Vertigo looks from Billy to the Johnson as their exchange plays out.

Better text Geoffrey with our current time frame, and see if his statue might still be a hot item in 6 days or so...

She waits to start the text until their current meet is done...

Ammon sits at the table, casually watching the various people near the table as much as the Johnson himself while sustaining his physical mask spell. Looks like a bargain has been struck.... Now to pull the devil out of the details.

September 7th, 2074

The meet had gone fairly well, and the Johnson had handed over the 25k in 5k credsticks up front without much more complaint. He did apologize over the last 200 , but considering the fee increase you'd negotiated, it seemed negligible. The optic chip he'd given you was the more important item.

Spec's for new commlink hardware from a company called G.T.I. (Global Technologies Incorporated) outlined a subscription subsystem capable of handling four times as many subscriptions as the standard commlink. A fine web of molecule-wide superconducting filaments was responsible for the upgrade. With high quality base hardware included, the commlink claimed to be able to subscribe to as many as 24 different devices with full signal capacity. The chip also came with a quick portfolio on G.T.I. An Atlanta based tech firm, the company was barely B rated. They were in town already, with rooms at the Aerodrome Hilton, a 5 star affair in southern Seattle that boasted it's own small fleet of VTOL ready craft capable for ferrying customer's anywhere around town quickly, avoiding traffic and the like all for a reasonable fee.

Crawling with drones, the warehouse seemed as safe and secure as was possible for such a location. With two more days until the tradeshow, it was definitely time to get cracking. The day had dawned misty and fog-ridden, as was typical for the Tacoma docks, and you can hear the occasional sound of machinery or cargo crates being moved across the piers some distance away.

the morning haze filtering through the fog woke Atlas later than usual but still early enough to think of himself a cake covered in a frosting of morning dew, standing motionless in the growing light hidden by the armor of still morning air, a simple prayer to the object of his affection. hope you slept well my princess... hand stands, situps, and leverage...then its time for breakfast...climbing down from the roof he appears more like a child climbing a tree than half a ton of Paranoia.
"Oi Sleepyheads, Ooo wants what fer breakfast?

"Anything's fine." Billy's got on a pair of black sweatpants, once rolled and stuffed in his duffel. Aside from that particular piece of synthcotton clothing, all he seems to be wearing is a light sheen of sweat; Atlas doesn't know how long the elf's been at it, but he's in mid-workout when the big troll clambers down from his rooftop perch. It's a distinctive style, even to those without much hand to hand experience or martial arts know-how. Shen's routine brings to mind some guy from about a hundred years ago, named Bruce.

He's impressively built when the suit -- wrinkle resistant and wadded up as a makeshift pillow overnight -- isn't hiding it. Muscular, lean, elf-hairless, and surprisingly light on scars for someone in the business. Throughout the routine, out of respect for his sleeping (or just drowsy) coworkers, Billy keeps himself to just quiet grunts of exertion rather than his usual shouts and cat-wailing cries.

"I'm not," stutter-step forward, low kick, backfist, backfist, right knife-hand that flows into a spinning straight-kick. "...a very picky eater."

September 5th, 2074

When the meet was over, Ammon requested one of the credsticks to buy binding materials. Assuming that is an acceptable use of part of the expense money, he returns to his doss for the night.

September 6th, 2074

Early the next morning, he visits Daniel Tall-Trees to acquire the remaining binding materials he needs. Having known Daniel for several years, he knows the gentle man can be found in his greenhouse by 6am. He then spends all day summoning and binding finally finishing late in the night.

September 7th, 2074

Ammon returns to the warehouse mid-morning, having slept in late after a hard day of wrestling with spirits in the day before. When he arrives, he immediately begins looking over the office areas to plan the warding ritual. He seeks out Vertigo and Billy to assist him in establishing a ward. The three of them working together should be able to cover nearly triple the area that Ammon could do alone.

As he approaches, Billy just gives Ammon a little nod -- a 'go ahead and talk' gesture, to show that he's listening despite not stopping -- and hears him out.

"Good idea." Another combo erupts from the lanky elf without warning, the half dozen hand strikes carrying him three steps away. "Great idea, in fact. But no can do, chief."

He kicks backwards, leg seeming impossibly long, then shifts momentum through a series of blocks and counters that carry him close enough to Ammon for the conversation to continue. Aware of his team-mate's proximity, Shen gives the strikes a break for a minute, and concentrates on defense. The footwork is right out of American boxing, the bob and weave would look as at home in a ring as in some Hong Kong action flick.

"Don't know how, and don't think I can." His hands come up to block imaginary attacks only he can see, head always moving, entire body always bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You've got to be able to see spirits for that stuff, don't you?"

Billy's not sure about that part, mind you, but it's the assumption he's made. He knows other Awakened soldiers, even other Adepts, have been called to assist the Incense Master in such endeavors before. He also knows he hasn't even gotten that same call.

"I can watch over you guys while you do it, though, if ya want." His hands are a blur again, loosing a flurry of strikes that seem to be a random mixture of fists, palm strikes, and straight-finger knife hands. The insufferable punk is still covered in that light sheen of sweat, but doesn't even have the decency to be breathing hard.

"But I don't think I can help out directly."

Ammon takes in the new with a slight frown, "Ah.. I had taken this for granted. I'm used to my brother helping in these matters. But it is good to know so that I don't take this for granted when lives hang in the balance."

With that his turns on his PAN and begins pulling down calculations to make the wards required.

Vertigo wanders out of the back of the warehouse wearing a pair of loose fitting black pants and a light blue tank top. Her hair is wet and she is drying the water out of her ears with a towel.

"Man that shower is filthy, but I guess it'll have to do!"

She yells to Atlas, "Any chance I could get some pancakes?" before greeting Billy and Ammon.

"I'm in the same boat as Billy. I don't have "the Sight" as my Abuelita used to call it. I watched her create wards when I was little, but I've never been able to. Sorry."

She throws her towel into a heap of stuff near her sleeping bag, and looks Billy up and down a few times before wandering over to where Atlas is cooking.

"Might be able to help Widget mock up the 'principle' though. And while we're on the subject, maybe we should ask her about securing all our personal comms so we can network our PANs?"

She looks around to see if Widget is awake yet...

A low and shaky groan emerges from the tent crawling with small drones, as Widget drags her semi-conscious body through the tent flap. "Why does morning come so early...." She brushes a few drones aside, indignant beeps and tones from the small machines, pausing she looks down at them. "Coffee, mama needs coffee." Moving as a single mass the drones swarm together and make their way across the open space, making a bee line for the "ktichen" area.

She makes her way towards the others while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Yah I can do that security thing with your links but I was doing some brainstorming last night about the whole job. We need to know more about the set up of the commlink at the show. My idea is to swap the guts of the proto-type with something that runs a toaster and leave some friends behind to make sure any last minute tests they do still give them the green light but I need to know how they're set up. Are they running through one central host......" She watches Billy do his kung fu moves, her speech trailing off. "Boy you are making me tired just watching you, anyway I was planning on doing some searches this morning to find out more about the company and their set up."

an empty bottle of liquor sitting precariously on the end of the counter, a freshly opened bottle finding its way into an open hand every once in a while, and being deposited on the counter missing some of its fluid....dancing to the rhythm of Billy's workout as if it were music that made dancing possible, making a big mess of the kitchen his dexterous fingers dancing around ingredients that might or might not be something edible... lining up the plethora of field rations powdered, dried, and mixed along with other non perishables as he removes them from a duffle bag that uncannily looks like the one he had yesterday...still wearing the same clothes he was yesterday...and the day before that...counting out five on one hand wiggling his left over finger with a confused look on his face... "uuuuuuuuuuh...Smurfy? Does it have to be pancakes or can it just look like one? you know...flat...fleshy...sorta roundish... not looking at Billy, "Hey Pretty pointy looks like we might should cross gloves sometime...all friendly like you know, wouldn't wanna hurt ya none..." smelling the contents of sealed packages and laying them out next to a few steaming cups that might possibly hold something that might be coffee...perhaps...

Billy flashes a grin -- it's impossible to tell if it's for Vertigo, Widget, or Atlas -- but doesn't answer to anyone right away. Now it's time to get out of breath a little. The shower was free, most of his imaginary foes were sprawled out and groaning on the floor nursing imaginary broken bones, and the workout had gotten his blood up enough that he felt right. His pulse was up and he knew he was about to hit the last wall between sleep and magic, was about to shatter the last barrier that was, daily, between him and all his quickness.

He spins into a low kick that would blow out any knee it connected with. A left-right combo finally breaks through Billy's internal barriers, and the hand strikes continue with the full speed of his Adept powers behind them at last. His arms blur, fists snapping out, rechambering, lashing out again, darting quick as striking serpents -- no, quicker -- as the magic fills him. His feet work the entire time, keeping him moving a step or two with every strike, bobbing and weaving and blowing past imagined defenses even as he dodges and skirts away from imagined counterattacks.

And then it's over, with a quick sideways stutter-step that builds force and one last fist punching out and held rock-solid on the follow through, the elf's entire long body extended into it. He holds the pose for a few seconds, then lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

"Whew. That's the stuff." Billy's chest rises and falls a little quicker, now. Finally. The pleasant tiredness doesn't dampen his spirits any, though, and he scrapes up a dazzling smile and a cocky wink for his captive audience, "And it's not supposed to make you tired, Widget. It's supposed to wake you up. Kick start the metabolism, y'know?"

He pads barefoot over towards his personal little self-claimed corner of warehouse, grabbing his towel and his ever-present suit. "And I'll have to take you up on it sometime, Atlas. Maybe tomorrow."

The grin flashes again, even as he's crossing the warehouse floor towards the recently vacated shower, "And I'll be careful not to damage you so bad you can't still muscle up for us. Jesus, Zeus, and Buddha know it ain't your cooking your gettin' a share of the money for."

The swarm of drones gently slide a cup of coffee across the floor till it bumps Widget's foot. As she speaks, she reaches down and grabs the mug pausing to pat the small machines who hum with pleasure at the gesture. "So which one of you can get inside the show and take a look around? It would be great if you knew something about machines to start with but if not, then the ability to snap pics or movies will do as well."

Marveling at the Widget's tiny servants, Vertigo answers.

"I can get in, probably. And I know a thing or two about elecronics, and cameras, and security proceedures for that matter. Stealing things is kind of my specialty..." She gives a sheepish smile. "But it might be a good idea to approach it from a few angles. Maybe Billy could spoof his way in posing as a business man, or Ammon and Hiver could do some astral scouting."

She pauses for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought.

"Of coarse, there's also the hotel or the air taxi. Would it be easier to make the switch en route, or maybe even before the developers head to the con?"

Ah an Idea perhaps I should express your opinionsjuggling boxes of synthetic instant foodstuffs over in the kitchen no I think they will do just fine without our help aligning plates on the counter ready to accept the feast of a thousand beasts about to be used for breakfast, I do not he speaks with thought and intelligence, not the childish demeanor he usually portrays, perhaps he is occupied enough with his actions that he cannot keep up the facade, or perhaps this is the facade...
"Why don't you just make the thing sick? infect it from the audience? they are planning on linking to all the users in the sudience anyway. should be easy for yall to give it a cold" a dull muffled wet slapping emeinates from the floor as he is seen hopping on one foot toward the source of heat complete with boiling water catching the little to him boxes one by one on his way...
mixing in a different bowl from a different box the powdered contents of the scary mystery boxes dumping some of the contents in his mouth directly from the box as he finishes making breakfast. the childish grin and toothy mouth return as he spins around to address the group in his token loud booming voice most would confuse for an 'outside' volume "and now I present WAFFLECAKES!" the powdered contents of the boxes apparehently instant foodmix for Biscuits, Cornbread, Cinnamon rolls minus the frosting, waffles and french toast, and a plate of what looks like pancakes with a little sign on top 'not yours' that has been crafted into looking like little woodland creatures.... "Bruce pointy don't get non though." winking toward billy, a half full pot of the leftover mix uncooked and all mixed together sitting with a little sign hanging off the side 'mine'

"Wow. Like carbs much?" Billy's back in his carelessy rumpled suit, towel and sweatpants wadded up in one hand, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and hooked by the first two fingers of the other hand. He saunters out from the washroom, leaning over to peer down at the scattered boxes (and scattered contents) in the cooking area. "I'm calling dibs on fixing dinner. Officially."

He drapes his jacket over the back of a chair and collapses his lanky form into it, fiddling with his shoelaces. Apparently he was able to catch at least the tail-end of the conversation, somewhere between drying off and getting dressed. "And we can't just broadcast a virus into the thing during the demo, 'cause that would break it an' piss everybody off. If we piss 'em off, they'll clam up and it'll be tougher to steal. If we break it, it won't be worth stealin' anyhow."

He pats himself down, finding his often-crumpled softpack and fishing himself out a breakfast smoke. "We're not just getting paid to make 'em look bad, we're getting paid to get a whole, working, prototype back into Mister Johnson's grubby paws."

"If someone can do some digging and find out who's giving the presentation, and do some more digging and get a backstage pass to the expo, I can probably figure out a way to bump into 'em at the show and make the swap. Or, heck, find out where they're keeping the prototype the night before and filch it at a hotel lobby or whatever. Who knows." He takes a drag on his morning nic-stick, and shrugs. "Unless they're carrying it around in some big secure briefcase and all that, in which case I'm all out of ideas. But I've swiped commlinks out of pockets before. It's doable, if I can get in close when they're not bein' paranoid."

Vertigo eyes one of Atlas's "wafflecakes" suspiciously trying to hide a look of distaste with a forced smile. "Uh...thanks Big Guy...?"

She nods to Billy. "I have a top notch counterfeiter that could probably fake a pass to the con, but he'd need an image or something to go off of. I might have him whip me up a new identity as well, and see if I can't infiltrate that hotel to see what I can see."

She turns to Ammon. "Of coarse the greatest threat to me would be the hotel's magical security. That might limit my ability to mask myself or go invisible. Any chance you could scout it for me on the astral before I try to go in?".

As she talks, she snatches up her comm and starts texting...
<<@Mr.Choi: I have a friend in need of a new hat. Might need a new one myself. China Palace Restaurant as usual? This time I'm paying...>>

Finishing her text, she hits send and then pauses. She turns to Widget holding out the comm. "Would you mind giving this a once over?"

"OH no Smurfy, this one is yours...Carbs pointy? sliding the plate of little woodland looking pancakes with the 'not yours' sign on top ...see? pancakes!...ish
you could call him you know, he probably has some employees at the con already "this one is my favorite, he's a bunny! chirp chirp." looking a bit distracted while wiggling his nose as he attempts to mock the barking sound of a homicidal Monty python bunny rabbit... the aura of extreme confidence and invincibility that he normally exudes diminishes slightly only to be replaced with a sense of lonliness and Isolation, it looks similar to the feeling that a technomancer would be submersed in if severed from the matrix...for a time...
"I might could know someone...he'd know peoples we kin um...replace? at the party, they'd have legit badges and all that."

With a fresh croissant in hand and the morning screamsheets downloaded to his commlink, Hiver rejoins the team in the warehouse. He had slipped out early to get across town to one of the few French bakeries that worked in synthetics and was within his budget. On the way he pulled down information about current events from around the world. The bodyguard preferred to keep appraised of world events, often reading about events from news sources within the country and without to contrast the opinions.

He takes a few looks at the large portions of breakfast being served and was glad that he had an excuse in hand for avoiding what was being served. Breakfast is a small affair to get the body started, where as lunch should be what carries you through your day.

"There are a few articles in the technology section talking about the upcoming displays. It's mostly speculatory and corp hype supporting products that were announced months ago, but at least there is external confirmation that the event is in fact happening.

"If you do in fact have access to badges, then I think that a small contingent should be on site to take a look around and perhaps peruse any items we may still need. That would provide sufficient cover for our later presence there during the demonstration. My presence will need to be limited unless we are able to find an attendant who would rate for a personal guard. The various armaments that I have would upset the local security forces, I fear."

Looking at the concoction being created by the team's largest member Ammon thinks, Glad I ate at home before I returned here,

In response to Vertigo, "I will absolutely scout out whatever area we decide to target.". As they begin talking he shifts his senses to the astral to insure they have not already attracted the attention of any astral beings.

As the other team members begin to filter around and prepare their morning rituals, Ammon instead looks to the warding of the office areas. The rituals take 6 hours carrying him into mid afternoon before he is done. At that time he looks to Widget and her tent, "I have warded the office areas, would you like to move inside?"
------
The idea of replacing people is one that stuck with Ammon during the day. "I like that idea, but how about reporters? They are going to be naturally noisy, we could have spells in place without raising immediate alarms, so on and so on..." A smile forms across his face as he explores the idea. "Yea, I really like the reporter idea..."

After listening the deliberation for another few minutes, Vertigo recaps the plan.

"Alright then. We've got four days before the demo.

First things first- Widget will start building the mock up and prepairing her little...uh...friends?...to do their part when the time comes. I assume that will take some doing right? In the meantime we'll all gather intel, and let her know if there's anything we need her to hack. Sometime between now and the when we make our actual move, she'll take a look at all our comms and make sure our communications are secure and protected.

As for gaining entry into the convention, lets work it from a couple angles:

Atlas will contact his people and see if they can provide us with a pass or two to the con, or identify someone else we can replace.

Hiver probably has a contact or two in the bodyguard business, right? He can start asking around and see what personal security firms are working the con and if theres any way for us to get legitimate work.

Billy will hit up his social network and figure out if anybody knows anybody else whos attending the con. Maybe a reporter, as has been suggested, or a corp exec or whatever. If any such person can be identified, maybe Billy can approach them about personal security and refer them to our service.

Ammon and I will head to the hotel and do a quick probe of their security. We'll mask ourselves as a Japanese couple or something and try to slip in past the lobby. We'll see if they use meta-human or drone cleaning services and take some pictures. Ammon can scan the astral to see what kind of magical security we can expect.

I'll set up a meet with my counterfeiter for 5:00 P.M. tonight. He works out of a restaurant in the international district called "The China Palace". Anybody who thinks they might need a new ID to do their thing can meet us there, otherwise we can regroup here afterwards.

Any other thoughts?"

She scans the group....

Shen sits, fork in hand and poking -- apprehensively -- at the sugary, floury, soymealy, syrupy concoction sprawled out on his plate. He has the distinct impression, and not for the first time in the last couple days, that his Red Pole must hate him very badly to have given him this job. This 'Shadowrunner' nonsense seems terribly complicated compared to his usual cut-and-dried orders. He shrugs it off.

"Sounds fine with me." Billy sticks his fork into the mass of would-be breakfast and scoots his plate a few inches towards the center of the table. He stands up, hands jamming into his pockets. "Guess I'll go make some calls."

"It feels as if you have laid out the course of action, very smoothly. I shall contact the necessary people."

With a nod, Hiver rises from the group and walks across the warehouse where the others would not be disturbed by him talking.

Ammon looks to Vertigo, "First pass I think should be from full astral. Get a lay of the land. Then we can make a second pass in the physical world. Are we establishing these fake IDs in order to support a plan to get into the Expo as security forces?"

slinking as stealthfully as a pregant waterbuffalo covered in bells square dancing in a library the big softy makes his way over to Vertigo trying to talk low so as to not disturb the others... "um, smurfy...can you send a message fer me? I wrote it down...yes don't be surprised I can read. I want to see if she can get her dad to tell us about any competitors of his that are gonna be attendin the schindig...sos we can get real ID's. and maybe not have ta fake em." holding out a less than tidy piece of packing material toward her with the inscription.
need paspert 4 tha uvent plez giv bad gys stuf sew we kan go insted
noticing the look on her face he pulls it back and looks at the writing...
"what...I mispell somethin? well, can you word it right for me?"

Widget nods as she sips the coffee. "Ok I will be over by my tent pretty much out of it for awhile but feel free to talk to any of my little friends here and I'll answer as soon as I can." She walks a distance back to her small campsite.

Widget sits down on the floor with her back leaning against the support pole for the tent She takes a few sips of coffee before setting it down on the floor. She breathes deeply and opens her mind to the AR world all around her.

At once she is floating in a void of light and sounds. She quickly opens her soul to the pulse, the beating of the machines all around that she feels just beneath her own heart. She sings out a note that carries across three tones, it echoes out around her and she soon hears an answering note. She struggles for a brief note to harmonize to the note but quickly finds the key its in.

When the note dies off a small swirling ball of light and sound forms in her hands. She soothes the small sprite as she whispers her needs to it. She lets it go and off it flies out into the void. Quickly she connects her mind to a small drone next to her body. Coming out of the small speakers her voice sounds tiny and hollow. "We should have some answers in a bit about the show and the company we're interested in." She leaves the link open in case someone needs to reach her.

Gathering her focus once again she creates an equation in the air with her fingers and it slowly bleeds into the arrows around her. Very soon a swirling mass of numbers and symbols springs up around her. She quickly struggles to solve the formulas as they shift and twist around her head. With a final flurry of motion she solves the last string and it settles into a dense cluster in her hand.

Now for the real work.....

"I would be glad to help you big guy...". Vertigo takes the note and begins keying in the message on her comm. She turns to Ammon.

"I'll grab my camera and some other surveillance gear and we can roll whenever you're ready."

As of yet unneeded, Hiver moves past the "friends" that Widget had left around her. He kneels down next to her body and affixes a bio-monitor to her fragile form.

It takes a few seconds for her vitals to synch up with his internal systems. Taking up a protective position near her tent, the bodyguard looks over the rest of the team. His attitude slides from the open faced companion to a cold, professional demeanor. While the rest of the team was not an immediate threat, it becomes obvious that any actions they take will be graded in levels of threat towards his client.

"I will remain here unless I am needed."

Billy leans against the wall outside, letting the stain-protected fibers of his drab longcoat protect the more vivid colors of the suit he wears beneath it. His commlink is in his hand, his earbud is tucked into place, and -- sporadically, when he's not chatting -- a mint-smelling cigarette is between his lips.

He doubts he's got any ins on this one. He's not sure what he's doing on this one. Everyone seems to think he's here as a talker, some sort of people-person with a friend in every corner of the Sprawl. Like it's his job to know everyone, open every door with a smile and a conspirational wink. Shen has no idea what his Red Pole told this Lucky guy, but he might as well play along; so he stands outside and has friendly, animated, conversations on his commphone for a while.

First, he busts his brother's balls. They had Mikey working thirds lately, some bigwig executive type finally figured out that a good bit of Seattle's organized crime happens under cover of darkness, so that's what shift they had most of their detectives working. Billy gleefully autodialed right at ten am, that being the case, knowing his older brother would be about an hour into good sleep. Hilarity ensued, and threats of arrest were made. Once the man stopped bitching him out, the two shared a good half hour griping session about how stupid their current assignments were. Michael got the last laugh, of course, simply by refusing to tell Billy what he'd done to piss off their Red Pole and get sent on this until-further-notice Shadowrunning gig.

Time flies, phone bills grow, and Shen's up to his fourth spearmint cig by the time he decides to go ahead and give his Fixer a ring. Maybe one of Jesse's computer geeks would be hitting the expo, and Billy's little gang could get in as his security team or something. It was worth a shot, right?

From the alley Vertigo could see the Aerodrome Hilton just down the street. Her usual attire of jeans, a black tank top and a leather racing jacket had been replaced with a drab slate-grey dress suit that screamed "middle management" and "please don't take any note of me". It fit in just about anywhere in the corporate sphere, but didn't draw the kind of attention a high-level exec would.

She watched the sky for a few minutes as the hotel's air taxis zipped around overhead. The sleek VTOL crafts shuttled the corporate elite around in a different world. It was a world of serious business meetings, dinners at fancy restaurants and luxurious shopping sprees. A whole world away she hid in a filthy alley, the very criminal element they were avoiding, but not for long...

Ducking back into the alley, she drew in a long slow breath and focused on an image she held in her mind. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes as her features were transformed into those of a unassuming young Japanese woman that could easily pass for a personal assistant or an accountant. In an instant she became just another nameless, grey-clad wage slave. Her camera added a charming tourist touch to the disguise.

My first business trip to America... she thought with a wry grin. She glanced over at Ammon, "How do I look?"

Checking her camera one last time, she exited at the opposite end of the alley and flagged down a taxi, the utterly mundane kind that just drove on the ground.

The taxi driver, a tired looking dwarf with dark hair, seems to take no real notice of you.

"ã?©ã?“ã?§è¡Œã??ã?Ÿã?„ã?¨æ€?ã?†ã?‹ã€‚" (Where to, lady?)

The trip to the Hilton is short and uneventful, and the most emotion you see the dwarf muster is a gruff thanks when you tip him.

The doorman offers a polite smile, swinging open the wood edged glass doors of the 5 star hotel. His attention shifts immediately to the next patron through the doors, and it seems obvious he senses nothing out of place.

The lobby is a quiet but stylish space, with several small areas denoted by groups of comfortable looking chairs and sofas clustered around a small piece of modern sculpture. The security is unobtrusive but present, with no less then three armed people at various locations around the lobby, with one of them being the concierge. Your experience tells you that the establishment is eager to avoid bloodshed, so the guards are probably armed with nothing more dangerous then gel rounds. However, you also know that in order to guarantee security, there's probably a second group of more heavily armed individuals waiting in a room attached to the cameras you see discretely placed around the lobby.

Ammon rode downtown with Vertigo to the parking garage and found an out of the way place to park the bike. Looking around to insure that it was clear then back to her he said, "I'll be right back." He then slouched over on his bike and slipped into the astral. His destination is the Aerodrome Hilton, just down the street. Once there, a quick sweep around the building to check out the barriers and the like. So sense finding out where the magical security is the hard way...

After returning to his body and before taking off his helmet, Ammon took a moment to wash himself in mana and mask his appearance. 'Joe' human in a nice suit.

He followed Vertigo into the alley and out of sight from prying eyes (and cameras). Watching her change her appearance, he smiled. She will make a good partner..

Taking her queue, he takes a moment to change the appearance of his spell to complement hers. "Wonderful my dear. Shall we play tourist?"

As they pass through into the hotel, Ammon pulls Vertigo close, giggling with her as they pass. His intent is to provide the appearance of tourists oblivious to everyone around them as they walk into the hotel. He is however taking note of the security as they proceed in.

Almost instinctually Vertigo notes the locations of cameras, security personel, access points, etc and begins to develop a mental layout of the lobby.

She giggles as Ammon pulls her close and wispers to him, "Pose with your back to security..." and starts taking a few shots of her supposed love interest.

Maybe we should try to take an elevator up as high as it will let us without passkeys...

September 8th, 2074

The touristy Japanese couple chatted around the lobby and snapped pictures of the "ritzy American hotel", taking the elevator as high as the 34th floor before needing a passcode to proceed. A small ARO in the elevator will inform the passengers that should they be interested, small VTOL craft on the roof pad (also accessible with the appropriate passcode) was available for trips to nearly anywhere in Seattle, including the nearby Omnidrone Theater, Entertainment Center and Conference Hall for a reasonable fee, easily added to the cost of their room.

September 9th, 2074

The day the trade shows begin dawns surprising bright and cheerful for a Seattle fall. The warehouse is busy, even early in the morning, with drones moving through the area, kata's being practiced, and food and gear being prepped and consumed. The team from GTI will probably already be at the tradeshow this morning, chatting up other vendors and prepping their product for various small floorshows. Tomorrow at 2:00pm was the big presentation. Sometime between now and then, the team would simply have to switch out their prototype with the sprite-possessed copy Widget had whipped up.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Ammon was happy with the recon he performed with Vertigo. She is a good operative and responds well to changing situations.

With the ward in place, he is left with a bit of free time over those two days to begin thinking through plans. In side conversations with his brother, he became aware that Atreus is also somehow involved in an operation centering around the Expo. I wonder how many teams have operations going on there? This could get to be a pretty crowded place with runners... Now how can I turn that to our advantage?

Stretching the kinks out of her back from the extended VR session form the other day, Widget looks over her information request from the team.

Hotel information mostly.....back in I go.

She waves to Hiver to motion him over. When he gets close enough to talk wihout having to raise her voice she speaks.

"I'm going back under, would you mind keeping an eye out on me. This time I'll actually be hacking so I would really love to have someone make sure I don't bleed from my ears or something." She waits to make sure he's free to body-sit for her.

Widget - With the affirmative from the literal "body" guard, you slip back under and head for the hotel.

In a somewhat cliched move, the node for the hotel looks exactly like the hotel in reality, with a number of ARO's advertising rates and services tastefully surrounding the virtual space.

You probe, test, and touch lightly, moving around the host and trying from a dozen different angles, checking out cracks in the walls that represent back doors and various other attempts to crack the system. Several hours later, a veritable eternity from VR perspectives, you find something. A seam in a wall, representing two sections of the security system where a patch or upgrade was installed and didn't mesh quite as well as hoped with the existing system. With less then a whisper, you're through and into the host.

You find yourself in what looks like a back hallway, with several doors marked "Employees Only", and a number of warning signs indicating that legitimate visitors should head back out to the lobby.

Hiver again takes his place near Widget. He kneels down over her small body to place the biomonitor, giving her a small smile as she drifts off into VR. Rising back to his feet, he waits...

Years of training in the service of the wealthiest families of France had taught him patience. The concept of calm alertness seemed to contradict itself to so many, but the Gallic people had separations ingrained culturally down through the ages. Bodyguards do not become distracted by the people they guard, they do not date or befriend them. Les amis were kept in the personal spheres, far removed from the professional duties.

The one time, Hiver broke that rule the results had been tragic. It's impossible to guard someone while you are sleeping with them. Complications arise. Now, three years later Amandine was still dead and Hiver was on the otherside of the world. Winter had been her favorite season...

Reaching into the air and withdrawing a stream of data that shapes intself into a hotel manager's name badge, Widget affixes it to her chest and her icon ripples changing to match the dominant iconography of the system. She now looks like the manager, with a smile she takes a moment and looks around to get her bearings.

September 9th, 2074 07:12am

A figure steps out from around a corner in the hotel hallway as a group of businessmen step out of their room. Quiet for all of his large size, the orc-built-more-like-a-troll steps up behind them as they laugh and joke, one of them fiddling with the lock for a moment before turning to go. He gasps as he almost bumps into Atlas, and the others turn to look and the laughter quickly dies off. Like a released coil spring, he collides with the group, massive fists lashing out and quickly laying the businessmen out cold in the hallway. Behind him, several other figures step quickly into the hall. One, an elf in a slightly rumpled suit with a cigarette dangling from his mouth complains quietly as they drag the unconscious sararimen back into their room.

“I could have taken those guys faster…�

“Can’t have yous messin’ yer suit there, Pointy.� The troll-sized orc replied good naturedly.

A slim Latina in a close cut Japanese-style business suit riffles quickly through the pockets, retrieving the room keys and commlinks. “Widget hun? We got ‘em, hooking them up now.� A few seconds later the moderate security on the commlinks is smashed, and the descriptions and bio-signs are quickly modified to match those of the odd group. While the ‘links are being hacked, the third figure looks up from beside one of the bodies.

“Jesus, Atlas, this one’s got broken ribs, and that one’s arm has some sort of serious compound fracture. I thought you were just going to knock them out?� As he speaks, he glances at the bodies in turn, frowning and concentrating for several long moments. The wounds of the businessmen begin to heal, bones pulling back into place and re-knitting. None of them would suffer anything more serious than a few bruises by the time they woke up.

“What ken I say, Other Pointy? They’s squishy.� A toothy grin accompanies the statement.

“Alright, girls and boys, you’re ready to roll.� The voice of the young girl, slightly tinny, seems to emanate from nowhere, but it truth was piping through the tiny RFID tags stuffed with equipment that Widget had hid on them before they left. At her word, the group, excluding Atlas, all head for the door and out into the hallway. The orc watches them go before heading out of the room and turning in the other direction, toward the fire stairs.

The air taxi flight is only sparsely populated due to the earliness of the flight. Two groups occupy the passenger area. One group consists of 2 elves and a coffee skinned woman. The other consists of 3 men, looking uncomfortable in their obviously new suits, one of them clutching a small case, a female elf who appears much more cool, calm, and collected, and a pair that are obviously rent-a-cops, both heavily muscled, one human and one orc. Billy flops down casually in the seat next to the elf business woman, drawing sudden glares and quick movements from the bodyguards. The woman gives him an appraising look and a slight smile, and waves the guards down. Their conversation is casual but quiet, and within several minutes the woman is laughing, and Billy is smiling. Their quiet conversation lasts the duration of the short flight, drawing several jealous glances from the other men in her party.

September 9th, 2074 7:55am

Both groups disembark the VTOL at the Omnidome, Billy still laughing and chatting amicably with the woman as the two groups move towards the small “Exhibitors Only� door. Though the guards, boasting patches proclaiming them employees of “totSec�, or Total Security, wave the woman and her group through, they move to stop the second group.

“They’re with us, they’re fine, they’re exhibitors. Go eat a donut or something!� snaps the woman, obviously irritated at having the flow of the conversation broken up. Behind her, Vertigo and Ammon give each other a look of relief. The commlink’s probably would have stood up to scrutiny, but neither wanted to risk blowing their cover so early.

Billy favors the woman with a grin of appreciation, and she actually seems to preen a little bit. Moving through the hallways, Billy makes some brief excuse and drops back to walk with his original companions. The bodyguards move to position themselves in between Billy’s group and their clients, glaring at the trio. Billy glances at his two companions, getting nods in return, and whistles sharply just as the group ahead of them turns the corner. The guards stop and turn, still glaring and actually reaching for their sidearms. They gape for just a second as both Ammon and Vertigo fade from sight, and then quickly seem to regain their composure, pistols drawn and coming up. Billy moves like lightning, darting in, slapping one of the guards pistols aside and driving a series of strikes into his chest and face, snapping his head back and sending him slamming up against the wall behind him. The second security guard snarls and jerks his pistol up, muzzle inches from Billy’s head. He barely registers the soft touch of another pistol barrel in his back as vertigo pulls the trigger twice, rubber slugs impacting on ribs and spine with a sickening, but quiet, crunch of bone. The guard’s eyes roll up in his head, and he tumbles bonelessly to the ground.

Billy straightens, tugging his suit straight, and steps around the corner. The other group had just stopped and was beginning to head back as Billy steps around the corner. Ammon, now looking like one of the guards, follows him closely, moving past to stand up near his ‘clients’.
“We’re just checking some things out with totSec, he’ll be back in just a minute. We should be safe enough between here and the Expo floor.� he explains.

Concerns allayed by her ‘bodyguard’, the woman smiles at Billy again and turns to head further into the ‘Dome.

September 9th, 2074 8:30am

The woman fumes from inside the booth.

“Where is he? He was supposed to be back 20 minutes ago!� Ammon, still disguised as the guard, shrugs and does a good job of looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry ma’am, our office is having some issues sorting out protocols with totSec. He should be here any moment.�

She gives the man a withering stare and turns back towards the front of the booth, flashing a wide smile at Billy as she picks their conversation up again. Outside the booth, there’s a sudden scream, followed by several others, and the sound of gunfire. Almost immediately the crowds outside picks up on the screams, several people crashing against the booth as the mob begins to surge one way, and then the other. More gunfire fills the air, and the simultaneous sound of feedback from a half-dozen headsets and microphones pierce the shouts and the noise.

Billy glances at Ammon and Vertigo, who both shrug and shake their heads. Ammon picks up fairly quickly on the situation though, and steps up, hefting his pistol.

“I’m going to go find out what’s going on. You’ll be protected, don’t worry, but I need to know what’s happening.� He says firmly, overriding the woman’s almost instant attempt to argue. He turns and dashes off into the crowd, quickly disappearing into the frenzy. Billy just shakes his head at the retreating figure.

“It’s hard to find good help these days.�

Sliding through the system, Widget occasionally reaches out though various wireless ports attached to the system, shutting down anything that seems like to might help security to notice what was going on at the booth. Once the panic starts on the floor, she begins shutting down everything, looping camera and sensor feeds, and even reaching out to shut down the guards communications. She finds the system that controls their headsets and mics locked in a permanent feedback loop, the modifying code jammed into the system with all the grace of a Wendingo in a china shop. Taking her cue, she skips rapidly through the system, searching for the other hacker, curious to know what had brought both of them here at the same time. Finding him apparently streaming the feed past one of her loops on a camera, she taps the feed herself to see what he was watching.

A half dozen people had taken cover from the panicking crowd and the gunfire in the booth of a commlink manufacturer. A tall elf, suit slightly wrinkled and hanging off his slim frame stood next to a thin female, possibly Latino. The elf, obviously Billy, gives Vertigo a quick nod as a guard from a different company dashes off into the panicking crowd. As Widget watches, the man seems to reach for a small plastic case next to several people that obviously work at the booth. They seem unware, and considering the amount of chaos happening outside the booth it wasn’t unreasonable. The elf picked up the case, but must have been heard, as several of the employees turn to look in his direction. He quickly flips the case behind the backs of the employees towards Vertigo as they turn, who snatches it out of the air and puts the fake commlink Widget had built into to the case. Another series of semi-automatic gunfire rings out on the floor, and the employees turn back to look outside. As they do, she flips the case back to the elf, turning to engage the group of employees in conversation as he puts the case back on the table, apparently none the worse for the wear.

With a nod from him, they both obviously take their leave and being to move towards the exit of the booth. Before he leaves, the elf suddenly turns and shouts, and makes an awkward lunge towards the table, belying the grace he’d displayed in moving before. The employees obviously notice, and several of them throw themselves at the elf, pushing him back while another grabs the case and curls protectively around it, rushing further back in the booth. Throwing up his hands in surrender, the elf flails around and extricates himself from the group, dashing off into the crowd. A female elf, obviously part of the employees of the booth, screams incoherently and looks around, grabbing the first thing that comes to hand and throwing it at the elf. Vertigo[/] seems to have disappeared sometime during the struggle. Smiling to herself in satisfaction, [b]Widget abruptly remembers she’s tapping the feed with someone else, who is apparently still unaware of her presence. She reaches out, cutting his access to the feed, and runs a direct probe over his icon, seeking information.

She grins impishly as his defenses come up and he notices her, and calls up her sprites and complex forms around her, surrounding her in a cloud of smaller programs, flitting and crawling around her in constant motion. She wiggles her fingers, and several of the smaller icons flock towards his rough looking icon. He stretches his hand back, a sledgehammer appearing in it as he starts to swing it forward, colliding squarely with one of the small icons and crushing it, the individual bytes dissipating in the ether. Widget winces internally as one of the sprites is decompiled, the fact that the program can feel no pain doing little to assuage the sudden guilt she feels. The rest of the icons dive at him, slashing and cutting at the algorithms that hold his icon together, de-rezzing little bits and pieces as they attempt to recreate “The Death of a Thousand Cuts.� Porter crushes another tiny program, and sends the sledgehammer whistling towards the her head. At the last moment, she triggers the evasion form and glides out of the way, spreading her fingers forth and threading a quick Attack form together, shaped like a machine pistol. Jake said her Mom had used those. A stream of fire speeds towards the figure, clattering and pinging as they ricochet off his chest, none actually penetrating the armor. Internally, she curses. She’d have to hit him with something harder.

Both virtual forms turn as a larger icon rezzes in, the colossal form of a Western Dragon looming over the two combatants. The black reptile eyes them both with a large yellowish orb nearly the size of each of them, and inhales. Both of the hackers scramble to get out of the way as a wash of acid streams through virtual space, burning through part of his armor and severing several of the connections Widget had attaching her to the VR world around her. She wanted to scream, feeling every bit of lost connection and bandwidth the attack had cost her. The two exchange glances from either side of the gargantuan IC, and nod, darting forward nearly simultaneously. Glittering trails left by the horde of small icons dance around the dragons head, causing the creature to roar and whip it’s head back and forth as small cuts appear in the creatures hide. He brings the sledgehammer around in a long arc, colliding with the mass of the beast at the same instant that a steady stream of bullets from Widget’s now twin machine pistols chew a path up the creatures flanks. It lets out one single long roar, and de-rezzes back into the virtual space. Panting, the two look at each other for a long moment before both looking up and away as a pair of matching roars echo through the node, heralding the eminent arrival of more IC. With a grin from Widget and a grunt from him, they turn, darting off in opposite directions.

September 9th, 2074 8:33am

“Can’t hold it anymore, I think we got what we came for, let’s get out.� Widget’s warning echoes over several different links a variety of locations.

Hunched over Ammon’s prone form, Vertigo nods, looking up at the tiny figure of the eastern dragon that hovered translucently beside her.

“Go tell him to get back, now!� With a nod, the creatures faded from view and darted off into the crowd.

50 meters away, Ammon took a moment to size up the other mage. He could see the two earth elementals materializing on the expo floor, trying to help the rest of the security team regain order. In addition, the mage had two more hovering in astral space around him. With a grin and a feeling of recklessness that would have done Atreus proud, he drove towards his opponents, his own spirits spreading out around him and gradually filling astral space as they traveled from the metaplanes, slamming into the other mages spirits with a tremendous flash of energy, visible only on the astral plane. Colliding with the figure, Ammon lashed out at him, feeling the strength he had here in the astral course through him as the figure reeled back from his attack. A spell, mana gathered and formed into a pointed bolt that would punch through Ammon’s astral form came hurtling towards him. He pulled his arms together in front of him, channeling mana rapidly into his own defenses as the spell slammed into him. The spell shattered as it struck him, most of the spells energy ricocheting harmlessly off into astral space. One shard slipped through, however, slashing across his shoulder like a sliver of glass, bringing a gasp from the mage. The spirits rage on, massive forms slamming into one another again and again until only two remained. Unfortunately for the security mage, both of those spirits were Ammon’s. With a roar, they dart through the astral space separating them at the speed of though, colliding with the mage’s astral form hard enough to send him flying backwards, the ghostly but bright colored aura’s of the crowd causing him to disappear from view for a moment. The security mage surges back out of the crowd, mana gathering around him as he releases it in a pulse, the wave of energy seeming to tear and rip at the very fabric of the spirits, leaving the forms tattered but still intact. However, his defenses were obviously down, and as he gathered himself to turn back to Ammon, the runner’s spell struck him full force, the security mages face twisting in a silent, agonized scream before the mage’s astral form abruptly blinked out of existence.

Satisfied, Ammon turns to deal with the other two earth elementals, only to find them engaged by two figures that were obviously adepts. One wielded a sword that shone bright on the astral, and the other never seemed to need to get the earth spirits reach to strike him. Just then, Ammon’s watcher spirit arrived, the tiny dragon conveying Vertigo’s message in a rushed, breathless whisper. Nodding, Ammon gathered his spirits around him and plunges down through the crowd, headed for his body.

September 9th, 2074 8:34am

Moving rapidly through the milling crowd, Ammon and Vertigo meet up with Billy just outside almost as if by coincidence, a brief aura of calm forming around them in the maelstrom of the still panicking crowd. Out of the crowd suddenly steps a dapper, gentile looking orc, a whipcord thin elf in a tight fitting suit, a women in flowing robes, and a man in an obviously armored vest. Just behind them, a troll picks up a totSec guard, tossing him bodily off and into the crowd before joining the four. The two groups look at each other for just a moment before behind them, a guard seems to spot the group standing out from the crowd and shouts, motioning with his rifle for them to hit the ground. He raises the rifle to his shoulder to fire, and abruptly doubles over, gasping and grasping at his chest. The elf flashes a smile towards the sky Hiver, their French guardian angel, and the trio turns and darts off into the crowd.

The trio pushes through the edge of the crowd, suddenly stumbling to a halt in a parking lot. Sliding into the parking lot almost sideways while breaking was an APC marked with the totSec logo. Piling out of it are four figures in heavy mil-spec style armor, two of them toting mini-guns and the other two bearing rifles that look suspiciously like assault cannons. Servo’s whine as the suit-assisted strength lifts the weapons to bear on the trio.

“Stand down, discard any weapons and lay flat on the ground. This is for your own-“ The figures speech is abruptly cut off as the huge form of Atlas, an oversized combat axe in one hand and a ballistic riot shield in the other, lands on the far edge of the APC and launches himself at the armored form, colliding with a sickening crunch as almost a ton of muscle, bone, and titanium slam the armored form into the ground. The massive axe raises up and comes whistling down, splitting the armor and helmet with the sound of a rotten melon. The other guards turn towards Atlas, the mini-guns already spinning up when the rest of the trio lets loose. Billy seemingly glides in, a quick double step taking him out of the direct line of fire on the armored guard he’s approaching, a foot lashing out and crunching through the guards knees at a vulnerable joint. He drops, the sounds of screams coming from inside, but manages to swing the now blazing rotating barrels of the mini-gun towards Billy. The limber elf dodges most of the rounds, grimacing as one of the shells traces a furrow down his cheek, and snaps another kick out at the guard, sending the heavy form toppling over. A hop, Billy stands over the prone form, Manhunter’s in hand and suddenly firing, shells rapidly cracking the heavy armor at short range and finally punching through.

Everyone else is not idle, however. Atlas roars as he leaps to his feet, axe whipping out and cleaving through armor and bone to leave one guards arm hanging limp from the shoulder, barely attached. She screams, the sound audible through the armor, and collapses, scrambling to stop her life from flowing out through the massive wound. Vertigo darts forward, taking a long step and using the barrel of the fourth guards gun as a mount, launching herself up and over him in a graceful arc. The heavy Colt Manhunter seems to appear from nowhere in her hand, explosive rounds tearing chunks out of the armor as they seek the weak points, the back of the neck joints between heavy plates. As the guard staggers forward, he suddenly seems to crumple in on himself, slowing sinking to the ground under some combined assault. Having just buried the guard in a massive wave of mana, Ammon gasps, small bruises appearing around his temples and eyes. He shakes it off, pulling himself up straight and joining his companions as the now quartet race off into the streets surrounding the dome. Behind them, the APC roars to life and turns, apparently to give chase. A second later, the tiny slit of a windshield cracks and splinters, and the APC decelerates rapidly and runs into a nearby lamppost, coming to a halt with the engine idling.

With another flippant wave towards the sniper watching over them, Billy, Ammon,Vertigo, and Atlas melt away into the streets.

September 9th, 2074 10:38am

With Widget and Hiver retrieved from their post on a distant rooftop, the group once again stands together in the large, open space of the warehouse. Lucky has just arrived in his flaming van, and assures the group that he’s set up a meet for later that night to turn over the prototype and collect the rest of their fee.

Screamsheets and newsnodes are plastered with pictures and rumors about what happened. TotSec is doing its best to keep the details under wraps, but the newscorps are screaming about corporate invasions, heavily armed death squads, mass raiding, and all sorts of other conjecture. Descriptions of the composition of the group that attacked the Omnidome ranges from a group of ninja-sararimen to an all troll Bliztball team and up to AAA corp black ops. The extent of the damage is still being determined, but both the Tacoma Omnidome Management Team and Total Security have made public statements that they will be devoting all of their efforts towards finding the people that did this, and bringing them to justice. Screamsheet announcers comment on the ominous tone of that particular phrase.

September 9th, 2074 10:38am

Ammon's post-run paranoia kicks in for hours after the run is complete. He keeps inside to the warded areas of the warehouse and for a few hours loses his flippant, easy going demeanor. He frequently shifts his gaze to the astral and has a rather large, unbound spirit of man watching for the spidery threads in astral space indicative of ritual magic.

September 9th, 2074 13:45am

As the hours pass by, his paranoia begins to fade and he returns to his jovial self. One thing had been with him all day. Something he'd seen. A particular style of fighting.... Time to find out for sure....

<<@Atreus [Ammon] Hear about the all troll Bliztball team mixing it up with security at the Expo?>>

<<@Ammon [Atreus]I always told dad you'd grow up to be a troll. I hear that the linebacker in the parking lot was big even for a troll...>>

<<@Atreus [Ammon] Nice wig. Who was the looker?>>

<<@Ammon [Atreus]If you're really nice I'll introduce you... just so she can turn you into a frog... BTW: Next time how about you give me a heads up where you're gonna be. Wouldn't do if I sent one of your elementals back home early or end up getting hunted 'cause one of my teammates greased someone you run with....>>

<<@Atreus [Ammon] Yea. Yea. To both! I'll call you in a day or two.>>

<<@Ammon [Atreus]Chill.>>

Ammon was becoming increasingly comfortable working with not only Vertigo but Billy as well. The trio had made a good team when in the thick of the run. Perhaps it is all my years with my brother.. Billy is very similar in skills and abilities to Atreus. The big man though is a great brick, but needs to get better control on his strength. We'll have to work on that. All-in-all, the team worked very well together and Ammon was very happy with the results.

Once they get back to the warehouse, Hiver takes a moment to look over the team. Injuries are quickly wrapped up, and offers of over the counter pain killers are made to those with bruising. Nothing life threatening, good.

With his team cared for, he turns his attention to his weapons. The rifle needed to be cleaned and oiled. Often he saw other runners fire several clips of ammunition then throw the gun down without even thinking about maintenance. Those same runners generally didn't understand why their gun misfired regularly.

Now all that was left, was to contact Fixx.

<<@Fixx [Hiver] The job is done. Another team was in play, though for a different purpose. It appears that the tech conference attracted more attention than hoped. If word reaches your ear of them turning an eye towards us, please let me know.>>

"With funds acquired so that we will not starve, where do people propose that we begin our search for this killer? Also, if any of you require maintenance or repair on your weapons and armor, please bring them to me."