<<@System [Book] Damn straight it is. My thought was to just send it home while we take our afternoon drive. Gonna need a paint job before it comes out again. Better yet, a chameleon coating. That would sure make it easier to disappear then reappear.>>

Tank makes the turns as directed. When they arrive, he leaves the doberman in the cruiser. A surprise in case my security is not as set as I think it is.

The trio then change vehicles to the cab. Once complete, Tank sends the cruiser home and directs the cab towards Bolo's shop.

The trio arrives without major incident at Bolo's shop. The new feeds are all in a twitter about the "car chase" carrying a "person of interest."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Bolo says as they pile into the shop. "Oh, I'm supposed to give you this. I'm jealous, I think." She hands over three engraved invitations. Actual paper, cardstock to be precise, with raised gold lettering. The invitation is for a dinner at the community center near the church. The bottom reads, With Benefits.

Dalton takes his copy first, looking it over, trying to figure out if the gold is real or just colored foil.

Book takes his last, gingerly. He looks over the details of the invitation. Dinner at a community center on a gold foil, paper invitation...? He looks up to Bolo and the timing suddenly strikes him as well. "This was a rush printing... or was it?" He reflects back on the statue job, the opera, the note.....
A porter delivers a handwritten, gold leaf note that says, Good help is so hard to find. I look forward to working with you again. Please feel free to enjoy the rest of the opera.
He mentions nothing to Bolo, nor even to the team at this time.

Dalton smiles, "I like friends with benefits. Can never have too many of those."

Book gives his head a little shake before addressing Bolo. "Thanks. We still have the issue of your lenders.... Any word?"

Tank meanwhile moves inward, validating the video feed from his external cameras.

Book's examination would seem to indicate that the gold is real.

Bolo nods her head loosing some excitement in the process. "Yes, actually. They called during all the commotion - I didn't even hear the phone - and left a message saying they were coming tomorrow morning and that I should have some nuyen for them."

After a quick review, the external footage doesn't show anything that Tank considers unexpected.

<<@Team [System] What do you make of this. I have a trace on our mystery guests. It appears that they are talking to the cops? Any reasons why such fine upstanding citizens would need to consult with the authorities?>>

Not wanting to, Book asks the obvious question. "With the yen I owe you and the sales from the last few days, do you have their money?"

Hearing that things may have a breather until tomorrow, Tank follows up on a few outstanding items. He starts by reaching out to the mechanic that Digger had connected him with.
<<@Lug Nut [Tank] Chummer - Looking to have a chameleon coating put on my cruiser. How soon till you can work me in?>>

He then moves on to the gunner runner he had started working with.
<<@Six Gun [Tank] Checking on those stick-n-shock rounds. Gonna be dropping those today?>>

<<@Team [Book] You have footage or just a trace?>>

Bolo responds, "With today's receipts, what you owe and the gathering, I should have most of it."

<<@Tank[Lug Nut] Seeing as how the Star just raided my place, it's gonna be a while. If I think of a way, I'll let you know.>>

<<@Tank[Six Gun] Yep. The park down at City Center Plaza around dinner tonight. I hear the Irish pizza at Johnny Boy is good.>>

<<@Team[System] Just a trace. Hold on. Looks like they are moving away. Yep, Star going one way, and our guests the other.>>

Tank's eyebrows furl at his continued bad luck.
<<@Lug Nut [Tank] Good luck getting that worked out.>>

But Tank has another contact that just might be able to get him hooked up; The guy he bought the cruiser from.
<<@Michael Richards [Tank] Looking to get some work done to that cruiser I picked up from you. Thinking about putting on a chameleon coating. If you don't have a guy who can put it on, I'm also interested in just picking up the supplies and doing it myself. What options do we have?>>

<<@Six Gun [Tank] Done.>>
Tank marks the appointment and flags it.

Book meanwhile focuses more on the tasks at hand. He talks with Bolo being gentle, but frank. "Bolo, you need to make some decisions. (1) You pay these guys off and deal with them muscling in. (2) You pay these guys off and we push back on the muscling. That will probably cause some heightened threat for a time and we come to an understanding. (3) You tell them to get lost and use the money to fund some "whatever it takes to get rid of them" type of work... In any case, you need to make the decision."

<<@Team [Book] Hmmm... Is this connection still back to those officers they were linked to before?>>

<<@Tank [Lug Nut] Thanks, chummer. Gonna need it.>>

<<@Tank [Michael Richards] Sure, no problem. Gonna cost you, though. Even the raw supplies are up. Seems like the Star has been cracking down on it recently. How bad ya want it?>>

Bolo nods her head. "I understand. Can I have some time to think it over? I got myself into this by rushing in. I'd rather not repeat that process."

<<@Team [System] And he gets it in one. Interesting, no? You've got that look in your eyes my man. What are you thinking.>>

<<@Michael Richards [Tank] Well, I'm gonna need the replacement tools for my shop, complete line. I left all the tools I had up north. How about we talk a package deal on the tools and the coating? How much is up? I got ten grand I could throw at this project, perhaps scrape together a little more...>>

Book nods. "Sure. I think you have until your appointment tomorrow... Granted, if they arrive early that will put a definite wrinkle in it."

<<@Team [Book] If these cops are in the middle of this, we may need to play our Ace with the good captain. I'd rather not play that too soon or too often, but what good is an Ace that always sits in your pocket.. Besides... In a few years he'll be looking to move up to commissioner... Best that we keep on good and talking terms.>>

Bolo responds, "You said a mouthful. I'll ask the Lord and Lady for an extra blessing on you and your friends for all the help you've given me."

<<@Team [System] Sounds like a good idea to me. Shall I set something up?>>

About that time a young man walks in with a smile on his face. "Excuse me miss. Do you sell Silver Shaman™ paint?"

Book nods to Bolo, cognizant of a new arrival. "Thank you. I'll be back tomorrow to check on that package then."

<<@Team [Book] Yea. Probably better get a secure line set up that we can make that call. I'm just not sure we have enough details yet... Have you ID'd the cops who are connected to the loan sharks? Last I remember you had some issues tracing back the loan sharks to their source. How far back have you made it?>>

Tank, bored with the whole talismonger scene decides to take a video capture of the new shopper's face and just run a public search while waiting for a reply from Michael Richards.

<<@ Tank [MichaelRichards] For that kind of cash, I'm listening. It's gonna take me a few days to put everything together. Once I have the goods, I'll send you word.>>

Tank's facial recognition search turns up the customer's mug on a local news site. The Atlanta Free Thinker has dedicated itself to discussing the shadows and everything that goes on there. The site boasts that more than one citizen has been shown up for being in league with the shadows. They specialize in so called under cover operations.

<<@ Team [System] I keep hitting a brick wall. Really good security with a rotating algorithm. I can hack it but it will take a good chunk of some time. Do you want me doing that or other things?>>

<<@ MichaelRichards [Tank] Great thanks.>>

Tank heads out of the shop and a few buildings down the street. Tank reads a little further on the details on the customer's picture. Is this guy a reporter or a runner?

Book looks over several jars on an upper shelf. Grasshopper wings. Eye of newt. Rabbit's feet. His attention is really on what to do next though. He spends several minutes thinking over his options, of which he really sees two: Find out who these guys are really backed by and play against them or phone a friend and see where that leads... or both.

<<@System [Book] I need a secure line to the Chief. We need to know if the dirty cops involved in this are his dirty cops or a freelance group. Either way, the situation could solve itself.>>

"Sure, right over here." Bolo exits from behind the counter and walks over to another wall and takes a few samples off the shelf. "You, ah, don't strike me as a shaman." He replies, "Nah, I'm not. It's for my girlfriend." "Ahh. In that case you might want to look at something authentic rather than this mass produced stuff. She'll get more out of it. Really" "Sweet! It's a little extra but she's worth it."

<<@ Book [Bolo] I think this guy's girl is a posser. No self respecting shaman would send her guy in her for supplies. Ahh well, nuyen is nuyen.>>

<<@Book [System] One secure line coming up. I'll bounce it off several waring corps and a few toasters ... and maybe that guys new suit. Give me a few minutes.>> Even across the link the glee in System's voice is apparent.

"Hey, is that a multi-purpose room you've got there? What kind of meetings do you hold in there? Can I take a look? Could me and the girl rent it from you?"

Book smiles. Don't know how we lucked into System, but glad we did.
<<@Bolo [Book] It appears he likes to think of himself as a runner. [[ ARO: Link to The Atlanta Free Thinker ]] He may draw more attention than you need right now making him more hassle than he's worth.>>

<<@System [Book] Excellent news.>>
With that, Book exits the shop and heads towards the team's current ride.

Once the link is established, Book talks to the chief:
<<@Chief [Book] Morning Chief. How are things going? I need to run something by you to make sure we are not at cross purposes. Got a few boys squeezing one of our associates. We traced them back to a few of the boys in blue. [[ ARO: Video of cops ]] Are these guys freelancing or are they sanctioned?>>

<<@ Book [Bolo] Thanks for the heads up.>>

Bolo answers the multitude of questions with an apologetic look on her face, "Sorry, no. I can't rent it to you. Hell, I can't even store things there. My lease says that ... I'm sorry, it's an old soapbox about my landlord. Here, let me ring up that paint for you."

The street is about as quiet as the city ever gets. The trash blowing in the wind was less today than it could have been but the bums were thicker somehow.

<<@ Book [Chief] Damn! I wish our IT guys were half as good as that hacker you've got working for you. I don't think the DDI could crack what he's got running right now. Least not in the time that he's going to have it open. Sorry, I got sidetracked, but, damn, I admire good work. Thank you for bringing the other matter to my attention. No, I don't have anyone working on that end of town. And it seems like I should know ... or at least get my cut if it were being worked. We both appear to have a problem. If you look into it and let me know what's going down, I'll come down like a hammer. I get good press and ... I owe you. I'm not terribly fond of owing anyone, by the way. Do we have a deal?>>

Book smiled. That couldn't have gone much better. He considers squeezing the Chief for better terms, but considers... What could be better than 'I owe you one'.
<<@Chief [Book] Deal. I'll let you know when we have more.>>

<<@System [Book] Ok. Let's pull back so you can do your thing. I have some things to take care of myself.>>

The trio loads into their appropriated cab and heads out. Tank's cruiser meets them halfway home, taking him the rest of the way while System and Book go their way. Book is then dropped off a few blocks away from his apartment. He slips through an alley, turns off his com and casts physical mask (as usual) before returning to his apartment.

He sends a watcher ahead to insure that everything is clear before entering. After getting an all clear, he proceeds inside. Being early in the day, he rubs his cheek thinking about the past few weeks. He picked up his copy of Reidell's Theory of Temporal Permanence read a chapter, before switching his senses to the astral. To most, this was nothing more than a book created on a hand printer; A relic created using outdated processes. The hand written notes within reduced its value to many but to those with the sight it makes it priceless.

He leaned back in his easy chair, taking in the aura of the book like a drug. There is a secret within he tries to pull from it. A metamagic it describes. Finally, he sets the book down and lies down on the bear rug. He reaches his voice out to the astral, calling for a spirit of man; Calling for the spirit that is the caretaker of his building. Old man. I am going on a dream walk. Watch over my body and my lodge. Keep me safe.

He then lies down and projects his consciousness into the astral. Next stop the Guardian and then the metaplanes.

The spirit of man in the form of a very old human comes up through the floor as if walking up an old set of stairs that may or may not have been part of the original plans. He looks over at Book and the book in his hands. Reading again, heh? Well ... I knows ya take care uh yo apartment and pay yor rent on time. Guess I kin looks over thangs whiles ya out. Jus don make an old man stand around too long, ya hear. I gots 'ritis ya know.

As he drifts off, Book see the old spirit sink into a chair where no chair exists in his apartment.

Book is standing on the edge of a simple clearing in the woods. It seems to be late fall or possibly early winter. From the humidity, it could be somewhere in the south or somewhere up north on either coast, or near the Great Lakes - when the stink isn't rolling off them. As he turns he sees a large canine, perhaps a wolf, perhaps something else. It is standing on the opposite edge of the clearing. It seems as large as a horse. The wolf-thing smiles. A voice more heard than felt asks, And what do you think you are doing in my woods? Come for a stroll? Or perhaps you would like me to feed you to my pups?

His confrontation with the Dweller put a spotlight on his deepest secrets and regrets. His inability to unravel the secrets around the abduction of Digger is the one that haunts him the worst. Once the Dweller was done berating him for his failures, he was finally allowed to proceed.

Looking around, he is not surprised by the serene nature of the location. Wolf's presence does surprise him. Why would Wolf be my first trial? He knows that his quest will have one or more trials before reaching completion. He also knows that he may never understand the meaning of each trial.

"Great Wolf, I have arrived on a journey." He considers his tact. Perhaps this is a secret Wolf does not want him to find. Perhaps Wolf already knows..... In the end, he knows that Snake is somehow directing the path though... "May I go through your woods?" He looks around for an obvious path.

The wolf smiles - there is simply no other word for it - and then replies, I don't know. It's not like the disciples of the Slithering One to be so straight forward. You will find the secret you seek if you are willing to sacrifice another secret you crave. With that, the Wolf fades away leaving only eyes and a smile before they vanish like falling leaves in the cold breeze. The clearing shows two paths - one to the right and the other to the left.

Book tilts his head, puzzled. Wolf is the Cheshire Cat now? He is happy to have caught Wolf off guard or at least surprise. He turns his attention to the paths. What would Snake do?

He squats for a moment, looking at each path more for Snake's level. He then summons up two watchers, sending each down a path. "Go several minutes down the path, then come back and tell me what you find."

For reasons that Book can't explain the watchers take the form of rabbits here. They no sooner start down the paths in question before being set upon and devoured by what appear to be wolves. Book hears a raspy laugh that seems to have a touch of a growl in it.

"Nice try, He-who-slithers. I favor directness. Choose."

Book winces as the rabbits are devoured by the wolves. He rubs his chin, trying to figure out Wolf's angle. He looks down each path, looking for differences in the two.

Down one path, Book sees a squat badger digging in the ground near a river. The other path reveals a glimpse of a field full of objects: chairs, meta-human-sized chess pieces, clocks, watches and the like.

Seeing the two paths laid out before him, he contrasts the two in his mind. One is a path of nature, the other a path of man. He gently shakes his head knowingly and walks the path confidently towards the path full of objects.

As he crosses over from the edge of the clearing to the path, the clearing disappears. It isn't seen so much as felt. Shortly Book finds himself standing on a checkered pattern of red carpet and black linoleum. There is a towering chess piece to his left and a old-style pocket watch hanging from the edge of a desk to his right. Directly in front of him is a battered bookcase with some moldy paper books sitting on it.

Book advances slowly, drinking in the scene. He wants to go through the books, but stops at the pocket watch. He takes the watch in his hands, looking it over.

Book hears the sound of a young man crying out, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Professor Daniels to demonstrate new robot!"

Book is assaulted by the sounds and smells of a city but nothing like the ones he has known. This city appears to be something out of an old flat vid movie. As he looks over himself he sees that he is wearing a pin stripe suit and a hat. There is the familiar yet somehow not feeling of a pistol in his waistband. And perhaps the most startling thing of all is the feeling that there are no mana flows nearby.

The young man, kid really, turns to him and asks, "So, Mister, are you gonna buy a paper or what?"

There is something else at the back of his mind but Book can't place what it might be.

Book looks around at the change in scenery while feeling the brim of his hat. He then looks at the kid, while reaching into his pocket for money. "How much kid?"

Ten cents.

When he reaches into his pocket Book feels several coins of different sizes. When he pulls them from his pocket, he doesn't recognize them. They look nothing like nuyen coins.

There is still something about this place that is bothering Book. However, it is not obvious.

What the hell is a cent?
Book pulls the small pile of coins out of his pocket, looking them over carefully. Ah! Five cents.... and one cent. He counts out coins to the boy to the proper amount. "Thank you." he says, taking a paper.

He pulls the paper up to his face to smell the ink and the paper. He then looks around again, attempting to shake out the source of his uneasy feeling. His paranoia suddenly kicks in as he realizes that he may be in danger.

As he picks up the paper, Book realizes what's been bothering him. The entirety of this existence is black and white. It seems so natural that he almost missed it.

A woman walks by and asks, "Do you have the time?"

Looking around, he tilts his head to the side. That's unexpected.

Turning to the woman as she asks, he takes a subtle step to the side as he feels for the stop watch. He looks out of the corner of his eye for more movement, his paranoia going to the next level.

The pocket watch slides out of the vest pocket without a problem. Even without allowing for the black-and-white world Book knows it's the same one he picked up ... elsewhere.

The watch is unusual. There are three bars across a circle. There is the number 12 at the top and the other numbers 1 through 11 going around the sides. The longest, thinnest bat isn't moving stopped near the 8. The second longest is pointing at the 7 while the short, fat bar is pointing between the 11 and 12.

The woman smiles as he looks up.

Book holds the watch out so that the woman can see the time. Almost wish I had learned to use an analog theme for my clock... Almost. He does find it odd that with all those bars, none are moving.

"Oh, dear, it appears you forgot to wind it. Thank you anyway."

Since Book is no longer focused on the watch he notices a car up the street begin to slow down as the window roll down. There are rolled metal tubes visible inside the vehicle. Some part of Book - the same part that felt black and white was normal - knows they are guns, despite not appearing like any weapons Book is familiar with.

The intent is obvious, they are going to shoot at Book and the woman. However, he has the time needed to act.

Feeling the weight of what he supposes is a gun, but no mana, Book dives at the woman to to take her out of the line of fire. My empire for a fireball....

"Sir, I protest! This is no way to treat a lady."

Her sharp comment is drowned out in the sound of gunfire followed by the squeal of tires as the car speeds away.

"I ... I'm sorry. I ... I could have been ... you put yourself in the way and ... Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you."

The aftermath is a bit chaotic and for whatever reason hard to follow. Police are still swarming over the place when the detective looks Book over and says, "Mr. Blane, thank you for your efforts. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye on things but if you're willing to defy the Syndicate, then you can't be as bad as the Captain says you are. Just do me a favor and don't skip town until the investigation is over."

Once the police give the OK, the woman comes over again. "Mr. Blane. I know that thank you isn't adequate for what you did; however, I don't have much else I can offer. The detective said that you were a private eye, so I guess I'd like to hire you to find out why someone wants me dead. Will you take the case?" Her eyes are brimming with hopefulness.

Book is still not completely sure of his role in the scene playing out before him. It appears my name is Blane.... today.

He takes the woman's hand, kissing it. "It would be my pleasure. We should go to my office and talk." Of course, the obviousness of the situation immediately follows the statement. He turns to the cop. "I'm a little disoriented... having just about died and all.... Which way is my office?"

In a low whisper and eyes on the lady, the detective smiles sadly and ask, "Good catch. But, I don't want to have to come down to your office if the lady complains you're drunk again. Got it?"

A bit louder he adds, "No problem. Down on 5th and Minerva. About three blocks that way. You sure you don't want us to check you out at the hospital?"

A lush? Is this Dalton's quest or mine?

He nods to the cop none the less and gives his best 'knowing' look. "Thank you officer. I'll be fine."

Turning back to the woman, he gestures towards his office. "Ma'am." and he proceeds to escort her.

Once they are out of earshot of the officers and the looky-loos, he opens with a question. "The first and most obvious question: Why do you think anyone would want you dead?"

She replies, "Wait until we get to your office."

The two make their way to Mr. Blane's office. It is a slightly rundown but still respectful four story, brick office building. The office is a little rectangle about 10 feet by 15 feet. The door mostly glass with Mr. Blane Private Detective etched into it.

Inside, with the door closed and the lights and fan on, the woman speaks again, "My name is Susan Montival. My husband is Richard Montival - affectionately known as the head of the Syndicate. I recently became aware in a very real way how my husband has been making money. I had tried to pretend I didn't believe the rumors but willful ignorance can only work for so long. Given the state of things it could be that his rivals want me dead or entirely possible that he wants me dead as well. I would like you to find out and while you are at it, keep me safe."

Book listens to her story, grimacing when she says she's married to the head of the syndicate. If I die on quest, do I die in my body? Focusing back on her conversation.. Keep her safe? Snake - I'm better at skulking than fighting. And I've no mana.. and I have a gun... of which I've never fired one before, only watched the sams fire it... arrrgghhhhh

He considers entering into a drawn out negotiation over the fees, but remembers the fees don't really matter. In fact he's not entirely sure what does matter, beyond learning secrets: Specifically the skill of psychomtry. "I have a standard fee schedule that will apply here Mrs. Montival, but more importantly, you are going to have to tell me everything you know and you will need to be brutally honest. Can you do that?" Meanwhile, he shuffles a few papers around on the desk looking for any client bills or anything to make him aware of the 'standard fee schedule'.

"Of course, I can be brutally honest. I don't like it but I have to do it now don't I?"

She proceeds to spin out a story that is full of woe and misunderstanding. She gives Book/Blane schedules and connections as well as everything she can think of, including the name of the mistress she is sure her husband is sleeping with.

After more discussion she concludes with, "The one thing I don't know, the one secret that has been killing me, is where does he keep all of the money? I mean, someone from the government should know about that, shouldn't they?"

Book takes notes as she rattles off details. As the details flow, he tries to pick out the relevant from the irrelevant. Follow the money. Its always the money. He thinks back to the assassination attempt on Mrs Montival. Seemed realistic enough. He looks at the woman, again. She could be playing me. Actually just seeking the money. He resigns himself that there will need to be at least some token investigation to complete this quest. The question is: Will I find the secrets I seek as a result of the investigation....? Or will is my reward the answers I seek....? Or worse yet, is this all just a big distraction?

He hones in on her last comment. Seems to me that's the thing about quests. The hero always seems to have a path laid out before them if they just listen.
"You are correct. Someone should know." He considers his next step. "We should determine if it is your husband or a rival. Is there anyone you can call?" He looks around for a com.

"I have no idea who I could call. My parents are dead, my sister is out of state and no one has seen my brother in six years."

She sits in the simple wooden chair in the grimy office and raises her eyebrows as Book seems to glance about the room as if he is looking for something.

Book stops looking, placing his hands on the desk in front of him, interlacing the fingers and focusing on the woman and sorting out the details of his surroundings in his mind....

Finding what he imagines is a land-line com, Book realizes that this is surely not a voice-command unit, not does he see digital buttons. Best to look foolish with that later... I don't even see a view screen for a directory search on that thing.... "Let me think." he says, standing as if deep in thought. He uses the next few minutes to 'pace' and walk the floor, rubbing his chin and actually scout the floor while saying things like, "No parents...", "Sister is out...", "Missing brother..." As he tries to figure his arrangements here, he stops and asks "What did your brother do before he disappeared?"