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

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

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

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

***

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

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

[OOC - Cute, Chrysalis. Cute.]

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[OOC: Perception test please]

[OOC - Sajnos, anyám ilyen volt.]

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

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

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

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



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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another group showed up soon afterwards.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

[OOC: Another perception roll please]

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

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

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

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


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

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

Thursday evening.

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

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

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

Professor:

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

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

"So what exactly does this mean?"

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

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

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

Toreador spoke to everyone via subvocal commlink. He continued.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luckily it is a different dog.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invisible Professor will check out the "corpse" (sic) of trees, the bush in the family garden, and Karkoff's door.

Perception rolls, in order: (I'm estimating dice, as I am at the library)

5 hits

4 hits

5 hits

There is a dog loosely buried under some branches and earth by the trees. Judging by the stains and the odd angle the throat was cut and then the neck was snapped. In the bushes of the family's garden is the blood wet collar that was seen on the dog in the image. There is even a shoe print from a trainer next to it, size 10, male.

Professor sends images of the scenes, including the shoe print, via secure commlink to the others.

"This could be the work of a disgruntled jogger tired of being harassed by a neighbourhood dog, but I don't think we can ignore this coincidence. Anybody in the group do fingerprints? I have the collar.

"Let me ramp up the paranoia a notch. Anyone know of a possession tradition that uses fire spirits? The corpse of the dog would be a handy nearby vessel. Pretty twisted one, though."

Professor assenses the body of the dog for any impressions, or for a trace of it being 'prepared'.

3 hits.


"Poor dog. Poor kid."

Taking the prints is no problem but matching them might be. Unless it is one of the contractors or the residents of the target's home. I have all of their bio-metrics already.

[OOC - I assume that since it is a couple of days since our various perambulations, we are all relatively accessible to each other.]

"Right, Cruze. I'll get the collar to you right away so you can compare. Can Blackie get us into some fingerprint databases, or is that too dangerous?"

The Professor examines the dog for any kind preparation. It does not seem so. Although cutting its neck and then breaking its neck seems a bit overkill. Most possession vessels have to be prepared well in advance. Often taking days if not weeks to prepare. There is only one tradition in a small East African tribe that claims to resurrect the dead. There is a partial thumb print on the collar in blood.

Professor has found Cruze, and she has the collar with the bloody, partial fingerprint. Possibly other prints are on it that could fill out the print. Reminiscing about ancient television shows he has read about, Professor imagines Cruze listening to a pounding rock beat in a poorly-lit, cavernous room, holding up the collar and gazing at it meaningfully.

Toreador held off on the supremacist propaganda

"Running those fingerprints through a database would be an excellent idea. If Blackie is unable to complete this task, I can see if some of my contacts from the Tir can assist us. If anyone else has contacts with either Knight Errant, Lonestar, or another investigative task force we maybe able to through them as well. Other then that, I will spend the rest of the day enhancing the astral security around Karkoff's apartment. I will be using some of our funding to purchase the materials for this process. If I am needed do not hesitate to call."

Because he knows he can't hide? Because he is despondent without his wife and doesn't care?

[OOC: Sorry, this should have gone in the OOC thread.]

"So what does this mean, Toreador? I'm not sure yet. I can imagine a number of reasons why someone might want to eliminate a set of siblings who may be clones.

"The ones we know about are all involved in research into matters pertaining to epidemics and such. Someone may be clearing away those who can lead the defense against a coming plague.

"They could be plants, and their usefulness has come to an end. Or their nature is threatening to be revealed, and evidence must be destroyed. Fire is notoriously good at destroying biological evidence.

"Perhaps one sibling is tired of being one of many. He may wish to be the only one.

"The real meaning may be something else entirely."

Toreador digested the Professor's theoretical cooking. It tasted like cooked eel or fried calamari. An interesting texture and a favorable taste. Re-viewing the information on William Bradly aka Mr. Aegis, some of the Professor's ideas had a greater potential to formulate into analytical truths.

He was on his motorcycle, heading towards Georgetown.

"So where exactly does Mr. Aegis and his representation fit in? What possible reasons could an organization such as AEGIS be involved in such scenario as this? And if Conrad Tyrell is correct, then I refuse to believe that any entity which has as great of pull with governments and corporations acts on altruism and benevolent in nature."

He comes across a traffic light, somewhere on the outskirts on Wisconsin Ave heading north. From where he is there is a great view of the Potomac River.

Having towelled off and tied her hair back Cruze was all business when the Prof returned with the evidence.

She used Latex gloves to examine the blood-stained collar before running it past her newly acquired biomonitors.

On the off-chance that someone careless enough to leave a fingerprint might have left the odd skin cell she ran it past the DNA scanner she had bought as well.

Playing on a hunch she texted her fixer for good measure.

Bonjour Michel it's Liz Crane again. I'm almost sure that minx Cindy has been up to no good on our priceless Afghan rug. Is there any chance you could get me some of that Luminol stuff they use on cop shows? Love ya, chow.

Coucou Liz, sure I can get you luminol tonight. Bisous.

There are several finger prints on the collar, but several good ones on top of the blood. There are also all sorts skin cells on the collar, especially on the inside. You identify one dog, two female and two male sets.

Coucou Liz, sure I can get you luminol tonight. Bisous.

There are several finger prints on the collar, but several good ones on top of the blood. There are also all sorts skin cells on the collar, especially on the inside. You identify one dog, two female and two male sets.

"Hmmm... One dog, a mother and daughter, assume a father, that leaves one male unaccounted for. Don't know how fast DNA testing works these days, but one male is probably related genetically to one of the females. The other male could be the perpetrator of the canicide. Along with the fingerprints, this is some good evidence for ID."

"Toreador, will these magical defences you set up be affected by any of us walking through them? Both Dick and I are magically active, though between the two of us only I can perceive astrally. And I currently am sustaining one of your spells. Will this be a problem?"

"That's a negative Professor. Astral Security will consist of myself and two spirits of water. The wards are to much of a risk for a multiple number of reasons."

It is 0830, Karkoff went to work at 0800, he walked past the receptionist and went into his lab, had a look at things there and walked out. He told Sally, the receptionist, that he would be going home for the day. He also phoned up his daughter on the commlink in his car.

"Hi Emily, look I have a couple things coming up. Is it possible that we don't meet for our monthly dinner?"

A woman's voice comes over the comm channel. "Pops. You getting funny in your old age? Besides Frank wants to come and see you, and he doesn't get many options to do that. Besides I have made time to come and see you and you want to see the other grandkids too."

"Alright, I have just got a bad feeling."

"Hah! You tried that one last year. See you at six."

The woman hangs up the phone.

Karkoff goes back home. At 11 AM the maid comes in and they end up chatting about all sorts of things, until she excuses herself to actually doing the necessary shopping.

Dick looks over from his position monitoring the surveillance equipment and frowns, setting aside the slice of blueberry pie he picked up from the diner as he hacks out a message to the team.

<<Any word on IDing the person who offed the dog? If not, fire what we have towards me and I'll have some o' my friends look over it. Additionally, be on your toes today. Our friend has a bad feeling today and I'm sharing it.>>

"Conveniently, all six of us are now in the vicinity of our friend. And he has a bad feeling about today."

Invisible Professor tours around the condo unit being aware astrally. He will do this on a roughly regular basis. When not outside, he will take his share of duty monitoring the video feeds from the condo in our stakeout.

"If you send the data my way I have a friend that can get what we need"

Following the flow of the group Warrior takes his turn watching the feeds and doing physical perimeter check discreetly.

[OOC: Let's assume Warrior and Dick get the data.] Professor messages the group:

"What do you think about one of us follow the maid as she does her shopping. I know this is a bit paranoid."

The maid continues her shopping buying a nice selection of fresh vegetables to make a rather expansive salad, pasta and desert for six dinner guests. The maid pays for the whole thing on Karkoff's account with the supermarket. She also buys other food not on the shopping list.

Running a DNA sample through the open databases has a waiting time of weeks. Running it through police databases is behind expensive license fees or a good contact.

John gets back to Warrior with some information. The half finger print raised a flag with the death of a certain doctor and the burning down of a pub. There was a polite electronic request from the detective in charge to interview the felon in question.

Karkoff mostly sits around home, looking nervous and apprehensive.

The maid comes back and starts making dinner, leaving one bag in the trunk of the car. Karkoff comes and helps out with dinner. At 6PM a car rolls up to the driveway.

A woman with too much make-up and a badly concealed smoking habit comes out of the car. Her husband wearing slacks and a polo, and a clean shaven chiselled face looks a little bit out of place and hesitant.

He looks around the area before openign up the back door for two girls to come screaming out.

[Perception 5]

"Now, look how many times have I told you not to bother your cousin like that. You know how he gets."


A big 6 foot troll steps out of the other door, he's wearing a trainers, slacks and a straight shirt. he fidgets with his hair and hir horns.

he looks at the kids, confused and is genuinely grinnign when he sees the old man in the doorway "Hello, grandpa." He moves stiffly and puts out his hand for a heavy handshake.

"Strong grip you have there, kid."he says as he shakes out the excess of the grip.

"Come in, come in."

[OOC Does this mean make a Perception test with a threshold of 5? Whoa!]

Professor scans the family in physical space and then astrally.

Physical ==> INT 4 + Perception 6 + active search 3 + vision enhancement 3 = 16 dice ==> 1 hit !!!
[OOC: Duh... dey be hewmann, no?]

Astral ==> INT 4 + Assensing 5 + active search 3 = 12 dice ==> 5 hits !!!
[OOC: Don't ask me!]

If it's easy to do so, Professor will sneak inside while the door is open. If he manages to get inside... seeing as he is invisible... he will subvocalize his whereabouts to the rest of the crew.