1
I’m fucked.
Fucked, fucked, fucked.
I doubt that this log will get anywhere, considering that I’m about a million kilometers away from the nearest charted planet, and that the ship’s on-board radio and messenger is broken.
I suppose I could fix the “radio and messenger” problem. I ran a diagnostic on it and it says that the radio is down. Simple EVA, shouldn’t take more than an hour. But then I’d have to fix the airlock; which I have no fucking clue on how to do, ever since the ship got raided.
Oh, right. The raid.
Well, what happed was that we wandered into territory owned by the Mason Guild, and they got pissed off and decided to kill us. And they almost succeeded! I’m still alive.
Fuck the Mason Guild.
Anyway, all fourteen of my crewmates are dead and dusted, or probably dead. They took them off ship (while I hid in a storage closet like a fucking coward) and most likely executed them on planet after a sham trial. The Foundation wouldn’t find out for another month; communications in deep-space are like that.
One: Rizwan Ali, fresh out of university, is employed at the Foundation in a peasant occupation. His job is "Lab Assistant", which means he cleans the tables and spends hours a day in a dark closet writing reports. Frustrated, he requests a transfer to another Site, only to be turned down due to the demand of assistants needed there.
Two: Ali singles out a colleague in the same position as he is, and befriends him. Over time, he begins to reorganize the lab infrastructure, as well as enlist other assistant's help in streamlining the report-writing process.
Three: After an incident where a storage facility in the Site is burned (Ali having accidentally caused it), he's sent to Sri Lanka to work at the newly established Site. There, he meets Dr. Kondraki, who he impresses.
Four: After six months in Sri Lanka, Kondraki, who is leaving, asks Ali to join him as an assistant. Ali accepts, and he ends up in California, where he supervises the feeding process of 408 and writes reports on the experiments done on them.
Five: Ali witnesses Kondraki breaching security protocols, entering the containment chamber of 408 in the middle of the night, and asking them to broadcast images of other people within the Site. Ali, in the security room, has the option to not report it. He sends the footage to the Site Director.
Six:
1
"You ever think about the stars?
"No, I didn't think you do. Millions of tiny shiny things, sparkling in the sky. I still don't know how people managed to get things from it, like- like a fuckin'- like a fucking scorpion, or- or belt, you know?"
Dietrich Lurk takes a long drought of beer from the flask, then peers into the handheld mirror that he had set next to him. "You don't say much, do you, Merle?"
Merle, a figure with an eerie smile and black cloak, shrugs. Your ramblings are annoying.
"Shut up."
Outline:
Takes place in 2060, decades after the broken masquerade. Foundation-Detective Alan Blunt tracks a shipment of anomalous weapons heisted from Site-32 in the town of San Francisco. Anomalous-Detectives are a group of detectives, from the U.N, that were created for anomaly-related crimes.
PLAN:
Will be several cases Alan Blunt encounters while investigating the anomalous weapons taken from Site-32. Blunt is taking heat from Boswell, the commissioner of the SFPD and Blunt's sometimes partner, for the murder of Emilia Ricoletti which was believed to have been orchestrated by Anomalous-Detectives.
First Case: Alan Blunt is visited by Theodore Lament, his Foundation informant. He hands him a thick file on the heist and asks him to investigate it. Magnus Arne, a former informant of another Anomaly-Detective (Arne murdered her), presumably has information on the anomalous weapons. Blunt tracks him down and interrogates him. Arne commits suicide, but heavily hints that a Mob soldier, named Frank Russo, knows about the heist.
Second Case: Blunt tracks down Russo in a bar and pays him for information. Russo says that he knows a man named The Bulldog, a smalltimes arm dealer, who may know something about the weapons. As Blunt leaves, Russo warns him that "this is a dangerous business."
The Bulldog resides in a dilapidated suburban home, where Blunt enters to negotiate a deal, where in return for information, he is cleared of several charges against him. The Bulldog agrees, but after Blunt reveals that he's apart of the Anomalous Detectives, the Bulldog lashes out, revealing that Ricoletti was a friend to him. After a close fight, Blunt kills the Bulldog and searches his files, finding that a woman named Sadie Armas held the weapons.
Third Case: Half-way to Armas' base, he recieves a call that Armas should be arrested. When he gets there, he offers the opportunity to an immunity deal, and she refuses, saying: "The Foundation should be wiped out." Armas' guards attack him, and she escapes.
Fourth: Paul Boswell, a captain of the SFPD, digs through files that are related to Ricoletti and organizes the arrest of two Anomaly-Detectives. Blunt shows up after the arrest and talks to him about Ricoletti, saying that she had a friend in with the Mob and a brother in the Foundation. The brother, John Ricoletti, was discharged from a task force and now lives in a luxurious apartment.
Apparently, there is some speculation that John Ricoletti is now apart of the mob. When Boswell mentions that he's been called a Consigliere, Blunt realizes that, from the Bulldog's files, that he may have been involved with the handling of the anomalous weapons. While they're talking, a Foundation agent, who goes by Theodore Lament, advises them to stay out of it.
Five: Boswell and Blunt track down John Ricoletti, where they find out that he's the new Consigliere of the Armani crime family. After a brief talk, of which John threatens to kill Blunt if he sees him again, they get thrown out of the restaurant. Boswell reveals that during the altercation, he managed to stick a tracker on the inside on John's coat.
Six: They find John Ricoletti heading to an abandoned warehouse, and they follow him there. They witness a conversation where John talks to Sadie Armas, who reveals that the anomalous weapons are in the warehouse itself. Suddenly, several guards find Boswell and Blunt, and they're forced to fight. After they finish, they realize that Armas and John are missing.
Seven: They find that the tracker has been disabled, but they find several signs that mean that Armas and John escaped through a dock door. They run out onto the boardwalk, where Armas is held hostage by John- using a gun. Suddenly, John shoots Armas and manages to escape after a brief fight with Blunt.
Eight: After leaving behind Boswell to save Armas, Blunt pursues John. After cornering him, and after a long fist fight, Blunt interrogates John, and he reveals that the Foundation had him pose as an agent in order to get into the Mob- and gain more power, using the weapons. Suddenly, Lament appears and shoots John.
While holding Blunt at gunpoint, Lament explains, although they're friends, their organization comes first, and if this ever was revealed to the public, the Foundation would be ruined forever (as a lot of people died in the supposed heist.)
But, when Lament is just about to kill him, he recieves a phone call. After several seconds, he puts the gun down and says that they'll meet another time. Lament leaves.
RANKS:
Blue: Junior Watcher
Green: Watcher
Red: Senior Watcher
White: Head Watcher
♖: Staff - Can be combined with the above ranks.
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[[include :scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta]]
[[include :scp-wiki:theme:anon]]
RogLit 2/6/2021 (Feb) 14:24:44 #84632741
When I was in high school, I used to work at a fast-food place.
I used to work at a Subway, and while I won't give out the location, I'll just say the food was terrible. It was one of those 24/7 places that attracted the "suspicious" people in our town- and these were common because I worked in a city.
I used to work the night shift. I'd come home from school at 3, do homework, and go to work at around 8, then come home at 12 in the night. It wrecked my sleep schedule, sure, but at that point I cared more about making money than anything.
School ended, and in the summer I decided to keep the job- I had nothing better to do. But where I lived, the summer was hell. It would average a hundred degrees every day, making it impossible to go outside. And while I worked the night shift, it was still hot.
But this was the first odd thing I'd noticed. The temperature outside had cooled down to the seventies and sixties during the night, but inside it was still going full blast at above one-hundred. Now, I didn't know why- and believe me, I complained, but the manager just shrugged and told me to keep working.
Anyway, the night shift attracted the suspicious group of people. They're your average hobos, homeless people, drunks, and drug addicts who stumble into the store and order a sandwich and tip you forty bucks because they were high or drunk off their tits.
But they were never really a problem- hell, most of them were pretty kind, if in a very loud way. But there was this one guy- I don't know his name, so I'll just call him Billy for ease of narration.
Billy was a white guy with messy blonde hair and some big eyes. The eyes seemed to look in different directions, so it was pretty fucking disconcerting for him to look at/not look at you while he was ordering a six-inch sub. He liked to wear massive purple t-shirts, like just a solid block color, no designs, that hung really weirdly off of him because he was stick thin.
He usually visited around 10 PM and ordered a 12 inch sub with zero greens. It was just every meat the subway had and nothing else. It was kind of freaky how he seemed to salivate at it, or how he stared at me while I was making the sandwich.
Once, I jokingly asked him, "You want lettuce?" And he just stared directly at me.
So, the summer passed by with little trouble- apart from the one time a guy attacked me with a thirteen-inch long knife at midnight -but in August, a few weeks before my school started, Billy came in.
There was something different about him, though. His purple shirt was more ragged and his face was covered in dirt. His eyes weren't glazed and were now more alert. He asked me for the usual, and I obliged. But, after I was done, he took the sandwich and tried to go to the back.
Now, the back had literally nothing special except for the freezer, break room, and the manager's office, but he was really determined to go there. I ended up playing interference- just telling him to leave, "I'll call the cops", and just blocking the door.
He didn't take it that well, and proceeded to tell me to shut the fuck up, and then he punched me in the face. The next thing I know, he's on top of me screaming his head off and clawing at my face. I don't remember anything after that, but I was told that the
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION - 2008
Josef, one of my workers told me that employees of the Standard Computer Products branch that they found a script that parodies The Office. Can you look into this? File is attached below.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
PILOT
FADE IN
INT. HALLWAY TO THE OFFICE - D1
ANGLE on Standard Computer Products logo. ANGLE on elevator doors opening, and JOSEF CANN walks out of it. He flashes two thumbs up, smiling, and then several hand motions, representing peculiar gang signs.
JOSEF
Yo! It's ya new boss, Josef Cann. I'm here to make sure you have a rocking ride. Everyone ready? Follow me.
JOSEF walks towards the entrance to the office and opens the door.
INT. THE OFFICE - CONT. - D1
A woman sitting at the reception desk looks up and waves at the camera. JOSEF walks forward and leans on the desk, smiling.
JOSEF
(Talking to the camera)
This is Natalie, our receptionist. Keep it between you and me- (whispering) she's not that good at her job.
NATALIE
I heard that, Josef. Anyway, you got a fax from Site-99. Talking about our sales report.
JOSEF snatches the paper from her hands and shakes his head desolately. He crumples it into a ball and stuffs it into his pocket. He then walks over to a cluster of desks. There are three desks, with only two occupied. One man is on the phone, and the other is writing something down.
JOSEF
Hey, this is Percy. Percy is the salesman here. Say hi to the camera.
PERCY looks at the camera and continues talking on the phone.
JOSEF
Percy- god dammit, okay, yeah-
JOSEF snatches
"You want to meet with Eleven."
Dave Urey nods carelessly, a smile playing on his lips. "Will she meet with me?"
The man in front of him looks at him for a long moment, then shakes his head. "Listen, Dave, this is a member of the O5 council. They're not going to meet with you; they have better things to do. Am I wrong?"
"I have a proposition. At least try to arrange the meeting. Let's see how this works out."
"They'll probably kill you the moment you set foot into our Site."
"I doubt it. No one has killed me yet, right?"
The man grunts and slides the sheaf of paper across the oak-wood table. Dave mutters several lines from Much Ado About Nothing, and the papers vanish. He looks up at the man once again, and frowns.
"Modem, we've known each other for a while. Can't you, as a factorum to the person I want to meet, arrange a meeting? Is it really that hard?"
"We've known each other for two years, that only because you killed-"
"Two years is a long time."
"Not long enough for me to arrange such a meeting."
Dave falls silent. Suddenly, an idea strikes him and he sits straight up. "How about you relay my proposal to Eleven. Make sure that she hears it, and tell me if she says yes. Sounds good?"
There's a long silence. Modem shifts in his chair.
Finally, he speaks. "Fine." Abruptly, he stands, adjusting his jacket. "I'll talk to Eleven; but on the off chance that she does accept, you should know two things. One: Eleven isn't one to be messed with, and two: If I, or any member of the Foundation, finds out that you're slacking or fucking around, we will not hesitate to eliminate you. We have magicians of our own."
Dave stands as well, a cocky smile spreading across his face. "Whatever you say, Modem. Contact me when she says yes."
Then, without waiting for assent, he turns and leaves.
Dave sits out in the greenery.
It fascinates him that he's barely ten miles away from SCP-2000. Something that could erase time itself; a device so large that it takes up an entirety of a mountain; the last defense the world could have. He likes to muse about him sneaking in, possibly investigate some of the skips contained there. He only knows about it because of Lament; in fact, his future career in the Foundation is indirectly because of Lament.
A brown mug appears in his peripheral vision and he takes it. A second later, a man in a brown vest and white shirt appears in front of him, frowning. The man sighs as he sits in a chair, then looks at Dave.
"You have a lot of nerve, boy."
Dave shrugs. "Thanks."
"Has Eleven responded, then?"
"She'll say yes."
"Don't bet on that."
"Already have."
"Your recklessness will get the better of you."
To that, Dave has no answer, so he sips the tea, and nods appreciatively. "I've forgotten how good your tea was. Almost makes me miss training here."
"Almost?"
"I don't like bugs."
They lapse into silence. Dave sips his tea, aware that the man in front of him was actively appraising him, and getting up his nerve to do something. Dave twists the six-diamond ring on his finger, wary of an attack; although the man was an old friend, Dave wasn't stupid.
"I know why you're here. You're not the type of person to travel eight hundred miles just to engage in idle chit-chat." The man shifts in his chair and continues. "You want an apprentice of mine, right? And maybe your old contacts?"
"Who do you have?"
"Olivia. Seventeen, has an owl amulet."
"Amulets. I've never liked them- too fragile, can't store too much energy. Is she good?"
"Very good."
"Who else?"
"Marcus. He uses a ring, like you. Also uses verses to channel the energy. He's a smart kid, maybe smarter than you." At this, Dave snorts. The man continues. "He's fifteen, though. Much too young to send him into battle."
Dave shrugs and stands. "Alright. I'll take it."
"Take who?"
Dave smiles. "I'll take both. And my contacts." Dave turns to leave, but almost immediately turns around again. "Where can I meet them?"
"At the house."
Dave nods. "Thanks."
After Dave explains his proposal, the two had different reactions.
"I'm in!" Marcus proclaims immediately. Olivia is a little more subdued. Her hand drifts to the owl amulet hanging around her neck. After a few seconds, she shakes her head. "No. And you're not taking Marcus, either. He's twelve."
"Fifteen."
"When I was fifteen, I-"
"Yes, you killed three other magicians in fifteen seconds. He," Olivia says, jabbing a thumb to outside where the old man sat, "likes to talk about it. Might be his most favorite thing to do. You were like his prized pupil."
Oddly touched, Dave pauses for a moment. Marcus smiles.
"I'm very ready for a job. I think it'd be fun. Especially for the Foundation- I'd love to get some of that information on my hands… all those SCP files…" Marcus' eyes adopts a greedy look, and he stares off into space while Olivia shakes her head.
"Answer is no, Dave. Marcus is a little too young to run into combat."
"And you?" Dave challenges.
"I value my life a little too much." Her mouth quirks, and as she stands to leave- also raising Marcus up by the shoulder -he makes one last desperate ploy. "And your family? What would they say for you turning down five million dollars?"
Olivia pauses. "F-Five million dollars?"
"Five million for you, five million for Marcus, and five million for me. And for some other magicians I'm recruiting. Probably more, since we'll have access to all sorts of information that we can sell- all for a reasonable price."
Marcus looks at Dave, as though he is revaluating his opinion on him. "You're… planning on double-crossing the Foundation?"
"They've done a lot of magicians wrong. Time to settle the score, right, Olivia?" Dave, of course, knew that she had a reality bender brother. The old man had told him- not knowing that this would be the information that'd convince her.
"Yes… they have…" Olivia says breathlessly. A minute goes by, and she snaps her head to look at Dave once-more. "Fine. When do we start? And where?"
Dave grins. "How about tomorrow? Perhaps in Italy?"
"Rizwan."
"Dave."
They stand, Dave in the doorway and Rizwan- having just risen out of an armchair -next to the fireplace. It's tense; Rizwan's face contorts to an expression of anger, then to one of cool, undisturbed calm. He wears a silver chain around his neck, which gleams in the firelight.
"I didn't think I'd see you after what happened two years ago in India. I thought you were locked up in some GOC black-site."
Dave shrugs and steps in, closing the door. "I struck a deal."
Rizwan smiles humorlessly. "The same one you made with MC&D? You sold out me, Sam, Abdul, Srikanth, Mary-"
"I know."
"I should kill you right here, then. Do you not have any shame?"
"Killing me won't help you get what you want."
"I want to kill you."
"You had a brother, right?"
A beat. Rizwan stares at Dave so intensely that Dave
THE MAGICIAN
PART 1
"I'm a magician," he said. He quite liked the word; he used it anytime he had the opportunity to do so. Being a magician, he felt, was something to be proud of, and not to be shunned by religious zealots, or the overbearing GOC, or the-
"The Foundation doesn't like magicians too much. We… have a long history with them." The man in dark tinted glasses and a sharp black suit said magicians, but whereas Dave's usage of it spoke of joy, the man's usage of it implicated repulsiveness.
"I know. I've seen the files. Which is why I have a proposal for you and O5-11."
The man flinches. Dave conceals a smile. Evidently, the man did not expect him to know that he was a factorum, that his code-name was Modem, or that he worked for O5-11.
"O5-11… doesn't accept offers or deals from underlings, much less someone who has never worked for the Foundation." The man's hand drifts to his belt, where Dave could see a faint bulge of a gun. Dave, for his part, twisted the six-diamond ring around his finger.
"I think he'll be interested in this one."
A beat. Modem appraises him, hand now firmly resting on his thigh. Then fear flashes in his eyes, and he nods slowly.
"Very well. Let's hear it."
Dave smiles and leans back. "Let's wind the clocks back a year. The Foundation was at its prime; no one could touch you, the GOC was over-stretched and overworked, you had entire governments bent under your rule. What happened?"
As though it came from gritted teeth, Modem answered. "The Lament Papers released."
"Exactly, they released. And now… The GOC is making up lost ground, right? You have your riots, the trials, the Chaos Insurgency raids, and now I hear Clef is on the run for fleeing the death penalty- I'm sure you're hiding him somewhere."
Modem shifts. "What's your proposal?"
"The Foundation is bleeding. Hell, the average kid on the street could tell you his favorite skip, the class it belongs to, how many people its killed, all that classified information. But, if you hire me… I can start patching up the holes. I have twenty other magicians with me; I'll make sure that by the end of the year, all these informants will be gone." Dave made a 'poof' gesture with his hands.
Modem laughs. "We have four task forces to do that, already. As far as I'm concerned, we don't need you."
Dave conceals a broad smile as he tosses a manila folder on the table. Modem, still eyeing Dave, picks up the folder and flicks through it. A few minutes pass, and Modem puts the folder down, his face still impressively blank.
"You mean to tell me that the task forces I hand-picked are… also informants."
"Yep." Dave pops the 'p'.
Modem looks at him again, and there's a long silence.
Finally, he speaks.
"I'll take your proposal to O5-11. A letter will be sent to your residence as soon as I get the confirmation of your plan."
Dave stands to leave, but suddenly Modem rises and grabs Dave's hand. Dave looks at Modem, ready to strike, but he begins speaking.
"Listen. You're a kid right out of college. If you fuck around and not do what you're supposed to do, I will hunt your family down first, then you, and I'll make sure that you regretted fucking with the Foundation before I kill you. Got it?"
A cold hand of fear grips Dave, and for the first time he realizes what he's getting himself into. This man could easily kill him with a single phone call or text message. He carefully watches the man hand, a scrap of verse on his tongue. To his relief, Modem's hand doesn't stray to his belt.
Dave smiles and says, "The Foundation will be cleaned out in six months."
THE THIEF
"Ma'am?"
"Yes?"
"There's, um, another report, ma'am.
"Don't tell me it's another whistleblower."
"I… yes, ma'am. His name is Mark Romeo, and he works for the archival records department in Site-23. We caught a transmission between him and The Guardian regarding several reports on the training of agents, specifically, um, the ones trained by Dr. Clef."
"Shit."
"Also, ma'am, you have a meeting with Seven, today. In about an hour."
"Thanks. Now, go see if you can locate Mark Romeo and try to erase those files."
"Yes, ma'am."
It was days like these that Eleven wanted a drink. She kept a good cellar, one collected over her many years at the Foundation, and it was added to when she took the O5 position; it seemed as though every Archivist drank. Maybe it was the stress.
She walked down the hallway and entered the conference room, where a plump Asian woman in mint-green clothes was sitting at the table, sipping coffee and staring at a paper. She looks up,
THE GIRL
GOC MAGIC: Rituals
Foundation Magic: Imbue physical objects with spells; cannot cast on their own.
Dave Urey: Self-taught magician, uses popular verses (from poetry and sonnets) as well as ones he made himself in order to use magic; Type Blue. The reason the way his magic works is because magic is in every Type Blue's blood, and how they get taught is the only way to use it. So, if a person is self-taught, they can use whatever method they found helpful to harness it, thus the scraps of verse.
Synopsis:
THE DEEP END.
When the Lament papers were released, which entail the various wrongs the Foundation has enacted, the world began to go sideways. Now, the organization is plagued with people extorting them with the threat of releasing more information. In order to quell the current and future informants, Modem, a factorum for O5-11, has hired Dave Urey, a self-taught magician, barely an adult, to fight these people. The only problem is that these informants are backed by other organizations, and enemy magicians will stop at nothing to destroy the Foundation.
THE FOUNDATION
The Lament Papers released. All hell broke loose. Now, informants and spies have infiltrated the organization. David Urey, however, is determined to stamp them out- all for a reasonable price, of course. However, these spies and informants are backed by a long-forgotten group, one who will stop at nothing to enact revenge. To put it simply, the Foundation is done.
THE GOC
The GOC are tense. They, of course, just found out that half of the surgical strikes against them were orchestrated by the Foundation. They want revenge. So when they find that the Foundation is weak, their forces overspread and tired, an alliance forms, with the GOC heading it. It's time to get the Queen off the board.
DAVID UREY
David Urey is a kid fresh out of college. He's a powerful Type Blue, one that has a chip on their shoulder. He's taught himself magic, and he uses verse to command it; he has an inexplicable talent to make impromptu poems. He's also dirt poor, so when he finds that the Foundation has spies- from a very helpful friend of his -well, he could offer up his services for a very expensive price.
THE SWORDS OF BALSTION
Balstion was an ancient city in now-Latin America. Now it's nothing more than a crater- courtesy of the Foundation. When the organization was first started- albiet by a different name- they were founded to destroy other cities. And using anomalies, they did just that. Now, the Swords of Balstion want revenge on the Administrator, and the Lament Papers gave them the perfect opportunity to do that. Magic will help their mission quite well.
THE ALLIANCE
The GOC, MC&D, Serpent's Hand, and the Chaos Insurgency have founded an alliance. A tenuous, likely to be broken soon alliance, but an alliance nonetheless. Their only mission is to destroy the Foundation- and they each want to assume the top spot. And while they keep up the pretense of being allies, each one is beginning to plot their own schemes to overthrow the other.
TALES PLAN:
PHASE ONE:
Dave Urey is recruited into the Foundation. (one tale)
Coda is sent to make an alliance with other GOIs, and they make a plan. (one tale)
Troy Lament is caught in a raid, and after interrogating an enemy, he finds out about the Swords of Balstion. Also alludes to the Lament Papers, where his brother had been a whistleblower. (one tale)
Sophia Light is kidnapped by the Serpent's Hand, and is made an offer to join them. Her mission? Kill Tilda Moose. (one tale)
D.C. Al Fine has decided that the Alliance needs an extra push. She decides to bring back Kondraki and have him fight against the Foundation. (one tale)
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Guy has friend. Friend knows about Foundation anomaly. Friend takes guy to anomaly where they see the Foundation (they don't notice them.) He talks about it. At the bottom of the post, there's an error message telling to refresh. Pressing the thing leads to an offset. Offset says [POST DELETED].
MillerUrey 2/6/2021 (Feb) 14:24:44 #82915746
I have a crazy story. Holy shit I might explode if I don't tell someone.
A few hours ago this friend of mine called me up. We hadn't spoke in a few months, but I had always liked him, even if he was a little too serious sometimes. He told me about this thing he saw in the sewers, some kind of monster. Didn't get a good look, but he got this super blurry photo from it.
<img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/3816/10731915285_b0d24c7c3f_b.jpg" alt="Toronto: Coxwell Sanitary Trunk Sewer Bypass Tunnel"/>
You see that bright light there? That's the fucking thing he saw.
Anyway, I was pretty interested- and I'm not going to lie, I thought he was just fucking around for fun. But I got my camera equipment into my car and I started driving to where he was.
We met
Per 
