"Well let's make it explicit, instead of implied, that we only consent to wipe out the memory of the meeting with the client. But, yes, as my colleague says, let's advance this so we can reach a mutually satisfactual resolution."

Mato pauses for a second. Satisfactual? That's a word, right? I've heard it in a song. A children's song? Hopefully they weren't singing gibberish.

Mr. Smith responds, "There is no legal need, but I'll make it explicit. It is important that you are satisfied. "

It takes him several long minutes to edit the contract, which he does in AR. Sandy enters once he finishes with a heartwarming smile and physical copies of the contracts and blue quality pens.

Mato honestly hadn't been sure if the contract would be signed physically or electronically. The pen and paper seem like a bit of a throwback, a sort of useless luxury for those who like to indulge in old, obsolete ways of doing things. But it turns out he's one of those people too and he appreciates the feel of a pen in his hand.

Mato did a bit of drawing and calligraphy when he first got his cyberlimbs to celebrate his new fine motor skills. He didn't stick with it but now he thinks maybe he should revisit it. He has his drum music as an artistic outlet, but that's big and loud with macro movements. Something slow and smooth and studious would do him good.


He signs with a flourish, but is a bit underwhelmed with the results. He commits himself to practicing more as long as he survives this job with his hands (and brains) intact.

For someone who spend a lot of time in forms with out hands, Bobby had surprisingly neat handwriting. It helped that his education had included a lot of field trips without electronics of any kind - and the coursework had to be done with pencil and paper.

Bobby handed back both the contract as well as the pen and asked: "Alright. When does the client want to meet? Today, or start of the next week?"

Tamarind takes a moment to think about the name on her fake ID, and reaches out Stitch and practices the signature with its arm, trying out a couple of different singles before it is her turn. She tries not to take too long to prepare herself, then makes a quick scrawl.

Rachel watches the whole back and forth, and when it is her turn, she picks up the pen and also signs the NDA.

Well, it's too late to back out now...

Sandy takes the NDAs and says Nice to meet you guys! she waves a bit and then walks to the main office, probably to file the document somewhere. Mr. Smith comments Okay, that is done. I would notify the client that it is safe to communicate with you. You would be dealing with her directly, but if you need anything legal. Feel free to contact me in case I do not see you again. Good luck.

Before they are even leaving the office Tamarind has her local Pelliper swoop around to do a lowish pass. She walks behind Bobby and trusts his back to guide her out, while she makes use of the drone's sensors to scan the area around the building for anyone who looks like they may be getting ready to pick up the team to follow them. (once again she doesn't expect such a thing, but by this point in her life it is just standard operating practice to check for observation, the way that some people would double check that their gun was loaded or that their make-up was intact).

"Can you drop me off at the talismonger? I've got an appointment that I'm paying extra for."
Bobby said, while he fingered the credstick in his pocket. A few months ago it would have been unimaginable to splurge such a sum on a moments notice. Now it seemed like a wise business decision.

Mato might have thought that this whole trip downtown was a waste of time except... free coffee!

The heavily-illusioned office is also a data point, one he had not expected. He wonders if AM or Raven could work up a similar illusion for the SIS offices.

He doesn't want to chug his coffee, even though he secretly thinks It's so good when it hits your lips! every time he takes a sip.

"Nice to meet you too, Sandy," Mato says, drawing things out ever-so-slightly to buy himself a few extra moments with the coffee before their departure.

Mato wonders who the client might be, but figures they'll find out soon enough.

As he had announced, Bobby made his way to his talismonger early on Saturday morning.

Bill Whitewater's shop was not much from the outside - just a door to a sunken entrance and a very small window on street level. Inside, the cellar shop was so full with merchandize that Bobby was pretty certain that the fire inspector either never had visited here or was comensated with generous bribes.
"Morning Bill. Ted's in the back?"

"Morning Bobby, yeah, he has set up everything. You want to see the shema?"

"No need and no time to waste. It's a pretty simple piece, so no need to make a fuss."

"You sure, you want to do it on the inside of your thigh? Pretty sensitive area..."

"I'll power through. I've got good heal flesh."

"Suit yourself. I'm going to breakfast. Tell Ted to make sure he locks the door."

Bobby grunted assent and went into the small studio behind the counter. A lodge was set up and a tall Haitian man with bulging muscles, a shaved head and an immense array of very intricate tattoos sat and grinned at him.

"Bobby, my man. You finally brave enough for a good stiching?"

"Didn't lack the courage - just the money. You can expect to see me a lot more in the future. Gotta get two sets of dragon scales one of these days - the heavy duty ones. But for now let's just take the Forget Me pattern."

"Alright, take a piss first then take of your pants. This will take a while."

And so the man got to work on Bobby - not with a motorized needle, but a little tray of inks and a set of regular needles...

Once they're done downtown, Mato doesn't want to immediately leave.

"Let's drop down to Pike Place Market," he suggests. "It's the oldest farmer's market in the country."

Pike Place? Isn't that the spot for tourists?

"Not on a Friday morning in March. Should be fine. If you don't want to go, I'll find my own way back."

On a weekend or in the summer, Pike Place is a crush of humanity. On a Friday morning in early March, most of the vendors are slowly setting up their stalls. The produce mongers arrange their fruit and vegetables in tasteful arrays. The flower vendors set their things out in pretty displays. It's a bit early for daffodils but there are some greenhouse hyacinth available. Mato always loved these and his olfactory sensors just take his appreciation to new heights. He walks around, seeing the sights, hearing the sounds, and smelling everything from soykaf to bakeries to lovely flowers. The seafood can be fragrant too, but it's mostly on ice and early March isn't that warm to begin with. It's manageable.

Growing up in Sioux Nation - and with orks who like BIG flavors - Mato isn't that familiar with seafood. Most fish is too delicate for ork palate, although their are some bolder, oilier cuts - like herring and sardines and mackerel - that are popular. He resolves to try some if they finish this job. (This logic is a bit backward. He should be trying them now in case the job goes sideways and Mato goes two meters under.)

His eye catches something.

"Is that..." he begins, somewhat perplexed.

"Zebra meat," the proprietor nods. (The establishment is called Maury's Meat Emporium so presumably the man is Maury, or Maury's descendent.)

"For hellhounds?" Mato asks.

The man nods with a world-weary look on his face.

"Huh," Mato says with a curious look. He walks away, wondering if he'll ever be so rich and so bored as to own hellhounds.

@Bobby the tattooing process does not take very long, perhaps an hour if we are generous. However, there are many blessings to be said, chantings to chant, and many processes that simply take a lot of time for reagents and other magical ingredients to mature. So it is about two minutes of needlework and then four hours of waiting. None of you can leave the room at the same time - luckily, they have toilets and you can order in food, Pizza in Ted's case. After about 24 hours, the focus is ready as a neat symbol of power.


@All You enjoy (or perhaps are too paranoid to enjoy) the weekend. Initially you expect the client to call at any time, and are getting alert every notification in your links. The hours pass which then becomes days and the entire weekend passes and no call.

On Sunday night, however, there is a message. >> Hi, I was told you signed the NDA. Can you come to meet me at the Gates casino in Bellevue? They also have a hotel, I am at Suite 308, third floor, can you come early morning -- fewer watchful eyes. Would 10:00 be acceptable? Can also do 11:00 if it is too early.

Mato is too paranoid to enjoy the weekend.

"Why haven't they called?" he mutters to himself rhetorically. "The logical conclusion is they've been neutralized. A syndicate got to them, or shadowrunners, or the card itself." He shakes his head sadly, wondering if the delay in signing the NDA between Thursday night and Friday morning is what caused this.

By Sunday night he has basically given up on the job. He frowns, disappointed in the lost payday, but then the call comes in. He jumps into action, which is to say that he repeats what he knows about the casino.

"The Gates Casino," he repeats unnecessarily, but it's clear he's excited that the job hasn't evaporated. "It's a hotel/casino complex. Opulent, on the lake shore. The type of place where billionaires feel comfortable. We'll need to dress the part. Not that far from the ice cream shop where we met the hacker club, half a kilometer maybe.

"They have two restaurants there I've been meaning to try, by which I mean waiting until I could afford it. The first features American-Salish cuisine and the other is Aztec-Mex. Hmm, I wonder if we could wrangle breakfast out the meet..."

Getting back on task...

"It was founded by the Gates of Microdeck fame. I guess tech fortunes get boring after a while. Rumor has it that they used it for money-laundering for the hacking jobs they did, not that they needed the money. Bored rich folks, neh? Who knows, maybe they were exploiting holes in Microdeck software..." He shrugs.

"Rumor is that it's Mafia territory. Not in the sense of needing protection, but the Mafia provide certain 'services' to the guests that the Gates overlook. It's all a part of the entertainment package, I suppose.

"We'll act like we've got some sense and everything will be fine."

Tamarind was stressed over the weekend, but happily so. Running counter-surveillance kept her busy and was improving her feel for the flow of the neighborhood, the sprite had left her drones alone so far, and the counter-surveillance left time to keep her body busy. The sweater that she was knitting was coming along fairly well, and Cutty had put her on a training regime based on what she'd done as a recruit (the familiarity of the misery of it was comforting).

The one flaw in her happiness was that she needed this payday. Her funds were almost drained, and she was all to aware of needing to pay interest on her debt in a few weeks.

When the meet info came through, she confirmed with the team "This is the time for one of us to stay out of the meet, correct?"

Bobby absentmindedly rubbed his new tattoo and flinched. It hat already healed, but was still tender.

To Mato's information he just replied: "Interesting, so unlikely that it's Nightmare who wants to hire us. So let's not waste anymore time and tell them 10.00 is fine.
And no need to stay away. I'll take the risk of a mage rummaging around in my head. I can deal with it."

Bobby had purposefully not informed the team about the effect of his new tattoo, so a mind reader wouldn't pick up on the fact. And Bobby could just forget that he had gotten it before the procedure - as well as other incriminating information.

Rachel was actually kind of glad, that they had some more time between the NDA signing and whatever came next. Sure, they were all anxious. It was unknown territory, for her moreso even, than for the rest of the crew. So, she spent saturday night in a territory well known to her... going out to party in the clubs and falling into her usual routine for the rest of the night. On sunday night, when they finally got the message, she went back to the HQ, however, as she wanted to get enough rest before the morning.

"I assume my business attire is the right choice here? I can also bring a nice dress for the casino, but it seems a little early for that."

She also asks Mato, specifically: "We didn't get to use them the last time, but I could also prepare some magical aid for the negotiations. Of course, for someone employing mages with mind-altering spells and a bit of a paranoid streak, these preparations might be fairly obvious. Not sure, if that is a good thing or a bad thing, though."

"Yes, 10:00 on a Monday would suggest business attire," Mato agrees.

"Magic is touchy. On one hand, the client is presumably reaching out to use due to our experience with the cards and our magical expertise. On the other hand, it is typically a breach of etiquette to employ magic during negotiations. Magical manipulation is certainly out, although self-enhancements are a bit of a grey area.

"Perhaps a wait-and-see compromise? We can bring the preparations with us. Should we see that the client is enhanced, we can trigger them to level the playing field with little room for complaint. But if they are meeting au naturel then we will do the same. Ultimately it may depend on where the meet takes place. Presumably in a guest room or a VIP room for privacy purposes, but that may determine how tolerant they are.

"Their security will be tight to the point of restrictive. They will want to exclude any possibility of cheating at the gambling tables, either through personal charm or enhancements to memory or insight. We may be able to smuggle them in - I have compartments for the purpose - but we should also expect that they will be confiscated. They will also ask us to hand over any weapons. Killer looks and rapier wit, only."

"Oh, I need to go in?" She sounds disappointed. After knitting furiously for a couple of minutes she addresses her concern. "You have seen the best clothes that I have at the moment. I do still have a couple of hundred nuyen so maybe I could buy something a little nicer if I have to? But I need this job to buy some of the nice clothes needed for jobs like this ... I'm OK with waiting outside if I'd just be an embarrassment. I wouldn't want to talk anyway."

"Oh, I can help you with that. No need to buy clothes, if we can alter them, right?"

Rachel offers to create a nice outfit for Tamarind, using some of her existing clothes. Using illusion spells, she can show her a few options first, so she knows what direction to go, before actually changing her clothes for good. She is basing the designs on the tribal chic she has seen on the trid numerous times. That should be fitting.




When that is done, the witch sits down and creates two preparations, in case they might need some magical help during negotiations. She gives the stronger one to Mato and keeps the other one herself.

"This should work, despite your ... modifications. Just let me know, if and when you want it to take effect. I can start it at any time. Should be good for about five minutes. If we do not use it now, we can still make use of it later that day. It should stay active for the whole day."

Afterwards, Rachel pulls out a few toffees and unwraps them, in order to enchant the bonbons and carefully wrap them up again. This takes some effort, not the unwrapping and rewrapping, but the magic, so she is pretty tired after about half an hour. She hands one of the toffees to Mato and another to Tamarind, keeping one for herself.

"These allow you to crawl along walls and ceilings, once you unwrap and touch them. You can also just eat them, they are pretty good. But once you touch the bonbon, the magic unfolds and stays with you for a few minutes. I don't know if this is useful, but you never know what to expect, right? If you want to give it a try now, these two are not great and won't last until tomorrow, but should work for a minute or so if you use them now."

She hands the remaining two toffees to Mato and Tamarind.

Bobby looked up at the discussion: "AM usually does the fashion thing for us. But say, you are a full mage, can you make my armor jacket look like a business suit? I seldomly wear it because it's hard to get in and out with a transformation. But on that occasion, I wouldn't mind having it on - just in case."

Tamarind is a bit slow to understand what Raven can do for her, and then her expression seems to cycle between giddy, gob-smacked, and envious. Eventually she gathers herself and finds some words. "That is so kind of you. Thank you so-so-so much. Aside from the money I don't know much about good clothes, I'm usually about overalls from Kong-Walmart or whatever I find second hand that is comfortable. Trying to understand how other people expect that I should be trying to look to them is just ...." she waves her hands around in lieu of words. "I can usually figure something out from trids or news shows, but I never really know."

"Whatever you think would be appropriate will be fine with me. All I aspire to with clothes is not looking too out of place."

"Seems we are fine then, everyone does what needs doing and everybody be ready on Monday - no hangovers or bruising."

Bobby managed to say that without a hint of irony. "There might be a healthy payday behind that - or a trap - or both.
In any case, I'll go meditate a few hours extra, so we can make the most of our time once we have the job."

Mato is delighted to learn that Raven has tailoring abilities like AM's, plus opinions on fashion that are even more advanced than his own.

He brings her the Chasseur Field Uniform and the Chasseur Gala Uniform from Pike Hall. AM tailored the field uniform to be a little more modern and a little less traditional, but it's still decidedly formal.

"What do you think?" Mato asks. "The gala uniform is essentially a tuxedo and this is a morning meet. Traditionally you don't wear black-tie attire before 18:00, but do you think I could get away with it given that it's a casino? Or should we tweak the field uniform, which is closer to formal day dress?"

He shows her the longcoat. "We could work with this as the traditional morning coat with tails" - he then switches the the uniform jacket - "while this is more of a cutaway coat. I like the herringbone pattern. What do you think? The color is a Dover grey right now, bit I was thinking it could go a step darker to an Oxford grey or a Knight's Armor."

He looks over Raven. "Or do you always just recommend black for everything?"

Rachel still gives Tamarind a few options and if she does not quite seem able to decide, she will simply judge by her expressions.

In the end, she is wearing a nice long dress in muted colors, orange and earth colors mostly, with a touch of blue. It is a practical design, with a bunch of pockets, some hidden inside, and with a definite tribal vibe.

"You look great! I hope you feel good wearing this."

Mato also seems interested in her opinion, so she happily offers it. "Black is always a safe choice, but I do like colorful clothing as well. Especially, if I want people to look my way. Grey also works well. As for the gala uniform, I agree that it is a bit much. Often enough, less is more. The other one looks sharp. A tone darker? Yeah, that could work. Why don't we just give it a try? I would also go with the jacket instead of the coat. We do not exactly know what to expect, so I would just go with the middle ground. A touch of formal, but also a bit laid back. That's why I love my Zoé's. It fits to almost every occasion. Different shoes or accessories, and I can wear it to almost anything."

Tamarind didn't really know what to say to Raven's suggestions, but she does enjoy listening to people talk about things that they are interested in, so she nodded and made agreeable noises at various points to keep Raven engaged. Generally she went with whatever Raven seemed most excited about. It was all most satisfactory, and she thanked Raven for putting in the time and thought.

And then once on her own she put on the dress. It wasn't that she'd never worn a dress. She'd had a few as a child. She'd had a hand-me-down from a neighbor for her grandmother's funeral. She'd borrowed one for high school graduation. She'd bought one for that disastrous date with Marcus Deerchild, and then on the much better date with his cousin Roslyn. And a few years later she'd borrowed a dress for Roslyn's wedding. Had that been the last time? yes, so just over twelve years.

She walked around SIS headquarters in the dress for long enough to get used to the feel again, and more importantly to stop thinking about Roslyn every time that she remembered that she was wearing a dress.

Once she was settled she carefully took off the dress and hung it up, then went to Cutty's gym and worked out until she was aching.

Mato and Raven go back and forth and eventually settle on a mid-tone grey called Sharkskin that Mato likes.

"That's a good mindset," he nods.

Raven slips in a dash of color on the waistcoat, which Mato doesn't seem to mind.

"Ready," he says, taking the chocolate and slipping it into his smuggling compartment.

He also adds a couple throwing knives to the smuggling compartment, curious to see if they can be detected. In theory the metal of his cyberlimbs should obscure the metal of the knives. He refrains from bringing any firearms though. The lack his cyberarm SMG is simultaneously nerve-wracking and liberating. He reminds himself that used it approximately once in six months.

In the morning before the meeting, Rachel gets up early to take her time getting ready. The headache from working her magic in the evening is gone by now, the preparations are still good for a while. She puts on her Zoé business attire and matching boots. Using one of her spells, she colors her hair platinum blonde and arranges it into a ponytail. Her orange-tinted sunglasses complete her "Agent Raven" look.

After 16 hours of meditation, Bobby emerged from the garage, took a quick shower and took out Mato's old Executive Suite. With AM's retailoring it now not only fit really well, but was a shade darker that suited Bobby's skin tone.

That said, Bobby missed his ripp-away trainers, as the ballistic material of the suit would prevent a quick change into a combat form.

But then, they were meeting at a casino owned by the mafia. Probably not the place to go berserk...

Monday, March 6, 2079

The Gates casino is a well-maintained building on the right side of Washington lake. Eight stories tall, it stands proud on its close surrounding of Bellevue houses. Outside the building are two patrons in basic suits, sunglasses, and earbuds, giving them slightly augmented senses. Passing through security goes without a hitch despite the smuggled throwing knives. Mato finds himself nervous when one of the guards gives him a suspecting look, but a moment later, he just says, “Good morning, gentlepeople,” and lets the team in.

Inside, it is a slow day. A couple of old ladies are playing the slot machines, and two gentlemen are playing blackjack and flirting with a good-looking dealer in a short dress and white buttoned-down shirt, who instead seems a bit bored or detached. The place is relatively quiet, and there is soft classical music in the background, a large and well-stocked bar with quality liquor for those who can appreciate that.

Above the casino floor (well floors), there are private suites that are often given to heavy gamblers and VIPs. The elevator to the suites has another suited security guard next to it. You can spot one or two inside the casino floor and countless cameras, some of which are obscured in everyday decoration while others are obvious. Your meeting is in suite 308, the third floor, which is the lowest for suites, as the first two floors are for gambling and entertainment with live shows.


spoiler - for astral observers

Before entering, Bobby had activated his new focus. Deciding on three hours, he selected all his memories on previous jobs as well as all the little incriminating things he and his fellow SIS members had undertaken - like stealing a few kilos of explosives - to be forgotten. Bobby wasn't sure it had worked, but he couldn't remember what he had wanted to forget and decided this was just as well.

Now and again he opened his astral sight to take a look, but stopped after a while - it was just too annoying with all those barriers around.

Bobby took it upon himself to select the third floor in the lift cabin. With every passing minute he got more curious about who this mystery would be employer was.

When they prepared to head out, Tamarind showed to Bobby and Mato the dress that Raven had made for it. Praising it to other people was a good way to thank the creator, in her experience. Also doing so would help manipulate her own mind into being happier about wearing a dress. She pointed out the various clever things that Raven had done, and finishes off with "...and it has pockets!". They might not understand how exciting it was to have pockets in a dress, but it was an important feature.

Tamarind was fairly sure that casinos didn't like other people having drones inside them. Unfair, really! But for the drive she contended herself with just Beauty, and she left the chrome pigeon in their vehicle. All that she brought to keep her hands busy was a big knot of yarn that she could carry in one of those pockets with barely any bulge. The knot was just big enough to squeeze satisfyingly, and she could trace the loops with her fingers.

As she was carrying no weapons and not even the smallest of drones, she wasn't worried about getting through security. It was just meeting their patron that worried her. She stayed neat Raven, confident that the other woman would attract any glances and field questions.

Mato knows that he's dressed his best but still... he feels a sting of embarrassment showing up in the Americar. The Gates Casino is the type of place where a SK-Bentley Concordat or a BMW X89 will make you look poor. This is where the Mitsubishi Nightsky and Rolls Royce Phaeton rule.

He feels a little better inside once he's away from the car. Mato grew up well-off, but this is a whole different world. He closes his eyes and soaks in the music for a moment. This is where his new cyberears really bring an extra level of appreciation to the music.

"Haydn Piano Concerto No. 11 in D Major," he says confidently. It looks like he knows it well. "I should learn to play the piano. Do we have any place to put a piano?"

This, of course, is a ridiculous question ("What about a harp?" he persists) but it might not be in the near future.

He goes on. "Note the effort to make the guests feel comfortable and soothed on the gambling floor. The music is designed to fade into the background and play without a break; when each song is similar, it is difficult to tell when one ends and another begins. You don't want any indication about the passage of time. Music that is similar helps to soothe and lull players. You don't want anything too loud or intense, nor familiar. Nothing that encourage visitors - especially intoxicated visitors - to sing along. Music with a slow tempo will entice people to stay within a game for longer."

He follows Bobby into the elevator headed for the third floor.

Suite 308 is just another hotel room in a long corridor of identical rooms. The carpets are reasonably high quality, and there is not much security. A few cameras and a single security drone masquerade as a decorative statue by the elevator. However, the drone is deactivated, so it seems the cameras are. Besides that, there is no visible security aside from the fact that suite 308 is warded, and the ward is spherical and inaccurate in the suites dimension it contains, but also some of the suites next to it in the corridor.

There is some odor once you approach the door, lavender perhaps. It is not unpleasant but unexpected in a hotel room; a soft noise comes from inside the room, birds, and some water flows. As you approach the door, you feel more relaxed and pleasant; something in the room is especially calm, perhaps magically calm. When you approach the room, a certain teenager is leaving; it is Sandy, and she is excited to see you. “Oh Goodsauce! Great to see you guys again... and good luck!” she says to all, but mainly to Mato being taller and larger than the rest. Her energy levels are a bit higher than most other people you encounter, but she seems genuinely happy.

Bobby frowned. <<Why am I thinking "Dryad" right now?>>
Bobby let Sandy pass and made a beeline for the door to the room, the teenager had just left.

Mato is surprised to see Sandy here but he tries to suppress it. The "goodsauce" comment throws him off too. Is that teenage slang, or a foreign expression that's been translated?

"Thank you, Sandy," he tries to say smoothly to recover, although part of him wonders why Sandy thinks they need luck. Or is she just saying it as a professional courtesy?

<<Let's be on the lookout for illusions, like the law office>> Mato suggests. <<This sense of peace could be the card itself for all we know... or an aura set up to counter the card's effect.>>

To Bobby's text, he responds, <<Could be a free spirit>> Green Toes is likely close to his thinking. <<Or even a shifter. There are stories in the shadows from the 50s about an eagle shifter coming to town and looking to pay for work with gold nuggets the size of a fist.>>

<<A non-traditional employer might explain some of the anomalies in how things are being done. If the security is really offline - and not just an illusion - then they are depending on the casino's security below to insulate themselves. They're clearly prizing their privacy. It's an interesting balance to strike if you have a desirable asset that will paint a target on your back. To what degree can you depend on secrecy to be your shield vs. what security do you need for contingencies? Questions we might find ourselves asking - and answering - shortly.>>

Mato lets the women enter the room first, then brings up the rear. This is partly a courtesy and partly his curiosity to see where Sandy goes and how she acts.

Rachel has been using her astral sight most of the time, avoiding the numerous barriers on the casino floor. She has been looking around curiously, as she never was in such a place before. When they see Sandy again, she is surprised. Looking at her aura, she wonders what kind of being this might be. It seems strange to have the child around here, so it is likely that Sandy is something else. But who knows. They are obviously dealing with someone way out of the ordinary here. When Mato sends the message, Rachel also keeps looking for possible illusions, when she enters the suite. That water and those birds cannot possibly be real, or can they? Maybe these hotel suites are even more splendid than she assumes.

Tamarind has been in hotels, of course. Even a couple that she thought were fairly nice. This one is something else though. She can feel it in the quiet of the hallways, smoothness of the elevator, the sense of solidity, the lack of anything looking worn or tatty. She pities whoever runs the maintenance drones, they must be endlessly doing manual override to deal with minor issues that the drones had the good sense to ignore.

She sends <surely whoever can afford to rent this space and set all of this up can afford to pay us handsomely >. She isn't sure that is how it works, but she the place was making her jittery but at the same time reluctant to talk out loud.

@Raven Sandy's aura is human in perfect health and awakened with s weaker magic than yourself.

@All, the door is unlocked, and as you approach it, a female voice says come in. The scene inside the room is beautiful steam that may look familiar. Then a middle-aged caucasian woman with greying blonde hair and brown eyes greets you. While reasonably grommed, she is wearing strange clothes whose color does not match the human eye, which seems extremely unfashionable, as if she lost a bet or is blind. They are a mixture of styles, textures of colors that offends anyone with a mild fashion sense. A meter or so behind her stands a short human-looking orc (relatively speaking), wearing a stylish black suit, a stoic expression, glasses, and earbuds with no obvious weapons.

In the astral, there are four mid-powered spirits and a single forceful spirit. Aha, the detectives! You are finally here. I have heard much about you... but where are my manners, come seat. The atmosphere changes into a hotel suite, but Raven can tell that the illusion spell is still active. The middle-aged woman says I am Vala Williams, master illusionist. My lovely companion calls himself Bricks.", and then sits at a small kitchen table already set with chocolate cookies and a beautiful jar containing steaming tea. "I was told you like herbal tea, so we got some Mint, Sage, and Lemongrass in the market; it is a good blend.".

Bobby acknowledged the greeting and remembered even what to say in return:

"Nice to meet you. These are Miguel Torres, Steesu Pandey, Rachel Moore and myself, Robert Walker."

He helped himself to a cup of tea, but only pretended to sip.

"Our understanding is, that you are looking for a specific artifact, one of the so called Tartot. Is that correct?

Before we continue: Why do you maintain this level of secrecy? Or more precise: Which other factions are you afraid of snatching this prize away from you?"

Rachel looks around, maybe she can pick up some extra hints on the astral. She wonders, if there are any astral signatures here, that she might have seen at the lawyer's office, already. The lady's clothes look weird to her, but she recognizes them from seeing something similar at Cassandra's once. Very useful to summon spirits, maybe she should try to get a set of those as well in the future. But definitely a better looking set. She cannot possibly wear something like that. She also looks for any other spells, especially those active on her host. The illusion spell that covers the room is likely being sustained by her, but maybe there is more.

"A good morning, Ms. Williams. Bricks." She turns to the obvious bodyguard and nods towards him, which gives her enough time to look at his aura as well before turning her attention back to Vala. "Thank you for receiving us. The tea smells lovely."

Maybe she isn't paranoid enough for all of this, yet, but Rachel simply cannot imagine why the tea would be anything but that, so she takes a cup and sips on it, if it isn't too hot still.

@Raven Vala has a bright aura with no essence loss and is awakened with a magic rating of 5. Brick is awakened with a magic rating of 12. None of them has any essence loss.


@All Vala says , "Mr. Walker, let me assure you that I have no intention of acquiring tarot cards or any other magical device. " she says and seems genuinely surprised that Bobby thinks that. Then she says I make the cards myself. there is a hint of professional pride there. As for the special measures, let's say it is a balance between disliking violence and having secrets. I think it is much better this way for both parties.

Bobby's eyebrows threatened to vanish into his short cropped hair:

"You create artifacts? What are you? Some kind of ancient elf? Or are we talking about simulacrums of those cards.

My understanding was, that true artifacts are beyond the ability of mortal mages.

Which makes me wonder what you need us for. We are a pretty magic savy agency, no question, but what can we do, that you can't do on your own with your small spirit army?"

Vala grins Well I wouldn't call myself ancient, or elf but I am about 30 years your senior. About the cards, they are puzzles, not Artifacts.

As to what I need from you guys. You take the card, and when you are ready my people would spread the romour. Then all the power-hungry mages of Seattle would be after your card. You need to hold on to the card, only to lose it to a specific unreputable individual. If you lose it to the wrong people, you have to make them lose the card within a short period. Again, I don't want anyone examining the card too closely or they might solve my puzzle, and then the mystery is gone.

She pauses and says Once you lost the card to the intended mark, I would pay you the promised 50K.

"I see. Kind of like a reverse heist. Though I have to say: You are asking us to be bait to some very dangerous people - people who are - among other things - perfectly willing to destroy our property, kidnap, threaten, murder and/or torture people like us to get what they want. Some of them would even be willing to do that just on the off-chance we know something.

Now tell me - would you be willing to take that kind of risk for only 50k - split among 5 with taxes? And no compensation if things go sideways and the wrong target get the card, because the right one is too slow or incompetent, or whatever."

Bobby asked calmly but also coldly.

Tamarind is quickly calculating, call it 5000 thousand non-trivial awakened in Seattle, all probably greedy but maybe 1% actively greedy and in on the card issue, so perhaps 50 interested? Most of those scared enough of the big fish that they'd mostly sit back and only act only if they saw a sweet opportunity, so maybe 5 going hard, but ten times that lurking and potentially acting? All just very crude estimates based on no real data, but still a starting point.

<If people have ways to detect the cards then the job is hard enough. If they can't track the card, so the rumours have to point to us, then it seems insanely dangerous. Unless she can sweeten the offer with some partial protection for us, or can add some significant non-monetary reward.>

The woman says unhinged "Well, for once, you played with all my previous Tarot cards despite these odds. So I expect you to play with this one as well. In this case, you are a step higher in the food chain, and the compensation is a bit bigger, but the dangers are the same, really. Second, Nightmare is not incompetent; he got all the previous cards for a reason. In the first card, you even stole his hostage getting us all worked up, but he gets the job done. "

"Wait, you want Nightmare to get the card? And you want us to allow him to take it from us?"

Bobby asked with rising heat in his voice.

Vala seems surprised at Bobby's anger, but she says calmly I want you to give his men credible resistance and make them sweat to acquire my card. ", sensing the tension in his voice, she looks at Bobby's eyes and says It's a gambit; Give the arrogant asshole his meaningless victory and let him deal with the dire implications of his actions. her voice filled with conviction and intent.

Mato interjects. The goal isn't so much as to defuse Bobby as to lower the overall temperature in the room. Which, he supposes, is the same thing as defusing Bobby.

"Let's talk about reputational risk," Mato says calmly. He is calm, either because of the calming effect of the room or because he doesn't really care about Nightmare. Perhaps he should, but he's relatively cold-blooded and doesn't walk around with a chip on his shoulder like Bobby sometimes (always) does.

"Our agency has a perfect track record so far," Mato points out. "You would be paying us to lose the card to a specific disreputable individual. We know what the job is and you know what the job is, but the rest of the world does not. If the public-facing view of the job is for us to fail, and to fail to someone disreputable, then that has negative ramifications for our future earnings potential. The payday you've outlined, while generous, is a temporary boon, while the stain on our reputation would be permanent. The remuneration will need to compensate us for the PR and damage control that will be required to graft over the burn."