It takes a bit of searching to find someone in the Witches' Camp who can duplicate the ID cards used to gain access to the Sylphid depots. The bio scanner is more of a concern - copying authorisations is easier by far than inserting them into an unfamiliar system. But after long hours spent watching the trucks enter and exit the facilities, it becomes clear that while the guards check everyone in the truck's cabin, they aren't scrutinizing the cargo area.
And so it is that after a long, cramped ride in a crate resealed by virtue of her increasingly well-practiced Heba gift, Layla waits crouched and listening while the drivers decant the robotic hounds and lead them off for - recharging, probably. Robots aren't likely to need food or sleep.
"Come on," she says quietly to her companion. "We have a few minutes to get clear before they're back."
Once they're away from the truck, it should be easy enough to blend in with the actual workers.
wildcard - aftermath
It's been a long day, and a long, frustrating search of the warehouse. Most of the things people had mentioned, Layla's seen no sign of, and she can't say for certain whether the missing items are in one of the other depots, in a segment of the one she'd hit that she hadn't managed to search, or taken off to some Sylphid lab to be pulled apart and analyzed or duplicated.
But she had managed to secure a few items, and is now diligently searching out their owners to reunite them.
Really, she reflects, the main difference between this and her usual line of work is that the original owners are still alive, and the people she usually retrieves objects from aren't literal soul-stealing horrors.
OTA
It takes a bit of searching to find someone in the Witches' Camp who can duplicate the ID cards used to gain access to the Sylphid depots. The bio scanner is more of a concern - copying authorisations is easier by far than inserting them into an unfamiliar system. But after long hours spent watching the trucks enter and exit the facilities, it becomes clear that while the guards check everyone in the truck's cabin, they aren't scrutinizing the cargo area.
And so it is that after a long, cramped ride in a crate resealed by virtue of her increasingly well-practiced Heba gift, Layla waits crouched and listening while the drivers decant the robotic hounds and lead them off for - recharging, probably. Robots aren't likely to need food or sleep.
"Come on," she says quietly to her companion. "We have a few minutes to get clear before they're back."
Once they're away from the truck, it should be easy enough to blend in with the actual workers.
wildcard - aftermath
It's been a long day, and a long, frustrating search of the warehouse. Most of the things people had mentioned, Layla's seen no sign of, and she can't say for certain whether the missing items are in one of the other depots, in a segment of the one she'd hit that she hadn't managed to search, or taken off to some Sylphid lab to be pulled apart and analyzed or duplicated.
But she had managed to secure a few items, and is now diligently searching out their owners to reunite them.
Really, she reflects, the main difference between this and her usual line of work is that the original owners are still alive, and the people she usually retrieves objects from aren't literal soul-stealing horrors.