Adeline is fairly tight-lipped about Ms. Potter's apartment, although at one point she does let it slip that astral signatures were found on the location, which helped explain how the intruder broke in.

That's as much as AM can get out of Adeline regarding the break-in. However, Adeline is more forthcoming about Howard Cannon's murder.

"They 'caught' the person who 'did' it," she says, adding some tipsy air quotes.

But Adeline thinks that something was odd?

"It doesn't add up," she says, shaking her head. She leans in to whisper conspiratorially.

"Cannon was out walking around, meeting and greeting voters. He saw a squatter woman - a bag lady - in the alleyway and, probably in a fit of public relations, went over to talk to her, express his concern, demonstrate his humanity, etc. And as he's bending over to talk her, she suddenly lunges out and STABS HIM!"

This last part is probably more boisterous than Adeline intended and earns her a glance from the ladies who are dining at the next table. She thrusts her hand forward suddenly to mime stabbing someone.

"Then she jumps up and runs off!" she adds, throwing her hands up in the air.

So what doesn't add up? Adeline drops her voice, her eyes darting right and left a little drunkenly.

"The knife that was used? A Cougar Fineblade!" She waves her hand airly. "Official explanation was that it was stolen." She gives a little "pah!" to express her doubt.

"And there was one witness who said that before she ran off, the woman whispered something in his ear, and then he whispered something back." Her eyes go wide.

But wasn't she caught?

"Oh, we caught someone, and convicted someone," Adeline says, giving AM a downward look over the top of her nose to convey her true opinion of the matter. "Goodness knows there are enough SINless around." She swirls her mimosa glass and then downs the last drops of it, finishing off her third.

"SINless are easy victims. No lawyers. I shrug"

I let her speak and then summarize her story.

So a SINless bag lady recognized Cannon, whispered to him, and decided to murder him with a weapon that requires physical strength and skill to use effectively and is likely expensive enough to pawn for a meaningful sum for a squatter... I couldn't sell it as an explanation to a client, what am I missing?

I say sincerely I want to dig a little bit there, Adeline. I'd appreciate any reference or advice. I am not sure I'll find something more in a cold case. However, it is an interesting puzzle to solve. Could you point me at the witness or advise if they considered spirit possession or worse? Could they rule these things out? Not sure I could assense much after a murder. "

What if they do the same to Potter - I want to say, but leave it unsaid.

"It's not a cold case," Adeline corrects. "It's a closed case.

"The lady they nabbed is up there in Hollywood."

She means Hollywood Correctional Facility, the biggest prison in Redmond. It’s notoriously overcrowded, especially after riots or mass raids, although some say that it’s still better than living in the Barrens.

"You can try to visit if you like, but you'll need to be on her visitor's list. Not sure how to manage that but Jawsey said you're the resourceful type.

"But, really..." She leans in and gives AM a look. "Will she actually know anything?"

She leans back.

"Covering up the black eye of losing a candidate was more important to the brass than digging too deeply. Want to talk to the eye witness? No problem: it was Corinne Potter."

" Despite what I write to my mother, I am not a secretary..." I comment when Adeline mentions Jawsie saying I am resourceful. It is not a secret, but admitting to being a decker to a copper is a bit too much for me, considering how illegal these things are for me to practice. I don't want to lie to her, I try to form a relationship and she is a pleasant person.

I take a sip from my mimosa. I dread the alcohol making me say too much, but I have changed, and I have a lot more body mass right now, so perhaps I can stomach a drink. I tried that terrible Orc drink and survived - the Mimosa is much more pleasant. I comment at the mention of Potter - a bit surprised initially - but perhaps I should have seen it coming.Her again? Some of my neighbors are very opinionated about her." I pause and add , Though they mainly discuss her fashion choices. I roll my eyes in disapproval and wonder how horrible it would be for me to get such fame even if I dress a bit nicer nowadays when I don't feel the need to appear as unattractive as I possibly can.

So Potter and Cannon were alone in Snohomish talking to squatters for the campaign, probably in the less secure part of town... No security, photographers, personal assistants, or even a driver, heh?
I wonder if they should have security, photographers, or personal assistants.
... and Potter benefits from this murder. I get why they wanted to close this investigation so soon - under normal circumstances, she might have been a suspect. Isn't it so? "

"Oh, quite the opposite!" Adeline says.

"Cannon had a driver from the DPD. Dignitary Protection Division. Potter was acting as Cannon's personal assistant that day. No metahuman photographers, but there was a drone that captured everything. Public relations, remember? No sense in talking to squatters unless you're trying to score some points with the electorate. I think the idea was to draw some contrast with Nikola Taul and her shiny corporate richness. Probably the same reason why Cannon told his driver to stay behind: taking your bodyguard doesn't exactly make you look brave."

Adeline waves her mimosa glass airly. She goes to finish it off before belatedly realizing that it's empty.

"I should stop..." she says, putting the champagne flute down. She takes a bite of eggs, which she had momentarily forgotten about.

"So the driver saw it, Potter saw it, and the drone caught it all on camera. So, really, among all the homicides in Seattle, this was one of the better documented ones!"

She sips her glass of water but looks disappointed that it's not alcohol.

"Anyway, not gonna make that mistake again," she says and her tongue is definitely starting to slur a bit. "Two coppers escorting Potter now. And after the break-in yesterday she'll have astral escort too." She taps the side of her nose.

I take a few more bites from the omelet and a few fresh vegetables while Adeline is talking. When I notice her glass empty, I automatically order her another go - perhaps inspired by Japanese etiquette to not leave anyone's glass empty. At least my take on that culture, but it shows good hospitality, and I don't want her to feel like we overdid it.

I order Adeline and myself another Mimosa, I have the Detox spell, so I can stop the buzz once it is no longer fun. "Oh wow, it is quite a story. I feel sorry for her already... " I sigh, and then look at my new glass, and take a sip, to enjoy the orangy taste and think for a brief moment. ... but if Potter is not a suspect, then what angel would you tackle? I say with a bit of flattery - but I am genuinely curious about her intuitions on this one considering her many years of experience in the field. If needed, I'll guide her answer by asking if there is anything obviously missing in the investigation report, or some actions that one could take. I am trying to get some opinionated advice as to how to look into Cannon's murder investigation because she has played some part in plenty of them.

Adeline looks surprised to find her champagne glass filled again. She pushes it gingerly away, as if it might explode, or as if she might.

"What angle would I take?" she asks, her eyes wide. "No angle at all! I'd leave it alone!

"Look, the brass were embarrassed but were able to save face by locking someone up and throwing away the key. How do you think they'll respond to someone scratching at their story, trying to dig up dirt? Answer: poorly. I don't know anyone who wants to incur the wrath of Knight-Errant."

She rubs her eyes, which seem to be swimming a bit. Then she refocuses on AM.

"But let's say - theoretically, very theoretically - someone wanted to bring the killer to justice. Private justice, street justice.

"I'd bet money that this wasn't a random killing but an assassination. The knife, the skill to use it, the nimble escape. It all strikes me as a professional hit. Now trying to figure out who would hire such a person might be a needle-in-a-haystack prospect - politics being a cesspit - but finding the assassin might be possible.

"I'd start with the list of known shadow operatives in the city. There might be 6,000 of them, but usually only a fraction are comfortable with straight-up wetwork. So that might slim the list down to 600. Slim that down by training, expertise, modus operandi, etc. and maybe you get that list down to 60.

"Still a lot of work to detective narrow it down further - and dangerous work at that, given the subjects - but it would be a start!"

"Of course, someone on the other side of the fence might know who to talk to. Or maybe even put feelers out, expressing admiration for the work. The fastest way to find a killer? Try to hire them!"

She gives a look of surprise, perhaps at what she's said out loud. Her fingers reach for the mimosa glass and she takes a sip, as if that might drown out her uncorporate thoughts.

Tamarind spends part of the morning knitting an attempt at a Sherlock Holmes hat for Stitch, while doing some research. The knitting is not especially succesful, but then again Stitch's style sense is quirky at best, so maybe it would do? But her real focus on the research.

Although she doesn't know much about how political campaigns work, logically it seems that if they want volunteers they have to be somewhat public. And people who can run a campaign office or do some of the other specialized tasks sound almost like specialist contractors, not entirely unlike SIS in some ways, in that there will often enough be people who need those services but it often won't be repeat business. Which would suggest that they must have some degree of public profile, or nobody would know to hire them. So while she knits she runs searches on who is working for Potter in what roles, and what she can find out about them. If she is possibly going to go try and volunteer it seems like knowing something ahead of time would help.

As she is wrapping up that, an impulse strikes her and she looks up the key figures in the campaigns of the major candidates who lost in the first round. Seattle politics has to be a somewhat small world, and likely enough of them know each other and gossip. It may not be worth the time to talk to any of those folks unless they are running into dead ends with more direct investigations, but if there are any with likely links to people they know, or who seem particularly easy to approach, it might be worth investing a bit of effort to talk to them, so step one is to assemble some names, just to have options.

Tamarind comes up with dozens of names and dozens of profiles. The question is what to do with them.

As for volunteering, the Potter campaign does accept volunteers. Tamarind finds the following requirements:

Age: You must be at least 16 years old to volunteer for a political campaign in the United States.

Background check: Potter's campaign requires volunteers to pass a background check.

Availability: You must be available to volunteer for a certain amount of time each week. Usually 4 hours/week is the minimum.

Commitment: You must be committed to supporting the Technocratic platform, and Ms. Potter specifically.

Citizenship: You must be a UCAS citizen to volunteer for a political campaign in the United Canadian and American States.

The last requirement is to avoid the influence of foreign, or megacorp, agents.

In her searching, Tamarind doesn't find any obvious red flags about Potter's campaign or her campaign staff. There was a lot of continuity between Cannon's campaign and Potter's. Since Potter had been Cannon's campaign manager, presumably she already knew a lot of the staff and the volunteers, and perhaps hired them herself. The biggest change that Potter made was to promote Aviv Castel to the position of Campaign Manager.

Aviv is maybe 10 or 12 years younger than Potter and also attended the University of Washington. She has held several campaign positions for Technocratic candidates ever since she graduated. She's been a Fundraising Testing Analyst, Digital Ads Strategist, Senior Matrix Strategist, Deputy of Grassroots Fundraising, and Donor Retention and Cultivation Director. She has two dogs, a Doberman Pinscher ("Dalia") and a German Shepherd ("Gavriel"). She often takes the dogs out running.

“Private justice, you are intense, Adeline.” I say with a slightly more real smile and bigger than I would normally smile. Probably the alcohol. "I’ll keep that kind of vigilante justice to Patsy Walker. She would do it in an awesome way, and all the consequences would end in less than ninety minutes,” I say, and then imagine briefly how it would feel to martial arts to defeat a killer like in Marvel's trends. “Very hypothetically, if I were to obtain such information, I’d probably sell it. I can imagine a few players would be interested in such information for diverse reasons.” I say, and then let the conversation continue without much of an aim. Adeline is a good chat, and I don't have many friends; if I am paying a small fortune for a branch - I might as well enjoy the food and company.

Bobby had decided to do something entirely different: He went to the actual place of the murder and took a look around for any remaining tracks - both on the astral or for potential witnesses i.e. other squatters that might be able to give him a pointer to what the assassin looked like and where they went.

<<Sunday Morning - 11:11 - April 9, 2079 - Snohomish>>

The murder happened back in December. It is now April, and four months of Seattle winter have scrubbed away any physical traces of the murder.

The astral is a slightly different matter. Bobby isn't exactly sure where the murder took place, as the news reports were not specific enough, although they led him to the general vicinity. It's a Rating D neighborhood that's mostly low-end businesses like restaurants, laundromats, strip malls and the like.

Once he there, Bobby's able to gravitate toward the darkest background count. There's an unpleasant patch (rating 2) that was probably worse a few months ago but has started to fade. The spot is in an alleyway visible from the street. Tall brick walls form each side of the alley, which also has several Dumpsters overflowing with refuse. Perhaps in the winter the weather conditions act like a natural refrigerator, but here on a warm spring morning the scent is pungent. Bobby might be grateful that his eyes are his improved senses, instead of of his nose.

Bobby's keen senses detect the presence of squatters deeper in the alley. (Bobby notes that the alleyway goes through and is not a dead end.) The squatters are wary of him and are trying to hide. They're not running, nor confrontational, but they look quite skittish. An astral peek suggests that Bobby's presence is antagonizing them.

Bobby looked around, and decided that he needed some force multiplier here. He went to the nearest donut shop and invested in a very large box and six paper cups of piping hot soycaf.

With that bounty, he moved back into the alley:

"Hey, here's the deal: I've got hot soycaf and some damn fine pastries. Also, I've got some questions. If I get answers to the latter, you can have the former."

He placed the box on a box, took out a donut with sprinkles and bit into the still warm baked good with every sign of enjoyment.

There's some rustling as the squatters start to pay attention to the commotion.

Bobby counts five or six of them. (There are six, but the last one - a large ork - is either sleeping or passed out.) They are generally malnourished and in poor health, as one might expect. Their auras are not pleasant to look at.

An older human female seems to be the spokesperson, or at least the one least afraid to talk.

"Soykaf!" she spits dismissively. "Where were you three months ago? It's spring now! We're not cold anymore.

"We need proper nutrition, not sweeteners." There's a rumbling among the other squatters at this, although it's difficult to tell if it means they agree or if, no, they actually would like some high fructose corn syrup.

"Yer one of these rich types that think the likes of us can be bought off for a pittance. Ask your questions and I'll tell you how much they cost."

Bobby shrugged:
"Calories are calories. Damn tasty ones at that. But if you want, I'll come back with a basket of apples. I prefer them myself. Just a bit harder to come by."

He clapped his hands to get rid of the powdered sugar.

"But fair enough. Did anyone of you witness the assassination of the mayoral candidate four months ago? If not, do you know anyone who did?"

"Calories are not calories," the woman retorts, evidently passionate about the subject. "Get out of here with your simple carbohydrates." She waves dismissively.

The woman's eyes harden when Bobby mentions the subject.

"Mm, murder. Expensive information, that." Of course, who knows what her definition of 'expensive' is.

She considers Bobby closely.

"Didn't see the murder. But saw the murderer."

Her aura suggests she's telling the truth.

"Burritos. Two for each us, one for now, one for later," she says. "Plus the apples. One for each. And a jar of peanut butter. Leave the soykaf and donuts."

Some quick math suggests that this is about ¥100-120 of food, which breaks down to about ¥20 each. There's a Stuffer Shack just a few blocks away.

"You drive a hard bargain - that's better food than I usually get."
Bobby didn't have to lie, considering what he tended to forage when out in animal form.

"Alright, I'll be back in 15 minutes."

Bobby did buy the requested items and put some hygiene articles and some flats on top, to even his expenses out to a total of 200 Nuyen.

When he got back, he put the box with it's bounty on the ground between himself and the group.

"Ok, spill, what do you know and how do you know it?"

The squatters do their best to look brave and to try to stand their ground, but Bobby can tell from their auras that they're really very skittish. They're doubtful when Bobby leaves and equally mistrustful until he produces the goods, along with the bonuses.

They slowly advance forth, as if they might be suddenly caught in a giant hidden net that will scoop them off the ground. They snatch the burritos and scatter in different directions to a safe distance.

"What do you mean, 'How do I know it?'" the old woman asks sourly. "The same way anyone knows anything: I seen it, I heard it."

While still tart, her mood improves little by little as she eats and drinks a bit. She flips a garbage can upside down to sit on it.

"She weren't from around here," she begins, shaking her head. "Not a squatter. Didn't know the lingo, the customs, the courtesies. Dressed like what the folks in the props department think a squatter would dress like. Not the least bit functional: not enough layers for December."

She looks Bobby straight in the eye. "But most of all... her skin was too smooth." She drags her dirty fingers over her own saggy face. "She was hydrated. Didn't have that sallow complexion from malnutrition. Oh, she put makeup on to look older and dirty, and might pass for such at a distance, but up close?" She shakes her head at the absurdity of it.

"You don't get women like that here in the gutters. They wind up in bunraku parlors, or in the harem of some gang leader.

"She was up to no good. Didn't know what, but when it happened... we all knew who it was."

But the old woman didn't witness the murder?

"No, but I saw her run by with blood on her hands and a wicked grin. Moved too fast. Life out here has a way of weighing down on you."

Did anyone tell this to the police?

"No," she shakes her head. "They never asked. We're not 'reliable witnesses'. They think we'll either tell them gibberish because they're cops, or tell them gibberish because we're all mentally ill. Plus we smell bad so they don't like talking to us none. Suits me fine."

Bobby though for a moment: "Could you describe the assassin well enough for me to draw her face?
What nationality has she? Facial features? Some accent perhaps?
Did she have a place where she prefers to squat?

Also, where did she run to? Do you know anyone who saw her afterwards? Getting in a building or a car?
Anything of her she touched or held where I could conceivably find DNA of her?
I know it's a long shot, but sometimes you are in luck.

By the way: My name's Bobby. I work for a detective agency. My card is in the box. Tell your fellow squatmates I'm looking to talk with the assassin. Anyone want to talk with me, I'll be hanging out in the stuffershack the next few evenings. Don't be shy to spread the word around."

Bobby decided it was a lot easier to get found by an assassin instead of finding them. With any luck someone would turn up to silence him.

The old woman thinks about it for a minute. Her rising blood sugar has improved her mood.

"Yes, I believe I could describer her," she nods.

"She didn't squat here long. She was just here a day in advance, maybe two at the most. She seemed to be getting the lay of the land, stumbling into everyone's personal space."

The other squatters grunt and nod at this.

"What did she touch? Lots of stuff, most of it bags of garbage that have since been carried off. I can show you where she knifed the man, but I don't know what you hope to find after four months.

"She ran off that way." The old woman points out the other end of they alley, the opposite end from where Howard Cannon was killed. "Moved so fast that as soon as she turned the corner, she was gone. Bit of a sprinter, she was. Didn't exactly chase her down, did I? Doubt I could have, not that I would after what she had just done to the man. I don't know where she went after that. She hasn't been back since."

The others nod and murmur. They agree that the assassin hasn't been back since then, as she clearly wasn't from around here in the first place.

While Bobby is out looking for clues on the murder, Rachel wonders what she could do to help. She figures, since she wants to take a direct look at their target, it could be useful to know the surrounding area where the animal shelter is located. Maybe also Ms. Potter's jogging route, but first things first. Surely, there are plenty hiding places around the shelter, from where she could observe.

She takes a cab to a location about a block away from the animal shelter, where she can find some stores to shop (or rather pretend shopping), which she will do for a while, before taking a walk around the area.

Occasionally, she makes use of her divination spells to take a look into some more remote corners. Maybe there is a good spot, ideally somewhere higher up, where she could linger for a while and not be seen from the street.

Bobby nodded and produced an old school pencil and pad and began drawing - he usually created armor designs that way, but drawing a face was nothing else than designing a mask.
A bit of magic gave him also the ability to wield the implements as if they were extensions of his own body.

Raven finds no lack off good spots to observe the animal shelter. It's in the parking lot of a strip mall that's no more than 30 meters away. If she could get onto the roof of the drug store that's across the parking lot, she'll have an elevated view of the surrounding area. If she doesn't want to be that exposed then it would also be easy just to be sitting in a car parked in the parking lot. There is plenty of traffic in and out, so blending in shouldn't be an issue.

There are also no lack of decent places to jog. There are some parks nearby, plus a trail that follows along the Snohomish River that's just a kilometer or two away. But the most likely spot would be a park just to the north of Potter's apartment building.

Raven sees an old dwarven woman walking a dog. She looks lonely, and like the type of person who would be familiar with the pulse of the neighborhood.

~~~

Bobby finds that the hardest part of being a forensic artist isn't the actual drawing - which his magical assist - but rather the language that's used to describe different features.

It's a frustrating process with a lot of back and forth that requires a good deal of patience. It takes a couple hours before Bobby produces a sketch that passes the approval of the old lady, who goes by Agnes. She grows a bit more testy as time goes on, but seems committed to the process.

"Gives us a bad name, folks like that," she explains. "Dressing up like one of us, then committing a crime like that. Makes the public think we're all knife-wielding psychos. Just gives the police an excuse to crack our skulls and kick our teeth in."

The end result is a woman's face who is probably in her thirties (although she tried to make herself look older with makeup). The suspect is reasonably attractive, which was a point of suspicion among the squatters. They didn't see the woman's ears, but her rounded facial features suggest a human instead of an elf. Her precise skin tone is harder to pin down because of the makeup, but it was on the lighter end of the scale. Her hair was dark brunette or black, but if she was disguising herself with makeup then it's also possible she was wearing a wig. It's not impossible the suspect was using a nanopaste disguise, but those only last 24 hours and Agnes is confident that the woman looked the same over a longer span than that.

Bobby thanked Agnes, making sure to take pauses and bring some more supplies to the little squatter community.
When he was finished, he sent an image of the drawing to his colleagues.

"Alright, thank you for your help. Would you be open for some jobs, if they come about in the future? First would be to spread the word that I'm hanging around here, looking for the killer. Maybe I can draw out someone who wants to shut me up."

In total, Bobby spend 400 Nuyen on the squatters, chalking it up as necessary expenses and then wandered down the alley, trying to imagine where he in the shoes of an assassin would have gone if he couldn't just change shape. All along he kept his eyes open for cameras that might have caught something. He knew that KE seldomly bothered requesting private or corporate camera data - too much red tape and legal costs for the notorious peny pinching corporate organization. Arresting someone unrelated was much cheaper and got the same success bonus.

The squatters appreciate the additional spending. They seem to be open to the concept of working together in the future, although none of them have commlinks. They do think he's nuts for announcing himself as someone who is searching for the killer.

Once that's done, Bobby exits the alley onto a street... and about a hundred directions someone could have gone.

He looks around for cameras. Given that it's a low-end commercial district there are some, but it's not blanket coverage like it would be in an AAA neighborhood.

He finds two candidates: one that's closer and has a better view of the mouth of the alley but looks hardwired, and the other that's farther away but looks wireless.

Bobby tagged the two cameras and sent those to AM and Tamarind to check out as well.

Then he went to look around a bit more, finding nothing and finally sat down with a cup of soycaf in the stuffer shack.

<<If anyone of you has some time - and an invisibility spell - we could check out if there is still any data to be extracted. I doubt anyone took the effort to do so.>>

Bobby goes to the Stuffer Shack, where he is not confronted by a knife-wielding assassin. The only thing assaulting him is the Stuffer Shack's over-roasted, over-boiled soykaf.

Bobby sat down with his cup, but had no desire to drink the slob. Instead, he began searching shadow forums and blogs about a runner specializing in knife play and especially cougar fine blades as their weapon of choice. If he knew anything about geeks than that a knife wielding female professional mercenary would have some thirsty fan somewhere. Maybe posting the drawing would get some attention as well.

Bobby finds that the 'shadow' forums he knows about are populated with wannabes, losers, and basement dwellers.

>>>>>(She's good with a knife? She should make me a sandwich.)<<<<< --0xBadCafe

>>>>>(Not much of a cougar, knowwhatimsayin')<<<<< --SyntaxError

>>>>>(Uggo. Would not.)<<<<< --StackSmasher

>>>>>(Amateurish. Derivative. It's like a Paul Lung piece, but without the expressive and evocative elements.)<<<<< --MalwareMaestro

>>>>>(Nice try, narc.)<<<<< --BufferOverflow

>>>>>(Yeah, GTFO with that drek you Knight-Errant fragger.)<<<<< --VirusVandal

In general, it's not a loving, supportive community. Also, it's probably full of posers who wouldn't know as assassin from an ashtray. Bobby might have more luck with his contacts, or perhaps one of the ladies knows someone who might know someone.

Tamarind has to admit that Bobby has done a good job getting info from the squatters, and feels bad that she hadn't gone along. Then again, maybe it wouldn't have gone as well with two of them, who knows?

But now she heads over, first checking if AM has the time to drive over and do a bit of hacking. Either way, she heads out, bringing along flying drones. Once there she sets off the aunties, uncle, and both pellipers to scour rooftops for anything that might be a knife. Most likely the assassin either kept the knife or had a more secure disposal planned than tossing it onto a rooftop, and heck KE probably did this search, but it only takes a bit of time, and she isn't doing anything else useful.

drone clearsight swarm: 16d6t5 4

>> I am finishing with Adeline, and then I'll have a look, no worries. I say and drink like my third Mimosa and let the chat go to break some of the ice with the woman - mainly because I do not want the relationship to be so transactional.

Eventually - I pay the bill, cast the detox spell to stop being so giggly and painfully cheerful and head up to Bobby's location to see what I cameras can be found there.

Bobby was undeterred. He looked for more forums, but targeted more military focused ones, where he knew the clientele better. After all, a lot of mercs had military background. He knew that the rangers favored the blade somewhat, so he concentrated on those with his sketch.

But just for fun, he used some commercial matrix site, to draw a nude body underneath the face, and pasted that in the forums with the more juvenile attendees.

AM learns from Adeline that the Cougar Fine Blade used in the attack was recovered at the scene of the crime. (Specifically, still inside Howard Cannon.)

She relays this to Tamarind, who then can stop looking for a knife that K-E already has in its possession.

~~~

Tamarind doesn't find anything particularly compelling during the search of the area with her drones. She does find the two cameras that Bobby identified, plus a third that's across the street and tucked into a little corner that makes it hard to see. (Although it's position is a bit odd because why would you put your camera in a corner where it's field of view would be limited?) It would have a view of the mouth of the alleyway, although not an up-close one.

~~~

Bobby starts to get a little more traction from the military forums. If nothing else, they're more polite and less insulting. Or perhaps Bobby just has a better sense of military etiquette.

Which isn't to say that he strikes the jackpot, but he does get a couple careful follow-up questions that he takes as a good sign. They seem to be feeling Bobby out to determine his motivations.

(How exactly is Bobby structuring his inquiry?)

Bobby used the drawn image to spin a tale about a chance encounter on a classified training mission, about a live saved and a debt to be repaid to an unnamed, knife wielding soldier.
If asked why he looks now after years, he replied that he could be certain only now that the unnamed soldier is out of the service.

I send Trouble to ahead test the cameras Bobby has found and see if there is an easy place to directly connect to them. In the meanwhile I spend a few moments to try and locate them in the Trix and see how difficult it is to hack them remotely - and how likely I am to get to some camera footage from near Cannon's murder's time.


If I decide that it is a go, I'll either park nearby and hack remotely from the comforts of my car - or I'll use the invisibility spell and hack it directly - all depending on my risk assessment. The best decker does not get caught not because she is the best but because she chooses her targets carefully. While I don't care much if I am seen, I don't want many evidence pointing at me not knowing whose fingers we'll step on this case.

Bobby uncovers some skepticism.

>>>>>(An unnamed, knife-wielding soldier saved your life on a classified training mission?? What kind of training missions require your life to be saved by a close quarter combatant??)<<<<< --Hashslinger

>>>>>(What service did you say? That would help narrow it down. They tend to hang out in different places...)<<<<< --OperatorOverlord

~~~

AM arrives in Snohomish and finds the cameras that Bobby and Tamarind have identified.

Bobby found two cameras. One wireless (6 dice to resist) and one hardwired to the host of a modest business (8 dice to resist). AM doesn't think she'll have trouble with either one.

The less-obvious camera that Tamarind found is slaved to a more formidable host (12 dice to resist). However, it is quite near the roof and anyone on the roof could establish a direct connection that would simplify things considerably (6 dice to resist). Getting onto the roof would be the only barrier, although one that some combination of gear and magic should be able to overcome.

Patiently, Bobby replied: <<If you ever were on a classified mission, you know that the only thing you are allowed to say is that you were on a "training mission".
If you were there you'd understand and if not I can't discuss it with you.
If you don't recognize her that's fine - more details won't help if the drawing doesn't make you recognize her.

I think she might be a ranger, but hard to tell when you meet in the field and neither of you wears insignia - or name patches for that matter.>>

>>>>>(I think your story's a crock of drek, chummer. Go back to the Metroplex Guard.)<<<<< --Hashslinger

>>>>>(Try finding someone with MonaLisa, the facial recognition database. I don't know if it'll work with a drawing, but I got it to work with grainy, low-light footage off a security cam once.)<<<<< --OperatorOverlord

Conveniently, SIS has a subscription.

>> I am in wonderland so watch out for me.

Taking a Trix look there are two devices, one wireless and the other with a modest host. I can do it, but I should not get overconfident. I have blundered before by a moment of carelessness with that awful plant spirit trap. I remind myself, but careful or not, wise or not, it is hot simulation for me because well - viewing trix at such speeds is irresistable, even if it may involve injury.

I invite Iktomi's brilliance into my mind close my eyes as if I am sleeping. I grin mischievously as I give in to the addictive experience. My entire surroundings become different, digital fast. I am free to go in any direction, and I can clearly see the first wireless camera icon. I shrink myself to its size and scratch it a little bit with my fingernails, marking it and gaining basic access to it. The menus of the device quickly pop up and I browse to see if there are any relevant recordings I can borrow. Once I finish with the wireless device comes the real treat - the host. I sneak inside, turn invisible, and begin working my way toward a second data load. I am not sure if there is anything incriminating in there - but it is all worth it for the adrenaline.

Bobby didn't waste time trying to disprove the doubter. He'd likely have gotten that reaction even if the story had been true.

He wasn't sure how to use the app, so he spent another half hour with a tutorial. Only then did he feed the drawing into the facial recognition software. Mato has insisted that it was a good investment - he was curious to see what it would spit out.

Rachel makes a mental note of one of the good rooftop spots, but a car might be even better to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Taking a walk around the park, she spots the lady with the dog. She smiles as she moves past her. Then kneels down to look at the dog, still keeping a respectable distance, however.

"Such a cute dog. Most people just have drones these days. I know, right? So unnatural. What's the name?"

AM makes short work of the defenses around the two cameras. In a tense moment, AM is unsure of whether the camera footage even goes back that far. She finds that the security setting is to delete footage after 120 days, and she's juuuuust barely squeaking in under the wire. Things from the day of the crime would be deleted in a day or two.

After slicing through the Matrix security with ease, AM finds the same thing: nothing. At the time of the attack, nobody runs out of the alleyway. Did the assassin turn invisible before departing? AM looks for signs of someone passing by and maybe disturbing or rustling something in the area.

Wait, there: the tell-tale sign of a loop. Going frame by frame, AM identifies the moment when the cameras cut out and when they come back online maybe 12 seconds later. It's a professional-grade edit job that indicates that someone else was here and got to the footage first. Whatever these two cameras recorded is gone.

~~~

MonaLisa takes a while to work. Bobby can see the status bar progressing slowly, painfully slowly. How long can it take to bounce his drawing up against databases with billions (if not trillions) of images to look for a match? Answer: it takes a while.

The good news is that MonaLisa has access to a lot of databases that aren't public. It's not exactly a street-legal service, and that shows in their resourcefulness in accessing databases that maybe they shouldn't have access to.

After an hour, MonaLisa generates a low-percentage (57%) result: one Saiki Kiku. It offers some digital images for comparison and Bobby's agrees with MonaLisa's assessment: it's possible that it's the same person, especially if she was disguised, but it could also be a false positive.

There are some public photos of Saiki Kiki that were taken in the International District of Downtown, just south of all the skyscrapers and arcologies.

~~~

Raven finds the woman quickly willing to talk. Her dog is a Pomeranian, a fluffy little orange poof of a dog. It has a fox-like face and lively, intelligent eyes.

"This is Foxy!" the woman declares proudly.

Foxy can tell that Raven is paying attention to her. She zips forward, pulling on her leash, to either receive affection or play or both.

"She's my savior, really," the old woman continues. "Gets me out of the house - twice a day, minimum - and keeps me active. She's spunky and sassy, like me!" The old woman cackles with glee.

The first thing Bobby did, was to return to his squatter acquaintances and show them the image on his cheap commlink screen.

"Could that be the woman?"

If Agnes agreed, Bobby sent the result to the team and started asking his contacts - especially Andrew, Jhonney Morad and the casino security chief Tony Finnigan, reasoning that one of them might know a merc of that caliber.

<<Do you know this woman, Saiki Kiki, supposedly knows her way around knives. I'd like to get in contact with her.>>

The squatters are disappointed that Bobby didn't bring anything with him sometime.

"Mm, yeah, I guess," Agnes says. "I didn't think she was Asian. But, yeah, dark hair, light skin, and plenty of makeup. I could see it if I look for it."

Bobby decides that's about as good as he's going to get.

Jhonney Morad doesn't respond. Or, at least not immediately. Maybe he will later.

Tony Finnigan's response is curt. <<I know who she is but I can't help you. She plays for the other team.>>

Katsuo “Andrew” Musai's response is less direct.

<<Bobby-san. It is a pleasure to hear from you after all this time.>>

That might be a subtle jab.

<<The cherry blossoms have bloomed and I find myself contemplating their fleeting beauty. They remind us of life's impermanence. I am composing a haiku for the occasion.>>

<<How is your health? How is the health of your friends? I hope you are all very well and may stay that way.>>

<<If you wish to call upon me, I will be dining at Noodles of Joy this evening. You may ask for me at the hostess stand.>>

This is a restaurant in Touristville that specializes in udon noodles.

I make my report to the team >>>Good work Bobby... The video feed is looped at the critical time. It does not give me a face --- but it narrows the time our person of interest was at the scene to a twelve-second interval. I think we might be able to extrapolate from there based on walking/driving speed and try to see other cameras at, say, a 1-minute radius from that scene. Typically, looping the camera is enough because they'll be plenty of other people the further it gets. However, having a face for the obsession makes stocking this sweetie easier. Tamarind - can you map the cameras in a, say 200 200-meter radius? Perhaps slightly more/less depending on street connectivity.

(she would not write things like "assassin" on Trix).

"Yeah, I can see that!"

Rachel reaches down to pet the little fluffy dog and crawl her behind the ears and under the chin.

"Hey Foxy! Do you like that? Yes? Yes, you do."

Looking up to the woman, or maybe she is more level with her now, actually, Rachel says: "It's good to be active. Keeps you healthy. Keeps your mind sharp. I'm often getting out to run, but I'm pretty new around here, so basically just taking a walk to scout some nice places. Down at the river also seems nice, but this looks pretty great for a nice morning jog. I guess there will be a few people around here as well. Always a bit creepy if you are all alone in a park."

Bobby dispersed the sadness by leaving a few more creds with the squatters, increasing the expenses to 300 Nuyen.
He replied to Andrew:

<<My friends and I are fine, because we are busy. Nothing quite like clawing your way up in the world.
Thanks for the invite, I'll meet you there.>>

Bobby forwarded to the team and asked: <<Anyone want to join me? Sounds like the Yakuza might know more about her. I could use someone with better negotiation and etiquette skills. Fragging Japanese culture always trips me up with its circumspect drek.>>

I text Bobby >> I have a soft spot for Andrew. He'll be happy to see me. About etiquette - you need to show that you know you respect his superior position and that you are grateful for his time. I text Bobby -- I miss Andrew. I was angry when he kept everything correct when Mato was hurt, but I feel that out of all the people in that terrible organization, he was the only one who cared about what I felt like. It can be just etiquette but I trust him a bit more.

I am writing a small haiku as a tribute. Despite myself, I am not sure that I'll share it with Andrew it would likely be too embarrassing - but summarizing our meeting in a restricted form is a cool mental exercise. I feel a warm feeling thinking about Andrew. I know the man is a criminal, a terrifying one, but I still find him agreeable despite myself, and he seems to cling to influence by personality despite the lack of street power.



Less dreaming and more working! I imagine my mother's response to me writing a poem. So I am back to work, grinning that she still has a hold of me even miles apart. I scratch my head and test the roof I need to climb on to get direct access to the third device identified by Tamarind. I look for a semi-legitimate way to do it - while the invisibility + levitation is always an option it would feel very suspicious if there is an astral observer so mundane is sometimes the better approach. I ask Trouble to check if there is anyone else astrally percieving in the scene, while I focus on the mundane.

Mapping out cameras was something Tamarind was happy to do. She'd already had her drones start surveying the area along likely escape paths, before finding out that the knife was not to be found. Now she returns them to that job, changing the search parameters to look for cameras.

@Bobby
Andrew acknowledges Bobby's RSVP. <<Very good. A nutritious meal can be very beneficial to your health.>>

~~~

@Raven
Foxy does like that, yes she does! The pup readily absorbs any and all attention that Raven provides. And, once Raven is done, Foxy lets it be know that she wouldn't mind some more.

"Oh, she's incorrigible!" the old dwarf woman smiles at the display. "You'd think that she didn't sit on my lap and get pets all evening, wouldn't you?"

The woman listens to Raven politely.

"Oh, it's quite safe here!" she says of the park. "Here I am out by myself with only Foxy for protection. And what would Foxy do? Ask a mugger for attention! I harbor illusions of her biting ankles, but let's be realistic."

A thought occurs to her.

"Why, that Corinne Potter runs around here!" she says. "You know, the candidate for Governor? Drives her coppers mad that she runs faster than they do. Oh, they keep eyes on her with drones and with those woooo!" - she makes a noise like a ghost - "spectral things that the rich and powerful like to use. But she's out here in the flesh and blood, just like you and me. And she's nice as can be too! Stops to pet Foxy without fail. Sometimes even has a treat for her! Can you imagine running with dog treats in your running shorts just in case you passed a friendly pup?" The old woman beams at the thought and Raven is quite sure that the woman will be a Potter voter.

~~~

@AM
AM studies the building. It's a business of some sort, although its precise functionality isn't clear. The building is five stories tall and made of brick. There are plenty of windows, but no balconies or external stairwells.

Trouble reports that there is a door on the roof, so there must be stairs inside leading to it. But that, of course, would require AM to go inside the building.

Trouble says there isn't any obvious astral security, but that there is a playful free spirit that's on the next rooftop.