Strength in Numbers

The t.v. on the private jet buzzed. “And it was one year ago, today, that the tragedy at the Lille, France national Duel Monsters tournament took place,” the reported stated. “With five people having died from the attack, and over eighty injured, there has still been no official word on just what caused the disaster. Eyewitness reports vary from bombs, to sightings of Duel Monsters themselves. Industrial Illusions investigator Aldric Lamberge, who has spearheaded the efforts for most of the past year, only had this comment.”

The screen flickered to an official. “At this time, myself and many other from the France division of Industrial Illusions have been looking into various leads. We have identified multiple possible perpetrators and are definitely closing in on many leads.”

The screen flickered off. “They made me look bad,” Aldric mumbled before turning to the five people accompanying him on the plane. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Lille bombings. And I’m sure you all know by now that it wasn’t a bombing. There have always been legends and lore surrounding Duel Monsters, but frankly the Numbers are dangerous whether or not they involve hocus-pocus.” He motioned at one of the five Number Hunters, the one wearing a lab coat. “As far as Drake here can tell, they mess with the hard light illusions that Duel Disks create, and make them… harder light. Either that or hocus-pocus, your pick.” He pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips, searching his pockets for a lighter.

“So we’re tracking down the Numbers. All of them. Or, well, you guys are. I’m just the guy making sure you all stay in line.” He pulled out a small zippo and flicked it open, lighting his cigarette. “So, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is simple. There’s a really crappy part of Johannesburg- South Africa, go figure- and we’ve received reports. Of what? Of weird shit, that’s what. So we’re popping you guys down and sending you in to investigate these four or five guys with supposedly sentient cards of doom. See? Simplicity in all its beauty.” He exhaled a small cloud of smoke.

“Now, I’d go down and help you guys, but I want to live a nice long life and not setting foot in the slums of South Africa goes a long ways towards that. But you guys can all sense each other’s mumbo-jumbo or something I’m told. Like those friggin’ psychic duelists or something. They used lots of ominous language. ‘The Numbers are drawn together’ and ‘Number Hosts can’t conceal themselves from another’. So we’re landing in ten. I’ve gotta go help with that. If you guys haven’t introduce yourselves yet, now’s the time.”

The guy in the labcoat took his glasses off. “As Aldric said, call me Drake,” he said, pointing at his superior with his thumb. “I'm from II's R&D division; I designed the Lille stadium.” He glared at Aldric a bit. “Roughing it up in Johannesburg's seedier parts isn't in my job description, but I'm the only expandable one, it seems.”
He shrugged and took a card out of his coat's pocket, showing it to everyone else. “See? The forty-sixth Number, Dragluon. AKA “I'm in a mess”.”

edited 10th May '14 2:57:26 PM by desdendelle

A main in a long coat that was dyed all colors of the rainbow stretched.

"Well, ah, I am Matthew, also an employee of I2, except that instead of being a techie, I design cards." He grinned proudly, and pulled a card out of his deck case, displaying Number 82: Heartlandraco.

"I even designed my Number here, to some degree." He chuckled, ran a hand covered in a fingerless glove through his spiky hair, which was as multicolored as his long coat.

edited 10th May '14 9:08:17 PM by Krika

"We're all employees here." Said the man in the hoodie with the dark complexion, clearly Mexican in origin.

"My name's Ronaldo. I was recently hired to fetch the Numbers, so I suppose dat's why I'm here." He said, cracking his knuckles.

"Oh, and my Number is 79: Battlin' Boxer Nova Caesar." He took a card out of his deck, revealing an armored fighter wearing brass knuckles.

edited 16th May '14 4:17:44 PM by TehStanman

The cape-wearing woman pushed up the rim of her top hat, looking at the others from behind a domino mask. "Ya lot are a buncha corporate puppets. Ya ain't ready for me and mah Number."

Flipping off the hat, she reached in with her left hand and withdrew it. Instead of her white gloved hand, a hand puppet was in its place, with three long arms operated by her pinkie, thumb, and middle finger. Its body was made of dark purple fabric while the arms and head were of a metallic blue colour. A bright yellow 43 was embedded on the lower left part of its body. Smirking, the woman flicked a card out of her Duel Pad and held it between her right index and middle fingers. The puppet and the artwork were the same thing: Number 43: Soul Marionetter.

"Mah name's Carrie Church but ya can call me tha Phantom."

edited 10th May '14 10:09:27 PM by EviIPaladin

Slumped lazily against the side of the aircraft - betraying the somewhat fashionable air his leather jacket, jean, flatcap-and-shade ensemble would have given away otherwise. Jacques was the last of the Number Hunters to speak up. There wasn't much from him that needed to be said - there hadn't been much to say, he didn't need to be reminded of Lille when he had been in the city that day. Still, everyone else had spoken up, he at least had to place in his token two bits.

He pulled the card out of his pocket, revealing the maiden that had been guiding him for the last... as ling as had mattered really. "My name is Jacques Beaumont. This is my Number card, Crystal Zero, 94. Now, are we finished with this little meeting of Number Holders Anonymous? I believe we are here on business, which we would like to attend to."

The speakers on the plane came on. "So everyone needs to be buckled up for landing," Aldric said. "We know that most reports of Number-related events seem to be happening a few miles east of the airport, in what used to be the warehouse district. Now it's home to lots of gangs and homeless. Luckily, you won't have to go too far in. We have an informant based in a shelterhouse of sorts with more info on where you guys can look for the Numbers. Or you can just search for them yourselves, you might be able to do some Numbers mumbo-jumbo and figure out who has one." The plane bounced slightly as it landed. "There's a car fueled and ready outside. The driver's name is Brad. Oh, and one more thing." A wall panel slid open, revealing five small earphones. "Those are communicators and trackers. Use them. And good luck."

It took entirely one glance at the earphones before Jacques shook his head and turned it back to Aldric. "Trackers? I believe you are mistaken. I refuse to be tracked. ^{Ce n'est tout simplement pas une option} That simply isn't an option."

"It's for your safety," Aldric replied. "So that if, say, you get captured by a gang, or get kidnapped by Number users, or whatever else, we can find you. Plus, if you die, we can find your body. What's so bad about being tracked anyways? ^{Ne pas être un teenatger pétulant.} Don't be a petulant teenager."

edited 12th May '14 12:13:01 PM by SarcasticallyInsane

"Awww, is Frenchay still in his rebllious stage?" Carrie laughed, picking up a communicator and tracker for herself. Looking out the window, the woman smiled. It was nice to be home after having to stomach the bizarre outside world for a few years. She welcomed the heat, even with her ridiculous outfit.

Go along with it. If we need to disappear, we can leave it behind. Rescuing the Numbers should be our top priority.

Jacques cringed at the voice in his head. Sure, Crystal Zero was his friend, but having a friend inside your head is by no means the ideal place to keep your friends. But fristratingly, she was completely right. Their mission was to get the Numbers to safety, and that was what came first.

"Fine. I'll take the tracker." Jacques shook his head. He could only hope that Industrial Illusions were the only ones who had access to the tracker. If they were going to do anything untowards it would be because he was running and then he could just ditch the tracker in a dustbin or whatever he needed to get rid of it. "But I don't buy that it's for our good at all."

Tête-merde. They just want keep an eye on us.

edited 13th May '14 1:05:43 PM by Plumbum

Drake grabbed the bridge of his nose for a second before taking a tracker of his own. “Guys,” he said, “you do understand that the faster we finish this, the faster we'll be outta here?”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. Thankfully, Dragluon was quiet. The ethereal Number was prone to long-winded, archaic-sounding outbursts at random intervals, and Drake found that quite annoying.
I have heard that.
Won't you consider getting to the point more often, Dragluon?

Matthew smiled and reached out for one of the earphones, carefully slotting it into his ear.

"A small price to pay, for the experience. After all, this is an event that can only be experienced by a few. And besides, I want to see what their Numbers are."

Ronaldo took the device and tentatively and carefully placed it in his ear.

"Yeah, let's get going."

Ronaldo smiled to himself as he walked with the others to the car. The setting could not be better for his first mission. Gangs and homeless? He might as well be visiting family for the holidays.

The car ride was pleasant, if packed tight. The driver was quiet the whole way, finally stopping about thirty minutes out. "The informant is inside. Stay safe." As soon as the last of the Number Hunters were out of the car, he drove off.

Inside the old warehouse there was an computer rig set up, with six or seven screens, multiple computer towers, and various other equipment strewn about. Sitting in front of it was a young man, about 19 or 20, with a buzz cut and a white shirt with a growing bloodstain from the sword impaling him.

"¡Ay Dios Mio!" Ronaldo cried when he saw the sword protruding from the man's chest. He ran towards the man in the chair, looking over him before rocking him a bit in an attempt to restore consciousness. "Are you still alive? ¿Está vivo?"

edited 14th May '14 6:16:03 PM by TehStanman

The man gurgled slightly, and his wide eyes twitched to the left, towards a wall with a door, seemingly terrified before he went completely limp.

Matthew upon entering the room, carefully stepped around the man, examining the scene carefully.

"Well, I'm not seeing any particular signs of a struggle....we should be on our guards!"

Matthew would note that the sword was a katana sticking out of the informant's chest. Nothing nearby seemed out of the ordinary however; the technology seemed undamaged, and there were no signs of a struggle. Apparently he had been killed before he could react.

Carrie did not like this one bit. Katanas weren't a gang weapon she remembered, so somebody else was at work. Either that or there was a new gang going around. But seeing how the technology was untouched... It wasn't a regular gang hit unless their informer was picking fights. In that case, he'd be a pretty shitty informant.

Looking at her hand puppet, she sighed. "Any ideas, Mary?" The doll on her hand shook its head and Carrie groaned. "Not likin' this one bit, ya know?"

edited 15th May '14 7:07:12 AM by EviIPaladin

People dying already? Do we really want to be involved in this, Zero?

Of course we do. This is exactly what we're trying to prevent. Numbers can make those of less fortuitous minds... unstable. You know this as I do.

Jacques gave a quick nod to the voice in his head, if he could prevent more people dying because they couldn't handle the power, it might just be enough to make up. He addressed everyone else in the room. "Alright, so the guy who was going to tell us about Numbers is dead, but he's left his equipment behind right? Maybe we need to have a look around these computers and see what we can dig up." He started walking to one of the computers, giving a quick addendum on his way. "And watch out for packs of roving samurai, whilst we're at it."

edited 15th May '14 10:39:30 AM by Plumbum

As Jacques booted up the computer, the screens flickered to life. One screen showed nothing but static, one had a camera feed of the inside of the building, and three had camera feeds of the outside. The remaining screens showed a normal screen with few icons; "Camera History" "Numbers Report" and "GARRET'S PERSONAL VIDEOS DO NOT OPEN".

Noticing Jacques was fiddling around with the computer, she raised her hand puppet to her ear and nodded softly. "43 thinks we need someone ta stan' guard outside. I can do it while ya tinka aroun' with tha computah." She looked at the katana for a moment. "Unless one of ya happens ta know how ta use that sword."

Drake leaned over Jacques' shoulder and peered at the computer screen. “You probably want 'Numbers Report,'” he told him, “unless you want the guy's porn videos.” He chuckled.

Noticing Carrie's proposal and deciding it was a good idea, Ronaldo decided to follow along. "I'll stand guard too. Not so good wit the computers unless you want me to break one."