Team
Your preparations continue for hours, well into the night and the next day. Sleeping arrangements were cramped, but you make do. Kraxus calls his contact, arranges transfer of funds and procures a helicopter for the next 48 hours. Looking over the chopper, Red assesses that it will take you six hours to arrive at the meet point. You gather the gear you think you will need and board the chopper.

Accomodations aboard are sparse, with the designer going for a less is more motif. Anchor points in the walls and floor show that the interior is able to be reconfigured into at least a dozen distinct layouts with hundreds of minor variations.

Once you are in the air, final preparations are made as spells are stored into foci and any minor spirits you need are pulled out of the metaplanes.

Edana tries not to think about the last helicopter she was in. Well, sort of in. She and Herne had run a mage to ground in the astral skies above the Chateau. A Templar named Raziel. It was the first time she had tested and tasted the power of her lightning-chased astral form. In idle moments she imagined that soaring, ranging, raging energy filling her again. It was like flying. It had been beautiful. Before everything had gone horribly wrong.

Edana clenches her jaw as she stows her gear, making a few adjustments before strapping in. Herne is strapped in already, the pale-eyed, pale haired man-form dressed in fitted camo. He looks at her with a steady, unemotional gaze.

Why so anxious? We go together to the skies, Sturmdottir.

Well, let's see, we're flying into hostile territory, without a pilot, to meet and un-extort a very dangerous man... no reason. This is no joy ride to run with the storms, Herne.

Are you so certain? I'm not. The spirit smiles, the unfathomable expression in his deep, ancient eyes flashing to wildness before he turns his head away to look out of the window.

Edana brings up the flight path on her comm. As Kraxus suggested, she sends a murder of watchers ahead in a skirl of astral cawing. It was the first of many she would summon that day and she hoped the beady-eyed watchers were all the spirits the day required.

Red takes care when loading his drones. He argues with himself about taking them all or not, but in the end decides that in the end he would want them with him.

Sitting behind the controls of the copter, he attaches the silvery cables for the control rig to his multiplex adapter and then a singular silvery data cable from his datajack to the multiplexer. I don't imagine these mojo folks understand exactly what a rigger jack block is supposed to look like anyway...

Strapped into the pilot's chair, he leans back and extends his senses to the rest of the aircraft. Feeling the hum of the engine each of the external sensors he reaches out after everyone is aboard and ready to go. "This is your captain speaking. Please sit back and enjoy the flight. Your in-flight movie will be Con Air, a classic vid from the previous century resurrected from the archives for your viewing pleasure."

As the copter lifts off, he rechecks the route and all of the flight plan authorizations. Now we'll see how good these really are...

Kraxus superimposes a number of ARO's over the map, highlighting the general location of the meet, and another location behind a low hill in the distance.

"Stay here, out of direct line of sight and of fire. They'll know we're coming, but no reason to make it easy for them to shoot you down if things go south. It's close enough we can get back there fairly quickly."

"Edana, Herne, keep eyes on the Astral. If these guys are as good as people say they are, they'll have magical backup. I want to know what kind and how many. Stay at least 15m away from Gellaywn and I at all times. I don't want a single lucky spell or grenade to take us all out. We'll handle the actual transaction. It should be quick and easy. I'll float as much as I can to keep everyone's hands free, Gellawyn and I will carry the rest. If we need more hands, I'll need Herne. Worst case, he can bug out easier, and I'd rather keep you and your whip free in a pinch."

Each location and path is overlaid in AR, showing locations, directions, fall back points, cover, and other relevant details.

"Any questions?" he asked, as the helicopter banks in on the last turn before their destination.

Strapped into the pilot's chair, Red is immersed in full VR, jumped into the helicopter for the entire flight. His Kummushi on the dash, he is able to keep tabs on the crew and the cockpit. Looking at his relaxed, thin form from a third-person perspective, he thinks for a moment how silly he looks in his big armor jacket with a pair of SMG's hanging from their slings. I think I look more like a wanna-be than this slick team I've landed with.

He lays out team-net as directed and begins preparing for their arrival. Now's one of those times I wish I had a flock of aerial combat drones... Though perhaps that might just invite trouble...

Edana flexes her skinny guns, "That's just as well, I'd be more trouble than not." She nods at Herne and the 'man' dematerializes, leaving his camo hanging in the straps. She looks at the impassive faces of the elves and wonders for the umpteenth time what she's getting herself into. She, as best she can, updates Herne's location on the team map.

Looking over the tactical display, Gellawyn takes the information in and commits the details to memory. She gives Kraxus as she tries to get as comfortable as possible for the remainder of the flight.

Team

Throughout the flight, Red feeds new satellite images over your piece-meal tactical network. You fly over the last few signs of civilization about an hour before arriving at the coordinates where you are supposed to meet the General. At the location, the clearing is barely wide enough for the helicopter. Questioning the wisdom of dropping directly into the meet spot, Red lowers the helicopter down in a clearing about a kilometer away. This clearing, unlike many of the others does not have the large rocky outcroppings which the native burial grounds frequented.

It is notable that from the time you entered Tsimshian airspace, you were never questioned for a flightplan or clearance.

Astral

The hills and forests are teeming with life. Untouched by mankind, the undergrowth is thick with narrow paths for deer and other wildlife. Herne circles the area several times, loping through the woods with feral senses. Hunting would be good here. He is able to identify three man with long rifles hidden among the trees in branches. All are relaxed and alert--ordered to wait.

::Ten minutes before the meet::
Sensors and magic still have not identified the General or any men beyond the three snipers. Either he is planning on a grand entrance, utilizing something to hide his presence, or his betrayal is eminent.

Gellawyn's face and body becomes more controlled and stilled as they approach the meet site. "This man is in control here and we should tread carefully."

Edana nods at Gellawyn's assessment. She turns to Kraxus to share what she and Herne have learned, "Three snipers. They're poised, but not anxious. No sign of anyone else, spirit or otherwise."

As the minutes stretch out she keeps the others posted on any adjustments. The fine hairs on the back of Edana's neck stand on end.

Red watches the crew through the feeds from his drones. He feels the cross draft blowing the copter as if it was blowing him. The strength of the rotor, powered by the engine, gives him the strength to fly straight. "Three snipers and no General..? You all sure this ain't a trap?"

Edana crinkles her nose, and dark blotchy clouds swirl under her skin, "I would think the snipers would be more keyed up were that the case."

"But I don't think there's any question that it could become a trap at the General's word."

"Well, I'm glad I'll be stayin' with the bird then." Red replies with a smile.

"Well, we've got ten minutes. Let's get on with it." Edana shrugs out of her harness and calls Herne in to perform a tighter loop around the helicopter. She checks the placement of all her gear and moves to the door.

Cinching the last of the gear around him, Kraxus nods to everyone, indicating a Go for moving out.

As they hustle across the landscape towards the meet site, he marks out the sniper's location, best that Herne's descriptions can be translated into physical coordinates. He marks them in individual symbols, assigning one to Herne, one to Fuer'yon, and one to Gellawyn.

"If things do turn into a trap, those are your highest priority targets. I'll give us time versus anything we're staring at on the ground, but we'll never make it back to the vehicle with sniper's picking us off."

With a last pat at the optical chip containing the information they'd come to trade, he leads the group into the center of the ambu...meeting site.

Red

You watch the heat signatures of your teammates rush across the space between where you landed and the clearing. Thirty seconds before the meet is supposed to start, sensors register multiple bogeys at high velocity. Their trajectory suggests mortar rounds.

Team

With the digital overlay being fed data from Kraxus' assessment of Herne's recon and sensor feeds from the chopper, six red icons blossom from different directions. Looking into the sky, you can see the mortar rounds arcing towards you.

Breaking into the clearing, a holographic projection of the General comes into focus. The small projector is hidden amongst the rocks in the center of the clearing. Small pops like fireworks and the sky above you glitters for a few seconds.

"Hello. Let's keep this brief, you have something that you stole and you want to sell it to me. What is your pricetag?"

Red looks at the incoming objects a second time before they explode in midair. Over the TeamNet™ interface he says, "Be safe."

With a silent nod towards Red, he steps forward, holding up the two optical chips.

"One of these chips holds enough information to back up our claims as to the information we've got. The other has our list of items for...trade, and a drop date and location three weeks hence. Since we were nice enough to come out to your backyard to play, you can come visit us next time."

He drops the chips in front of the holographic display, and turns back towards the helicopter, walking out of the clearing. He nods to Gellawyn and Edana to follow.

Red, do you have the locations of those launchers yet? They probably won't be in the same spot, but it's good to know a general location.

Red quickly accesses the sensor logs, whipping up a quick form to reverse plot the origination points of the mortars. The form that he creates is one to manage the automated coffee-maker. He makes a few subtle adjustments on the measuring sub-routine, back tracing through the java bean measuring algorithms in order to complete the calculations.

Running as much on a prayer as a wing with this one, he transmits the information to his team. Luckily, this one works almost as well with about there as exactly there...

Red

By your best guess, the mortars are hidden in a rough semi-circle about three kilometers from the meeting place.

Team

There is an itch in the center of your back as you turn away from the holographic projection and the snipers. All they'd have to do is pull the trigger a few times...

Arriving back at the chopper, there are no further mortar rounds or signs of pursuit. Once aboard, the massive rotors begin their slow spin. Comparing notes as to what happened and what the next plan is, a reverse route is planned. Red leans forward more heavily on the throttle and the rotors pick up speed.

Nearing Seattle, you are asked for flight registration information. The bureaucracy is a brief snippet of normalcy given how the last few days have been going.

Edana watches Kraxus drop the chips and then turn on his heel to leave the clearing. Well, that's better than what I thought of. Edana trots after the elves toward the helo. A cold shiver runs down her back as she feels the presence of the snipers through her link to Herne.

She turns in the door and sketches a quick salute in their general direction.

Shaking her head she buckles back in for the long ride home. She doesn't fully unclench until the team is assembled back at the safehouse.

"Well, that was... something."

Happy to be long since away from the threat of snipers and mortars, Red relaxes a bit on the return trip. No less than three times to half turns to his staunch comrades and starts to make a funny or tell a joke, only to catch himself unsure that it would be funny to anyone but himself.

As the request for flight registration comes in, Red transmits the prearranged information.

Herne leaps through the ceiling and wall landing neatly at Edana's side. He had communicated nothing amiss. She flipped on the trid and sunk onto the couch. Gellawyn and Kraxus would be back at some point. And Red too. They'd all arranged to meet back piecemeal, but Edana had a weird feeling. The elves had given each other one of 'those looks.'

That's not anything new.

No, but... I dunno. Let's watch some tree-vee.

She flipped through feeds from various cameras that Red had hooked up, "Wow, I didn't even know he'd done this." She sighed and zones out. Has he been back here already?

BZZZZ...

Edana starts awake, eyes wide and staring in the dark flickering room lit by the glow of the trid.

Herne cracks a glowing, golden eye.

It's just your comm.

"Oh... right." says Edana intelligently. She turns off the trid and thumbs the commstud, clearing her throat, "Hello?"

"Edana? It's Craig. How you been?"

Edana leaned back onto the couch and sighed, "Good. Good. I, uh, hang on a sec." She fumbled at the controls of her comm to make sure the encryption protocols were set and put the earpiece back to her ear, "Good. You?"

"Fine, apart from wondering about you. You sorta dropped of the face of the earth, girlie." His voice is a rolling lilt. She'd managed to find plenty of her countrymen despite the fact she was half-a-world away from her country and yet, even though she heard that familiar accent more regularly than she could have hoped, Craig's voice was a comfort. Solace. Like a little piece of home. He sounded a lot like her father actually.

From his sprawl on the rest of the couch, Herne cracked both eyes before blinking and closing them again.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. How're things at the shop?" She hugged herself with her free arm, the shop was a joint venture between the two of them, Craig was providing the heavy lifting and day-to-day management, while Edana had supplied most of the funds from selling off bits of her parents' estate.

"Not good, that's why I called. I know you don't like talking on the phone. Could you come down here?"

The young woman sits forward, there's a strange note in Craig's voice, "Craig. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. But I want to go over some stuff with you."

Edana's brow furrows. The group was supposed to meet back here within the next several days, no real timeframe. They wouldn't miss her. She gathers up her stuff, locks down the safehouse and heads out to Everett.

Breathe in and breathe out, let the now slip away and find that deep place that would lead her back...

She feels the grass against her face and smells the fresh earth, real soil not the prepackaged filler used in the cities or corporate enclaves. Gellawyn finds each muscle and wills it to relax and settle deeper into the point halfway between sleep and awake.

Breathe in and breathe out, let yourself slip away and find the others from before...

She sees a face of a woman but her features are blurred, her voice seems to speak with several women all at once, her mouth rigid and wide as the voices screamed out with rage and defiance. She watches a single drop of blood fall and strike a vast ocean of tears, it's red diffusing into the water leaving a pink cloud where it landed. She sees HIM, his face firm and giving nothing away as he speaks.

"There is nothing here for you, seek your answers elsewhere."

She feels the release of the arrow as it slices through the air and pierces body after body, the weight and smell of the death that follows in its wake gags her and leaves her skin feeling grimy. As it plunges into the last chest she sees Kraxus's face, the acceptance and pain etched into his face as he wordlessly pleads with her to have chosen a different path.

"There she is, she's been lying there for hours. She's a freak like the other one..."

Her eyes snap open at the sound of one of the gangers loyal to HIM walking through the sanctuary speaking with two others. She counts the treads, listens for their breathing and the noise of their movement.

Two men, and one woman. One of the men is tense - his breathing is shallow and rapid, the woman is carrying a gun and at least two blades. The one that spoke is attracted to me or at least desires my body, there is a pause in his voice when he spoke about me.

She sits up and feels a small surge of satisfaction when they drop silent and their pace picks up. She rises to her feet, taking care to stretch and work the stiffness from her limbs. Looking around she marvels at the illusion the garden offered, You would never think you were in the burnt out husk of an apartment complex in one of the worse places in the Seattle. The landscape was designed to immerse you in the natural world with the lush growth all around. She knew it was one of the many ways HE comforted himself with his life as it was now. She moved through the trees and made her way to her private quarters. She pulled the cloth of the entrance aside and walked back into the present and all its trappings.

Looking over her gear, prepped for when they left to rejoin the group for the next step in their plans. Her hopes for actually striking a crippling blow to the Templars were twisted up with a man of the streets and the child-woman who hopefully was still the mistress of her whip and not the other way around. Strange bedfellows to be certain but you used the tools at hand. She sat and pulled up the copies of the data that had traded for illegal gear and began to review it again.

He sat at the center of the multi-tiered circle, rings upon rings upon rings carefully etched over hours into the hard concrete of the small room.

We are the Defenders of our people...

Slowly he brings his consciousness in line with the symbols engraved between the rings, and the familiar series of images arise. The Tir Nations, as seen from above, encompassing the whole of his people's heritage. Next, a stream of barely remembered faces, those of various elves he'd encountered in his past.

We are the instruments with which they will be delivered...

Three now, flickering, barely visible as always. He never could remember who, but the three faces seemed important. He'd always assumed they were from his past life, before he'd come to live with HIM. Next, Gellawyn. His heart ached as he peered at the familiar and comforting features, as well known to him as his own, never far from his thoughts.

She, the Sword. Graceful, elegant, precise, and lethal...

Last, HIS face, etched in every hard line and angle in his mind as an indelible portrait: arrogant, haughty, powerful beyond all belief...and possibly the only hope for them to maintain themselves against the constant storms of the modern world.

HE, the Arm, the Wielder. The conscious thought that directed the actions of all...

These were the things he fought for, the things he believed in, in the order of his loyalty. His nation, the other elves he'd encountered, a family he'd never known, her, and HIM.

And I, the Shield. The armor that protects the Wielder of the Sword. He who interposes his body between those he serves and danger...

For a moment Gellawyn's face superimposes over HIS, and he flinched away from the unconscious proposal of potential conflicting loyalties. When the moments came, as they often did, he would make the right decision. That was his heritage as a Steward of the Path. He guided, and in guiding, achieved the knowledge necessary to guide.

The bright sparks of emotion, layered through the years of his work here, dissipate as he allows his vision to focus once again in the physical world. They had other's to contact, and action to plan. The Templars, despite years of mistakes by overzealous members and ignorant clergy, would not topple themselves. The terrorists would not be allowed to plot against the Tirs while breath still stirred in his chest.

Edana

The drive across time is easy with the early morning traffic. Pulling into the parking garage around the corner from the shop, Herne growls quietly. Not the growl of eminent danger, but rather that something is watching you. Threats unknown, you pull on your coat as you step down from the SUV. Looking around, you don't see anything out of the ordinary but Herne stays close. The whip at your side, pulses warmly beneath the coat.

Had you picked that up, or left it at the safehouse?

A cold wind blows down the streets, funneled between taller buildings. Something was definitely wrong with the weather, but none of the storm spirits could express it to you. You know that thinking about winter in August was just so you wouldn't have to confront whatever was going on at the store. With resolute steps, you walk up the block and around the corner to the shop.

A flatbed tow truck is just pulling away from the store, with a run-down primer gray pickup loaded on it. Craig is standing out front, finishing talking with a Knight Errant officer. The officer catches your eye and gives you a cold stare before nodding to your partner and getting back in his patrolcar. Looking at the front of the shop, you can see the devastation. The pick-up truck had driven clean through the front of the store, stalling out when the back tires hit the brick front. Automotive fluids pool darkly on the floor, mixed with shattered remnants of radicals and talismans.

"They have security footage from the cameras. It shows you talking to a troll, the same troll who drove his truck into the shop. The sound on our cameras isn't that good, so we couldn't hear what you were talking about, but you gave him something. I tried to convince them that something is wrong with the recording--I was here the night that this all supposedly happened. You weren't here, I don't even know where you were. Do you have any idea who would do this? The troll wasn't here for any of our products, he just crashed into the shop, and left."

Gellawyn

The information traded to the General appears to be operational data and recon. Poring over the information, you find recordings from BattleTac gear, satellite imaging and the like. As far as you can tell, at the time that the Tsimshian unit is accused of committing the attacks in Salish-Sidhe territory, they were in fact deep inside Tsimshian assassinating one of their own. No news reports of the killing are ever made. You can see why the General couldn't give this reason to the Press and why he needed to be certain that no one else had a copy.

Red sat in the helicopter until all the other members of the team had disembarked. He watched them head out as a group, still not quite feeling part of the team. He imagined he never would. Their purview is that of magic and the physical world, his the matrix.

He wiped down his seat and pilot area before exiting. His paranoia was kicking in. This group was big league. A Yakuza Obiyan, a general, the secretive Templars. They played with a tough crowd.

He had called up his sedan when they were on final approach to the airport and engaged the autopilot. By the time he made it to the parking lot, it was waiting there for him. The ride to Becki's went quickly. He engaged the autopilot again and slipped into the matrix via him pocket secretary. The wireless up-link was severely limited in speed, but it all he needed for the moment. He pulled up a sprite and sent it off to check out his office at the Pizza Team Headquarters and Bob's Quick Stop.

A short time later he found himself at Becki's. He tried to put on a cheerful facade, but somehow she saw through it. He couldn't, wouldn't tell her what it was into and she knew well enough not to ask. She also knew how to change his disposition.

An hour later, they sat together on the floor, intertwined fiber-optic cables leading out of their heads, into a hub and from there into the tap in the wall. Their consciousnesses flying free across the matrix. They flew with no particular destination in mind. Not until he remembered to check up on his wayward sprite.

There isn't much time to think about the weather, or the consternation of the storm spirits... Edana's face clouds with indignation. "Wait... what?! Craig? You were here!? Are you okay? And... what?!" Arcs of energy luminesce in the shifting dark patches under Edana's abnormally pale skin. She grates her teeth and looks off down the road where the truck went.

Rage builds, her eyes sheet with elecricity, "That... that bastard! And after I tried to save his life!"

At her side Herne's hackles rise.

Track him. Get his scent off of the truck and FIND HIM.

For once Herne leaps to the task without a clever rejoinder. The whip, coiled in a dark twist under Edana's coat pulses with a heat only the Huntress feels.

Once she is certain that Craig is okay, she goes to look at the damage. "I don't believe this. What a mess." She bends to start cleaning things up and asks, "Is that feed from OUR cameras?!" She looks shocked, and a little ill.

Red might be able to help...

He looked up from his plate, across the somewhat rickety table to Gellawyn. They usually ate with the others. HE didn't share his private sanctums with anyone that they'd ever met.

"You're right, of course. Enough time has passed, everyone should have had time to deal with their private issues. We need to start working again."

He tapped the small stud on his commlink, numbers scrolling across the display as he selected both Edana and Red's numbers.

Time to get rolling again. Usual place, 3 hours.

_______________________________________________________________

3 Hours Later...
The safehouse was as he remembered, small, cramped, but unobtrusive and unlikely to been spotted casually. He reinstated the flow of pixie-like watchers acting as guarddogs for the grounds and keeping an eye on the landlord. He moved to check the interior as Gellawyn prowled around, checking the wards just as she checked the physical security. They would wait here, the others should arrive soon.

Red

You pull up a sub-window and query the Exchange for new messages. There are multiple open requests posted, most of which are tagged as in process. A private message is waiting for you, requesting a cup of black soykaf and a crate of non-synthetic olives delivered to 8317 NW 125th St. It should be delivered within four hours.

Red tags the waiting message as In Progress and sets an AR counter. Everything appearing good with his relay points, he returns his focus to Becki, both in the matrix and in the meat world.

A little over an hour later he leaves her sleeping. Himself refreshed, he heads out as his car pulls up. Soykaf, no problem. A case of pure olives, little more problematic.

He leans back in the seat and slips his consciousness into full VR and steps out into the matrix. He flies free and begins to scour public databases looking for food distributors between his current location and the target location. Once that data is gathered, he hits news and shadow databases looking for any current happenings at the target location. Wouldn't was to arrive at the wrong end of a stand-off with the Star or something.

Red considered finding an uplink and hacking the grocery delivery, but decided to make this drop himself, instead. He stops by Neal's Gourmet Emporium and picks up the case of olives, double-checking the label to make sure that he didn't get the pseudo-olive soy products. He places the small case of... What the hell are they? Vegetables? Garnish? No. Grown on olive trees. Must be a fruit... pickled fruits in the back seat and continues on his way.

He stops by the little hole-in-the-wall that is Heavenly Coffee... Though since they only serve soy-kaf, why isn't it called 'Heavenly Soy-Kaf'?... picking up one cup of steaming hot soy-kaf.

"Sweetener or creamer?" comes a monotone voice.

"What?" Red asks.

"Sweetener or creamer?" repeats the teen, obviously highly enthralled with her station in life.

"Can I get those on the side?" he retorts. Without another word between them she producs a cup (yes, the sof-kaf is steaming within) and three packages consisting of two types of assorted sweeteners and a non-dairy creamer power.

He continues the few remaining blocks to Pagliacci Pizza. Parking on the side-street, he retrieves the olives and the coffee, the three packets safely stowed in his pocket. Parcels in hand he walks to the noted destination.

Red

With the unseasonable chill, most of the patio seating is closed and the windows to the restaurant are fogged. Braving the cold, with a steaming hot pizza in front of him and a pitcher of beer sits a slightly built troll wearing a long coat over his t-shirt and a gray, rain-stained leather fedora. When you walk inside, the scents of tomatoes and Italian spices strikes you immediately.

"You're early." A voice calls from the back.

A tall, dark-skinned dwarf walks out from the kitchen. He stops and does a double take when he sees you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You aren't Bobby. Did he ask you to do his run for him, I know he said that something had come up and he would try to be out here as soon as he could. Oh well, you're here and have my olives. Is that my coffee too? Damn, boy, Bobby told you everything didn't he. Ok, well just set those down on the counter in the back. I should have a pizza ready in just a second. Since you're here, I'll give this one to you, and make another for my delivery."

Each time that it sounds like he may have had a question, instead of pausing to let you answer, the dwarf just keeps on talking.

"Well, here you go. Make sure to eat that soon or at the very least heat it proper-like when you get around to it. None of those damn nuke-hots, you hear me. It just makes the pizza turn to rot. Alright now, and let Bobby know I'll pay him next time he comes around. Now shoo, I've got work to do and that pizza's getting colder by the second."

Red opens his mouth several times to reply, never completing the sentence. When the dwarf finally pushes the pizza at him before turning back to his creation of pies, Red accepts the pizza and heads back out the door. Next time I hack the register though. Those olives cost 200 I wasn't planning to spend.

As he heads to the car, he updates the the request on the Exchange to completed. Once in the car, he takes out a slice of the pie as he puts the auto-pilot back into gear. Time to get that form-fit..

Team

It takes a few hours to straighten out various errands and loose ends, but you all arrive back at the safe house. It is as you left it, as cramped as a chic Tokyo apartment. The watchers in the main house report that the landlord has his hands full at the moment and is not paying attention to you.

Herne leaps in the doorway, seconds before Edana arrives herself. A storm rages beneath her skin, with thunderclouds rippling and lightning causing small spasms in the muscles. Despite the signs of her being upset, there are no tear lines on her cheeks. Her fingers trail gently over the leather of the whip as she speaks.

"We have a prob--I have a problem, which I think is all of our problem. Crash...he crashed his truck through the front of my store. Something happened to the cameras. He made it look like we were there talking a few days ago--while we were up North, not that it's an alibi I can tell the cops. The video footage looks like I paid him, like I was trying to get the insurance money."

Red raises an eye brow. Store? Crash? What the...? He takes a moment to mull it over before replying, "Who is this Crash? Why would he do this..? Or is more magic involved? Oh! And as to the video, let me see that.."

Kraxus turns away, obviously thinking hard as Edana describes the situation.

"Crash is a Matrix-wise troll we worked with briefly. He turned out to be a Templar operative. I didn't expect him to surface so soon. How likely is it that you're going to get charged with fraud or something similar, Edana?"

Edana shakes her head and answers Kraxus, "I don't really know. Pretty likely? I need to call my insurance company. I... maybe my uncle can help, grind the investigation to a halt or something..."

"As to the camera feed..." she worries her bottom lip with her teeth, "Red, what do you need to access what my cameras picked up? An address? An access code?"

Red smiles at Edana. "Don't need anything, but an address and access code would definitely speed up the process."

Once he has access, Red kicks back in his lawn chair recliner. His faux Fairlight plugged in, he steps out into the Matrix and in a thought steps into the node. He threads his analyze form, weaving in components to dissect the video and pull out the reality from underneath the illusion. His threading is a work of art. A masterpiece. For a moment he sits in awe of his own work. He used to being good, just not that good. But the task was draining. He could feel the effects of the strain on his meat body.

Turning back to the task at hand he finds the form unwieldy at first, far more than he is used to. Like using a Banshee to run down to the corner store for a jug of milk. The task nearly done, Red reaches down, drawing upon his years of experience, and a little Irish luck, and finishes the task....

Red

The modifications to the feed are masterful--obviously someone spent days if not weeks, parsing together frame by frame images, pulling Edana from other footage where she was in the store. A slight halo from bluescreening is all that let's you know that Crash was added to the picture. If the cops don't pay quite as much attention, she could easily be facing charges for insurance fraud.

As you look at the data feed streaming past you, you realize that you've seen the troll recently. Braving the cold, with a steaming hot pizza in front of him and a pitcher of beer sits a slightly built troll wearing a long coat over his t-shirt and a gray, rain-stained leather fedora.

Red bolts upright in the lawn chair, pulling the data cable from his skull. "You all aren't going to believe this, but I just saw this troll... I mean just...." He rambles for a moment, "And I wouldn't have even seen him except for this little detour-" He catches himself and comes back to task, "Anyway.. 200 nuyen well spent." Leaving the deck where it sits he grabs his pack with his pocket secretary and heads towards the door. Stopping he looks back, "Let's go. If we hurry he might still be in the area."

Heading towards the car he mumbles, "If nothing else, I can tap security video in the area and figure out what he was driving.." Turning to Edana, "Oh, by the way. I should be able to provide some details about the video that will prove the video a fake and should exonerate you.."

Catching the gist of Red's eagerness, Kraxus nods to Gellawyn and they turn as one for the door. During the ride back to the Italian restaurant, the elf speaks quietly but concisely, telling Red of their previous work with Crash, and his subsequent betrayal. He tells of leaving the troll for dead in the parking garage, and their flight after the "incident" with Ulik.

Occasionally, Kraxus will stop talking and seem to drift off. At each of these moments, Gellawyn seemed to instantly pick up the conversation without a break, filling in details and moving on through the story until Kraxus would come back to himself and start talking again.

In the Astral, each of these brakes is punctuated by the appearance of a spiritual entity of some time. Fuer'yon is the first to be called, sent to range ahead and search for astral observers or reinforcements. A moderately powerful Spirit of the Earth is next, instructed to Conceal the vehicle and it's occupants, and to Guard it's occupants from magical interferance. The next, both Kraxus and Gellawyn's features seem to blend and flow until they assume the shape of non-descript humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, about 5'10" tall, dressed in casual jacket-overcoat-boot combinations that were so popular in the cold winter months. The last few are simpy watchers to continue the watch rotation at the safe house, but with new orders to report back to Fuer'yon instead.

Edana hurries out the door a little shocked at the sudden turn of events and also at the group's eagerness to help her. A powerful lurching feeling twists in her belly as she considers facing Crash. A hunger.

Her eyes are obscured by sheeting electricity and stray hairs begin to lift, floating around her face. She touches the whip under her coat and a jolt of energy leaps between fingertips and braided leather. She sniffs suddenly and her eyes clear somewhat, she visibly tries to relax.

The huntress senses the spells and spirits summoned around her, hiding the vehicle, masking the elves. Herne, go. She projects the direction of the pizza parlor to her companion and with a growl he leaps away, Do not be seen. The Templars may be watching him. Drawing me, us, out.

"We could be walking into a trap, here. Let's be cautious. Red, what do you need to survey the cameras near the pizza parlor to find us a blind spot to park in. I don't like being faked on camera, but it'd be even worse to be spotted for real. And when you get a chance, could you get me a secure phone call. I'll give you the number."

Fuer'yon ranged far beyond the target in the blink of an eye, coming in towards the troll's last location from a direction opposite the rest. Wolves generally preferred to flush their prey into the waiting arms of the pack.

In the vehicle, Kraxus nods at Edana's words. "I wouldn't be surprised. Red, once we've parked, check out the area and see if there's an abnormal amount of rigger traffic going on. If not, make sure you've got eyes on us, and whatever backup we can muster. When we reach the area, if he's still there, I'll move forward to engage him. I want Gellawyn and you to hang back, just to make sure the initial strike doesn't net more then one of us."

After Kraxus & Gellawyn tell the tale, Red comment. "Left for dead? I might understand his desire for a little payback. Guess this time we need to make sure he doesn't make a second encore..?"

As Edana shifts the conversation to a tactical one, Red turns on grid guide pulls out his pocket secretary leans back in the seat and slips into the matrix via the phone connection. He moved slower than he liked, hindered by the speeds of the phone connection.

His first task was simple and involved no hacking, just a little routing. He had a number of phone relays at most of the major, as well as a few of the minor, shadow servers specializing in that. He patches her line into that connection, encrypting the call.

Once that is established, he chains his pocket secretary to the rigging controls of the sedan via a neon blue optic cable. He runs a check on the controls and prepares for what lies ahead. "A hard-line would make things much easier."

At Red's comment, Kraxus frowns in thought.

"Where's the closest location we could get you a hard line?"

"Four blocks from the Pizzaria. We'll be there in three minutes. You good to go on foot from there?"

Red parks down the street from the hole in the wall cyber-cafe. He knew the decks would be bottom of the line crap, but luckily the deck didn't matter to him. The hard line did.

As the team parted ways at the car, he turned up the collar of him jacket and crossed the street. Minutes later he slotted a certified cred stick and was pointed to deck #3. It was a ten-year old piece of Texas Instruments crap, but it was a deck. He connected his fiber optical cable to the deck for just a moment. He needed the network address information and user ids. That made it a lot easier to slip out of the cafe's node undetected.

With the information loaded into his brain, he disconnects the deck from the hard wire, then connects his own optical cable to a splitter. One end goes to the hard-line, the other to his pocket secretary.

The disinterested clerk at the desk registers the deck going off-line. Looking over at the clerk Red waves, "It crashed. Back up now." Seeing an active signal, the clerk goes back to surfing for porn.

Red then leans back in the cheap lawn chair, slips into VR and quickly establishes an encrypted channel out. He takes a moment to connect to his Kummushi drone via the pocket secretary. The small, insect drone slips to the edge of his pocket giving his a view of the physical surroundings.

Back in the virtual, Red strikes out to nearby nodes. Time to track down some cameras.

Edana

As Herne's senses wash over you, the raging storm within gains focus. No longer striking out in blind anger, the storm begins to build and edge ever closer to the point where it gains malevolent sentience. Sparks jump off your skin, static shocks against nearby metal. The supple leather of the whip channels energy away from you, easing the pain of the storm inside. A deep, endless pool.

The hound bounds forward through streets. He searches for any sign of Crash, the troll's scent still fresh in the mind of the Wild Hunt. Where there was one dog, ten now run as like calls to like. Beneath their feet, wild earth swells from the urban decay.

Kraxus

You divide the world into clear lines, segmenting a part of your perceptions for Fuer'yon the same as you would for a computer display. The connection to your ally shows the calling. Rumors of the Wild Hunt called forth by the Sidhe in defense of the Tir people or to destroy an enemy ripple through your mind. Fuer'yon keeps his distance from the pack, not wanting his own scent to get caught by them.

Red

A digital overlay of the area springs forth before you. Satellite overlays give you a bird's eye perspective of the streets. Businesses populate themselves and you filter the results, fading options that are useless to you, highlighting possibilities. Slowly the list compiles and you find what you are looking for.

O'Brien's Pub has several cameras watching over patio seating and cameras to watch their delivery entrance. With the target in mind, you focus your efforts and slam into the firewalls protecting its virtual presence. Cascading viral code worms through open ports forcing the system to reach out for a security update. Riding the signal into the node, you find yourself inside.

Cameras watching the patio have a broad enough scope to see across the street where the slim troll is sitting. He's leaning back onto another table, beer in hand. The pizza box closed and pushed aside.

Mages
Blood passes across the link as the Wild Hunt descends upon their first victim, a tall muscular creature, androgenous with wings of fire. The angelic being which stood behind Crash is borne to the ground. Gouts of silver fire bleed from each wound.

Red floats in the blackness, a single holo-display floating in his line of sight. He positions the crawler drone's head to provide a clear view of the physical surroundings of his body.

He moves the display to the side then pokes a hole in the darkness with his finger, then spreads it apart with the index finger from both hands. The image from the satellite clears and he sees an overview of the area, six blocks square. Reaching out with his right hand he begins weaving a complex form, faster and faster until it takes the shape of a mythical brownie. The brownie jumps into the satellite display, pulling out a paint brush and begins painting through the holo-display, virtual pain slinging in all directions. He grays out areas lacking video surveillance and washes in blue video devices connected to unknown sources.

Then he spies O'Brien's Pub. He smiles as the forms of his hacking tools materialize. He releases an onslaught of probes taking the form of wave and wave of bumble-bees. The bees swarms the pub's firewall for a mere moment before all fade away except one. The bee slips into a small gap in the firewall and begins growing, enlarging the gap. Red flicks the fingers on his left hand and a gartner snake slips out of the ethereal blackness of the matrix. Its tail wisks backwards towards the firewall and beyond. In another moment, its eyes become projectors, displaying the video feeds from the pub's security cameras.

<<@Team [Red] I have eyes on the target. Man he's an ugly bastard.>>