The Found Arcana - Chapter 9, The last Tarot card Options

[Gilga]

Late February, 2079

It has been a while since any client approached SIS and the little that did so by matrix. So the house office remains lonely after the bomb, and adrenaline levels are low. Neighbors also seem to take their distance from SIS, figuring that if they are important enough to send a bomb, then they are too dangerous. The group feels a bit isolated in Redmond despite their honest attempts to return to normal.

In Mato's news shows, the refugee crisis caused by Ghostwalker’s coup worsens, and many of these end up in the UCAS due to a better economy than in the native American lands. The news is filled with heartbreaking stories about the hardships of the way, and while many people help, other problems escalate. Humanis has been especially active in Seattle with several attacks against metahumans within the city, many of them in Redmond, where the police do not care, and all of them uploaded with a live feed from obscure servers to satisfy their sadistic and racist fans, and raise money for even more attacks.

In the local scene, internal frictions within Urubia’s fledgling syndicate become evident as two Crimson Crush members were ambushed right in Touristvile by Humanis supporters. It has been a week without any visible response. The hotheaded gangers now need to work with a cold, cunning, and calculated dragon whose perspective they do not understand. Whatever feud they had with Carnival feels less relevant as the clown car had not moved for over a month, and Carnival was not seen for a long time. Was their rival hiding from their vengeance, or perhaps they had some more important thing to do than to play an insane murder clown remains open for speculation.


Within this chaos, AM finally receives her new high-level fake SIN, and she decides that it is now safe enough to go and visit her mother. The same mother thinks that she is a secretary at a respected private detective firm. AM dreaded that day for a long time, not wanting to come clean about what she was doing in Seattle, but she wanted to bring her mother over and was confident that she could get a high-level fake for her mother as well. Her mother would blend in more in Seattle than in Sioux. AM says her farewells, takes the Xenon and drives to her birthplace, a small enclave near Chayanne.


Thursday, March 2, 2079


It is a cold, grey, and rainy day in Redmond. Tamarind and Raven would likely move in to avoid paying for another month when business is so slow. Between the news, the tense atmosphere in the streets, the idleness, and the weather. It is likely that the group is holed in home, trying to learn how not to get on each other nerves.

It has been nine days since the last paying job and even that job was a simple one tracking a husband that was supposed to be having an affair but ended up taking a second drek job to hide a demotion and a pay cut from his wife and preserve the old standard of living. Easy 500 nuyen but insignificant in the wider perspective. February ends barely balanced, where they only earned 5k nuyen altogether, there were no lucrative jobs, and the team only remains balanced due to the Bellevue hacker club that pays their debt on time, although not without complaining. So SIS keeps floating for what has been its slowest month so far, saving up for a rainy day has never felt so literal.

At about 9:00 AM Bobby receives a message from captain Razak. >> You would have a walk-in this evening with a lucrative proposal. Make sure that you are all available and presentable, and seriously consider accepting the proposal. Here it was, perhaps the first time their silent backer gives a suggestion. Razak does not provide any more details.

[Jack_Spade]

<<Sure, we'll put the fancy china out.>>
Bobby replied after forwarding the message to the rest of the team.
<<Put your smart faces on, we are finally getting business again.>>
He added, before continuing with his meditation.

[Thanee]

Late February, 2079

Rachel has been staying partially at her own apartment for the last two weeks, since her magical lodge was still set up there, and she needed it to study and learn some new magic. But she also took some time to get to know her new family and surroundings, even though everyone knew that the move to Bellevue would happen at some point. For Rachel that last part was the most exciting. She couldn't wait to see the new bigger place, once they got it. But patience is a virtue, and she tried to focus on that in the meantime.

She showed some interest in the cooking, too, growing some of your own food was intriguing. She hadn't thought about that before, having lived in concrete hell most of the time. The only memories she had were from when she was little. Another thing to focus on and keep her mind off things.

And what way to better take your mind off all the change happening, than to lose oneself on a club's dance floor and meet new people and see where that leads to.

But change is certainly not something Rachel is opposed to, quite the contrary. Her own tradition has a healthy dose of chaos and self-expression combined with parts of traditional Wicca. She could just as well have become a shaman, but her mother's line won the struggle. She sometimes wondered why that was the case, maybe because her witch grandmother is simply more powerful than her shaman grandfather ever was. Or because of the city environment.

Thursday, March 2, 2079

By now, Rachel has abandoned her own apartment, and moved her stuff into the SIS place in Touristville. The magical lodge is still packed up, and other than that her belongings do not take up a whole lot of space. A suitcase full of clothes and shoes and the rest easily fits into a shoulder bag.

When the message arrives from Bobby, she smiles. Their first big job together. Time to do some preparations.

[Beta]

Tamarind liked quiet. She's been able to explore the neighborhood some, first by aerial surveillance and then by foot. She'd found the inevitable sketchy garage doing 'after-market updates' on vehicles, and while they were still early in the dance of trust she'd listened to enough of Phil's stories that he'd probably sell her things that were not strictly legal, for the right price. Given enough time she thought they could be friends, he was only a decade older than her and he seemed like he didn't get listened to a lot.

And her second attempt at knitting a deerstalker hat for Stitch had worked out well enough to please the drone. Bobby had asked if it was a washcloth, but they'd decided to forgive him -- the drone didn't exactly have a head, so it had to be an interpretation of a deerstalker hat adapted for the drone. Still, she was working on a sweater for AM first, the little elf seemed like she'd feel the cold, and she was letting Tamarind use her bed while she was gone. It was always important to thank people for favors. Hopefully AM liked purple. And Stitch and the sprite seemed to have come to terms, where it didn't make Stitch act odd and Stitch gave appropriate amazed reactions when the Sprite played with other electronics in the house.

However she had picked up the concern on paying gigs. Not least because after paying her monthly charges to "Small" Antonio she didn't have a lot left. She knew that Antonio was just doing his job, but she was not knitting him a sweater any time soon. After all, paying him off made it less likely that she could afford that much yarn. Anyway, when Bobby announced that the quiet time was over, she willingly packed her knitting away, polished up Stitch, and then helped with cleaning and dusting. The place really was in pretty good shape, but taking care of little details was a good way to be sure that she was ready.

As evening approached she braced herself and approached Bobby. She still didn't entirely understand his moods or humour, but he'd had the message from Razzamatazz so she supposed he was somewhat the lead on this meeting. "Do you normally all meet with prospective clients? If you want me there I can pull out the clothes I wore on the first day I met you. And is it OK if I bring along Beauty, my pigeon? Or else my knitting? Something to do with my hands helps me sit otherwise quieter." She looked down on her overalls and pink work boots, and once again wondered why people thought a sweater and slacks was somehow better clothes. These were clean, they had useful pockets, why did people think they should only be worn for manual labour? If she lived another four decades she's likely still never understand the clothing rules that most girls seemed to absorb by the time they were ten.

[Jack_Spade]

Bobby looked confused for a moment before he answered:
"You are asking me, what you should wear to a client meeting?
Feel free to come naked - for all I care - though don't be surprised if we don't get the gig then. Ask yourself: If I were a rich client with a problem so big I'm ready to employ a bunch of professionals - what are the standards I'd expect them to look like that I would trust them?"

[Tecumseh]

Mato is sedentary for the second half of February. Part of it is his body healing. From being launched by high explosives into a parked car, sure, but also after some upgrades from Doc Painless. Some of his cyber had been damaged in the explosion and needed to be repaired or replaced.

"New ears," he says, pointing them out. "Meat ones didn't work anymore after the blast. I can hear a dog whistle now."

Mato enjoys talking to Tamarind. Perhaps he likes not being the only mundane anymore. Maybe he likes talking shop about upgrades. He quizzes her regularly about her choices. He seems especially intrigued by the Synch and Tetrachromatic Vision.

"Eyes are next," he says. "I'd love to do the Mnemonic Enhancers but Doc says there's not enough 'space' left. Says my system will give out if I do both that and the eyes. She says upgrading the arms would help."

But Tamarind's tales of her Math SPU are so irresistible that Mato races out and gets one of his own.

"Need it to do the books," he says. "It's tax season."

Any other changes?

"Cyberspur is gone," he tells Bobby. Instead he pops out retractable climbing claws. They are like hand razors but curved inward, the better for gripping.

But why?

"Completely legal," he says, leaning in as if the notion is conspiratorial. "Same with the foot anchor."

He shows the heel of his right cyberleg. A blade shoots out, no less deadly than a spur.

"The catch is that my legs aren't as strong as my arms. I have a plan for that but it will take some resources."

One might ask how he paid for all this, but AM and Bobby already know the answer: Mato's aura has the tint of Green Toes. If asked about it, Mato shrugs.

"I didn't find it objectionable. Whatever I lost wasn't something that I wanted to keep."

And what did he gain?

"Information," he says simply, and leaves it at that. It's unclear if he's being secretive for his sake or for yours.

Usually Mato is such a physical creature - indeed, the motivation for the cyberlimbs is so that he could run and jump and play and make up lost time from a sickly youth - but now he spends a good deal of time convalescing. He doesn't sleep much, due to his sleep regulator, but he rests and remains still while his body heals. He spends the time reading a great deal, studying new topics. Physics. Economics. Seattle Metroplex Law. When it's time to turn off his brain, he turns to music and British trid miniseries.

"Mr. Bingley is civil and attentive," he explains to AM, perhaps incorrectly assuming her interest. "Whereas Mr. Darcy's pride is conspicuous. He is used to being treated as a social superior and an authority figure, and social codes of behavior ensure that he is treated with respect by characters of lower social position."

He gives AM a meaningful look.

"There may be a lesson in this for how to deal with people in Bellevue."

Mato goes back to his show without actually explaining what he thinks the lesson is.

[Tecumseh]

Mato files a report with Razak at the end of the month, as promised. It's light on details as there was only a little work to do. He wonders if that's somehow connected to Razak's call that comes in just two days later.

Bobby's reply to Tamarind strikes him as a little off. It's a reminder why Bobby isn't their client-facing persona. Which we should figure out now that both AM and Jawsey are out, he thinks to himself.

"Be yourself," he advises Tamarind. "They're coming here rather than summoning us. Anyone coming to Redmond knows they're not getting corporate polish. They'll be expecting professional competence but with a certain degree of idiosyncrasy. We might as well let them see the full spectrum of what we offer. We can play it high, we can play it low, we can play is soft, we can play it hard." His eyes dart to Bobby.

"I'll take point," he says. "Raven, you might be better at this but you're still too junior to be taking the lead on negotiations." The point is made matter-of-factly. "Guard my flank, so to speak. You do the warm, Bobby the cold."

Mato makes sure he's wearing his good suit but doesn't wear his gloves, ensuring that his black matte cyberhands will show.

[Thanee]

"But, of course. I wouldn't want to lead a negotation with such a high-profile client just yet. I might have the talent, but still lacking in the background. I know my limits, well, usually. But I can definitely help out. I can also receive them. Make a good first impression? That always worked well for me."

"I can also prepare a little something that will aid you in the negotiation. It will only last a few minutes, but is subtle. I will make a few, they will be good until tonight."

She looks around between Tamarind and Bobby and Mato.

"I don't think I completely agree with the be yourself part. Looks are important. Yeah, yeah, I know what you think now. And you are not wrong, but that is not what I mean. This is going to be an important client for us. They probably have a lot of money. And we want a negotation to go well. What they see will also determine their willingness to part with their precious Nuyen. So, what I mean is... you do not have to look drop-dead gorgeous or pretty or anything. You have to look professional. Have some expensive equipment put on display, too. I mean that in a subtle way. They want to be taken seriously. Show them, that we are worth their money and time. You know what I mean?"

[Tecumseh]

Mato nods. "Yes, Raven, good idea for you to open the door and usher the prospective client in. Statistically speaking, you offer the highest odds of providing the best first impression."

Perhaps it is curious to hear Mato speaking like this, but that's what you get when he's been playing with his new Math SPU all week.

"As far as being yourself, all of us are too complex to be all of ourselves at all times. Just be the best version of yourself and be satisfied with that."

He leaves it to Tamarind to decide what the best version of herself is.

[Gilga]

Thursday, March 2, 2079: 18:00

The tension builds gradually along the day, and at 18:00, Tamarind’s drones pick up a black Ford Americar pulling over in front of the main office. It contains a single tall human in his thirties. Wearing a mildly expensive business suit appropriate for low-mid management and a red tie. He takes a few moments to observe the surroundings and verify that he is in the right place. Then he looks at the car's mirror, verifying that his appearance is representable. He fixes his short brown hair with his hand to make it look just right. After a few long moments, the man leaves his car parked in the street and exits carrying a black suitcase and a matching umbrella to shield himself from the light rain.

A fair question would be if this is the walk-in indicated by Captian Razak, or is it just a normal client that happened to arrive on that particular evening as the man looks very similar to other clients that enter SIS and ask for regular things. Even his car, while well preserved, is an old model and is relatively affordable and thus unpopular with the rich people that can afford to hire SIS for premium jobs. In any case, the man knocks at the door. If assensed, he feels a bit stressed but is otherwise healthy and is not awakened or has significant augmentations aside from a few high-quality Bioware implants in his brain.

[Thanee]

Rachel will head to the door to welcome the client in. She assumes, that this is the one. A non-ostentatious appearance makes a lot of sense when visiting this area, even if there is more money. Either way, they will find out soon. And if this is actually someone else, then they have an extra client. That couldn't be a bad thing either.

Her own appearance is as flawless as the first time she visited. High-end business suit, but no sunglasses this time, and moderately high-heeled pumps instead of the boots, giving her a couple inches of extra height. Her hair is worn open, as it usually is. Less federal agent and more classy business woman.

"Good evening, sir. Welcome to SIS. Please, come on in. Can I take that?" she says with a smile, while pointing at the umbrella.

"Do you have an appointment? Who can I announce? And can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

[Beta]

March 2nd, afternoon

The advice from the other three had confused her more than clarified anything. Her best self? What was her best self? Maybe when she'd been in the army, instead of working for shady enterprises? Certainly appearance then had been easier, a short hair cut and a uniform, and which uniform to wear for what was usually easy to understand. Why didn't civilian life come with uniforms? Although when she thinks about it, there is sort-of-kind-of uniforms, styles that associate with different groups. She runs some quick matrix searches and concludes that her best options would be suits that she cannot currently afford, but that a blazer is the white collar equivalent of work boots at a garage, the basic sign that you belong. And cosmetics. Ugh. But certainly they always looked made up. What a waste of time and resources, but if it was part of the uniform ...

She could work with this idea of of a basic uniform, to be upgraded when she could afford better. She took the van and headed off to a mall in Everett, which seemed the right combination of respectable but not too nice.

She'd just been tying her hair back or braiding it for the past couple of years, and between the split ends and grey that was stealing into it she supposed it did look exactly like what it had been, the hair of a someone living in the country who didn't care much about appearances. The barber that she found seemed slightly surprised to have a woman show up wanting most of her hair cut off, but when she explained that she wanted an acceptable military cut he seemed to catch on, mentioning that some women from the naval base came in occasionally for cheaper cuts than they'd get at a salon. When he was done Tamarind had no idea if she looked better or not, but at least she looked deliberately groomed.

Then found the sort of store that she was looking for, something catering to lower end corporate women, and accessed their AR assistant to help her match colours to find an all purpose blazer that would work with her travel clothes. She thought it made her look boxy, but that seemed an acceptable alternative to lumpy, so she bought it. Her final stop was to a department store cosmetic section where she had some light make-up applied for the cost of purchasing product. She left the mall with very little left on her cred stick, but hopefully it would be as worthwhile an investment as a good pair of boots or a tool kit.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
March 2nd, evening
Once she'd moved in to SIS she'd started having Lazybones and Mimic take turns hovering above the building, all but invisible between their transparent balloons, chameleon coating, and height at which they floated. Last night and today it had been Lazybones' turn, and he reported when their contact arrived. Tamarind gave her shoes a final wipe with the polishing cloth, then marshaled herself and her drones for the evening. Uncle to go hover inside the front door, clearly providing extra surveillance and security. Beauty into the meeting area to perch on a side table and look her beautiful, shining, self. Stitch to the kitchen. One of the Harriets in her blazer pocket. And finally herself to the meeting room, RCC in hand.

[ Spoiler ]

Uncle is a Flying eye drone (per CRB)
Beauty is a chromed pigeon, quite realistic looking other than the chrome
Stich is a Proletariat, a one-armed, tracked, drone (mechanic's helper, among other uses)
The Harriets are Kanmushi (little insect like drones)

[Jack_Spade]

Bobby had taken care of brewing tea. Now he carried a steaming pot and a tray with small glasses over, set them down and then himself, crossing his arms and looking grim. Not that he had anything to look grim about - but that was is default face.

With a freshly done load of laundry, he even sported a pair of jeans and a white, short sleeved dress shirt. When he heard the banter in the corridor, he opened his third eye, to take a close look at their potential client.

[Gilga]

The man hands Rachel the umbrella and shyly enters the room, inspecting the surroundings, and then says, "I do not have an appointment. It is probably a misunderstanding. I am deeply sorry to inconvenience you. " He seems polite in a Japanese fashion, but coming from an American, you are uncertain if he expresses sorrow for not having an appointment or is being cynical.

He adds,"My name is Ben Smith from the Jhonson, Goldberg, and associates law firm." He says and then waits without adding much, perhaps looking for some recognition from SIS. "I am here to facilitate some legal issues before potential employment with one of our important clients. " He explains and then waits for some recognition this time.

[Jack_Spade]

"So you got an NDA for us before your client dares to walk in here, is that it?" Bobby nodded at Mato: "Give it to our legal expert and let's get on with it."

[Tecumseh]

<<Tamarind, if you need something to do to keep busy, why don't you run Matrix overwatch in the background>> Mato suggests. <<Cross-reference what the gentleman says versus what's publicly available. Start with his name and the law firm.>>

Mato, for his part, runs his not-entirely-legal social subscriptions. The Thermal Mood Reading runs off the thermographic vision feed in his glasses, and the Vocal Tension Lie Detection is run through his new cyberears. Granted, they probably aren't going to tell him anything new or different compared to what Raven and Bobby will detect with their astral perception, but Mato wants as complete of a picture as possible. Knowing that the man has some high-end bioware, Mato runs Pheromone Detection through his olfactory sensors to see if the man has any tailored pheromones'.

"Mr. Smith, a pleasure," Mato says once the man introduces himself. "Please make yourself at home. You are very welcome." Perhaps the man is being cynical but, if so, Mato will try to defuse it with professional sincerity.

Mato isn't sure where Bobby's impatience is coming from but there are advantages to the good-cop, bad-cop routine. Knowing that Bobby's bluntness will likely aggravate the man's stress, Mato tries to ride to the rescue.

"My name is Mr. Torres. At SIS, we pride ourselves on being problem solvers. Please, Mr. Smith, allow us to take your problems - or your client's problems - off your hands."

For a substantial fee, goes implied but unsaid.

[Gilga]

The man responds to Bobby, "Yes, it is an NDA. In layman's terms, you cannot disclose the information my client tells you to anyone, and you agree to have your memory of the meeting removed if you do not accept the offer. My client has a fine mage for the task, and there is also a drug. Now I understand that this is highly unusual and may raise some objections, so I am allowed to share a few details. "

He sighs, and his eyes flicker as if reading something in private. Then he speaks, clearly reading something from his contacts. The service involves handling a rare Tarot card. He pauses and says There may be criminals trying to steal the card from you. the service is classified as dangerous, and its duration is marked as a few days. He seems surprised at the last part The initial offer is 50k Nuyen.

He opens his briefcase and hands Mato a piece of digital paper describing the NDA agreement. It is nice to meet you Mr. Torres. However, I feel like you give me too much credit. I am but the field agent of the firm. He says, and he tries not to stare at the black cyberhands. The man seems to be trying to piece things together to understand who you are and why you are offered so much money.

[Beta]

Tamarind had been walking Stitch the process of making pancakes -- if they were going to start him on cooking, something easily handled with one hand and no knives seemed like a good place to start-- when Mato suggested that she actually make herself useful. Well, matrix searching wasn't nearly as soothing as stepping through physical motions with a trusted partner, but being useful was always nice -- and she did need them all to get paid so it was probably also wise.

She took her agent off of its usual rounds of checking her crew for marks, and instead sets it to dredge social media feeds while she focuses on official matrix sites, news sites, and other more formal sources of information.

[Tecumseh]

Mato needs a moment to confer with his colleagues so he asks a few questions to buy some time.

"Yes, Mr. Smith, that is an unusual condition. Before we continue with the discussion under such a clause, I have a couple questions:

"First, if we accept the NDA, will we be dealing with you as an intermediary or with the client directly?

"Second - and I understand if you are simply the messenger - but by 'handling' it does that imply that we are transporting it? We do have experience with transporting rare Tarot cards of this nature."

A memory flashes in Mato's mind: having just pickpocketed a Tarot card from Chau, the card spoke to him. Ginsburg cannot be trusted, none of them can… they want it for themselves. Run! Hide… Don’t let them take it away from you! The compulsion was strong but Mato had been able to suppress the suggestion. He had told Bobby about it at the time; Bobby would realize that the danger might not just be from the criminals wishing to acquire it but also the card itself.

While Mr. Smith responds to those questions, Mato shoots off a quick message via DNI:

<<I am personally comfortable with the condition. If any of you are not, I can submit to the NDA and handle negotiations.>>

The tint of Green Toes on his aura demonstrates that Mato has no real concerns about magical alterations of his memories.

[Gilga]

The man says You would be dealing with our client directly. The information I shared with you, in these exact words, is the only thing that is shared with me. I lack the context to make up more of it, and my guess is as good as yours as to what handling is. I can convey your question, but I would not hold my breath for the client to be more forthcoming about it. he says matter-of-factly.

Then he comments . The client requests that you avoid speaking of a Tarot card even if you refuse to sign the NDA.
However, the NDA is not a secret so you can consult about it with others. If you want to discuss the matter, I can give you some privacy and wait in the car. I can even come back at another time if you prefer. He hands Mato his card containing his name, firm and a comlink number.

[Jack_Spade]

"No need. The NDA only activates if we refuse the job. Though getting mind wiped would put us in quite some danger in regard to our other cases. We'll have to insist on compensation regardless of taking the job - if we take the job this will be deducted from the total."

Bobby interjected, throwing a glance at Mato. If he had learned anything, than that losing memories should be expensive for whoever took them.

[Gilga]

The man says empathetically I can see your point, but unfortunately, the current offer does not include such compensation.

If it helps, I can say that the magical option is very precise and should not endanger you due to forgetting unrelated memories. The chemical option would wipe a few hours, which may cause collateral damage, but we would time the meeting to minimize the risk of losing important memories. The NDA guarantees complimentary medical treatment in rare complications, but these refer to medical problems rather than compensating you for lost business and the unpleasant experience.

If you prefer, I can negotiate monetary compensation in case of a memory wipe on your behalf. I will try to have an answer by tomorrow morning.

[Thanee]

"Just to be sure," Rachel says.

"The NDA is to be signed, before we can even meet with the client, so we will not share any information about that meeting, the client, and the job with anyone else, assuming we come to an aggreement and accept the offer. That is a given, anyways, so I do not see a problem there. And the Memory Wipe is requested, in case we meet with your client, but afterwards refuse to take the job for whatever reason."

"Do you get such unusual requests a lot?"

[Gilga]

The man responds You got that right. You need to sign the NDA to meet the client, and by signing the NDA you agree not to disclose any information you receive with a third party. You also grant the client the legal right to demand a memory wipe in case you did not take the offered job, and she feels that it is necessary. he says plainly.

It is what it is, a binding legal document with unfavorable conditions to you, but there is also a commitment to paying you 50k nuyen for a short-term service involving significant risk.

[Beta]

It took all os a second to determine that the her share of the pay would stabilize her living situation tremendously. <<Honestly, memory wipe sounds better than the
"you don't talk about this, or else ...." From most people that I've worked with. I'm for it, barring technicalities that might come up.

And then she checks on one of those technicalities "third parties defined as sentient beings? I can send images and plans to my drones and vehicles safely? Obviously not leaving information all over the matrix for every kid with a hacked commlink to find."