You follow a series of halls past closed doors. Behind some you can hear the clicking and clacking of typewriters, from some a whiff of cigarette smoke can be detected, from others more chemical scents emerge. You pass the arsenal, where weapons and ammunition are stored, but you already have your sidearms. Two flights of stairs brings you up to the garage, a work area with a rough concrete floor and years of newer oil stains over older ones.<br/><br/>The mechanics are two American WACs in thick coveralls and grease-stained faces, their hair each covered in bandanas sharing a joke and a smoke in close proximity with a squat Brit REME (Royal Electrical Mechanical Engineer Corps) Sgt. They spring apart like they've been caught with hands in the cookie jar, the two WACS immediately head off to different corners of the garage, blushing.<br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/BcCekNq.jpg)</div>The REME Sgt smiles widely and straightens up, salutes, his palm out in the British manner. "Sergeant Cartwright, sir!"<br/><br/>"Today we 'ave an Opel Olympia." He points to the black two-door sedan. "Pre-war, so you don't 'ave to worry about shoddy work. This one has a radio set."<br/><br/>He opens the passenger door. Instead of a glove compartment there's a large German radio panel, with several knobs and switches. Two cloth-covered cables are attached. One ends in a headset not unlike a pilot or tank commander might wear. The other ends in a large black bakelite phone handle, with a pressel switch between the ear-piece and the mouth piece.<br/><br/>"Today's frequency is..." He fishes a small notepad out of his pocket and flips it open. "...thirty-five-twenty-five. Now mind you, anyone might be listening. Maybe even someone here."<br/><br/>"Watch out if the engine gets too cold. She's not a pretty lady on cold mornings, if you get my drift."<br/><br/>He signals to one of the women, and she pulls a chain hand over hand, causing the garage door to slowly slide up, foot by foot.<br/><br/>"Fully fueled, freshly gapped spark plugs, new oil. It should run just fine. They put the starter up above the accelerator. Just reach your foot up and press on both."<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>Berlin morning traffic is heavy, despite being largely pedestrian. Street-cars are running again, the system is vital to moving the working populace.<br/><br/>St Joseph's is a long red brick building, five stories tall and the length of the city block. One of the wings was extensively damaged in the war, and reconstruction is slow. The interior of the hospital looks dreadful and dreary, a mixture of battle damage and the mess and clutter of on-going repairs on every floor contribute to the effect.<br/><br/>A green trench-coated VoPo (Volkspolizei) constable stops you at the basement entrance to the morgue, but a flash of the RPA badge has him stepping to one side. He seems rather fresh-faced, not young, exactly, but not another veteran of months and years of war.<br/><br/>The morgue is as dreary as the rest of the hospital, at least half the lights are out. At least the smell here is a powerful nose-tingling antiseptic. No one who's lived through the war needs any more experience with the smell of the dead and dying. The place looks abandoned, although a few extra lights are shining in the morgue laboratory. There, on a silvery table, is a body half-covered in a sheet. Standing near-by is a tall, gaunt man whose doctor's jacket is covered in a heavy rubberized apron.<br/><br/>He looks up through thick glasses as you arrive. He speaks in rapid German.<br/><br/>"No! No! This is not an RPA matter! You have no jurisdiction here! Go talk to Lt Stransky of the VoPo! You can't be in here!"<br/><br/>Sometimes showing up and throwing one's authority around creates antipathy -- Dr Karl Lutzow certainly seems to have a negative opinion about the RPA.<br/><br/>With the yelling echoing down the corridor the VoPo constable at the door peaks his head in.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Our first Contest.</strong></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_u">Dr Lutzow's goal</span>: Get the RPA to go away.<br/><br/>He is Social +2d6, and adds +2d6 because he Distrusts the RPA (He rolls a 14).<br/><br/>I need someone to propose a goal for a social conflict. One other player character may want to go "occupy the guard" or something similar. Or stay close, with implied support in the conversation. That would allow the person having a discussion with Dr Lutzow to use Trust dice. Both "non-contesting" characters can take actions, the main character can decide which one they want to use Trust from. We only get to use Trust with one character at a time.<br/><br/>They may wish to use another tag as well, if they like.</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/><br/>