maskormenacelogs | Life is a Highway

After all negotiations for how Dooku was getting there and who was coming along were made, Daryl walked the man through the actual hunting shack he'd built on the property. He treated it like a real home tour, pointing out all the cool little hidden cabinets for well-organized storage that kept the place looking super simple. The bedrooms for guests (there were two, both small and served their purpose), the kitchenette, the skylights and roofline inspired by the De Chima charity place Erik and Charles had overseen the building for back in the summer. And of course the solar panels and self-sufficient plumbing that would make it completely off-grid.

"Like I told you, plumber's coming in later this week to get the last of the piping done. It'll connect to the well so I can keep it closed off," he was saying as they walked the grounds and headed back to the house. "The pipes under the basement are already laid, just need to get the last of the connections set up inside for the pumps and heater. C'mon, let me show you that."

If it seemed boring? Well, that was the point. It needed to sound boring and like Daryl was just really proud of how self-sufficient the place was. The real tour would start once they were actually in the basement.

Dooku bore Daryl's games and delays with his customary cool courtesy, affecting an interest in the terribly dull shack so that Dixon could keep showing off his work and building to his moment. The Count had the time to spare, and he considered this as much part of Dixon's payment for his labours as any of the money he'd deposited. After all, Dixon had earned the right to be proud of what he had accomplished... and the Count could appreciate better than most how much pride could mean to a being.

"How very interesting," he remarked mildly, not sounding bored but playing along with his role in this little skit nonetheless. "By all means, please lead on."

Daryl led him down below where he didn't feel anyone could easily listen in and watch. And once they were down there, he locked the storm doors behind them. He wiped his hands on his pants to clear them of debris as he made his way across the small space. It was pretty much empty save for the pipes, some shelves for a minor amount of dry good storage, and the stairs up to the main floor.

He spread his arms and spun, "Problem with hidin' doors is you can figure out where they are by knockin' on the walls. If there's a change in the sound, you can figure out where there's a hollow behind it. Even with thicker walls, just need ta hit hard enough. But if you double up the walls..."

Daryl smirked and hit a hidden switch in the wall next to the storm doors, a brick near the floor, and it swung open, "Then there's no change in the sound. Whole basement's got two walls. The inner wall here and the one behind it. We gotta walk around, through the tunnel it makes, to get to the other door."

Daryl held the door open and pointed for Dooku to start walking toward the soft light from around the corner.

Dooku watched carefully, and not just because getting him alone beneath the storm doors would be an excellent way to murder him, if that's what Dixon had in mind. But that suspicion was unnecessary today, and Dooku made careful mental note of where that switch was as the hidden door emerged.

"Very impressive, I must say," he said, and meant it. His own strongholds often did not have this level of cunning and thought put into their design. But of course, with legions of commando droids at his disposal, Dooku had a different set of concerns.

The Count stepped forward, into the tunnel, ready to see the true secret of the hunting shack.

In Daryl's experience, once the world went to shit, being able to survive with nothing was going to be important. Because there'd be nothing. If you were lucky, you'd find solar panels and a place you could build walls around. It didn't mean you'd be safe, but it would keep you alive fore a time.

This place? This place was everything he'd ever learned about making sure no one could get at you but you could survive even if they tried.

The walls were close enough it was a bit of a squeeze for him if the didn't turn sideways to move through them. Also worked to help keep his basement the same temperature year round (or would). A nice double advantage. The second door was similarly hidden with a secret switch. This time near the ceiling.

Once opened, the two were met with the start of a very, very long staircase currently with no lights to guide them. Daryl gestured for Dooku to start down while he got the door shut behind them. Once the door was shut, then the lights came on. Not particularly bright, but enough to see by.

"Welcome to the Tombs." He said without any irony. "We got a long walk ahead of us. Every third landing, take a left."

"The Tombs," Dooku repeated in his inimitable voice, giving the word an ominous, reverberating air. "What a fine name."

It certainly beat 'the Shack,' in the Count's view. He set off down the stairs, following Daryl's instructions, left at every third landing.

It took a total of twelve landings (three turns and the final landing) before they reached the door. It was a long way down a very, very long stair case in a maze of more stairs to reach the front door. The entrance wasn't barred by any high tech mechanism, it was just a very heavy door with a very heavy lock. On the inside. The kind one would find in a submarine to ensure things were air tight.

"And this," Daryl pushed open the door and let Dooku inside. He closed it behind them but didn't lock it. "...is The Hole. We're under the mountain range on the Tennessee side. There's a few lakes and a very intensive river system both above ground and below we're using to generate power and give ourselves some plumbing."

The entry way wasn't very impressive, but it was clearly designed to be a choke point in case anyone got down to them.

"Tombs're the main defense aside from bein' invisible to anything above us tryin' ta detect power signatures. The metal in the foundation'll throw that off. We got no outside lines comin' in and the cell towers can't get a signal neither. The whole thing's self-contained."

Daryl went to open the second door that led into the rest of the complex, "Whaddya wanna see first?"

Ah. So the entire complex wasn't called 'The Tombs.' An unfortunate decision- Dooku resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in distaste at the base, inelegant title of 'Hole.' The important thing was whether the place would shelter them from threats, not what it was called.

"Security arrangements, if you please," he said as he stepped through the door, giving the standard Sith answer. Electricity, plumbing, supplies, sleeping quarters- all secondary, all useless without the strength to detect and destroy enemies. "I want to know how this Hole can be held against any foe that manages to find it, and make their way past the Tombs." However unlikely that situation was.

"Only thing making it's way past the tombs is what can breath under water," Daryl answered. "Once that plumber I was talking about gets here anyway. Got the whole mess rigged to flood if anyone gets into them that we don't want. And that's assuming they make it through the maze we designed to even get here."

Which was technically possible. But unlikely. Particularly once they were flooded.

"You turn at any point that ain't every third left getting down here, you'd be hard pressed to find your way back to any direction but up," he continued as he led Dooku through to the next room, which was the first security check point. Cameras were hidden in the corners, making it look less secure than it actually was. Once again, the door in and out was one that could only be sealed from the opposite side. Anyone coming through would have to fight to make progress at every single door and hall.

Daryl didn't bother shutting any of the rest, though, as he led Dooku down the central corridor into the main atrium. He pointed toward the opposite wall, where a few small windows looked out over the internal courtyard, "Armory and the main security office is up there. Assuming an enemy gets past the last five doors we just walked through, they gotta deal with being shot from every angle. You see the slits in the walls? Castles had them back before guns were invented. Called arrowslits. Angled on the outside for weapons to move side to side, but thin enough it'd take a damn good sharpshooter to hit the gunner behind the wall. Ain't got a lot guns right now, but we got the arrows. They work well enough."

He slapped the concrete wall as he led Dooku around, "Outer walls are four foot thick, inner are one. We got seven false entrances that all look exactly the same at that first room we went through, but their doors lead no where or deeper into the Tombs. Emergency exit for us is connected to a collapsed mine shaft eight miles south. Ain't safe to travel, ain't easy to travel, but it ain't gonna let no one in through a back door, neither."

Security was all low tech, but it was built on paranoia. Every inch an enemy took in this place, they'd have to fight for.

Dooku's smile took on a nasty edge as he imagined the devastating impact of such a trap: dozens or even hundreds of enemies crammed into the Tombs, suddenly deluged with water, with nowhere to run as the air began to run out. It was a ruthless measure, and he approved.

He also approved of the firing slits, the location of the armory, and the thick walls. And seven false entrances? Magnificent. Low-tech though the Hole may have been, but the Count knew it would make a mighty stronghold- perhaps even the rival of Helix at the height of its power.

"You have done well indeed," he intoned. "If you require more firearms to supplement your arrows, I can make the necessary arrangements." The Constellation was now large enough that obtaining guns on the black market would be a trifling matter.

"Been trying myself, but it's been hard," Daryl admitted. Getting more than a gun here or a gun there as a registered hero legally had been a struggle. And finding black market dealers who were willing to outfit a known, very public, registered hero more so. The best he'd been able to do was abuse his contract with Bow-Man to get the dozen bows and crossbows and their ammo squared away into the armory on top of the very few guns he'd managed to purchase.

"Been easier to get the the other shit needed. Got first aid kits scattered around," he said as he started to lead Dooku out of the atrium and deeper into the stronghold. The Atrium was obviously the main social area and had several tubs with dirt along the far wall. Each sat under lights. If they needed to grow food underground at any point, they had the ability to do some small amount of produce.

Again, there were doors at regular intervals that could be shut to stymie any progress as he led Dook through the hall to show him the living quarters, kitchen, dining, bathing, and medical before taking him upstairs to the security center. He flipped a switch and the wall of monitors turned on, showing most of the hall ways and all of the entrances, including the false ones.

"One person can monitor everything from here if we need 'em to," he explained as he sat down in one of the three chairs. "Power's gonna be left off 'cept for emergency lights 'fore we leave. This took a lot of time and resources and it's only got the one way in from my cabin. But getting here... if we want the place to stay under wraps when things go to shit, we gotta make other places for people to go first. Make 'em go to ground in scattered groups before making their way here so their ain't a direct line of retreat."

Daryl tilted his head and looked up at Dooku, "Don't know who alls on your list, but groups bigger than four or five heading this way at a time'll draw too much attention. You up for funding some retreat points?"

The Count stroked his beard, thoughtfully. He was less keen on the tubs of dirt than he he had been on the aquatic death traps and firing positions, but he understood the usefulness of having some underground agriculture to fall back upon. If the moment of supreme crisis ever arrived, Dooku and his allies could have been trapped in this sanctuary for months or even longer, forced to survive by any means necessary.

"Retreat points would be necessary," he agreed. "I will look into making the proper arrangements for them, and for your weapons."

He did not sit in any of the chairs of the security center, standing and pacing as he took in the screens and the equipment. Most impressive. "There is another matter I wanted to discuss with you. Your fine work on this facility deserves repayment. Would you like to know a secret, Daryl?"

Repayment. As if his efforts hadn't been completely funded (literally) by Dooku and whoever was funneling him the money. Daryl didn't bother hiding his skepticism at the statement or the question that followed. Like he was waiting for a shoe to drop.

"You gonna admit this was all possible courtesy of that asshole I don't want in here?" he asked, tilting his head and raising his brows expectantly. If Dooku had hoped he'd forgotten about that, he was going to be disappointed. "Or there something else you think I should wanna hear about?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," Dooku responded smoothly, furrowing his brow in a mildly exaggerated parody of a confused old man. He knew that Daryl knew about Pinkman's money, but the idea that Jesse wasn't involved was one of those useful political fictions that made unpalatable alliances possible- and therefore worth preserving. The majesty of the Hole was far more important than any petty grudges.

Dooku skated past the challenge to move on to the real point. "What if I were to tell you that there is an organization of imPorts dedicated to projects similar to this?" He suggested, as though proposing a hypothetical as he gestured at the security room around them. "A secret network of powerful individuals who feel as you and I do, and who are prepared to act on their beliefs."

Daryl continued to stare up at Dooku, expression unchanging. The hypothetical game the man was trying to play was pretty stupid at this point. But Dooku liked dancing around the point and Daryl knew that.

"I'd guess you got a reason for bringing it up," he answered, not sounding at all impressed, though he was far from dismissive. "And I'd guess you're a part of it, too."

"Your perception does you credit," Dooku said smoothly, undeterred by Daryl's total lack of engagement with his bullshit. "This organization offers resources, allies, and purpose to imPorts who recognize the truth of our situation on this planet. Our goal is to change things for the better, so that we and our loved ones may be safe."

Safe, wealthy, and powerful to be more specific. But to a mind like Dooku's, they were all more or less the same thing. "I believe you would be a fine addition to this group. This great achievement you have constructed proves it. Join us, and we will help you to get what you want. All that is required is your devotion, and your secrecy- which I'm sure will be no trouble to a man like yourself."

Devotion. He wondered if Dooku picked it on purpose or it was used because the man was just pompous like that. Regardless, it wasn't a safe word to use with Daryl. As soon as it left Dooku's lips, his eyes narrowed and his expression darkened.

"You sure fucking sound like you think you know what I want," he said, not bothering to hide his dislike of the assumption. Daryl stood and moved to where he had room to pace.

That got an eyebrow from the Count. He hadn't expected that kind of reaction from Daryl, and had indeed only used the word out of his natural pomposity.

"But of course," he responded readily, trying to glide past Daryl's anger. "You have made it clear to me more than once, after all. Safety and peace for 'your people,' for those who are important to you. That is what you desire above all else, is it not?"

If that wasn't Dixon's main motivation, Dooku had made a serious misstep in his picture of the man.

Of course it was. It just rankled that Dooku knew it and still used the word 'devotion' like Daryl would ever choose anyone else over his people. His family.

"And how you and this group you want me to devote myself to gonna do that?" He asked, not at all mollified. "Seems to me, I'm the one that got this place built. Not the other way around."

Even if it had been with Dooku's money.

"Yes, you did." The Count stretched out an arm, laid a hand against a wall, touching it as though he could feel the strength in the bones of the structure. "But not alone- not only with your own hands. This place is a monument to what is possible through imPorts cooperating."

He lowered his arm, and began to pace slowly around Daryl, drawing a circle around him as he spoke. "That is why my group is necessary. We offer allies, resources, and information in return for your unique talents. We can obtain information, weapons, and protection to safeguard your people. And we fear no enemy- not even the government."

"Ain't afraid of the government," Daryl scoffed. But Dooku's efforts to metaphorically rein him in by walking that circle did what it was supposed to. It forced Daryl to stop his own pacing and turn with the man to watch him every step. To pay attention and listen past his own dislike of what Dooku had implied with his first offer.

He crossed his arms, shoulders up and looking very hunched in on himself. Clearly uncomfortable, but not so ready to lash out.

"Who's in it?"

Translation: he was listening.

"Not afraid- but not trusting, either. You are wise to do so."

Dooku smiled as he saw his hook taken, and stopped his creepy villain-pacing thing to face Daryl directly.

"For obvious reasons, I cannot tell you the full membership. Our secrecy is our greatest line of defense, so much so that we communicate using code names upon a secret network."

His smile grew slightly, and he leaned forward as though he were confiding the secret in the middle of a crowded party, instead of an empty room far under the ground.

"But I can tell you that we are numerous. More than ten imPorts have joined us already, and recruitment is still ongoing. We are a force to be reckoned with, Daryl."

Ten imPorts wasn't what Daryl would call 'numerous' but depending on their skills, it could definitely be a force to be reckoned with. He didn't like the idea of not knowing who he was involved with, though.

"No way to learn who's in it and who I'd be working with?" Trust was not something he offered easily.

The Count gestures as he speaks, a languid motion, as though these secrets and lies are no great source of tension to him.

"That information is shared as needed- if members must meet in person for a mission, for example. But that same policy will shield you. No one will know who you are except myself and the other leaders... And whoever you choose to trust." That sly half-smile again. "I know you can be depended upon to not divulge secrets foolishly, Daryl."

"I get to know who the other leaders are, then?" Daryl pushed. He needed to be able to trust who he was getting into bed with if he did end up getting into bed. "Or this just gonna be you tellin' me I have to trust you that there are more and you ain't makin' shit up for shits and giggles?"

As off-putting as that suggestion sounded, Daryl did actually trust Dooku enough to work with him. That much was obvious from where they were currently standing. But he didn't like secrets in a group he was part of. He didn't like things that could cause problems because not enough people knew about it. He didn't like the stuff that could hurt the group going unknown.

His ire, however, had lowered to the point he was speaking mostly civilly and with only a little huffiness.

Life is a Highway

For the Count of Corruption - Jan 9

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