Friday afternoon in mid-January would not seem like a promising time for clients to show up at a detective agency, but business this month has shown that some people can get off work early on a Friday, and so show up at SIS's door around 6pm, pour out their story, and still make it home to have dinner with their cheating spouse on time.

Mato is on door duty, this afternoon, but the offer comes as a voice call over the matrix so anyone could grab it. (Except Jawsey, who has gone off on either a fool's errand or a spiritual quest -- to take a handful of sand to his homeland, and to re-introduce himself to family who will definitely not recognize his face.)

The voice on the other end is female, sounding very formal, each word enunciated clearly. "Good afternoon, Seattle Investigative Services? I would like to hire you for a missing person's case. I cannot travel to your offices at this time, but I do have a backroom in Bellevue where we could meet. Once you confirm you are willing to come, I will provide the address."

Bobby was in the kitchen, preparing a late lunch for himself. He had been out and about - as usual, but for once he had kept strictly to his normal form, forcing himself to train his body. Now he was perusing a particularly interesting article about arcane theory when the call appeared on his AR monitor.
Without thinking, he picked up.

It was a sign of him mellowing, that he managed a polite reply:
"You are in luck, there is a gap in our schedule at 1600h. I assume you are familiar with out rates. We offer full spectrum service, so please ensure that our specialists are able to enter wards that might be on your premises."

When the call concluded, he sent a short message to the rest of the team about what he had just learned.
<<... So, who wants to drive?>>

AM spent her time trying to get into shape, a healthy mind in a healthy body. In addition, she was trying to piece together the information Mato has provided her into a clue. She knew that she should study magic, and she did but that felt more like a choir than fun. Seeking ancient information was exciting, there were deep, and more dangerous parts of the matrix where such data fragments may have survived. These followed different rules of the rest of the matrix, and accessing them was hard. AM used her hot simulation, and her avatar was a super fast dark elf sorcerer with a faint spider iconography on her clothes.

She was exploring a cave, a datacache - trying to get something relevant but enjoying the view. When Bobby tells her that she needs to hang out she hurries to the exit point which is an endless black hole in the ground. Looking down she sees the emptiness it is the edge of the simulation, and some basic software seems to manipulate into ignoring it. Making her fear stepping over the edge. She looks into the abyss for a brief moment and steps into it. Falling, flying, initially, there is a sense of great speed but then everything goes black and she has no idea how long she is falling. She wakes up shortly afterwards, disoriented with a slight headache and dehydration, her head on the table, with drool on her cheek, and the cold herbal tea that she never drunk. She quickly drinks the cold tea - she does not like it cold but it is punishment for such neglect. Things were just so exciting at that cave, and she almost found the file fragment.

"I need a proper workplace" she murmurs to herself, complaining that they have no proper decker layer like in the trids with a super comfortable chair and holographic displays. Reality is more modest than fantasy, and the small elf wipes her face clean. Bellevue - right now? Doesn't he know that it takes some preparation to go to a place with rich people and that her SIN might be scanned and burned? Oh well, if she looks like she belongs there perhaps they won't just arrest them on sight.

She feels the muscle pain of her morning session, the drow priestess avatar was just insanely powerful without training. How she wished it could be like that in real life, but real life sucks unless you are Mato or perhaps Bobby. She strokes Trouble, which is still oblivious to her experiences and adventures and hugs him closely. He stood by her the whole time, looking at her, worried.
"I am fine love" she tells the cat, I am just in a bit of a hurry so we'll do some magic. Let's do something fun together." she says, and opens a visual display of recent fashion trends in Seattle, trying to find something that would fit her.

"Here, let's do a dress like that for a high ranking secratery - and neat hair with a splash of wildness a purple dash. Are you ready?" She tells the cat, never receiving a formal answer - and not even needing to ask given their telephatic linkage. She goes to the mirror, curses the way she looks washes her face and begins with some Iktomi's confidence. She does not want a bleeding nose in her new look. First step is hair and nails, blonde bangs with a single purple one to not be completely boring. A quick manual work on the eyes, and then she undresses and looks at the pants suit from their nobility job.

"It is a bit too much... Let's make it look like the dress suit on the picture. Are you ready? We need to make the pants into a dress, and then play with the greys so that it is interesting, but within the boundaries. SINNers are a bit boring, like tamed animals. Their life are too comfortable, and they have rules for everything." she explains Troubles. The two work on the febric, and AM watches as it changes in front of her eyes to mimic the dress she wants to wear. "Fashion spell is so cool, and you are like the Ferry godmother." which leaves her to be cinderella going to the party - or to an everyday at the office in this case.


She dresses quickly, and then feels a bit exposed it is tight on her body, and the dress is a bit short showing legs until the knees. She feels pretty in a feminine rather than a juvenile manner. It makes her feel a bit worried, or excited or both. "What would turn heads in Redmond is regular in Bellevue." she needlessly explains the cat that "Bellevue is different Trouble, I cannot go with oversized man clothes and a sub-machine gun... this is the sure way to get arrested. What do you care? You will just vanish into the astral if it happens. I'll be the one enduring all the unpleasantries.

She grins at the mirror, satisfied with her look, wears nice shoes, and enters the living room a new person. DB would disapprove of such liberal use of magic, but he is a man without matrix access and he lives in a tent. He never needs to be a female at Bellevue with a fake SIN. "Emma Miller - I can remember that. "


AM grins at the little cat... "Nice work Trouble you understand nothing in etiquette but you are a real chummer.". In response, the cut just brushes himself at her legs. Standing, and allowing him to indulge himself she suggests "I'll drive. I'll use the new Emma Miller SIN so you can still call me em if you like.

Mato sees the call but Bobby is quicker on the response. Bobby is always quicker. That's okay; it saves Mato the effort of being polite.

"Bellevue," he says out loud, but more to himself than anyone else. "It always makes you wonder what their motivations are. You figure if they can afford Bellevue then they can afford someone expensive. So are they searching for a discount? Are they in financial distress? Or do they think the missing person might be in Redmond and they need local operators?"

In truth, the Johnson being in Bellevue might not matter much. The Bellevue-Redmond border was only a klick or two away and it's not like things got immediately nice on the other side. There's a Stuffer Shack on the other side of the border, but even that had a bombing a few years back when a few gangers pretending to be shadowrunners got carried away during an attempted hit.

Mato goes to get dressed. He has a Zoé suit for situations like this, a handsome light-grey piece that he enjoys wearing. Except, when he tries to put it on, it doesn't fit.

"Ahh!" he growls, trying to button his shirt across his chest. The problem is that ever since he paid off hits debts, Mato's been eating better and even adding some muscle mass across his lats and pecs. His suit, custom fit for his smaller frame, is now bursting at the seams. For all his strength, he can't get his shirt to stretch. Or, more precisely, he could, but the fabric would rip.

"I can't button my shirt," he pouts, coming into the living room with his chest showing like a ¥20 pimp.

"Wow," he says, seeing AM dressed up. The compliment hangs in the air for a long moment before Mato walks out again to avoid having it be weird. Probably too late.

He goes back into the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror and try again.

"I don't think this is going to work," he concludes. "But, as luck would have it, we have an AR fashion subscription that specializes in the latest trends in business wear. I'll just have to hope that the Johnson is using an AR overlay and doesn't see me looking like a beach bum in July rather than a private investigator in January."

He adds some synthleather gloves to cover his cyberhands, reasoning that they'll look reasonable in the winter weather. He loads his "Dirk Magnum" SIN that identifies himself as a private investigator goes back to see how Bobby and AM are coming along. AM clearly doesn't need it, but Bobby might benefit from the AR fashion subscription too.

Bobby looked confused for a moment, then the penny dropped: "You are all dolling up for Bellevue? That might be a problem. I haven't invested in a new wardrobe for about three years now."
That is quite obviously true. There is a reason why flats and second hand clothing dominates what little Bobby's wardrobe has to offer - jumping in and out of your attire by transformation isn't particularly material friendly.
"So I'll either need your help, AM, to make my stuff look less shabby, or I'll have to come with you as your emotional support dog."
There is no indication that Bobby would mind either solution.

Of course, he cannot bottom his shirt one sin leads to another she says and feels suddenly self-aware when Mato makes that comment. She never looks like a girl, aside from her delicate face, which she always balances with an automatic weapon. Then Mato disappears before she manages to react, and Bobby is checking her up. More reserved, but clearly curious.
When he suggests coming like a dog she comments "I have a cat already, and I told him to go astral. Then Troubles meows in a protest and AM responds to the cat "No seriously Trouble, people do not bring pets to business meetings. Life is not like that teenage witch trid-show." The young cat just hurls in response clearly disappointed.

She says to Bobby I want to blend in there, hence the outfit. Jawsey is not here, so I got some big shoes to fill if I want us to get paid well. We got some good clothes at the last gig I modified it with magic. My regular outfit is as problematic as yours for the same reasons. I can have a look at your clothes, perhaps we are lucky and some clothes can pass as ironic. Or I can change them to be passable. Another possibility is just to dress like a Sioux shaman and if anyone asks just say something cryptic about spirits. Powerful awakened can get away with almost any wiredness.

The cat meows at that last statement - as if AM is contradicting herself, but she just shrugs frustrated and does not speak to him further. Then Mato speaks out of the bathroom, with an outrageous suggestion to cover his muscular chest with AR only.
The Trickster is happy, and the more frustrated AM feels the more she feels his amusement. Jawsey is just charming and calm and is like the ideal silver tongue elf. Nice of the Trickster to send Jawsey away when we go to Bellevue, now they all expect me to do the talking with Mato half-naked and Bobby as a dog. AM rolls her eyes out and lets out a nervous shrug. One disaster at a time... I'll make sure Mato does not look like a Chippendale and be back with your problems.

AM approaches the bathroom and stands near the half-opened door "Can I come in Mato? I have this spell that I and Trouble used to refit my clothes from the mansion to this gig. It may work for you as well. Your chest is best seen in private. Let the ladies buy you a drink and get to know you a little bit..." She speaks and feels her cheeks and ears are turning red, not because she has not seen Mato half-naked. She had, but because she is a bit embarrassed to use her magic in that particular manner. She imagines Dancing Bear giving her that self-righteous look, first she channeled the power of the great spirits as a small one-time favor to look good in public. Now she does it so that Mato does not embarrass her - and should spirit help with fashion problems? It is not strictly forbidden, but none of her original cycles would have considered that. On the other hand, Iktomi loved disguises - and they were pretty much dressing to blend in on a different environment. There was not much time.

Bobby finally receives a message from the client <<Backroom is confirmed for the next three hours. 10045 NE 1st Street. Tell them you are expected in the back room.>>

A two second search resolves the address as belonging to The Juju Ice Cafe, a high end purveyor of frozen delights (including authentic hand made ice cream). It is located across the street from the Bellevue Downtown Park, where the security presence will certainly be strong.

"Yeah, come in," Mato tells AM.

"Let's talk this through," he says, continuing to stare at himself in the mirror, not quite making eye contact with AM to help her avoid her obvious embarrassment. "I really like what you've done with your uniform. That might be a good option here.

"Option 1. This suit doesn't fit anymore. I give this suit to Bobby and your magic tailors it to him. Then I wear the uniform from the mansion but you tailor it so that it doesn't look like something out of a British trid mini-series. Bobby has a suit, problem solved.

"Option 2. We try to get Bobby something on short notice. It's an ice cream shop on a Friday afternoon; he doesn't need to be wearing business clothes. He could be wearing something sporty, like Ares' Rapid Transit line, or even an Urban Explorer Jumpsuit."

He glances at Bobby, thinking that it was stranger to see Bobby in clothes than out of them.

"Option 3. He's a gerbil in my pocket.

"Option 4. We leave him in the car. Or, you know, running around the park across the street, sniffing butts with the other dogs."

Then AM feels guilty because suddenly Mato is making a lot of sense so, perhaps the message is that she is too uptight.
She grins when he mentions her suit, excited to finally have something practical to wear for meetings. She never had beautiful clothes before. Option one makes the most sense. It solves both the problems and the suit from the mansion while impractical in its current form is excellent fabric tailored to your needs, I'll just need to shift around accessories and change the color a little bit."

She could see the practicality in that suggestion and there were no rules against it. Usage of holy powers remained somewhat vouge with guidelines but no concrete dos and don'ts. So I use my holy link to our ancestors and to the great spirit for magical tailoring of clothes. It was more of a realization, while she was okay of that use, or at least managed to justify the necessity. AM would be embarrassed if another shaman finds out about it.

Within the next few minutes, she will cast a series of spells to make fashionable suits for her two colleagues. The spell should not be within the reach of her skill with such highly processed fabrics but with Iktomi's help, and with Trouble's help manipulation magic becomes so much more powerful, and yet it takes her six tries for both suits until she is satisfied with the results. Mato's old suit is reduced to Bobby's size and is modernized a little bit giving it an elaborate design of complex interplays between shades of dark greys. Matos new suit is changed entirely into a business attire eliminating all the relevance like extras and turning them into carefully sown and barely visible pockets. She works with an AR picture of a suit she is mimicking but tries not to make it look exactly the same so it won't be perceived as a knockoff. These suits are all one of a kind, and eventually, it feels good but has mild fatigue from that excessive spellcasting.

Here you go, two brand new suits of my own fashion design. Tailored modified with the generosity of the great spirits. I feel strange to even say it, but it is so much fun - all the benefits of a tailor at the tip of a finger, and I can do it while you are wearing the suit so no need to even take measures. "

Bobby smiled: "Thanks - I really appreciate that. Never really had a well tailored... well anything." While he talks, he also nods at Mato: "And thank you too. Now, can I borrow your mirror too? I need to modify my hair."
Even as they speak, the others can see Bobby's long hair growing... shorter, retracting into his scalp at respectable speed.

When they were ready to go, Bobby wore a very conservative short hair cut that made him look almost like a typical corporate drone, an impression that was enhanced by Mato's old/new suit he was wearing now.

Mato disrobes, barely giving AM enough time to escape the bathroom before Mato strips down to his underwear. (Black briefs, some sort of absurd tactical fabric.) He walks over to Bobby and hands him the light grey slacks and suit jacked, plus the white dress shirt.

"It's a good suit. Zoé Executive Suite from last year. If you need to transform, try going smaller instead of larger."

Then Mato goes and puts on his Chasseur Field Uniform.

"You didn't see these, did you?" he asks Bobby rhetorically. "These were the duds we were wearing around Pike Hall. Although I enjoyed the tailoring process. Something to aspire to. Anyway, AM, work your magic."

He looks pleased with the results, which are less ostentatious than they were before.

"This is good," he tells her. "You should do the tuxedo sometime if you're up for it."

AM does the longcoat that goes over the uniform as well. Mato supposes this is what makes it a 'field' uniform. He pulls it on and feels its comforting warmth. There's a holster and you can see him visibly debating whether to bring something or not. Eventually he puts a magazine of gel rounds into his Walther P118 and puts it into the holster.

"I'll leave it in the car," he tells the others. "Given that it's Bellevue, I shouldn't take unnecessary chances."

Then, when AM is done, Mato marvels at the results.

"Look at us!" he exclaims. "We'll fit right in. ... Let's try not to get mugged on our way out of Touristville."

He slips on his chemsniffer ring, his contacts and earbuds, dons his glasses, then shoves a few private-investigator things in his pockets. Bug scanners, area jammers, lockpick sets, the usual.

"Are we taking the Americar?" he asks AM. "Or the Shin-Hyung? Are we going for flash or anonymity?"

"Since this is a missing persons thing, we might wand less flash." Bobby replied while fingering his perfectly tailored collar. "Sheesh, is it normal that I feel like I'm going to get choked any second now? How are people wearing stuff like that day in day out?"
Even a casual observer can recognize, that Bobby isn't used to wearing anything with a tie included.

"With that much ballistic cloth, I suspect our muggers would need some pretty heavy caliber to inconvenience us. But we better get going. The client won't wait forever."

"Lose the tie," Mato says, going over to Bobby and loosening the knot for him in some sort of grooming display. "You'll look more dashing. This is an ice cream parlor, not a board room.

"There," he says when he's done. "Undo the top button on the shirt, the one at the neck. Now it doesn't feel like a leash, like the yoke of your oppressor."

So why isn't Mato taking off his tie?

"There's a different sort of comfort," he answers, "that comes from knowing you look your best."

This is either some profound wisdom on the role of fashion or an epic burn on Bobby's tielessness.

"Cornflower blue looks better on me than on you anyway," Mato continues, reserving the tie for future use. "You do well in grey and white. The white shirt really pops against your skin tone. BANG! Here, can you make your hair swoop back a bit? or can you only control length, not direction?" He fusses with Bobby's hair for a few seconds.

"This look is just for the meet with the Johnson. Then we'll see which direction she sends us. We could be headed right back to Redmond. Remember Bau Chou? Maybe Junior joined the Halloweeners. Or maybe Urubia abducted some tween who just Awakened at puberty." He finishes with Bobby's hair, which is as majestic and as unruly as a cashmere goat.

"I'm not worried about the muggers themselves," Mato clarifies. "I expect it would actually be a fun bit of sport. I just don't want to show up for ice cream smelling like cordite.

"Ooo, I hope they have cookies and cream!"

"Thanks. Much better." Asked about the hair, he replied: "Honestly, never thought about that. I learned that trick mainly so I wouldn't freeze my balls off one of these days. But I'm pretty sure if I grow them thicker and with more oil, I can form them whichever."

"Heh, maybe we can get another sportscar out of the deal - like last time we got a wayward son back.
Hm, I think I'll get a frozen yogurt".

A drive-by easily locates the place; The Juju Ice Cafe is done up in bright baby blues and pinks, but with a facade similar to those you would see on a Downtown nightclub. It looks as though the owner is trying to walk a thin line between child and adult, safe and adventurous. Against the grey of the rain and the early winter evening the bright colours of the Cafe looked a bit forlorn.

Finding parking was not too difficult; the cold drizzle was likely keeping people away from the park and the businesses overlooking it. Still the spot was a block away which meant the team had to pass through the drizzle on the way to the Cafe. When they step inside the brightness and colours form a strong contrast to the dreariness outside. The walls are painted with random images, AR features bounce and leap jerkily, like an old teen web site from the turn of the century. There is a bar with various flavors of what purports to be real ice cream, and various drink dispensers made to resemble beer taps.


There is a trio of human teenagers in matching school uniforms at one table, focused on an AR projection of a singing Naga. A human woman in a brightly colored uniform (which skirts the line between harmless and club-wear) is behind the bar. She is probably mid-30s and unlike most people in Bellevue she looks her age; most likely she commutes to this job from elsewhere in the 'plex.

The woman behind the bar puts down the ice cream dish she'd been wiping with a rag, and gives the SIS group an uncertain look "Can I help you?"