Umbrella Surveillance System
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Ares Buchanan "Order up!" rings sharply from the kitchen, followed much more quietly by, "Alright. I'm done for tha night." Ares finishes up an order of hash browns and tosses them into a takeout box. Once he's timed out and outside the building, he finds a nice quiet spot on the side of the building and tugs out a small wooden box. "How in tha hammered hell did I ever end up workin' at tha damn Waffle House anyways?"
Frank West     Frank West remains seated at the front bar of the Waffle House enjoying a late meal. Raccoon City appears to have been quite the hot spot he was told it would be and the freelancer has pretty busy pursuing a number of leads as of late, not giving him much opportunity to sit down to enjoy a nice meal or two. So, its nice to take a break and do exactly that.
    A twangy country style song comes on over the radio speaker, giving a kind of 'John Denver'-esque vibe to it. Frank glances up from his Belgian Waffle breakfast and glances over to see the form of Ares Buchanan clocking out for the night. Normally, a worker at Waffle House wouldn't be much to take note of. However, if its one thing Frank has learned over the course of his investigative reporting: its that those who work late often have a few stories to tell and they usually are the more 'juicy' ones.
    A couple minutes pass as the Waffle House associate leaves outside and Frank takes that time to further enjoy the rest of his meal. Sliding the plate forward, He dabs off the front of his face and raises his hand, calling out to the waitress, "Check please!"

    A gruff ol' lady wanders up and provides Frank with his requested check, offering him a bit of a smile and a wink, "Thanks for the talk, hon. It was nice to have a chat about things."

    Frank grins and nods to the waitress, "It was nothing, Barbara. Sometimes we all just need someone to vent too you know and I just happen to be a good listener."

    Barbara smiles, "I appreciate it. Come back again soon, Frank." and then wanders back off to clear a few more tables.

    Frank glances down and notices the discount provided by the waitress. He sighs happily, thinking to himself, "Sometimes it just pays to be a nice quiet guy from time to time."
    Nevertheless, Frank places down a decent tip on top of his charges and the heads outside, glancing around for any notice of the worker that passed him by a few minutes ago. He finds himself going around the side of the building and noticing Ares not to far from him. Approaching the man from afar, Frank breaks the ice, "Yo,", offering the man a wave as he asks, "Do you normally eat outside in the cold or just don't prefer the atmosphere inside?"
Ares Buchanan "Yo." Ares drawls back over, actually setting the box down beside him. "I stay right over there," he jerks a thumb over to the motel. He twists a lid on the top of the box, revealing it to be a dugout. The pipe is taken and packed down into a side compartment.

         "And I've been here since last night, had to work ah double." He pops the pipe between his lips and takes a drag.

"Not quite sittin' on ah beach with tha woman I wanted to marry. But it is what it is, you know?" That lungful of smoke is released, and it quickly becomes obvious that the man is smoking the Devil's Lettuce!
Frank West     Frank remains quiet for the moment, listening to the man before as he continues to stroll up. He glances over as Ares motions towards the motel beside em and nods, "I see.", then glances back over to see the man taking a hit of something, which is clearly marijuana.
    Still, Frank West is not here to judge a person's personal habits. He leans up against the wall a couple feet from Ares position, pondering the man's words for a second, "I hear that. Life's never quite as easy as we want it to be, that's for sure. You kind of strike me as kind of a loner, friend. Don't seem quite like the type to be looking in a joint like a Waffle House if you ask me but color me curious. What's your story, if you don't mind my asking?"
Ares Buchanan "My story? Ain't much to it. Grew up in Georgia, real sleepy place. So I figured I could make ah little noise." Ares puts the pipe away and tucks the dugout into a jacket pocket. "Ended up in prison for ah few years. Stole ah few televisions. Wasn't a real nice guy."

"When I got out I started runnin' guns an' drugs an' whatnot. All seemed fun at tha time, but just seems kinda stupid now." He pats down his pockets, looking for something that's clearly not there. "Shit, bet I left my cigarettes at her house."

         "Anway, I met ah girl. Settled down. Shit, I spent six months down in Panama at Playa Blanca. But, I'm here now."
Frank West     Frank folds his arms as he continues to listen to Ares, "Sounds like you got dealt a pretty shit hand, made a few bad choices, ended up in the slammer, continued into the trade before meeting a lady, huh?"
    Frank makes a resounding "Tch" with his tongue and continues, "Rough times, man.", then he happens to take notice of the man's present plight before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a half-pack of smokes. He calls out to Ares, "Hey, heads up. Hope you don't mind natural." and tosses them to the man.
    "So what brings you to Raccoon City of all places? This doesn't quite seem like the place a person with your skill-set might be hanging around. Maybe you might know a few things going on around these parts perhaps?"
Ares Buchanan "I appreciate it." Ares catches the cigarettes and pops one out for himself before returning the pack. "My cousin lives out here. Well, lived. Went up to his cabin before the blizzard hit and he was gone but all his shit was still there."

"As I went to leave ah bunch of monkeys attacked me. Except the little fuckers didn't have no skin." The cigarette is lit up, some smoke blown skyward. "They can say what they want, but rabies don't do that."
Frank West     Frank catches the pack and simply holds on to it for the moment, nodding once again to Ares as he explains his reason in Raccoon City, "So, let me get this straight you were out here visiting your cousin, who upon your arrival wasn't there. Then you came under attack by a bunch of monkeys with no skin up at his cabin?"
    Frank shakes his head, hearing Ares commenting about the 'Rabies'. He heard about this 'Rabies' cover story that has been floating around the city, attempting to mask the incidents regarding the animal attacks and those involved. Doesn't mean he believes it.
    Frank scoffs lightly and nods, "Yeah, I heard about that and I think we are in agreement there. Tell me, what's your name, if you don't mind my asking?"
    Frank wanders up to Ares, tossing him the rest of the pack, "Keep it, By the way, the name's Frank West by the way."
Ares Buchanan "Frank West? No shit. Well if you're here shit's about to get bad. I'm Ares. Ares Buchanan." Ares nods at Frank, tucking the pack away. "But yeah, he's gone missing. And his phone is full of all these weird ass messages. All sorts ah talk about assets and military jargon. No idea what the hell he was goin' on about."
Frank West     Apparently Frank's reputation is preceding him here in Raccoon City. Fame is obviously not a hinderance when it comes to Frank's profession. In fact, its rather flattering how well known he is here and he hasn't even hit the big time yet!
    However, that might not be the case if his reputation has one of destruction following in his wake.

            Awwwwkward Foreshadowing!!

    Frank turns to Ares and scoffs a bit about being noticed, "Heard of me, huh? Maybe you might have a point, Ares. Well, if that's the case, I'll cut to the chase. I am interested in these strange events happening in the city and maybe you can help me out a bit. You mentioned having your cousin's phone.", then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small pad of paper, "You wouldn't mind if I happened to take a look at those messages and maybe got passed the address to his cabin, would you? Or would you maybe be willing to give me a tour of the place by chance?"
Ares Buchanan "As long as it's during the day." Ares produces a small gray flip phone and offers it over, "Just be careful with it, yeah?" He takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his nose. "Should probably let you know about tha military type folks out there. Only reason I'm not dead is because they showed up in ah helicopter."
Frank West     Frank smirks a bit and stuffs the paper back into his pocket before obtaining the phone. The photographer takes a few minutes to boot up the phone being careful like he was asked too, "Not a problem. I can certainly make arrangements for that."
    Frank's attention is perked up at the mention of the military types by Ares. Apparently this guy saw quite a bit up there. Shame no one took him seriously or perhaps he hasn't talked up until now. He pulls up his camera and begins taking some photographs with his camera. It is a little awkward but he manages to multi-task to capture the messages, as he asks, "Tell me more about these military types, Ares."
    Upon finishing his pictures, Frank hands the phone back to Area and continues, "Thanks for the messages. Also, the more info you can give me the better and in return for all of this, I'll do what I can to find out what happened to your cousin. By the way, what was his name?"
Ares Buchanan "Magnus. Magnus Buchanan." Ares takes the phone back, hiding it away once more. "Just your traditional night mission military types. Assault weapons, dark clothes, ah chain gun." He doesn't seem like he's lying, giving no trace of anything being any different. "But, I'm gonna have ta get some sleep.