing to hit, I could really figure out what it could do. Turning, acceleration, stopping speed, all that. The controls were intuitive enough that within minutes I felt confident pushing its limits.
"So, any ideas on where to get that source Grey wants?" I asked, bringing the drone into a low hover just above the snow-dusted flower beds.
Cherry groaned and flopped onto a bench with her arm dangling over the side. "Oh come on, it's a good story! Don't the Sewer People have spies inside the Guard? Can't we ask them?!"
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"I think that's a 'benefactor', not one of our plants. They only give us information when it suits them." I said, guiding the drone along the fence line, practicing a smooth panning movement, then shifting the focus from the shopfronts across the street to the wrought iron fencing surrounding the park. There was some nice detail on the ironwork - decorative vines and leaves.
"We may need to let it stew a bit." I said, pulling the drone back to a safe altitude. "What other articles do we have written down in the meantime?"
I shifted the controller to one hand and pulled out my notepad with the other, flipping through pages of scribbled ideas and leads. "How about this one - the difference between NPC tailors and player crafters - who makes the best outfits? That sounds easy enough. Get an interview or two with some Ethanolics people."
Cherry made a series of sounds that started as a whine and devolved into something like a dying cat. "Gah! That's Courtney-work! I'm a muck-raker, dammit!"
"Well, muck-raking doesn't pay the bills." I said. "We need something to float us by while we get the real work done."
Cherry responded with more pained, frustrated gurgling noises, rolling back and forth.
"Alright, you want muck-raking?" I flipped to the back section of my notebook - to the moonshot ideas. 'World Guard Prison Conditions' - no, I didn't want to get arrested today. 'Trade Union Price Fixing Evidence' - we hadn't been able to find an insider willing to talk yet. Then I hit a good one. "Oh, now here's something to get stuck into!"
