((( Your commlink politely requests a voice meeting. )))

"Are we all here? Good.

"Call me Simon, if you please. I have asked you here today because I have a bit of a problem to deal with that's located somewhere fairly difficult to get to. It might be the kind of problem that needs a decisive answer.

"A friend of mine, Loc, went into a vat a few months ago, and is scheduled to throw a teotl party in two weeks time. The process he is undergoing is delicate and requires social and physical isolation to keep outside factors from unbalancing it. So when I was sought out by one of his messenger spirits I was worried. When it was unable to communicate it's message to me, I became alarmed. I need to know if Loc is alright.

"The problem is that I don't know where he lives. I've been there a number of times, but I don't know where he keeps it. I can't call him because he lives below 20 meters, so no electrical communications can reach him. He also moves around. I don't know how he moves something so large, but it's never in the same place. I haven't been able to have it found by a search spirit, and I don't know why. A place with that many living things in it should be very easy to find, but it isn't. Instead, I need you to find it.

"I don't know where his house is, but I do know where a one of Loc's harbors is. It's an underwater base at about 10 meters, that he would pick us up from when we came to visit. It's reasonably well defended, but it's restricted from lethal force by his security policy. I never got a chance to poke around much while I was there, but I'm reasonably certain we can find something there that will tell us where to find his house.

"If you are still interested, we can get started, and I can start moving you all down to the Caribbean."

"So, we can't contact your friend because he doesn't have a good matrix connection and isn't findable by spirits to relay a message. His spirit couldn't say what was wrong either. We don't know where he lives, because his residence moves around by some unknown means. So, to help your friend we're going to break into one of his personal harbors which is guarded by a private security force, who, thankfully, have been instructed not to use lethal force. That means the first part of this doesn't carry much risk of death at least."

"You've been there before at least, so can you tell us what kind of defenses they have? Metahuman guards, drones, spirits? Are we going to be able to at least get close under pretense of being guests, and then try to infiltrate more from there, or are we going to start having trouble from the minute we start getting close?"

"Oh, and while we're all talking, I don't know alot about most of you, shall we do a little meet and greet so we know who is who and what they can do? I'm B Bandit, and I'll have the matrix covered. Other than that, don't expect me to be firing a gun accurately or anything in combat."

"I will help you track down your friend, Mr. Kerinov. I'm currently residing on Dominica, so I'm already in the Caribbean. But I'd still need transportation to the location of our target.

As for our little meet and greet, people call me Kensei. I will be your scout and close quarters combat specialist. I can take care of wordly enemies as well as materialized spirits. I'm also a very capable marksman."

Gil chuckled to himself. "Simon says find his friend, eh? Can't be too hard. I'm in New Orleans, so just let me know where and when we're all rendezvousing down here. As for the meet-and-greet, well, I think we'll have plenty of time for that once we're all in the same place. But if you must know, I can rig anything that drives on land or floats on the water. I ain't half bad with a gun, too, if things go south."

Spencer was quite for a moment while the others spoke, when the conversion lulled slightly he spoke up simply, "I am on the west coast and will need transport. Since we are so spread out I imagine a meet will happened once we are in the Caribbean. In the mean time, I am a combat specialist with emphasizes on underwater and stealth ops, point me at the target and it while cease to exists."

"B Bandit is in Tampa, Spencer is in Seattle, Gill is in New Orleans, and Kensei is in Dominica. B Bandit will catch a direct flight from KTAP in Tampa to Canefield Airport in Roseau, Dominica, where she will meet Kensei at the Fort Young Hotel. Spencer, a car will pick you up and take you to a private airport in Seattle where you will find the Icarus. It has good navigation autosofts and will fly you down to New Orleans to refuel and pick up Gill. Icarus will fly you to another private airfield floating offshore of Dominica, and you can take a boat in from there to meet Kensei and B Bandit.

"Once you have all gathered in Dominica, one of my representatives will meet you and will handle the case from there.

"Do you have any questions, at this point? We can handle gear requisition once we are all in the same place."

(((An information link appears on your commlink. Click the spoiler tag below.)))



Travel time from Seattle to New Orleans is 3.5 hours. Travel from New Orleans to Dominica is about 4 hours. Travel from Tampa to Dominica is a bit under 3 hours. The travel waits on you, so you are free to take as long as you would like before setting out.

"Sorry, Simon Says. I don't do airplanes. Drop me some coordinates and I'll take my own boat, thank you very much."

"I got no problems with that. So B drop me a message with your rough time of arrival so I know when to be at the hotel. Also be careful. Roseau is a small city and mostly calm in comparison to the megasprawls but there are some criminal elements here that feed on "tourists". But I'm sure you can take care of yourself."

"Alright. Coordinates for Dominica are 14°58'32.85"N by 61°29'11.77"W. Would you rather I sent a cargo plane to take your boat with you? The boat ride may take a few days as it's a bit under 4,000 km from New Orleans."


I've got travel plans for Robert Paulson, and Kensei doesn't need to move. How about the rest of you?

Saturday, July 16, 2072

"Well, I'll be able to fly out tomorrow unless someone is going to take an age to get there. Don't want to be waiting forever. Sounds like this should be an interesting little foray at least. The sea water is going to mess up any kind of matrix access for me though."


Compiling Code Sprite, Sprite resisting (16d6.hits(5)=6, 6d6.hits(5)=3) 3 services
Fading Resist (17d6.hits(5)=7) no fading damage

"I. Don't. Do. Airplanes. I'll see you there."

"Key here...Monarch passed on your message and he's re-routed me from Seattle. I've just finished a job so I've got all my gear. Where shall I get the pilot to set us down? It's a great hulking cargo plane so no small air strips please."

She paused...

"and a lift from the airport would be great...something with some room in the back, van or small truck would do..."

B Bandit: B Bandit's apartment, Tampa, Florida.
Saturday, 16th of July, 2072, 13:02

"Well, It's easier for me to travel on the weekends, so I'll likely leave tomorrow so I'm not the long pole in the tent, though I'd maybe be alright based on how long it takes Mr. Doesn't Want To Fly to get there. Still, best not to chance it. So, I might be able to try and find something for you Key."

"Fine, I am ready to move now, I would rather wait in the Caribbean than in Seattle. Have your driver here in thirty or sooner, I'll be waiting." Spencer said.

"I assume anything else that needs discussing can wait until we are gathered in Dominica. If anything changes or any of you need to get a hold of me, message me on my link. See you all in the sunny Caribbean." Spencer transmitted his link address and cut the connection to begin packing his minuscule amount of belongings.

"Right. Dominica it is."

Gill signed off of the chat, packed a bag of clothes and an innocuous-looking suitcase with his broken-down M24A3, slipped his Predator into its holster in the small of his back, and left his crummy apartment two blocks off Bourbon Street. He jumped on his bike and made for the docks where his boat was moored. He piled the Guardian into the boat's smuggling compartment -- hey, you never knew -- along with the rest of his hardware, settled into the seat, jumped into the boat, and took off for the eastern Caribbean.

FINS
Two hours after accepting the mission, a Mitsubishi Nightsky pulls onto the street running by Fins' run down apartment complex. Everyone in the neighborhood watches as the car gracefully dodges potholes and pulls up to the crumbling curb. The driver door opens and a suited antroform steps out and slowly, deliberately, scans the street. The neighborhood abruptly remembers other things they are supposed to be doing and the eyes slip back behind curtains. The anthroform waits silently by the car as Fins packs equipment, and waits quietly again as Fins unpacks and board a waiting MiG-67.

The cabin of the Icarus is opulent. As Fins looks around at the expensive real-wood paneling, his eye catches a crystal glass cabinet in the library holding a bottle of Dalwhinnie 15 year scotch.

[INT + Perception(Visual)] Test

KEY
Key sits back to enjoy her ride to Dominica. Monarch had relayed what had been said so far, and something about the description of a moving aquacology caught her attention. What was that story told by Dr. Denton would tell back at CTec after he would tinker with the hydreliox breathing gas mixtures?

[INT + Atlantis Theories] Test

KENSEI
Kensei practices on the beach with doble baston, the practice weapons of arnis de mano. He works his way through the drills slowly, to ensure perfection of form and economy of movement. The egg-beater sounds of helicopters slowly grow louder until they at last overwhelm the hissing of the two rattan clubs as they whip through the air.

[INT + Perception(Audio)] Test

ROBERT PAULSEN
Robert Paulsen skips from wave to wave in his Zemlya-Poltava Crest, the engine spinning high every time he crests and becomes briefly airborn. The weather is clear tonight, and moon is out across the waves. A blessing to navigation, a curse to smuggling. The radio has been hissing in the background, picking up only static. The static stops and the radio spits out the digital noise that hallmarks encrypted traffic.

[Electronic Warfare + Scan] (4) Extended Test

B BANDIT
B Bandit sees a black tophat sitting on a white marble manniquin head. A black circle appears on the white face over one blank eye and winks.

(((Heya Bandit! Could you do me a favor? Please deliver the message "Qa1 g7++" To ADAM when you speaks to him. Thanks so much. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind leaving that Novatech Airware of yours by the step when you go out? I'm sure the Cooperative would approve. Call sometime!")))

the message deletes itself.

B Bandit looks at the VR winky face. She looks thoughtful for a moment, then replies

(((Yeah, sure. No viruses on it I take it? I don't want it crashing my Metalink as well, and I'll throw a backup somewhere special if it's safe.)))

She quickly transfers the handful of important files on her Airware to her Metalink. As she works on that, she makes her way out of her apartment, down to the first floor, taking care to 'accidentally' and very lightly drop her Airware in the stairwell on her way down. Now downstairs she makes her way to the very small courtyard of the complex, finding the chair she usually sits and, and brushing it to make sure it is clear of any kind of debris. She sits down and enjoys the feel of the sun on her for a few minutes before slipping into VR, sending a quick message to Christiana explaining that she needs to go to the Caribbean tomorrow and where she is right now.

That done, she focuses on registering the sprite she compiled earlier.
Registering/Resistance (16d6.hits(5)=8, 12d6.hits(5)=3) 5 more services owed, 8 total.
6S fading:
Fading Resist (17d6.hits(5)=7) No fading.
Takes 6 hours.

Kensei was training on the hot sands of one of Dominica's many beaches. Slowly the rattan clubs went through their patterns, every movement strong but precise, not an ounce of force wasted. In real combat he preferred blades but the corresponding techniques could be practiced just as easily with the tradtional rattan sticks of arnis de mano and he did not want to expose his edged weapons needlessly to the burning sun and the sand in the air.
Like always he fell into a trance-like state while going through the motions that, after many years of training, were imprinted deeply into his body. A state of clarity, Zen, as buddhists called it. Traditionally attained through meditation, Kensei found it in the simplicity of combat. Fully immersed in his art of beauty and destruction, the tall japanese-looking man moved gracefully through the sand, his white kimono and silver-black hair fluttering in the breeze.

After an indeterminate amount of time something stirred at the edge of his consciousness, disturbing his concentration. Letting his focus slip away he returned his attention to the world around him, noticing the flapping sound of rotor blades cutting the air.

"Jumped in" to the Crest -- named Dixie, but not after his homeland -- Gil (aka Bob Paulsen) couldn't frown as the radio crackled, struggling to give voice to something. He jumped out of full VR and took the Dixie's controls by hand as he adjusted his comm's radio receiver. He frowned as he engaged his EW programming, letting it go to town on the coded signal he was picking up.

Interval 1: 5 hits
8d6.hits(5)=5

He smiled as the radio made a nails-on-chalkboard as the squelch was broken as a message started coming in.

Key moved with the roll of the plane as it powered its way south. She opened her link and began the process of checking the diagnostics of each of her pieces of kit. It was unusual to be off again so soon after a job and she wanted to make sure nothing was damaged or out of alignment…she’d rather be going home but there was that looming debt to pay and she wasn’t sure how much longer Monarch would be patient.

After clearing out some crud from Jaws’ thruster unit and confident that everything else was in working order she settled back to browse the trix and perhaps see if Aria was prepared for a rematch, not that she was ever likely to win against the hacker…she was sure Aria cheated although she really didn’t know how…

While she was waiting for the connection through the plane’s systems she mulled over the upcoming job…there was definitely something that Doc had muttered about in one of his less lucid moments that was nagging at her subconscious…perhaps if she stopped thinking about it it would come to her…

Roll Int+Atlantis Theory 7D = 4 Hits (4,5,6,3,5,5,2)

Kensei
For a moment Kensei tensed before recognizing the sound as coming from a set of cargo helicopters, and not from the attack helicopters he had so often ridden to assignments. He sees two cargo helicopters fly overhead toward Boeri Lake. From each helicopter a cable holding a large metal box can be seen. They fly the few kilometers to the lake and descend in turn, rising without their payload. The helicopters roar overhead again as they fly back out to sea. Kensei looks back up the slope to where they had dropped their cargo.

Bob Paulsen
This far out, the only ships with enough signal to reach to his radio are a few of the larger Navy ships, and they would have to be closer than Bob Paulsen is usually comfortable with in his line of work.

[Decrypt+Response](6) Extended Test to decrypt the messages.

Key
Oh, Key remembers, he was ranting about the Phantom Islands. The good doctor had been staring off into space when he suddenly focused and declared that the Atlantean Foundation was chasing these islands that just popped into and out of existence all over the Caribbean. They haven't had any luck and may still be operating in the region. They might have some information concerning submerged Caribbean bases that move around the sea floor.

The heavy cargo freighter makes a landing at the Woodford Hill airport.

B Bandit
Puzzled by the message Black Hat asked her to deliver, B Bandit pulls up the file properties. It's empty; the title is the whole of the message.
The flight is quiet, and B Bandit flies into the Woodford Hill airport. The briny air wraps around her like a wet quilt, and she squints in the over-bright sunlight. She can't see the young man holding a sign with her name on it, but he seems to recognize her and approaches.

More static. Great. With a flicker of thought, he puts his Decrypt program to work.

Interval 1:
9d6.hits(5)=3

Interval 2:
8d6.hits(5)=4

[i]I didn't know if you were using the ecalating difficulty for extended test rules, so I used 'em anyway.[i]

Yes, it's an Extended test. I fixed my original post to reflect that. The first roll you did was to locate the frequency being used, and this one is to make it understandable.

B Bandit gives a sigh at the feel of the damp air surrounding her "And I thought Florida was humid." she comments, seemingly to herself, but a moment later, a woman at her side replies "I'm just glad I don't have to stay here." As the man approaches, the woman puts her hand gently on B Bandit's shoulder and turns her towards the man. "Looks like you have an escort from here."

B Bandit nods "Alright, thanks for coming with me as always. Have a safe trip back. Be sure to call me, I've heard that sea water messes with the matrix, so we won't get to talk much once the job gets started." "Of course I'll call." her companion replies. They embrace each other in a hug, and share a quick kiss.

Having said their goodbyes, the woman makes her way out of the airport to take in some of the sights and get something to eat before the return trip. B Bandit meanwhile addresses the man with the sign. "I take it you're going to get me to the hotel?" she asks, taking a short metal rod from her carry-on bag. She holds one end and gives it a flick towards the ground, causing it to extend to about the length of a cane. "We need to get my bags first, they wouldn't let me bring my gloves on the flight."

BOB PAULSEN
Bob smiles as the random radio noises coalesce into metahuman voices speaking in English.

VOICE 1 : "...we have visual on that chopper?"
VOICE 2 : "No, we haven't been able to get a confirmed sighting."
VOICE 1 : "Well, what's the tally so far for tonight?"
VOICE 2 : "Eighteen. A couple got reported as Azzie Aguilars."
VOICE 1 : "That's not good."

A third voice breaks in and demands radio silence. There isn't any further traffic.

B BANDIT
B Bandit hears the man approach. He seems to be scuffing his shoes on the tarmac in an effort to announce his approach to the blind hacker.

"B Bandit, it's good to see you. I'm glad you could make it. We are going to take a helicopter to the other side of the island in a bit, but we might as well wait for Key to show up. She should be here inside of an hour." The man takes her by the elbow to guide her toward the air-conditioned airport. "Can I get you something to drink? The food here is generally terrible, but the drinks are quite good. The rum is excellent."

KEY
Key steps off the big cargo plane into the muggy climate of the island and the deafening roar of the cargo plane's motors. Over by the airport, Key sees a young, blond man in white linen pants and an expensively trashy hawaiian shirt waving at her. When he sees that she's noticed him, he points inside where a woman with luminescent white hair is sitting. He pantomimes drinking and then steps back inside.

KENSEI

FINS

For a moment Kensei remained still after his concentration had been broken by the helicopters, enjoying the feeling of inner calm for a few more seconds. Then he packed up his stuff and started his way back to his apartment which was only a half-hour walk away from the sandy beach he was standing on.
He prefered the use of his own body to get to places and still hadn't brought himself to buying a vehicle. Dominica was a small island and when he needed to he could still take the bus, unreliable as it was. While walking he thought about the helicopters he had seen, wondering if they were connected to his recently aquired mission. Well I guess I'll find out soon enough, he thought with a smile.

Arriving at his house he took a quick shower and changed into fresh clothes. Feeling refreshed he decided to walk by the Fort Young hotel for a quick check to see if one of his future partners had already arrived. After all it was only five minutes by foot from his apartment to the hotel. Securing his blades in the dark red obi of his white kimono, he left the house.

I've really turned into a human, he thought when he caught himself humming the melody of a traditional japanese warrior's song while strolling through the hot streets of Roseau.

Fins was slightly perturbed at having to wait longer then he expected for the car to arrive, but when an antroform emerged from the drivers side he sighed and shrugged. //Not going to be able to argue with one of those//, he thought to himself and climbed into the back seat.

After stowing his gear in the plane and settling in Fins looked around the cabin taking in all the details he could and waited for the aircraft to get airborne.

6d6.hits(5) = 3

Hope I did the roll right that is my first time using invisiblecastle.

KENSEI
Kensei doesn't feel like climbing a mountain in his kimono, so heads to the Fort Young hotel. The locals do their best to keep out of his way, but other than that, they don't react to the swords. Kensei had lived here for some time.

FINS
Fins sees that the armchair in the small library has been used recently. There is an Augmented Reality Environment (ARE) program displaying an open leather-bound book on top of its commlink.

B Bandit faces the man, locating him by the sound of his footsteps "That's unusually kind of you." she says in comment to his purposefully loud footsteps. She nods to the comment "That makes sense. No rum for me though." She follows the man to get her luggage, and then to wherever it is he leads her to get a drink. As she walks, she uses her cane to make sure she doesn't run into anything, and doesn't look around any. Once arrived at the place to wait for Key she asks her escort to suggest something 'virgin' to order.

Since I haven't given a physical description yet...

B Bandit isn't quite what her profile promised. She certainly doesn't look like she is 22, and in fact would be lucky to pass as 18. She's a bit short for an elf, looking to be only about five and a half feet tall, and yet is obviously an elf. Pointed hears just barely poke out from underneath her long mane of hair so pure white that it seems to give off a light of her own. She has a nice figure, tanned skin, and a pretty face lacking any sort of makeup, but has plenty of natural beauty. Her hair is strait, and spills down to her waist, looking extremely well cared for. She wears close fitting jeans, and a plain white t-shirt, gloves, and dark sunglasses which wrap around a bit to completely cover her eyes, and a black duster hat. A commlink hangs from her belt, along with a small black fabric case for her cane. She also has a small black tote bag and a suitcase of luggage.

"Well, well," he mumbles to himself. "Azzies are playing around here, too. Maybe I'll get to plink a couple." The thought brings a smile to his face; he might be a wanted man, but he was still proud to be a Confederationist, and Aztlan's invasion of Texas was -- he was quite certain -- going to be countered sometime in the near future.

With the radio gone back silent, he slips back into full VR, jumps back into the speedboat, and keeps on truckin' towards Dominica.

KENSEI
As Kensei walks the few blocks from his home to the Fort Young hotel, he notices that he harbor is surprisingly busy. Roseau is usually a fairly lazy place, with little trade that isn't related to talislegging and smuggling goods into Amazonia, but there are a number of new boats tied up on the docks, and the bars are much more crowded than normal. The new individuals are easy to pick out, as they saunter around clearly displaying weaponry and armor.

BOB PAULSEN
Bob spends the two days it takes to boat from New Orleans to Dominica, regularly intercepting wireless Matrix chatter from CAS, Aztlan, and Amazonian navies. There are more ships active than he has ever heard about, and the voices from the CAS and Amazonian navies seem to be quite on edge. So far there don't seem to have been any incidents, but Aztlan also hasn't announced any "maneuvering exercises", or made any attempt to explain their large naval deployment.

When Bob gets to Roseau port in Dominica, he sees several familiar smuggling boats, and several other ships that he can guess are also pirates. Dominica is a fairly good stop-over for smuggling between Amazonia, the CAS, Aztlan, French Guiana, and the Caribbean League, but never to this extent. Perhaps the tempo crackdowns are forcing smugglers into other parts of the business.

Bob ties up at the Fort Young hotel.

B BANDIT
While waiting for Key's plane to fly into Dominica, B Bandit is sipping on a virgin margarita and listening to the man make small-talk about the island. Once Key arrives, the man introduces the two of them, still without introducing himself. He leads them over to a small helicopter, and they make their way to the Roseau, and the Fort Young hotel.

KEY
After a quick introduction to B Bandit and a cool drink, she is flown to Roseau and the Fort Young hotel.

FINS
After Fins decides to read the document or leave it alone, the Icarus lands on Dominica. The heat is oppressive, but the car ride to Roseau is short, air conditioned, and has a wet bar. Fins makes it to the Fort Young hotel.

Key stepped down from the plane, pleased that she’d chosen a summer dress…it was hotter here than back home, and infinitely hotter than Seattle where she’d been for the last three weeks. She saw the man with the bad shirt at the terminal gesturing to her and shrugged, it seems that customs wasn’t going to be an issue. She was still glad that her less than legal equipment was stowed inside the walls of the packing crate that was now trundling down the ramp behind her.

The aircon inside the terminal building was stuttering but more bearable than the heat outside. At the blond man’s suggestion she sat down for a drink and took the opportunity to introduce herself to the white haired lady who she rightly guessed would be one of her compatriots on this little jaunt…

…and then it was back in the air again. She just hoped her crate was stowed securely…

Once you arrive at the Fort Young hotel, you find that you have already been checked in, and there are a number of servants who offer to carry any of your luggage up to your rooms. Food and beverages are offered, and a conference room is pointed out that bears a sign on it's door stating "Reserved: Adventure Contractors Convention". It seems superfluous as there is no one else staying in the hotel; asking any of the hotel staff get the answer that the entire hotel has been booked for your use.

The blond man is waiting in the conference room, and is paging through a commlink display that is dressed up in AR to look like an accounting ledger. He waves you in and gestures to seats that have your names written on reservation cards, since the conference room can comfortably seat 50 people, this is a bit ridiculous. Once you are all present and seated, he stands up and addresses you.

"Hi, I'm Simon, which you probably already guessed. I'm glad you could make it. Can I get any of you a drink? Something to eat? I brought a few of my chefs with me, so the food will be of decent quality." A young elf in a tuxedo takes your orders, if there are any, and heads out. She comes back with any drinks or food in short order.

"Right, so, let's get started. My friend Loc, as I've said, has disappeared. He sent a messenger spirit to me, but it was speaking in Nahuatl, and there don't seem to be any linguasofts for that particular language. I'd have grabbed a translator, but any message from him right now means something has gone wrong. I also got lucky and a linguist hired herself on." He slides a chip across the table to B Bandit.

"I need you all to go find him and bring him back here. Like I said before, I don't know where his house is, but I can narrow it down. Loc uses a series of communication buoys floating all over the Caribbean, which allow him to keep in contact on an irregular basis. It's not real-time communication, but at least he can check his mail. Those buoys can be reached via normal wireless communication and translate the signal into a sonar signal that his house can hear. He has to be fairly close to one in order to send and receive, so that should help.

"His dock is about 60 kilometers north of here on a small island that is part of Guadeloupe, and hopefully there is a computer there that has records of which buoy was last accessed." Simon sends a map to your commlinks.

"The other way to narrow down where he is comes from the propulsion mechanism for his house. I don't know any of the technical aspects of it, but I know he has to follow leylines, so he should be somewhere along a leyline near his last communication point.

"There is one more problem: I'm to understand that his family has started looking for him quite aggressively. I don't want them to find him before we do, so if you run into anyone else looking for him, please kill them."

"Is there any information that I can supply you with?" Simon looks around at you all expectantly.

Time to introduce yourselves and get ready for some legwork.

Gil accepts his rum & coke from the tuxedoed elf with a somewhat malicious grin and promptly knocks it back in one gulp. He sighs contentedly and motions for another.

"Right, so. His family is looking for him aggressively, you say. How aggressive is aggressive? Are we talking nav-sats, SAR birds, a zigzag pattern in a speedboat? I intercepted some CAS navy chitchat on the way here, and there's Azzie attack helicopters flying around. I'm not here to ask what you're biz with Loc really is, but I do want to know what kind of firepower I'm -- we're -- up against."

He gets his second drink but goes easier on this one. "Mmmmm, that's the good stuff. Y'all should try the rum."

Simon nods to Gil. "Yes, that does sound like the aggressive searching I heard about. As for how heavy the firepower is, that depends on how much they want him back. If you can avoid their ships and helicopters, the worst you should expect is a Cuachicqueh unit or two with some magical backup."

Fins stared at the document, his curiosity was definitely peeked, but his eyes were drawn back to the bottle of Scotch. It wasn't really his preference in drink, he was more of a Whiskey man, but he wasn't really one to be picky about his drinks. He cracked open his flask and drained it's contents while he contemplated the document and it's significance, then he stood up and walked over to the library. He open the door and took out the bottle and a nce crystal tumbler. He uncapped the bottle and took a deep breath of the contents with his eyes closed, a smile crept onto his face and he poured himself a generous amount into the glass. Before putting the cap back on, he filled up his flask with steady hands that had done the same task hundreds of times before. He put the cap back on the bottle and placed it back in the cabinet. He then closed the door, turned to the document, and began skimming it as he sipped from his glass.

Spencer was uncomfortable with the luxury displayed for them so car on this op. He was not use to these kinds of lavishes, but the others seemed to be okay with it so he kept his mouth shut and tried to calm his nerves buy taking the glass of straight up Whiskey the Elf offered him. "What about jurisdiction? Who's backyard are we going to be playing in and what kind of response can we expect if things get...complicated." He asked Simon as he swirled the Whiskey in his glass before taking a good size pull from it.

The document that Fins had found was entitled "A Geomantic Survey of the Eastern Caribbean". It has maps of leylines in the Caribbean, but only on land and coastal regions. There are areas sketched in where sea floor leylines are guessed to be.

***

"Jurisdiction could be a problem. While Loc's dock is technically in Guadeloupe, anything he owns falls under extraterritoriality. The same goes for his house, wherever it is. If Loc comes out of this ok, you won't have any problems, but you could technically get charged with piracy if one of his families representatives has taken the place over. That's a good question, and I'll pen 'legal representation' into your contract in case such a thing happens."

Kensei rearragend his swords so they did not interfere before he set down on the chair that had his nameplate in front of it. He kept quiet while Simon explained their mission and the others started asking questions, preferring to listen. He watched each of his new partners for a while, memorizing their looks and, more importantly, their smells.

Key frowned to herself, not immediately recognising the reference to 'Cuachicqueh' and so while listening to Simon’s pitch she mentally accessed the trix and browsed for the phrase…

Roll Logic+Data Search 4D = 1 Hits (4,5,2,3)

Key quickly finds a reference to the Cuachicqueh, filed under Aztlan elite forces.

((( Cuachicqueh (The Shorn ones) : The Cuachicqueh are hard-hitting black ops operatives. Typically, these highly augmented paramilitary specialists are deployed in cross-trained pairs on missions that require high-profile sabotage, terrorism, brute-force killings, and kidnappings. The Shorn Ones can often be identified by their shorn heads, mohawks, or single braids (although not all Cuachicqueh follow this tradition). )))

B Bandit introduces herself to Key when they meet. She seems happy enough about the meeting, though somewhat uncomfortable with the heat, speculating about it a bit before the helicopter ride. She doesn't look around to enjoy the views, though she does seem to glance towards the harbor at one point for several moments.

"Finally, some good AC." she murmurs as she passes the front door of the hotel. She follows her guide to her chair, sitting down and looking around the table at each of those sitting there. She doesn't quite seem to look directly at anyone though, generally looking a bit to their left or right. She asks for some OJ and something light to eat, but doesn't get anything harder to drink. She doesn't look like she's old enough, though that hardly matters here.

She reaches out and puts her hand over the chip but doesn't otherwise look at it as she access its data. "Well, I don't speak Nahuatl, or any other Uto-Aztekan languages, but I can see what I can do. It tends to have a bit of Spanish and Latin influence. Surprised you can't find any linguasofts, but then, Aztlan isn't well know for being friendly. I know someone who can get me a tutor for it though, and I'm a quick study. I could just send it out to be translated, but if he sent it in this language, likely best we know it. And I'm sure that this is a case of 'the fewer people that know, the better'."

B Bandit opens a connection to each of the other 'employees' at the table, purposefully leaving out Simon and his staff (((Who else smells something? The lies are plentiful, but the cash is good, and I'm curious to know what this is all actually about.)))

"So his house is extraterritorial? I'm guessing Aztech's then, based on the language? So does he work for them, or is his house some kind of lab of theirs?"

Gil kind of jumps a bit when Bandit's message window just pops up in his view. This whole cyber-eye thing was going to take some getting used to. ((Who cares? The cash is good and I get to cap some Azzies. I'm all in.))

In the flesh, he waves at Bandit for the chip. "Give it here, lady, I know some Azzie-talk. Maybe I can make something of it."

(((At least I know who keep between me and the bad guys now))) B Bandit[b] replies, throwing up a grinning icon, followed by a short animation of a guy in a ridiculous amounts of armor standing in front of a cartoony [b]B Bandit while a virtual rain of bullets bounces off the armor.

She lowers her hand completely onto the chip, and slides it in Gil's direction without looking at him, getting it to stop almost right in front of him.

She splits her attention some, going to one of the The Cooperative's sites to post a request to borrow a tutor sprite to teach her Nahuatl. She holds off on actually posting it though (((If you can read it, mind teaching me?))).

"Yes," Simon replies to B Bandit, "his house is extraterritorial. It falls under extraterritoriality because he is part of a corporate family that is, for all intents and purposes, indistinguishable from Aztlan. It's sort of a side benefit that applies to any property he owns.

"As for the translation, the fewer people that know, the better, as you say. If his family has already deployed the Aztlan Navy to look for him, the Matrix is likely to be watched as well. The Azzies don't quite have the same level of Matrix influence that some of Loc's friends do, but that only goes so far."

Gil picks up the chip and slots it in his datajack. His eyelids flutter a bit as the message is downloaded into his implanted comm, the words scrolling across his vision. Definitely going to take some getting used to.

Don't know if this required, but here's an Intuition+Uto-Aztecan Language to read the message:
5d6.hits(5)=3

((( The recording shows a view of one of the Shibanokuji Freefall Resort cabins, easily recognizable from any of the trid shows featuring the resort. Simon is visible, a small anthroform drone in pieces around him. He is currently punching commands into a desktop forge.

Behind him a spirit materializes, looking like a cross between a toothy lizard and a bleeding pile of kelp. The lizard is bleeding from it's eyes and mouth, and the mana void of space is visibly tearing at it. It seems to be able to regenerate, but it's in visible pain. The tortured spirit rasps a greeting to Simon, who turns around. He seems vaguely surprised, but not overly shocked to have a bleeding crocodile plant spirit materialize in his orbital resort. Simon asks the spirit what it wants, shaking his head when it speaks in a language he doesn't understand. The spirit ignores him and recites it's message.

"Simon, it's me, Loc. I've had an accident. I've crashed the Cipactli, and I can't let my family find me. My family wants me to become an ixiptla in preparation for invading Amazonia. I can't. I don't want to die. I don't want to be an ixiptla, Simon! I'm stuck on the sea floor. I ran, and pushed the Cipactli too hard. It hit something, some kind of mana surge, and the power plant tore itself apart. Mana containment broke, spilled everywhere, and now I can't move. I can't fix it, and I can't leave my medical vat. I need help. You've got to get me out of here before they find me. They will throw everything they have at finding me. Aztlan can't invade Amazonia until they have an ixiptla, and it's my duty to sacrifice myself for my country, but I can't do it Simon! Please save me."

The spirit dissipates. )))

Gil harrumphs as the message replays. "He crashed the Cipactli -- his house-boat-thingy, I'm guessing? -- because he was running from his 'family' who want to make an ixiptla so that they can invade Amazonia. The mana containment broke and now he's stuck down there, can't move at all. He's begging for help, and that's about the gist of it."

He unslots the chip and hands it back to Simon.

Turning towards Simon, Kensei speaks for the first time.

"How do you know that his family hasn't already found him?"