Virtual Lightning 2.0
Frank Falling Water
Local Dwarf Guy, Kinda Retired
Frank is the guy who lives next door to J’s garage space, and is the landlord of record according to some dubious City Hall paperwork. He’s an older and smallish dwarf, about five six, Amerindian or Hispanic or something like that, with a balding head and a long white braid, and stubble on most of his chin. He’s amiable enough most of the time but can get crabby when things aren’t going his way or his bum old cyberleg is acting up. (J repairs the leg as part of her rent.) He will talk your ear off given half a chance, either about his glory days or gossiping about the neighbors (or if you’re really unlucky, soap operas). Usually in a porkpie hat and a blazer or a guayabera over army pants. He claims to be retired from the security business, but he’s really only semi-retired, and he’s somewhere between a fixer, local eyes, warehouse manager, and convenient front for the local gang which he used to be a senior member of.
This neighborhood is solidly Red Hot Nukes territory, and the Nukes are evolving from just being a rowdy go-gang to being local enforcers who take care of the ostracized dwarf community in this part of the Redmond Barrens. Frank is their guy on the block; he keeps an eye on the mostly-dwarf community in a nearby semi-functioning apartment building and a handful of other mostly functioning local properties. Frank probably knows a guy who knows a guy, but he’s pretending to be respectable, at least when he can remember to keep his mouth shut. Frank is inclined to like dwarves, Native people, and other metas, in about that order.
Frank’s partner is another aged ork named Jerry Phan. Jerry mostly sits at home and watches trid or BTLs, but he’s also a very good cook. Every once in a while the restaurant building nearby will open – they call it a pop-up, but its irregularity has more to do with when they can get the electricity running and when they think they won’t get busted, or when someone wants the restaurant as cover. When the sign lights up and the word goes out through very unofficial channels, you can go across the street and get one hell of a bowl of pho. It may be devil rat pho, but it’s really tasty. Delivery of the tasty soup is also cover for delivering small expensive packages for the Nukes.
Frank has the keys to the downstairs/vehicle part of the garage/safehouse, as well as viewing capability to the security system. (Installing a better security system was another way J paid some rent.) Yet another part of the rent is an agreement to feed the feral cats, some of whom are talis cats, that hang out in the area, especially in back of the garage. Frank says they keep down the devil rats, but he’s got a soft spot for the cats. Frank also refers “customers” who need vehicle work done to J’s garage, sometimes acting as a chop shop for vehicles the Nukes have stolen or acquired, or fixing up their vehicles with dwarf size modifications. J isn’t their main garage, more of a backup location and pathway for moving stolen vehicles.
The two-unit building which shares one wall with the garage is where Frank and Jerry live, in the upstairs half. The downstairs storefront is boarded up; there’s still a faded FLORIST sign painted over the window. “Frank’s store” is really Frank’s storehouse; stolen goods and Red Hot Nukes gear filter through here, as well as random crap Frank thinks might be useful (and usually isn’t).