[IC] 2073: Red Dawn Rising, Tenochtitlan Options

[Ezeckial]

I agree Frank. His voice has a conciliatory tone to it, trying to get everyone to settle and focus. But he's gone and now we're left to focus and formulate our plan of action.

@Spookyjack: We'll spar later, practice our wildcat and focus a bit. Hows that Sound?

Silas stretches and adjusts his collar.

As to what the best plan is right now. The obvious plan is not necessarily the best one, but we don't have much to go on. We should be ready to move out on a moments notice though. With 23 other teams minutes could be the difference.

[DWC]

Vice momentarily interjects on Terrence's comments.

"Another sports car."

As the others weigh in, he's quiet. To those paying close attention, he's thinking, trying to remember something. No one's ever mistaken him for being the brains of this operation.

"Admittedly, NBC school was a few days at the end of AIT, and fifteen years ago, but I remember them covering strategic nuclear weapons, and how no one uses them. 10.4Mt is big. Bigger than anything anyone has even test detonated since the early Cold War. The bomb's exotic enough that tracking it should give us better results than stomping through the radioactive rubble.

He started a mental checklist of things he'd need to pack.

"What are we hoping to find by digging through the ashes of Ten?"

[Mickle5125]

"Clues as to what she is, to have survived that much radiation without so much as a radiation suit, perhaps?" Doc Sci shrugs. "Perhaps even a clue as to where she went afterwards?"

The dwarf finally takes a drink from his beer and sits back. "Vice is right, though. Track the bomb, and perhaps we'll have a better chance of finding her."

[Spooky Jack]

Spooky soaked in the discussion even as he continued to watch his surroundings. The last thing they needed was for potential rivals to be listening in... security was something he took seriously, even if he didn't always understand the technicalities. Switching back to sub-vocal, his synthetic voice once more laced the air

"Should head back to the office to talk bout this... away from keen ears. Also... can we keep tabs on Mr. Johnson? If he recruits more teams, it'd be nice to keep track of em and any ideas they might come up with. Also, here's somethin to think about on the road... was Pandora actually in Aztlan? If the Z-O vid was a fake, could be that the footage of her there was faked too. If she actually is an AI, it would be a great way to mislead pursuit.

Clearing his throat and inadvertently dousing the others with audio phlegm, Spooky abruptly pivoted back to the doorway and headed out for his car, his tolerance for the bar scene fading fast. Stretching as he moved, he mentally jotted a quick note to Crow,

Yeah... could use a good workout. Think we can convince anyone to join us?

[crizh]

The Empathy software she had based her emulation upon for the meeting was still ticking over in The Monolith. It was warning her that the rest of the team seemed less than impressed with her negotiation technique.

It would take more time than she cared to devote to explain the nuances of this meeting to them. Even if she were able to explain her position so as to be understood they would only end up feeling stupid and resentful. She doubted very much that it would be worth the effort.

They didn't work with her because she was a pretty face.

A cursory search of public databases from the pre-awakening period indicates that 10.4 Megatons was not a denomination in wide circulation. As a matter of fact I can only find reference to one 10.4 Mt detonation anywhere and that is the original Ivy Mike detonation. The United States prototype H-bomb, the first of it's type. Interestingly it was a Three-stage device that would leave a very characteristic radiation signature. Very, very dirty and not a bomb in the traditional sense but a building sized device that was constructed as part of a custom built facility that was destroyed in the detonation.

Tactical nukes are all much smaller, free-fall warheads dropped from bombers tended to be quite a bit bigger, in the 20 Mt range, and the sort of big warheads that were mounted on ICBM's tended to be sub 10 Mt.

The largest warhead The United States ever manufactured for delivery by a missile system was only 9 Mt.

This all might be moot. No warhead detonated since the awakening has ever produced it's expected yield. Most fizzle, some, like Winternight's, produced enhanced yields or yields with unusual signatures due to alchemical alterations.

I should like it noted at this point that I am extremely wary of this deal. Mr Johnson behaved very un-professionally in my opinion. Starting out by outright refusing to negotiate on any of the basic terms of a contract like this is at best unusual.

He might as well have offered us 15 Billion Nuyen each. That number is pie in the sky until we can deliver the subject and may remain so even then.

He has made this offer to three other teams already and doubtless will make it to several more. Should all fail any progress they make will have cost his client nothing.

Even should one of them succeed the other three teams will be paid nothing for their effort regardless of how much sweat, resources and potentially even blood they invest in the search.

Buy one, get three free, seems like a pretty good deal from my point of view.

It should be noted that both Ares and SK are taking a very similar scattergun approach. I don't know about Ares but I imagine SK would be quite happy for all their teams to fail but flush the mark out just far enough for their in-house teams to sweep her up.

I agree, we should make an effort to trace the warhead. I do not believe it likely that it came out of a pre-existing stockpile. Such weapons are well guarded and they quickly become useless if not regularly maintained, triggers and fissile materials are by their very nature unstable and must be periodically replaced.

Smuggling such a device would also be massively complicated. I suspect that the weapon was built to order on site. It's yield leads me to believe that it was a replica of the Ivy Mike device. The plans are readily available. It's design is sufficiently unorthodox that it might well escape detection as the components would not have been on normal watch-lists.

I will look for evidence to support this assertion.

I would like to further propose that the rest of the team gear up and head to the vicinity of the detonation. This is where others will start their search and I suspect being within striking distance of the city will be helpful when the faeces strikes the rotating blades.

If you swing by my local Safehouse I will provide you with 'shots' for the trip.

[Mister Juan]

Terrence bit her lower lip. His eyes narrowed to two slits.

What if the explosion wasn't caused by Pandora... Maybe that was just the Azzies trying to be done with her. After all, wasn't the origine of the blast the very core of Aztechnology's headquarter?

He pushed himself off the wall he had been resting against.

In theory, Pandora seems to be going after the Megas. She apparently did something to Z-O, and then seemed to have attacked Aztlan.

Terrence took a small pause, mostly for dramatic effect, and his own personal pleasure.

But then, maybe Pandora is simply sowing discord. Maybe Z-O went in lockdown mode for security reason. Maybe the Azzies fired the nuclear device. Mythology wise, Pandora is supposed to have unleashed mankind's evil... Maybe all that is happening is the produce of men, and Pandora is simply the trigger; the catalyst. We'll probably figure that out when she strikes at her next target... because if she's the woman I believe she is, she's going to strike again.

Strangely enough, Terrence slowly ran his tongue on his upper theeth, an almost sadistic smile creeping on his features.

[Mickle5125]

Doc Sci turned toward Terrence and raised an eyebrow. "You have some idea who she is?"

[Mister Juan]

The hitman flashed a pearl white smile to Doc Sci.

I'm rather sure he parted both hands, gesturing to the entire group that we all have our own little theories.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets, looking as casual as he could.

I wouldn't venture as far as saying I know who she is. What I do think I know, is what she is, and what she's attempting.

Terrence smiled once more, apparently amused by something that had crossed his mind. He walked over to Doc Sci, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Her next hit will confirm wheter or not I'm on the right track. But if I am... She's doing some wonderful work.

He looked over towards Tetsuo holographic form.

I take it that if there is a trip to be taken to Aztlan, you'll be keeping your body here, correct?

[Digital Heroin]

Frank finds himself rather unconsciously rubbing the bridge of his nose, despite being in full VR. Even his icon, a shadow of his old life a phantom in a pressed and polished UCAS Marine dress uniform with all its natural parts intact, is doing it. He manages to reign in the desire to snap at them all. They don't deserve it. Well, most of them don't. The wall of technical speech approach has never been equated in his mind to intelligence, at least socially meaningful intelligence, and to call out a Johnson's professionalism, especially after tacitly ignoring the terms of a contract, was just plain grating. Even in the shadows there's a chain of command, and when you're in the dime the Johnson is your Charlie Oscar. You might not trust the man, but you'd best show the man who signs over your pay some respect. Fake it if you need to.

Alright folks, let's tighten this up. We've been hired on the basis that we're professionals and here we're openly talking shop in a potentially bugged environment, if not by the owner of the place, by the man who just offered us a bounty on the world's most wanted. And make no bones about it, this wasn't some negotiable contract, it wasn't our standard deal, this was a straight up 'you've been told, take it or leave it' contract. That's why there was no negotiation brokered.

He takes a moment, a picosecond since he's flittering about the club's Matrix space, to collect himself, to lock his emotions down.

T-town might be the obvious bid for us now, but if we didn't have that Horizon footage, would we be thinking it? I'll wager at least half of the corp-sponsored scut out there are trying to fit themselves for space, figuring the lockdown's because she's making Z-O her new home. We've got a leg up that only three teams so far have, and we're not going to have it for long.

He grunts over the digitized channels, and his meat fist flexes a moment, reflexively.

We want to split, that's fine, but we need intel before we can pick any other targets, so lets all give it tonight and then conference in the morning. Pick the brains of your best, boys, because we're going to need every little detail we can get. But be quiet if you can. If we're going to spy on the other teams, you know they'll be trying with us.

He had a visit home to make, an old friend to contact, and maybe even a confession to make. This was, as it's been stated already, going to be one hell of a wild ride, and he knew well it was the kind of deal you didn't necessarily walk out of alive. At least with war, or a merc contract, you knew what the enemy was capable of. This was unpredictable. But it would be the last job he ever really needed to take, at least financially speaking.

[Mister Juan]

Taking his shades and hooking them in the opened collar of his shirt. As always, Frank came through with his no bullshit attitude. Terrence had never been in the military himself, but he did appreciate the efficiency with which soldiers got shit done. Yes, Vice was more of a loose canon than Frank, but they were alike in many ways: neither bitched and moaned. Ever.

Fishing inside his jacket, Terrence took a silve cigarette case out, clicking it opened with a smooth move. He tapped the cigarette a few times against the case, listening to the end of Frank's speech, and finally stuck it into the corner of his smirk.

Spoken like a trooper, he added, throwing the case across the tiny room to Vice. The plan's good. Let do it.

His hand went back inside his jacket, fishing out a pack from Matchsticks. For the first time since the begining of the meet, Terrence used the commlinked jacked into his brain. The message he sent out was for one person, and one person only.

@Tetsuo

[ Spoiler ]

I need you to get me a list of the teams we're going up against. Starting with those that are closest to our current location, and working outward from there. We need to slow them down. I think you know very well what I'm planning to do. I need your help on this one, please.

He flipped the matchstick pack open with one hand, lighting up his smoke.

[Spooky Jack]

A firm believer that talk is nothing without action, Spooky was already opening his slightly dented car door when he heard Frank's voice re-inforcing his own views on details of their latest task. Eyeing the creases in the plasteel, he reflected somewhat bitterly,

"Modified for troll use should mean that they put a layer of armour around this damn heap, but noooo, all they do is add enough space so that I'm not driving with my knee on the gas pedal".

Checking the alley where he'd parked for observers, Spooky hastily stripped to his Trigun boxers before donning his dark form fitting armour. The cool night air was abrasive to his nearly nude form and had nearly as much to do with his haste in re-clothing himself as the self-loathing he held for his gruesome, intimidating physique. He made use of his dreadful appearance when the situation called for it, but preferred to remain covered up whenever possible.

Finally slipping back into his dark blue duster and replacing his now very lightly tinted shades, Spooky once more spoke up,

"You lovely freaks gonna join me streetside, or are we heading our seperate ways now? If so, I'm heading back to the office. Everything I need is there... I'll pack up and then I'll be training for a while. Feel free to come if you're troll enough for the pain... er, exercise."

A razor thin grin etched itself accross his rough contenance; a strenuous workout in body armour would be just the thing to sharpen his thoughts and focus his spirit for the what he suspected would be a hunt far superior to any he had yet undertaken.

[Ezeckial]

Reaching his bike Silas grins at Spooky's voice over the comms. Undoing his tie he throws it into his courier bag with his suit jacket and pulls out his leather jacket and bike helmet. Giving his bike a quick one over as he puts on his leather jacket he cues up his comm.

I'll ride to the office with yah spooky. My gears there anyways, and I could use the work out.

He grins as he climbs onto his bike and starts it up.

@Spooky: Make sure to remember to pull your punches if they're joining us.

With that he drives his bike up beside spooky's buggy and looks over and nods.

[crizh]

<<New Encrypted Channel>>@Terrence

[ Spoiler ]

Terry, I appreciate your dedication but I need the other teams. We aren't getting paid here yet so I want to do this as cheaply as possible.

We can use the other teams to gather information for us. Even use them as cannon fodder by feeding them information discretely.

For the time being they are the most valuable resource we have.

She wasn't in the mood to listen to any more of Frank's ill-informed preaching and returned her attention to The Monolith.

She Threaded her data analysis channel and, with a theatrical flick of her wrist, opened a cinema sized display window in space directly in front of herself. She ran both videos of Pandora, carefully checking them for signs of forgery or clues they might exploit.

When she was done a thought occurred to her. Mr Johnson had, no doubt, paid a Hacker to supply him with a clean disposable link for this job. Something that looked good but didn't conceal any useful information about the real client or Mr J's other business. He might even have paid a little extra for misleading information to be planted to draw the casual Hacker away from the truth.

But would he have been willing to pay to have the same exact thing done four different times?

If he was going to offer the same job to four different teams he might just use the same link for all four meets and not bother to re-clean it in between times.

Threading the appropriate channel, she dived into her copy of his Access Log. There would be clues in it. Access ID's, GPS co-ordinates, hell even the traces of previous Hackers looking for clues. Her Otaku rival might even have left traces of her Resonance Signature.

She wondered if he had turned it off yet, she certainly would have, and checked to make sure. Some of the Mesh Tags she'd dusted the room with earlier had left the room with him and she checked on them to see where they were now. A quick Scan ought to reveal all the nearby nodes which would give her some AccessID's to get started on.

It was going to be a busy couple of hours.

[DWC]

Just when the flying cigarette case seems certain to collide with Vice’s freshly shaved head, it is plucked from the air and lobbed back at Terrence with a flick of the wrist, without so much as a glance in his direction. Instead, Vice’s attention remains focused on the discussion swirling around him, and switches back to encrypted communication through the commlink skinlinked to his upper arm.

“Sounds good. I’ll bring the bagels for breakfast. Jack, I think I’ll take you up on that challenge. When I’m done, I’ll see what I can find out without committing us to doing anyone any favors.�

Sunglasses are retrieved from his inside jacket pocket and slid onto Vice’s precision sculpted face. The urge to find the girl with the green hair and is suppressed, mostly by the weight of the situation and the dire need to maintain operational security. Instead, he makes his way out, scanning the crowd for any sign of the Johnson, or anyone else who’s taking a conspicuous interest in him or the rest of the crew.

[ Spoiler ]

Perception+Intuition+Vision Enhancement+Attention Coprocessor looking for anyone watching us rather than enjoying the spirit of the bar 15d6.hits(5)=6

�Frank, Tetsuo, can one of y’all make sure no one tagged us, particularly me?�

[Mickle5125]

Doc Sci calmly reaches into his pouch and removes his handheld scanner, quickly switching it over to the radio signal scanner mode and testing each of the remaining members of the party for any tags that may have been slipped on them. Once done with that, he silently draws his tag eraser out of another pouch and deals with any tags he may have found.

"There. That's done. Anything else, boyos, or shall we head on out?" He asks with a small grin.

[crizh]

It was funny how paranoia manifested itself on so many different levels. She tended to the massively overblown conspiracy theory but each to their own.

<<Encrypted Channel>>@Vice

I've had the place under surveillance for over an hour and cracked every node within two hundred yards. If there are any bugs in here they are hard-wired and the owners don't know about it. I'm fairly certain you are safe. I've got work to do but Frank is more than capable of ensuring you don't pick up any electronic surveillance between here and the office.

If you are arranging for transport South I could use being dropped of in Denver.

----

The tiny transparent spider skittered over the surface of the pyramid. It was odd to be doing this here in Shadowland, she would get a flea in her ear and her karma would be in the gutter for weeks if Fastjack caught her. He never had and probably never could, if she was able to hide from Deus she keep one step ahead of that old fox, but she suspected he knew when she had been up to no good in his systems. She didn't have a very good poker face.

There were tiny cracks in the code that made up the mortar joining the giant virtual blocks together and her microscopic form was able to slip through them into the structure.

When she had finished with the data she was looking for she carefully covered her tracks and left. Usually she would leave back-doors in systems like this but this was no place to leave a calling card. She could get back in if she really needed to.


-----

Back on The Monolith she paced backwards and forwards over the shiny black surface.

She didn't like what she had learned. Her paranoid delusions were running wildly out of control. At least she hoped it was just paranoia.

Time to take a break, get some perspective. She would report back to the team and get on with laying some surveillance down on their competition.

----

She got back to the team while they were in transit.

<<new_channel_dynamic_encryption_pattern_delta_four>>Burst transmission@team

Progress has been made. Mr Johnson has made his offer to a fourth team. They didn't like the deal and told him to take a hike. He ditched his burner 'link and collected his payment. He'll be leaving from Sea-Tac in about three hours for a long 'vacation'. We won't be dealing with him again.

Should we succeed the comm-code he gave us will let his client know directly.

Who that client is remains a mystery.

However.

Mr Johnson's payment came from a defunct Renraku slush fund used to finance deniable black ops in the Yucatan.

The account has been dormant since 2060, the corporate expediter responsible for it's operation died in the SCIRE shutdown and presumably the account had no paper trail or official links to Renraku.

Whoever paid Mr Johnson did so with funds they could only have acquired whilst locked in the Arcology with Deus and his deranged minions.

One possibility is that one of the surviving Whites is behind this job. I am uncertain how many escaped or what their current allegiance or goals might be. Puck is occasionally heard from and Fastjack has vouched for him as a reformed character but I sense that he would undertake such a search in public.

The other possibility does not bear thinking about.

I will not bore you with my opinions about Morgan and Deus.

If there is any possibility that either might have survived the Crash in some form we are in way over our heads.

If I find conclusive evidence that a pre-Crash AI is involved I will simply inform G.O.D. and move to the Moon until the dust settles.

I live in hope that a more mundane explanation proves to be true. In the meantime I shall continue my infiltration of our competition.

--Message Ends--

<<Transmission Complete:0.4MP Transmitted in 0.22s.Connection Terminated>>

[DWC]

Confident that the group isn’t being counter-surveilled, Vice leaves the club, grinding his teeth a bit. Outside, an agent spoofs the AccessID his car sends to GridGuide as he settles into the driver’s seat.

�Dropping Phil a line. He should have a special perspective on the mess down south, as long as he’s still in his old office.�

The engine starts with a snarl. There’s a reason that Lone Star and Knight Errant both drive a car based on the Chrysler-Nissan Skyline. The sequential turbochargers howl with every nudge of the throttle. The tires are set wide apart for stability, and pushed out to the extreme corners to lengthen the wheelbase for improved cornering. The interior is spacious enough to pick up a joygirl, or maneuver an assault rifle. The former is common. The latter hasn’t happened in this car. Yet.

He pulls away and into the dark, rainy Seattle night. Confident that the layers of software will protect both him, and the intended recipient, he composes a quick message to the spy.

<<@Phil: Looks like things have gone to shit down in Azzieland. How much of that fallout has spilled over into your neck of the woods? Is it better or worse than the news is making it look? Look me up. We’ll hit Rio for Carneval. It’s always a hell of a party. –V>>

After listening to Tetsuo’s theories on AIs, and the origins of the money being offered, he speaks up.

�Or we’re working for some UCAS intelligence agency. Not out of the question that someone attached to JTFS discovered the slush fund during operations in the SCIRE, reported it to his superior, and the account became an emergency contingency fund for operations that couldn’t ever go before a Congressional Oversight committee, like hiring a crew of professional criminals to hunt for a thermonuclear terrorist.

[Chrysalis]

Phil get's back to you quite quick.

<<Hey, I am surpised you are not down there enjoying cheap tequilas and the señoritas. The situation is pretty dire in Azzieland. We have a lot of people displaced. The AZT scrip is not even worth the paper is printed on. That's not mentioning that all the major South American banks just disappeared overnight, actually you are seeing more people without commlinks now and trading with gold. People are making huge amounts of money trying to get a piece of everything that was AZT, mining rights to cosying up with the new government. The current el Presidente is the old agricultural minister, already a few groups have taken pot shots at them. The cartels are looking at getting their hooks into the new government. It's a land of opportunity at the moment, if you know what to want. Actually I have a job if you want, I have two people who need to be babysat from Seattle to Ten. Come on down the water's warm and the beer's are chilled.>>

[DWC]

Vice stops at a red light. The neon go-go boots and transparent raincoat draw his attention to the figure hunched under the awning of a shop closed for the night. He waffles on whether to roll down the window.

The message from the spy snaps him back to work. While he waits for the light to change, he composes a quick reply, and sends it off.

<<Nice. Sounds like I could buy a condo in Cabo for a case of bottle water, a handful of shotgun shells, and a box of bandaids. Then again, it doesn’t sound like the Azzies have enough left to stop the Confed, the Peublos, and the Amazonians from chopping the country up like Howling Coyote tore up the USA. I’d be amazed if San Diego and the entire Baja peninsula isn’t Peublo land by the end of the month, and Texas isn’t back to its’ good old size by Valentine’s Day. I’ll run the babysitting gig around the table and see what’s up. Who are these kids of yours, and why would they want to go swimming in the hottest water in the world?>>

As the message vanishes into the digital ether, his attention returns to the girl huddled under the awning. Good spot. Close to the street, at an intersection with a really long light. If it weren’t raining, she’d be doing brisk biz.

How’d everyone like a little something extra for going to Ten? Looks like I’ve stumbled onto an opportunity to make a delivery that might supplement our operational budget.�

On the offhand chance that she's a decoy, he pulls the Viper from the glovebox and rests it on the center console, round in the chamber.

[Chrysalis]

The girl shivers in her see through jacket looking around. Looks like her date's stood her up. She pulls the jacket around her as she briskly walks over to the light only to have it change before she can get across. She looks up in that this is really not my day look.

<<Two experts on loan from Ares. A man and a woman couple. Both used to be in NEST in their UCAS days. We occasionally share our toys.>>

[DWC]

<<Can’t say I’m surprised that Knight threw his lot in with you boys, especially since you all put in the work to train these two. If someone blew up Tenoctitlan, Detroit can’t be far behind. Will someone else be keeping them safe while they’re working, or is their security on the ground part of the contract?>>

The light changes.

The Viper goes into the map pocket in the driver’s side door.

Vice turns into Dalton Zachary, complete with warm, friendly smile.

The window slides down.

“Wretched night to be caught out. Can I offer you a lift somewhere?�

[Chrysalis]

<<I am not sure if Detroit disappeared anyone would notice, although the crime rate would drop. Just make sure they land safely. If you want to work as their perimeter security on the ground you can, but that's optional. They are told to find externals to hire on the ground.>>


The girl looks at the insides of the dry car and thinks this is probably the best bit of luck come her way in a bit.

"Yeah, thanks. I can't believe my boyfriend stood me up. Again."

She runs her fingers through her hair, brushing away some of the wetness from its coifed anarchy, the hair turns as if airbrushed into a neon pink. Her nails are silver with little dragon holograms.

"You can leave me at a cab stand. Looks like this evening's ruined."

She sighs and looks out the window.

[DWC]

<<When are they leaving, and do they already have their travel plans made? Any chance we'll get a look at their data when they're done? With how fucked up nukes have been for the last fifty years, I'm curious why this one worked so well.">>

The map of the area hovers in front of Vice's eyes, several taxi stands pulse softly to the beat of the windshield wipers.

"Lucky guy, getting a second chance to piss you off. Nothing says the night's ruined though. Just have to find your own party, even if it's just opening a bottle of wine, running a hot bath, and laying into a good book."

[Chrysalis]

<<There is a transport leaving tomorrow morning. Wheels up at 0600. It may take a couple weeks before any hard data, even though we like sharing toys we don't like sharing secrets. This is the intelligence business after all.>>

The girl looked you over for the first time.

"Hard to say where I am going to find a party, since he was holding our tickets to the concert. I don't like going home, besides only nerds and dweebs do that. Oh by the way my name is Katrina, but everyone calls me Kat. Knowing any fun places?"

[DWC]

The swarm of taxi stands is replaced by an array of the clubs that his building concierge has him on the guest list for.

"Dalton. Nice to meet you, Kat. City's full of fun places. Let's see if we can find you a party."

The car accelerates through a yellow light as he takes a moment to bring everyone else up to speed, silently, through the skinlink.

<<Talking to Phil about escorting some Ares scientists to Ten as part of a joint UCAS/Ares venture to study the blast. Haven't brought up cash yet, but the flight goes wheels up at 0600, so if we're going to go, we need to make the call now. By the way, don't think I'm going to make it to the office to work out tonight.>>

Afterward, he sends another message to Hayes, and takes a moment to fully check the girl out.

<<Tough but fair. What's our payout on this trip?>>