<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/eRwvdvN.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Alberta<br/><strong>Nationality|Faction:</strong>Psuedo AI<br/><strong> Age: </strong>2.5 Years<br/><strong>Location|Date:</strong>CAC Store Front - VaudeVille, Bakunnin<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>OPEN<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>The CAC storefront in vaudeville was on the outskirts of the city nearest the cargo docking bays. The main store front a sterile businesslike space approximately 10 foot square. Along one wall was a set of lockers that served as drop off and pick up on any small package orders. A non descript door rests locked along the back wall, unlocked only for special contract meetings. Finally a central holographic panel presented a life size interface for Alberta to take orders on behalf of the company.<br/><br/>Alberta herself was steady and business like in behavior. Her glimmering blue and green hologram was modeled after a victorian lady. Her programmer having gotten sick of programming sexed up flirty pseudo AIs had programmed her on a lark. Though it took some time for her to be sold she had so far had a successful life at CAC due to her discretion and polite demeanour. As each of them arrived she would easily remind them of the last message she had been given for them. “Mr. Zaitsev reminds you that the responsibility of accepting appropriate special contracts is the amongst your duties.”<br/><br/>The back door opens automatically for you and opens on the peculiar room beyond. A simple equilateral triangle each wall has a Separate identical door. At the point opposing the CAC storefront entrance a table sits waiting with hot tea, coffee and pastries brought in fresh from a different local cafe for each meeting. One of the two remaining doors leads down a short flight of stairs and into the backroom of a nearby mechanics shop, a convenient secondary entrance and exit when further privacy is needed. The third door is biometrically sealed to the CEOs signatures and has yet to have been opened in your presence. The center of the room is a circular table and chairs the bed of the table making up a series of projection systems to aid in displaying important information in the contract briefings.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/3LjZOEb.jpg)</div><br/>Today the client has arrived early. Short of stature with a rich skin tone and a dark burgundy turban that suggest he is of sikh descent. He wears a comfortable cotton shirt and pants but the rich leather briefcase gripped tightly in his hand would be more at home in a high level boardroom. He stands uneasily by the refreshments fidgeting and sipping softly at a cup of tea. “Erm, uh, good morning.” He would greet each of you in turn. Already on the tables projector blueprints of a complex device rotate slowly. The briefcase hung heavy in his hands, as his eyes appraised those collected. Finally he would point to the hologram with a softly trembling finger  "I will need you to protect and deliver this device to a transport shuttle." he would declare finally "The device must make it off Bakunin and to my employers without an intervention from competing researchers." A soft sheen of sweat covered his brow.<br/><br/><br/>