[IC] Behind the Shadows, First Iteration Options

[Chrysalis]

[Day 1 in the Big Brudda House, Cruze has been installing cameras]

The house indeed was a mess. Something which if someone who was not a bachelor would clean up. Sink traps and hair brushes revealed their golden prizes of hair. Dirty glasses and dishes revealed a full ten card of prints.

The bxoes contained memories. There was an image of Karkoff in his twenties painted white and holding a spear next to other men in their teens and twenties. In the forefront was what appeared to be a dead a lion. Images of him in a suit that had gone out of style long before Cruze had been born with a dazzlingly beautiful Zulu bride. Images of the transition of their children, awards, rewards, and honorary tokens. There was a letter from the Nobel comittee requesting if he could be nominated for his extensive work in public health care. Attached with a rusty paperclip was a facsimile of a letter asking instead that they nominate Max and Boswell for their research into multiphasic interferon development.

Each suitcase showed clothes, shoes, a toiletry bag, business cards. Some were meant for more official functions while others less. The bag which was marked for emergency was a different story. Inside was well worn clothing; a small satchel revealed a medical kit with ampules of drugs, boxes of needles, vinyl gloves, breathing mask, test kits and a small folder (with images of geographic locations, animals, trees, as well as physical and mental conditions); NorBAC stickers; and a black sat commlink with multiphasic medical diagnosis equipment discreetly included in the system. A hidden compartment in the case revealed 10,000 nuyen in various corporate scrips and three passports under different nationalities with different variations of his name.

***

Meanwhile, the Professor has recorded the triptych. Looking at the text he remembered his second year as an undergraduate at university. It was May and the sun was coming in making the whole lecture hall quite warm. Sandra was wearing an auto revealing top. The see through hole slowly moved along her body revealing her three inches at a time. It was about to drift along her breast when the professor called your name again.

"Could you kindly explain to the lovely woman with the revealing top what are the primary differences between Russian and Slavonic?"

[pbangarth]

[OOC - Cute, Chrysalis. Cute.]

[pbangarth]

<<Hoy, Zoltan. Got the text worked out. Just needed a little time to work on it. It's the Lord's Prayer in Church Slavonic. Translation and transliteration attached.>>

[ Spoiler ]

Our Father - English and Transliterated Slavonic

Our Father, Who art in the heavens,
hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors;
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.

Ot-che nash,
Ee-zhe ye see na nye-bye-sekh!
da svya-tee-tsya ee-mya Tvo-ye, da pri-ee-dyet Tsar-stvi-ye Tvo-ye:
da boo-dyet vol-ya Tvo-ya, ya-ko na nye-bye-see ee na zem-lee.
Khleb nash na-soosch-nui dazhd nam dnyes:
ee o-sta-vee nam dol-gee na-shya, ya-ko-zhe ee mui o-sta-vlya-yem dol-zhnee-kom na-shuim:
ee nye vvye-dee nas vo ees-koo-shye-ni-ye,
no eez-ba-vee nas ot loo-ka-va-go.

[SincereAgape]

She stopped by the safehouse on her way home to change. She handed a copy of the data she had collected to Toreador on a tiny optical chip.

<<Sperethiel>> Perhaps you and the Professor can have a look through this lot? I've got to run, hot date. Stated Cruze.

He was fiddling around on his commlink, when the other elf of the team arrived. He was caught off guard as he was greeted and spoken to in his native language. In response he provided a small smile towards his teammate.


"Sure thing luv. Have a good time." He replied.

She peeled the backing of a cleen-tac pad and stuck a laser link to the window frame. She plugged a sat-link into it with a length of fibre and headed out to the opera.

Toreador took the chip and then tossed it on the table in front of him nonchalantly. He then had second thoughts as he slotted the chip into a external telescreen player. The information of the apartment of Karkoff provided for some interesting information.

[Chrysalis]

Zoltan came to pick up Cruze at 20.05. He had a nice late model black saloon car with tinted windows. In Seattle it might raise several eyebrows or in the more Boston it would be the talk of the java joints, here with the wheeler and dealers it fit right in to the other cars of possible power brokers.

Zoltan's massive body was in a tuxedo, his girth struggling behind a red cumberbund. He wore gold rings on his thick fingers. Any possible weeds or small animals had been careffully combed out of his curried beard. His bright blue and white silk yarmulka adorned his head.

He kissed Cruze's cheeks."My dear you look more wonderful than before."

"I should warn you my mother is a bit fierce, so I apologise beforehand if she behaves in any untoward ways. My mama heard that Tristan and Isolde was playing and I can never say no to her."

Zoltan gentlemanly opened up the door for Cruze to slide in. Zoltan's mother was a dimunitive little old woman wearing a black velvet dress. She wore big bateye glasses that made steely gaze just a bit bigger and her dentures a bit more pointed.

"Mother, I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine."

"Róza" she said lightly grasping Cruze's hand in hers. She turned to Zoltan and said in Hungarian.

She turned to Zoltan and said, "Ez a legujabb kurvád?"

"Anya!" Zoltan said with a bit of red coming to his cheeks.

Róza waggled her finger as if he was misbehaving, "Mikor találsz már magadnak egy tisztesseges zsidó lányt hogy megállapodjál végre valahol. Mi van azzal a kedves lánnyal akivel a múlt héten találkoztál?"

Zoltan frowned a bit and saidm, "De Anya! Az Ilona néni lánya. Ráadásul tíz évvel fiatalabb nálam és mindennek tetejében másodfokú unokatestvérem."

Róza smiled at her son with a dentured filled smile, "Csak majdnem család, én azt mondanám."

Zoltan sighed and brought out a handkerchief and patted his brow. He held out his handkerchief for emphasis as he weighted his words heavy in tone and light in gesture, "Legalább ma este lehetnél rendes hozzá!"

Róza yawned a bit and looked at her errant son "Na jó, de csak, mert szeretlek."

The rest of the ride went a uneventfully, Zoltan kept up a happy patter of conversation. Talking about everything from weather to politics. Those areas that interested Cruze got special consideration as he asked her about fashion tips, life in D.C. and all sorts of matters that fill the topic of "small talk".

All the time his mother, looked on with a tight lipped smile on her face.

The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts (commonly referred to as the Kennedy Center) is a performing arts center located on the Potomac River, adjacent to the Watergate complex in Washington, D.C. It represents a unique public-private partnership, since it is both the nation's living memorial to President John F. Kennedy and the "national center for the performing arts", which includes educational and outreach initiatives, almost entirely paid for through ticket sales and gifts from individuals, corporations, and private foundations.

The grand foyer, one of the largest rooms in the world was half filled with people. An AR message informed that it had undergone renovation in 2067, upgrading all its facilities to be wireless compliant.

Zoltan guides Cruze and his mother to the bar where he orders a bottle of Moët and a sherry for his mother. She kindly sipped her glass looking at Cruze and Zoltan with veiled envy. Zoltan himself was slightly distracted, excusing himself for a moment to go and meet several men in rented tuxedo suits. Their 200 nuyen haircuts telling them they were probably lobbyists of some kind.

[OOC: Perception test please]

[pbangarth]

[OOC - Sajnos, anyám ilyen volt.]

[crizh]

She examined herself in the mirror with a critical eye. She wasn't the prettiest or most charming Elf in the world but she was able to make up for it for the most part with a fit lithe body and Elizabeth's vacuous persona.

The lines of the borrowed gown clung to her in all the right places and concealed the torso section of her ballistic underwear and the PPP groin protector. The dress was complemented by matching opera gloves and a shawl of tightly woven synthetic spider silk. None of it would stop a high calibre bullet but the damage would be survivable.

Satisfied with the clothes she sat down at the vanity table and carefully began to sketch Elizabeth Crane onto the blank canvas of her otherwise unremarkable face. Sensual but restrained was the effect she aimed for. Rich kid acting out but always retaining a sense of class.

By quarter to eight she was done. She double checked the gear in her clutch bag and settled in to wait for Zoltan.

[ Spoiler ]

Hey Prof, I'll cut you into the feed from my simrig and you can see and hear everything I do and I can give you a running commentary in <<sperethiel>> my native tongue. It shouldn't take you long to pick up the basics that way and you can make sure Zoltan keeps his hands to himself. You know the man better than me, perhaps you can give me some tips.

She took Róza's proffered hand and held it lightly but firmly. She dropped her eyes demurely and replied "Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to meet you. Your son is a fine man and speaks very highly of you.

She chuckled quietly to herself as they approached the Kennedy Center.

[ Spoiler ]

Figures, I spent half the night trying to figure how to get in here so I could check out roof access. Maybe I can get up there during the interval and see what the sight-lines to the drop-site are like.

While she carefully scanned the room for the recordings she habitually made she made small talk with Róza, enquiring about her native land, when she and her family came to the United States, whether or not she has any other children or grandchildren, etc.

[Chrysalis]

Róza smiled and nodded, implying that she was listening, but obviously not understanding. It perhaps dawned on Cruze slowly that Róza probably only spoke Hungarian and like many members of the diaspora of the Eurowar still remained true to her linguistic heritage. She also behaved at times with that thinly veiled politeness which wrapped contempt.

The surroundings were busy with people in suits, ties and a few corporate jetsetters in the nuveau-gauche outfits, apparently Vashoon Island high collars and wing shirt fixings were back in style with the men while mini cropped skirts and pill box hats with the women. They wore their million nuyen AR glasses with a flamboyancy that belied their value.

There were those less extravagant than the new corporate rich. People in parade uniform of various types, the power broker in their black nondescript suits and well worn shoes, the professional escorts with their biosculpted bodies, and the numerous security guards of numerous shapes, flavours, and professional skills.

Zoltan came back before Cruze's mind could wander down the further alley of security.

"My dear I am sorry about that. Sometimes old friends just walk past and I just had to go greet them."

He entertained Cruze with a long story about Hungary and its varied sights and locations. Between the call to be seated he was called away by various different groups who really insisted on having a private or public chat about little bit of everything. One couple planning a wedding, a consultant on something they did not talk about, but aluded to, and a representative of a trade delegation from the Tir.

The seats on the second floor box, were a deep crimson color with gold stripes stiched into them. Zoltan held out the chair for Cruze, while helping his mother into an adjacent seat.

Another group showed up soon afterwards.


"Ari!" Zoltan rose out of chair and gave his friend a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. "How have you been old friend?"

"Not bad. Kaija keeps me out of most trouble." The man said, he was a dark, bald man with dark almond eyes and an indeterminate European accent. He had a ring on his right pinkie which he used to grasp Zoltan's hand.

Next to him was a woman with that aged look that only Los Angeles biosculptor artistes can erase with plasticity. She was carefully coifed and dressed that made her look from once being beautiful to being impressive. The end of the train was brought up two fidgeting children roughly 8 and 10 with a young woman who made sure they behaved.

Zoltan looked at his mother's expression with a long suffering expression, as Róza looked with a expression of eagerness,
"I believe you know my mother?"

Ari smiled, "Of course, and who is the lovely lady with you."

Zoltan with a sweep of a magician's hand said, "This is Elizabeth."

He nodded to Elizabeth politely, while his wife stepped forward, smiled and shook Elizabeth's hand. "Hi, my name's Kaija. Ignore my husband, he can be a bit of boor at times. These are my two sons, Zach and Peter."

After the initial introductions, everyone sat down and the lights went from dim to dark as the first scene unveiled itself.


The billowing sails of the ship in Act I were beautiful, amplifying a stillness of the set. In the age of movement, it was like a still photo, everything captured in time. The performers crossed the stage embedded in the secene, like they were singing behind a veil of gilded ice. The emotional power of the music is chilled and the physical distance of the expansive set stretches even farther away, creating a spiritual connection with the audience. The music had a beauty to it that swam by like a stream just out of reach. For a few moments in each act, Cruze was able to dip into its path and get lost in the power of Wagner's score.

The opera, Tristan und isolde, is known for long productions and this one was no exception. It runs 4 hours 30 minutes and there are two intermissions. This was the first one.

As they left, the children complained about being tired and were escorted after a bit of discussion happily away by their nanny to bed.

People walked around the tables, eating the hors d'oeuvres and drinking chilled champagne. Zoltan excused himself for a bit as he escorted his mother to find a bathroom.

[OOC: Another perception roll please]

[Chrysalis]

Surrounded by a group of people in and out of uniform was the man Joseph Meyer, or by the more common denomination given to him by the rest of the team, Mr Aegis. Next to his elbow was a polite tall asian woman in a traditional Hanbok with its long flowing blue Chima and red Jeogori emborydered in layers of gold.

[Chrysalis]

[OOC: I apologize beforehand for the short post. I really wanted to do something larger, but I feel it important to keep the main plot running and not get the story bogged down with too many divergences. If there are greater things that you wish to do before Friday ten post them in the OOC thread. If not I will fast forward to Thursday evening allowing you to plan the Friday.]

Cruze made a point on ignoring Mr Aegis and his entourage. Luckily, Zoltan came back quite with his Mother Rósa. They had been arguing and like most sons he was giving her the silent treatment of victory, but the credit line of defeat by escorting her over to the bar where I professional but pained bartender continued his duty of liquoring up an over 70 year old woman, who kept on looking at Zoltan over shots of sherry.

Zoltan, smiled at passers-by, but was instead a great conversationalist and a good listener. When the call for the intermission began Cruze's alterego of Elizabeth could be said to actually like the man and not just for his bank account either.


When the second intermission came, even Cruze was actually having a good time. Zoltan carefully escorted his drowsy mother home despite her vehement opposition of him being a good-for-nothing, that was broken up by kiss to her cheek as he made sure she was home.

Zoltan apologised for his mother, said that he had a wonderful time, and left his virtual AR card for Cruze if she ever wanted to go out for dinner which did not involve an overly critical jewish mother.

[Chrysalis]

Thursday evening.

Karkoff has a rock solid schedule. Nothing in his schedule really wavers. He often looked at pictures in the evening. Mostly his wife. He seemed nervous, but resigned.

His maid was an elven girl who lived locally, she went to university oF Maryland, her area of studies was literature, she had a poor credit rating from extensive use of her credit card. She would come in everyday make sure his food was stocked. She specifically came in that afternoon to clean up the house to the best of her ability and then stocked the fridge with fresh produce of all kinds.

The AR system even told what kinds meals were being prepared for the weekend.

Professor:

[ Spoiler ]

Information on the four individuals was easy from an academic perspective. All had extensive biographies. What was interesting from a pattern recognition standpoint is that despite being top in their field of virology, they continued to keep a three degree of seperation from each other.

It was when you saw all four pictures of each that it really struck you. They all looked the same. The differences were only variables based on location and dietary considerations.

Their background places them as coming from an orphanage in Florida. Since the second matrix crash the files have been low priority, but with a bit of calling and look through the paper files you find out that 20 children came into the United States of the time as a part of a re-patriation programme.

This would mean they all twins. After all, clones have not existed since 2060 and more importantly not intelligent ones.

[pbangarth]

Fingers drumming together under his chin, Professor mutters to himself, "Iiiinnnteresting!" He communicates this revelation to the rest of the team. [OOC - Everybody, read the Professor spoiler in the above message. ]

[SincereAgape]

The text from the professor filters into his commlink. Followed by the emphatic use of syllables. High on Novacoke at the time, Toreador sends a text message to the rest of the team.

"So what exactly does this mean?"

[Mickle5125]

<<This is interesting. I find myself wondering, however: Why is our good doctor so nervous? Does he suspect what is coming for him? And if so, why is he sticking around?>>

Dick sends the group as he strolls down the street wearing another randomly selected face. This time, his disguise is coupled with a dog on a leash that he borrowed from a friend across town.

[SincereAgape]

<<Dick. I am beginning to wonder the same thing.>>

Toreador spoke to everyone via subvocal commlink. He continued.

<<I was planning to hold this information as leverage for myself in case none of you could be trusted. But as a gesture of good faith, here is some data that the elves of the Tir were able to produce on Mr. Aegis. The date is being filtered to all of you now.>>



Each teams member receives a text with a personal data profile saved as an attatchment. Upon opening the file this information floods their screens.

[ Spoiler ]

<<Information secreteriat, telex>>

Name: William Bradley
Born: June 23, 1972
Languages spoken: English, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, German

Chronology:

Military Career:

1994 Graduated from the United States Naval Academy and was commissioned Lieutenant, Junior Grade.

1995, Graduated from the Naval Diving and Salvage Training Center (NDSTC) in Panama City, Florida

1995-2003, Served in both the United States and the Pacific theatre of operations.

2005, Earned a Medical Degree from Columbia University Medical Center, and married Jung Soon.

2005-2008, served in the Pacific theatre of operations, stationed out of Pearl Harbour, Hawaii.

2008-2010, At this point Commander, assisted, served in Japan being on the Staff of Plans, Policy, and Programs, and working on the United States on a controlled pull out of its military forces from Japan.

2010-2013, Military assistant to Paul Lambert, the assistant to the president for national security affairs.

2013-2016, Assistant chief of staff for the office of Naval Intelligence
2015, promoted to rear admiral
2016-2019, Deputy Director of the National Security Agency, Fort Meade, Maryland


Post-Military

2020, Director of national security studies, Hudson Institute, Indianapolis, Indiana
2020, Adjunct professor, political science, Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut.
Extensive publications; see bibliography below


<<End Telex>>

[Mickle5125]

<<Damn. He's an old guy, isn't he? Thanks for the gesture of trust, Toreador>>

[Chrysalis]

Thursday evening turns into night, and Karkoff goes to bed. The rest of the night goes without incident. Even the dog stops barking.

Friday morning as Karkoff is enjoying his coffee the mother and daughter of the adjacent unit come calling.

"Hi, we're missing Scruffy our Labrador Retriever, have you seen it? He didn't come home last night."

Karkoff looks at the two a bit owlishly. "No, no, can't say that I have. Tell you what I work at the clinic up the road and occasionally people come in with strays. If you send me an image to my commlink, I'll put a notice up."

The image which was sent in the clear was that of a kid holding on the neck of a laborador retriever, judging by the age of the girl the picture is about a year old, back when the girl was 11.

"Thanks, c'mon dear, it's still time to go to school."

"But moom, can't I stay to find Scruffy?"


Karkoff finishes his coffee and heads out to his car into a dark, but only drizzling November morning air.

[pbangarth]

[OOC - still no internet of my own - I'm starting to get the DTs.]

Professor queries over the private link: "Any chance we can check to see if that image file carries anything else, like a tag that can be used to trace our friend?"

EDIT: [OOC - God, this library connection is slow!] "Any idea what/where that barking dog is?"

[SincereAgape]

Waking up from a near overdose of Novacoke, Toreador rolls out of his coffin and strolls towards a small table in his room which had more contents of a white powdery form of Novacoke. Bare-chested, Toreador takes a moment to stare in a mirror. He was by no means a body builder, yet he did like to keep in shape. The only harmful substance he desecrated his body with was Novacoke..albeit a large amount of it.

He felt like shit. No doubt about it. He was going through a phase, yes he knew drugs were terrible for his health. He did not care. It felt to good. He had been in this situation before and persevered. Being in the wrong state of mind for an important day. Hopefully he would be able to pull through.

Making his way towards the bathroom, he splashed his face with water. He heard the Professor's natural positive cheer over the commlink. He responded as if he was speaking into a vid com.

“Good riddance to the animal I say. Puppies are just over eager animals looking to jump hoops at the slightest whim of their masters. Perhaps this one wised up and fled the guilded cage of a smothering human girl. Today is Friday. I was hoping to spend the night in Dupont Circle with the elven social elite or explore the wannabe elven gothic culture of the UCAS. But alas on the fifth day the previous attacks on the other subjects have come. Karkoff has a right to be nervous, especially if he has an idea of the blight he is in.�

[Mickle5125]

Dick blinks, and finally takes the time to check the tags on the dog he borrowed.

[Chrysalis]

Luckily it is a different dog.

The image of the lost dog does show that the dog is wearing a collar with a GPS tagger and a commlink code.

[pbangarth]

Professor pipes in, "Maybe I'm paranoid, but any chance we can get the code to track the dog? I just have the suspicion that something the mark doesn't fear is going to get close and nuke him."

[Mickle5125]

Dick grins. <"You too, Prof? Could be that the dog was serving as a warning of the approaching storm, so to speak, and the storm decided to silence it. ">

[crizh]

She paused mid-crunch, sweat running down between her shoulder blades and pooling inside her skin-tight body armour.

Filth from the dirty safe-house floor stuck to her skin but she ignored it. She wasn't going to let her environment put her off her schedule.

The dog conversation had caught her attention. She remembered thinking that the dog had finally stopped barking at some point last night and mentally rewound the surveillance tapes to get an exact time code.

Jumping back ten minutes from that point she started to skim through the ultrasound feeds. The ultrasound cameras that she had planted around the perimeter of Karkoff's home were good out to 100 metres which covered the whole row of houses, the road and the tennis courts on the other side, the Stuffer-shack car park and the edge of the golf course the row of houses backed on to.

It shouldn't take her long to track down the kid's dog.

[Chrysalis]

The ultrasound records are good up to a point, objects create voids of sound to pick-up and trees if set too fine sound too much like a spear carrying army. The dog barking does not help much, the dog went from its yard into the empty units and continued to bark more loudly as it went into small corpse of trees and then there is a slight whine and nothing.

A two legged person wearing running shoes can be heard walking through the backyard before going behind a bush, which is in the family's garden. A few moments later a jogger can be heard running past Karkoff's door.