Mato cross-references the information from Dean with what they learned from the camera footage. He leaves a message for the others for when they wake up.

<<The video footage was of three people retreating from the ranch with the target. 'Lithe, slender folk' is how they were described.>>

<<That doesn't leave much room for a troll, unless there's some sort of masking at play. But if you're going to mask, why wouldn't you just go invisible?>>

Mato presumes all spellcasters can do both.

<<More likely is that one of them was remote or on overwatch, likely the hacker. But Dean's breakdown of The Black Cats didn't mention a hacker.>>

Tamarind grabs a few hours sleep before groggily seeing Mateo off, handing him a couple of fully charged Flying Eyes and a Kanmusgi to put in his pockets, and extracting his promise to call at the first sign of trouble.

She absorbs the news from Dean and then she goes back to bed for a few more hours, plugged into her RCC. Makes for weird dreams, but she's done it many a time before, and by letting any possible call from Mayo ring right in her brain, she can be sure of waking up. She does take the precaution of setting her agent to screen the rest of her calls, the last thing she needs is spam to wake her up prematurely.

Bobby had opted to help AM during the ritual - and was sorely disappointed when the connection formed for a moment and snapped directly as it was blocked - most likely by a ward.

He had spent the boring bits meditating and so hard deferred sleep by another few hours, keeping him fresh.

When the description came, he nodded at Mato's analysis, but added:
<<If the troll was the face, he might have stayed in the car.

But yeah, let's start with the Sioux bar.>>

<<Hafiz and Falcone assumed that magic was used to conceal their approach, and that the spells were dropped later once they thought they were home free. If that logic holds then they wouldn't be using masking spells to make them look different. Sure, maybe the troll was in the van, but you'd think that he'd be along to carry Belenkiy.>>

<<I do think The Black Cats are the more likely candidates. Both because of the feather and the size of the figures on the camera feed, but also because they turned east during their exfil. That would point them toward Sioux territory. I wouldn't be surprised if they made a run for the border.>>

Mato decides to drive toward the Hardpan to scope it out. He expects it to be closed in the middle of the night, but he wants to get a sense of the space.

>> Alright - bar it is. I'll need some sleep after it's over, though.

And unless anyone has a better idea, I am going to crush right there on that very luxurious bed for several hours alone with my frustrations and doubts about my competence as a shaman.

After checking that the bar was actually open at this time, Bobby went back to the car, got in the driver's seat, waited for the others to pile in as well and headed out to the Sioux bar.

<<Tuesday Night - 03:41 - May 16, 2079 - Hardpan, Thornton, Denver>>

As expected, there is not much going on in the middle of the night. The first thing Mato notices, when he gets closer, is the smell. The Hardpan sits close to the Apex Plasmids Complex, the largest food producer in the FRFZ, and its algae tanks and hydroponic facilities.

The bar itself has a generous parking lot, there is plenty of space in the area, after all. It looks just like the local watering hole that it likely is. At least, it seems a bit unlikely that patrons drive here from afar.

Looking through the windows, Mato can see heavy furniture, that is resilient to the occasional bar fight. Typical Sioux Amerindian decorations are a common sight as well. A large "No Smoking" sign hangs behind the bar counter. Next to it, there are a number of pictures on the wall, all of them depict faces that are clearly bruised or beaten.

Opening hours are from 16:00 to 02:00.

Mato spends a moment studying the Apex Plasmids Complex. He has a personal interest in it because both of his parents worked for the Wind River Corporation, the biggest player in the biggest sector of the Sioux economy (agriculture). Wind River operates five massive hydroponic/aeroponic facilities that grow everything from genetically enhanced wheat to pineapples, and it touts a string of successful patents and technology innovations in high-density farming that are widely licensed throughout the world. These complexes are heavily automated and environmentally sealed, allowing them to grow crops year-round, free of diseases, harmful insects, and the notoriously fickle Sioux weather. Mato looks over the Apex Plasmids Complex, curious to see if he can see any evidence of technology licensed from Wind River.

After satisfying his curiosity, he returns to the work at hand. Walking over to the Hardpan, he looks in through the windows.

"A charming establishment," he says to Bobby. "I wonder if all those bruised and bloody faces represent a Wall of Fame or a Wall of Shame."

He scouts out the building's security, visually inspecting the exterior for cameras or other sensors. Then he dials up his radar sensors, using them to map out the Hardpan and see if there are any unusual or suspicious spaces within.

The Wind River Corporation dominates the agricultural market in North America, especially after the Horizon takeover, and considering that not too long ago this area of the FRFZ was part of the Sioux Nation, it is reasonable to assume, that you will find parts produced by WRC here. Mato can easily identify some of the algae tanks and hydroponic facilities, which look extremely similar to the ones he has seen in the past on WRC territory.

The whole area is more industrial/agricultural. A number of small lakes and ponds loosen up the dull scenery, and there is the South Platte River, of course. Only few buildings are located here, some residential, and almost no businesses. A liquor store is nearby. And there is a large trailer shop a little further south.

Looking at the pictures on the wall, you quickly come to the conclusion, that it is more likely a "Wall of Shame" kind of thing, especially considering the high amount of non-Amerindian faces displayed there.

Using his sensors and other senses, Mato looks around for anything unusual. There are a few cameras (one is broken, but hasn't been repaired in quite some time), maglocks, but nothing out of the ordinary. This is not a high security area. Looking at the building's layout, there are some rooms next to the bar itself, of course, but those are most likely normal kitchen and storage areas, restrooms and such.

Bobby looked around - focusing on the spirit world - while answering Mato:

"Judging by the bashed in faces, I'd say those guys got booted from the establishment and told never to come back."

He concentrated for a moment: "Let me get a map of the building and if there are any wards around."

Bobby does not find any wards. Overall, the security level here does not seem the greatest.

Between his spell and Mato's senses, you have a good idea of the layout of the building. There are no hidden areas.

"Probably the smokers. Deterrence most likely, but I imagine it's advertising to a certain sort."

Macho Sioux bulldrek, Mato thinks to himself privately.

"Doesn't look like anything special," Mato comments to Bobby. "It doesn't appear to be a hideout or a secret safehouse.

"I don't know what our angle is if we come back to speak with Banshee. If she has a connection to the Black Cats then she's going to run cover for them. We could twist her arm, but we'd have a bar brawl on our hands."

Bobby smiled: "Don't threaten me with a good time. Though we don't have to wait until the bar opens - we could visit her at home. Won't make us any friends though. Alternatively, one of you poses as a client who wants to hire the black cats. If they aren't available right now, that's a hint that they might be who we are looking for. Subtly hacking her comms to find the contact for their current burner phones might yield results as well.

If we want to go the hard and heavy route, we could pose as Ares Retrieval Forces to deflect from our own identities.

Otherwise we'll just have to play this by ear."

"Yeah, I thought about posing as a client. I do have the suit if I'm going to play the Johnson, although my poker face is still a work in progress. I don't have that ability to just switch personalities like Raven does.

"The soft touch is a good starting point. Hacking the commlink sounds like the place to begin."

When Bobby wanted to head off with the truck, Tamarind woke up enough to send Stitch with him, in case she needed to lend a hand from a distance (Plus the drone would get bored if he sat around for too long and nobody needed that to happen). Besides of course there were drones in the launchers at need too.

Then she arrayed the rest of the Flying Eyes, Kanmushis, and Beauty into a low energy perception swarm around her and AM's sleeping area, then went back to sleep.

Bobby looked on in concentration: "I probably could get in as a roach, but I don't expect there's anything worth finding in there.

And since it will be a few hours before this place opens up, we probably should check out the other team next."

"I agree," Mato tells Bobby. "I'm confident I could break in, but to what end? I'm not detecting anything overly suspicious and it sounds like neither are you. It's not like they have a warded safe room in the basement where they might be holding someone hostage.

"I would say let's go back and get some rest. Then we'll restart in the morning once everyone is awake and all back together. We can visit that other talismonger and see if it's any more productive than the previous one."

Mato heads back to the Gopher for the drive back to the Ranch.

<<Tuesday Morning - 09:00 - May 16, 2079 - Horse Trot Ranch, Brighton, Denver>>

A few hours later, the team is back together at the ranch. Everyone is awake, and more or less well-rested. Maybe someone even made coffee for AM. Noone replied to Dean, though.

Now it's time to figure out your next steps.

Stitch had pinged Tamarind when it got home with Mato and Bobby. Since she was awake she gave the handy drone instructions to go make caff at 7am. She figured they'd let AM sleep until at least after that.

Then she ended up waking up around six, not feeling fully rested but unable to get back sleep in the unfamiliar bed. She got up, went over the information that had been gathered during the night, and looked at the maps of the locations of interest. Her delivery drones had charged up overnight, so she sent them to follow designated delivery flyways near the two locations, just to get a better feel for them and to see if there was any early morning activity.

Bobby had actually gone to bed, resetting a very long meditation streak. After a shower he was back with the others:
"Alright, let's visit the other talismonger next and in the meantime search how we can get in contact with the other runner team. If necessary we start with the troll community - I bet there aren't that many around that they wouldn't know each other."

While getting into the car, he started a search

Mato isn't quite sure how to dress. The parts of Denver they'd been to so far were a little more rough-and-tumble. If he had anything from the Globetrotter or the Wild Hunt line he would wear it, but for now he's stuck with the choice between his armor jacket and his Chasseur field uniform. He eventually opts for the armor jacket, reasoning that maybe AM can magically tailor it if the situation requires.

"Let's go," he says. He tries a more generic search for Jack McPherson a.k.a. Frost.
"I suppose we should respond to Dean, now that it's not the middle of the night."

<<Message received. Thanks for the intel. Nothing to report so far.>>

Mato is wary of Dean and decides not to be too forthcoming, at least to begin. Trust, but verify, Mato reminds himself.

AM wakes up after too few hours of sleep and showers to put on a presentable face. Then a coffee and then... well she still feels like shit from the lack of sleep and hurt ego. So she is quiet and is happy to take over the computer search to disconnect and be in simulation rather than in a world where paracetamol seems like a good idea.

Reluctantly Tamarind leaves behind what drones don't fit in the drone launchers or in her pockets. The downside of a pick-up truck, the cargo is sitting out in the open. Still, they likely wouldn't need the balloon drones, and the Pellipers were already putting eyes on their likely destinations, so mostly it just meant leaving behind Stitch. She gives her right hand drone a quick pat and assigns it to keep an eye on their room, just so that it feels it is being useful. Then off they go to try and talk to people. She sighs a bit internally, she'd not realized that detective work would be quite so much talking with people, probably her fault for watching too many procedurals where people find vital clues through thorough searching.

Bobby got back behind the wheel. He felt as if they had wasted too much time already, but there wasn't much he could do about it right now. Moving to forcefully might burn bridges they needed. That's why he hated operating outside his turf - without their established contacts, everything was so complicated and needed so much double-checking.

"Same story as before, buying some reagents and asking about the trinkets we found. Mato, can you come with us and use your face value programs to see if there are any signs the proprietor holds something back?"

"Well, sure," Mato says. "But both Thermal Mood Reading and Vocal Tension Lie Detection are SIS subscriptions. AM or Tamarind could run it just as easily.

"I think we should keep with the good cop, bad cop routine. AM or Tamarind can be the thoughtful listener while Bobby can be the bull in the china shop."

"Sure, but it's always better if the operator doesn't have to concentrate on two things at once.

We'll likewise want a mark on the proprietor's link to see if he warms someone."

With that, he went to enter the shop.

Tamarind suggested to AM "You get the link, I'll go apologize for Bobby." She doesn't add that she doesn't entirely trust AM's patience or empathy right now, with how tired she is.

And she asks Mayo, you coming in? Or should I boot up the software?". And then she decides that she's given Bobby enough of a lead, and follows him into he shop.

"Boot the software," Mato el Mayo tells Tamarind. He quickly confirms that the permissions are set up to let her access the subscription service. "I can't talk the talk in there."

Mato has not put much brainpower into understanding magical theory or application. It's was always so well covered by Jawsey, Bobby, AM, and now Raven and even Tamarind. That was fine with him; he was happy diversifying the agency's skillset. Besides, he figures that a heavily-cybered ork will send the wrong signal in a talismonger shop. His presence would undermine any cover story they might concoct.

If the weather is dry, he will stand outside leaning on the Gopher. If the weather is wet, he'll wait in the cab of the truck.

I find Tamarind's suggestion a bit amusing. "Tam please... A mundane at a Talismonger shop is like a man at the gynecology clinic. I'll go and play nice; I'll be fine. I am used to fixing Bobby's mess anyhow. We're kind of good cop bad cop in day-to-day as well." Not that it wouldn't work, but it might not work.

Bobby entered the shop, looked around and headed straight for the sales person:

"Hi, I'm looking for some reagents - shamanistic ones. Can you help me out with that?

Also, can you tell me something about these?"

AM follows, and has a look. Yawning a bit before entering. Perhaps she should have agreed to Tam, but well, it's common they did the previous talismonger shop just fine.

Mato hums to himself. He is actually under the impression that mundanes were a significant source of business for talismongers. There is no lack of people who dreamed of magic, who desperately craved the power and control it offers, and the talismongers are only too happy to capitalize on this hope/hopelessness. If he were running a shop he'd have crystals, dreamcatchers, incense, essential oils, lodestone chips, hematite rings, maybe a dowsing rod... ya know, various New Age crap to please the poseurs and wannabes.

It sounds less profitable than an investigative agency so he shelves the idea for the time being.

<<Tuesday Morning - 09:00 - May 16, 2079 - Horse Trot Ranch, Brighton, Denver>>

Tamarind's drones pick up absolutely no activity around the Hardpan in the morning hours. The talismonger shop Mystic Curiosities in Chinatown is still closed, it will open at 10:00. There is a lot more activity in the area, though, people getting to work, people getting home from a long night out, and so on. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Bobby's search for any troll hangouts yields two obvious hits. A bar called The Grind, located in the eastern parts of The Hub, and the restaurant Carnimore in Thornton, which caters to those with big appetites.

Mato can find an advertisement for freelance security work tagged with the name of Jack McPherson and a commcode for inquiries.


<<Tuesday Morning - 10:13 - May 16, 2079 - Mystic Curiosities, Chinatown, Lowry, Denver>>

The talismonger shop Mystic Curiosities is quite different compared to the one at Paradise Lane. It looks more tidy, and reminds you a bit of a souvenier shop. There is a lot of traditional chinese decoration. Your expert gaze spots numerous trinkets of various kinds, that surely won't have any magical value, but certainly look quite mystical.

The owner, Zhang Wong, is a middle-aged chinese man in traditional robes wearing narrow spectacles. He looks a bit like one of those ancient martial arts masters from the trids. His grey hair and beard show the signs of his age. He appears to be very friendly, and welcomes you with a smile and a slight bow.

As Bobby headed straight for him, he takes a step back and replies with a fairly strong accent: "Please. One thing after the other. Shamanistic reagents. Of course. Anything special?"

Bobby shrugged: "No, just the basic raw stuff, 20 drams. My friend is into ritual magic."

Bobby showed the feather: "I wanted to ask about that here. It was left in a kind of scavenger hunt - and I just can't figure it out."

Once AM goes in, Tamarind checks over the truck, and looks for any probable problems, then finding none and seeing that Mato is alert for danger, she let's herself shut down. She sits in the cab practices square breathing, and strokes Beauty, doing her best not to think.

"There is some astral impression in there, but I can't recognize the caster. Mind to have a look?" I add once Bobby shows the feather.

The talismonger nods to Bobby and fetches a small paper bag, which he fills with the requested reagents. He neatly folds it and hands it over.

"There you are. That will be 400 Nuyen. Now, let me see what else you have."

Zhang Wong takes a look at the feather, obviously concentrating for a moment. He nods again.

"Yes, I can see what you mean. This has been in the possession of someone else for some time. However, I do not recognize the imprint, if that is what you are asking. But it is obvious, that this feather has some meaning for the person it belongs to. Not very strong, but it's there."

"Shame. Do you know of anyone in the area, who could know?

And while we are at it: what can you tell us about this dagger?"

Bobby kept his focus on the man, trying to discern if he was being lied to.

"Young man. How should I know someone, who knows someone else, that I do not know."

Zhang Wong takes a look at the dagger, and quickly dismisses it as a fake, pretty much confirming what Trinket has told you before. Bobby does not sense any deception.

"You have quite an interesting assortment of items there."

Bobby shrugged:

"The magic community isn't that large - at least where I'm from. Can't know who you know without asking.
Do you know any experts in ritual magic around here?"

"The awakened are a secretive crowd. And even moreso around here, especially as of late. Obviously, I have my customers, and judging from the amount of reagents some of them buy, they very likely know a bit about ritual magic. Unless, they are using them for conjuration, but that is very unlikely, as you surely are aware. However, I cannot hand out their contact information, as you certainly understand. I could try and reach someone, if you tell me what it is you are looking for, and ask on your behalf," Zhang Wong offers. "But no promises. They could simply refuse."

"I see. We are looking for a specialist for tracking rituals. Or alternatively, someone specialized in aura reading. Here is my comlink number. We are a bit in a hurry though - sooner would be better."

Bobby didn't actually expect any results here, but increasing your contact list never hurt.

Not wanting to add more information, I nod in approval. "That would help a lot.'' I say in agreement. Feeling the sting of actually looking for someone better than myself, but let's face it: I am only proficient in the basic ritual techniques, and specialists could achieve things that are far above my skill level. So it makes sense to use someone like that if we can.

The talismonger saves Bobby's contact information and nods. "I will see what I can do."

"Be prepared to be asked a few detailed questions about who you are tracking. My customers, well, most of them, are not mercenaries. And they might even ask for something other than money in return for the favor. It will likely take a moment, there are certain protocols that have to be followed, but I should be able to give you an answer today."

"If what you are doing is dangerous, and it sure is giving me that vibe, know that I am a skilled healer. I also tend to not take sides. You know where to find me."

"Understood. Thanks for the help."

Over the team channel he said:

<<Now would be a great time to have a mark on his link to see who he is calling.>>

Mato stands outside, leaning on the Gopher. He studies their surroundings, making mental notes about how things are the same and how they differ from other places he's been. His primary impression is that cities are mostly the same from place to place; it's the countryside where you find the soul of a nation. Sure, Denver had Ghostwalker and Seattle was the shadow capitol, but cities were cities.

"What's it like to be back?" he asks Tamarind to break the long silence.

"Like I was saying before, mostly I was staying out in the less populated parts of the zone. It isn't big compared to the Sioux, but still big enough. A lot of the smugglers would fly in just over the border, land, off-load, and want to be back in the air in 15 minutes if possible. We'd be staged in a camp or the outer suburbs of Boulder or whatever, drive to the site, make the pick up and maybe give them part of a load of fuel, depending, then bug out with the cargo. A lot of careful driving, maybe just a kilometre to a stash point, maybe right into Denver for a hand-off, sometimes a change of vehicle along the way. Whatever it was, it was planned on high, we just got our instructions and followed them."

"Very different than when I was in the Sioux, when we'd stay at a camp for months and maybe be back the next year or the one after, and we'd have longer stretches of leave. Here in the Zone we never really had much down time, and were discouraged from spending much time mingling with the locals in case somebody reported outsiders. We felt paranoid all the time, ready to bug out at any time, no long term place to stay. It pretty much was drek, but it was the job that Captain Razak sent me to."

"So how does it feel to be back here? Honestly I mostly just feel that old anxiety. But it is nice to be staying somewhere comfortable, and not looking over my shoulder all of the time. Except I keep looking over my shoulder anyway."

"Old habits die hard," Mato agrees. "Especially if they're the habits that helped you get old in the first place."

This is a bit rich, as Mato is like a month away from turning 25. He is simultaneously very young for a homo sapiens, but middle-aged for a homo sapiens robustus.

"As for me, I've had enough of the Sioux weather. Seattle is temperate; seems like a hospitable place to put down some roots."

Bobby left the shop and turned to the waiting colleagues:
"Alright, another bust. Time is ticking away. Who should we try next? The troll hangout?"

"I guess we do. It feels like like the other team was slick enough not to leave much trace, at least not anywhere that people will talk, but we still should run down each track, just in case. How do want to approach a bunch of trolls?"