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Time passes.
It's been just under two weeks since Voodoo and Lindianne's mission to locate Dr. Kandel's ex. The few surviving trees in New York have begun to bud, and the last snow of the year is little more than a memory. It won't be long now before the temperature begins to climb upwards. Not long now until the stifling humidity of summer in New York City.
The situation on the streets remains in the same state as usual. The Rikers, the LMB, and the JTF rattle sabers at one another over individual blocks. There's no teeth behind any of it. For all of their animosity, it feels like the disparate groups in Manhattan are at a state of detente. No one is making any moves right now. Which leaves little for AFO Neptune or the SHD's lone Agent to do.
A week ago, Lindianne returned from the streets with a soundboard still in its box, pilfered from a local electronics store. She's been running supply missions to scavenge any A/V equipment that hasn't been looted. There isn't much out there. But it's been just enough to splice the soundboard into the overhead PA system of the post office.
So now, when Heather isn't strumming her guitar, there's a loop of music on overhead. (None of Rick Valassi's podcasts, though. Both Faye and Lindianne have made their dislike of the man quite clear.) The poor civilian who's been roped into DJ duty? He's got lousy taste in music.
Which is why Lindianne's going to be located just past the decontamination zone with her go-bag stuffed full of whatever supplies she's managed to find outside. "If I have to hear New Wave music one more time, I'm taking over," she grouses to herself as she drops the bag by her feet.
It's been just under two weeks since Voodoo and Lindianne's mission to locate Dr. Kandel's ex. The few surviving trees in New York have begun to bud, and the last snow of the year is little more than a memory. It won't be long now before the temperature begins to climb upwards. Not long now until the stifling humidity of summer in New York City.
The situation on the streets remains in the same state as usual. The Rikers, the LMB, and the JTF rattle sabers at one another over individual blocks. There's no teeth behind any of it. For all of their animosity, it feels like the disparate groups in Manhattan are at a state of detente. No one is making any moves right now. Which leaves little for AFO Neptune or the SHD's lone Agent to do.
A week ago, Lindianne returned from the streets with a soundboard still in its box, pilfered from a local electronics store. She's been running supply missions to scavenge any A/V equipment that hasn't been looted. There isn't much out there. But it's been just enough to splice the soundboard into the overhead PA system of the post office.
So now, when Heather isn't strumming her guitar, there's a loop of music on overhead. (None of Rick Valassi's podcasts, though. Both Faye and Lindianne have made their dislike of the man quite clear.) The poor civilian who's been roped into DJ duty? He's got lousy taste in music.
Which is why Lindianne's going to be located just past the decontamination zone with her go-bag stuffed full of whatever supplies she's managed to find outside. "If I have to hear New Wave music one more time, I'm taking over," she grouses to herself as she drops the bag by her feet.