[004 | VIDEO]

[spah]

[Video comes on, and the device is pointed to an outside view of a garage in a Level 3 alley. It's likely not far from the main urban area, as faint bustling can be heard in the background. Just in front of the entrance, a blue neon sign comes on: CONAGHER'S TOOLS & MUNITIONS]

Beaut, ain't she?

[Judging by the Texan accent behind the camera, it's Engineer.]

Hey, y'all. This is Engineer, and... well. I guess Dell's fine, seein' as I got my real name up in neon now.

[He chuckles.]

Anyway. I just opened up shop. Conagher's Tools & Munitions is my personal workshop, here on Level 3, just outside the urban area.

You wanna come by, I can design, build, maintain, or fix you just about anything mechanical. My specialty's weapons, prosthesis, and robots. If you wanna bring me anythin' else, though, we can probably work somethin' out. I take chroma and demichroma both. If you need a mechanical engineer, come on down. I'm good at solvin' problems.

[A pause passes. He clears his throat.]

And, uh. For anybody who knows me personally, I guess... I live here now, too. You wanna get a hold of me, I'll be down here from now on.

[As the transmission ends, he leaves an address.

Business details and requests for Engineer's new business can be found here!]

Comments

[video]

[good_bamf_ugly]

[His name is Dell. Anyway McCree is in his own apartment somewhere also in Level 3 currently. He's currently hard at work on cigar, predictably.]

Makes us neighbors then by some accord. Might have to swing by and give you some business.

[spah]

No kiddin'? Where you at?

[That would be his name. Engineer is sitting in a chair up against a workbench now, grinning.]

I'd like that. Not gonna like, I been curious about that arm of yours.

[good_bamf_ugly]

Level 3.

Could always benefit from a hands on approach.

[spah]

I figured level three, hoss. I'm askin' WHERE on three.

Wouldn't be a problem.

[good_bamf_ugly]

[Time to Gratuitously Make Shit Up]

You know where the B.S. is? 'bout a mile south of that and then about quarter of a mile west. 'Round that rusty lookin' horse statue.

[spah]

Oh, hell. Not that far then.

[TIME TO GRATUITOUSLY MAKE SHIT UP.]