*grumble*... <[Vick] - I'm inbetween cars at the moment. Alright, if you can find it, scout it. I'm probably 20 mins out, coming in by train.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 19:45 EST; On the Street, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] Background Check. Sure, can do that, Vick. No problem. >

Sunday, 02-MAR-2070 - 20:30 - Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

As Jazz rolls her bike into the area, Eric uses the sight while maintaining his mask. No sense in letting my true face get video taped. He trusted Jazz to clean all the video she could find, but he was pretty paranoid given the fact that video could be streaming anywhere in the world.

As they enter the safe house Eric takes a short look around, switching between the sight and mundane vision in order to better get a feel for the house as well as that which his mundane eyes see. He looks to the others on the team who have made it noticing a few short of the meet. "Anyone have a bug scanner?"

Sunday, 02-MAR-2070 - 20:30 - Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta
Vick

< [Vick] "Neg. Back at my place. I'm still packin' for the meet. Just use the network for now. What do you think... dig or no dig? Seems kosher to me. Pretty private. Done any background on it yet Jazz?" >

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 20:30 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] Aye. Looks alright. Owner is a former shadowrunner, who is out of the game, pretty much. >

Jazz then rummages through her pack and hands Book a small device. "Like this?" (Radio Signal Scanner 6)

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 20:31 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Smiling as Jazz produces the bug scanner Eric says ,"Why yes... That."

With that, Eric proceeds through the house checking for listening devices or other unknown signals.

Eric follows the signal around the ranch style house until he locates two stray signals. One is coming from Digger's room and is an audio/video recorder over the bed. The other is hidden in the wall near the kitchen/den area. This one appears to be built into the house.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 20:45 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

As Eric works his way around the house and makes it to the master bedroom he pauses for just a moment and smirks, What a dog...

He continues through the house quickly, but thoroughly finishing in the kitchen. " Hey Jazz. I think this is the house-o-matic node. Could you check it out and insure it isn't compromised? We might also think about putting a white noise generator in the master bedroom...."

With that, he moves into the living room, sits down and drops his mask spell.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 20:46 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Jazz nods. "Yep, will do what I can."

For now, Jazz will take a look around where Book got the signal and try to figure out what it might be. If necessary, she will also do some careful probing and analyzing in the local Matrix node.

Vick says, "Laundry room has a drain; it'll serve as a place to get messy in or just scare someone. I'm gonna head back to my place and grab my gear. Strategy session tonight? Also, have we got enough furniture to crash on?"

Vick takes a cab back to his place, stowes his gear in cases and duffel bags, and heads back to Druid Hills. The round trip takes about an hour or hour and a half.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 20:48 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Eric sits on the couch as Jazz settles in for to do her thing in the net and Vick heads out to collect his gear. Where the hell is the rest of the team? I've been on runs where we get a few cut and run with the down payment but shit this is crazy... My next job will probably be to hunt them down and smoke each of 'em...

After a few minutes of quiet reflection, he decides to start probing one of his more reliable contacts. He gives Tanya Livingston a quick call..... ring... ring

Tanya answers after a few more rings. What's on your mind, sugar? she asks. The sound of her gum popping is both annoying and typical.

As the gum smacks during her answer, Ah the little necessary evils in life....

<@Tonya [Eric] Tonya dear... Your expose on the Aztechnology link to assassination of the Turner-Time-Warner CIO was a nicely done piece of investigative reporting... Which brings me to the purpose of my call... He pauses for a moment, I can't let here figure out exactly what angle I am working.. Mr Johnson may be looking to blackmail our boy, though I think his aim is to discredit him. No sense taking any chances there letting her on to too much, too soon. ..I've taken an interest in politics as of late. Senatorial election to be precise. What do you know of the two candidates and which closets their skeletons are hidden in? >

I'll let her start narrowing the field for me. That'll help keep her off the exact track I'm on..

Sunday March 2, 2070 21:15:00 Druid Hills

Holy crap! I've never even heard of a run based out of a ritzy country club. Digger cracks me up!

Dean walked up to the doss where the others were supposed to be, a pack on his back carrying a couple changes of clothes and all the gear he thought he might need. He generally kept a bag with his 'go frag' gear ready but he'd had to throw in a few changes of clothes. He had the code, he could have just walked in, but figured a polite knock would be more in order.

He rapped on the door a couple of times then entered the code and pushed open the door.

"Yo? Anybody home?"

He gave it a second then went in, sense alert and his pistol held against his leg, just in case.

The gum continues to smack during Tanya's answer.

<@Eric [Tonya] Eric, well now that depends. You know that all politicians have skeletons in their closets. What do you want to know for? Never mind, I am sure that you are talking business. Anyway, let me think about that for a minute. ... Well, here's something. That Terry Fulerton of the Southern Conservative Party seems to be involved in Azzie interests though I haven't been able to prove anything ... yet, anyhow. I heard some rumors that he isn't quite as hardcore in the belief system of the party as some would like but he is their best bet to win the election. Right now he's on the campaign trail and sleeps in a loft above his headquaters. The only other thing that I have right now is that there is an fundraising dinner later on this week. I think Saturday night.

Now for Mark Roloven. He is pretty much a cream puff push-over from what I can tell. His handler, what's his name, Doug something-a-nother, that's the one with skeletons in the closet. The way I hear it, he's the one who sent the hopes of former Presidential hopeful Brad Hoffman to the grave. You ever notice how he skated our smelling more or less like roses and nobody's heard of the other advisors. Seems off to me.

Then there's that nut job down on the coast. You don't need anything on him do you? Oops, sorry sugar, I have a previous engagement. Give me a call sometime ... when it's not work, mm k?>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 20:51 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

<@Tonya [Eric] Yea. Thanks. Stay chill. >
The call was quick and pretty one sided, but that's really how Eric liked it with Tonya.. she could be a little.. well... dizzy. Sleeps above his headquarters. That's a new piece of information.

Eric settled back to pulling up the news on the trid..

Sunday March 2, 2070 21:15:00 Druid Hills
The knock on the door brings Eric out of the mindless, trid-induced stupor. He slings a low powered clairvoyance spell at the door and sees Dean pressing the access code and opening the door. As the door opens, Eric sends a watcher to great him.

The watcher materializes in front of Dean appearing like a 1/2 meter tall mafia soldier with a cheap suit and dark glasses, floating so the are face to face. "Yo, Dean O, da boss is in da parlor.. right this way..". It turns in the air and leads Dean to the living room before disappearing.

Eric is sitting across from the entry way to the room wearing his real face this time and a suit not quite as expensive as the one he appeared to be wearing earlier. "Hello Dean. Jazz is tied up checking on the target's host node. Vick went for his gear. Seen anyone else?"

The speakers built into the wall come to life and a sultry feminine voice says, "Welcome to the Druid Hills. How may we be of service to you?"

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 20:52 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

"Looks clean so far, fairly standard security device with a connection to the clubhouse. I will take a closer look later, will take some time."

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 22:55 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Jazz is sitting in the kitchen since two hours already, she has been silent for the time, fiddling with her commlink occasionally. Then she has fallen into a trance-like state common to people accessing virtual reality.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 22:58 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Jazz's thoughts appear on the display of her teammates' commlinks, translated into text via the direct neural interface. Her signal rating is tuned down so far, that only the nearby commlinks should be able to catch up the wireless sending.

< [Jazz] Finished the routine check... house has motion sensors to determine where people are moving around, and microphones that record anything that is being said... which is kinda why I'm not speaking right now. They can also live monitor these from the clubhouse. Of course, it's probably meant as actual security mostly, but it also matches my earlier background check, that the guy running this show here keeps some data on his customers as some sort of insurance. If necessary, I should be able to stay in the node and make the micros behave like gentlemen. >

< [Jazz] Alright, I will need your commlinks for direct access, to install some encryption keys there for proper security on future sendings. Only one at a time, please. >

Sunday March 2, 2070 21:20:00 Druid Hills

After a few minutes of pleasantries with Dean, Eric kicks back in a recliner and takes a short nap. Eric summons a watcher and commands it: Patrol this house. Wake me and provide the details about any astral activity penetrating this house, including spirits, spells and awakened creatures.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 22:58 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Awakened by the beeping of his com and then Jazz's voice, Eric listens as he awakens. Good thing that paranoid me used the sub-vocal mic earlier when I talked to Tonya.. Makes me want to send a few watchers to annoy the homeowner...

<@Jazz [Eric] Do whatever you deem appropriate to the com. As you already have admin access, let me know if you need anything else.>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 22:58 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] A cool beer would be nice. >

Sunday March 2, 2070 22:10:00 Druid Hills Country Club
Vick returns, walking up to the house carrying two duffel bags and a suitcase. He's wearing a black ballcap to help hide his face.

This place sure doesn't feel safe enough. Too much space... too many eyes...

< [Vick] I'm back - So Jazz, what's our ETA on freedom of speech and operation in the safehouse?

Vick walks in, and looks for a good place to lay his things down.

< [Vick] Hmm. Visuals in the back bedroom only, right? >

Vick finds a place to set his things down and begins counting munitions. He produces an Ares Alpha from its sleeve in one of the duffel bags, a Predator, and some miscellanous electronics.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 22:58 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Eric notices that Vick had slipped in while he was napping. Myself, Jazz, Dean & Vick. Its starting to look up again.

He nods to Vick as he heads into the kitchen to check the status of food supplies... and beer...

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 22:59 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] Freedom of Speech? Never. While I'm not paranoid, usually, I would advise to stay cautious. It's always possible that we overlooked something. >

The speakers built into the wall come to life once again and a sultry feminine voice says, "Welcome to the Druid Hills. How may we be of service to you and your guests Mr. Johnson.?"

Vick, alone in one of the bedrooms, silently readies his Predator.


< [Vick] Was that you, Jazz? >

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:00 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] No. That's because of the motion sensors, obviously. But why is it refering to Mr Johnson? Kinda silly, huh? >

Since noone seems to feel like answering her, Jazz turns up the volume on the speakers of her commlink appropriately and let's a pretty bland, male voice say: "Nothing for now. Thanks!"

< [Vick] You sure we're alone? >

Digger, I swear to god; if you screwed me over, you'll pay. . .

Vick steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. His eyes and ears are at full alert, his ultrasound active.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:00 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Eric looks over as Jazz answers the voice.
<@Jazz [Book] Nothing for now? What about that beer? Ah well. Any news?>

The voice answers, "Thank you Mr. Johnson. Should you require anything, please let the clubhouse know."

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:00 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] That was Mr Johnson. Say hello to Mr Johnson. >

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:01 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Eric replies as he heads out of the room<@Jazz [Book] Well hello Mr Johnson... I'm gonna crash. I'll catch up with you in the morning and I'll follow up what ever leads you find tonight. So Ka?>

The front door opens and Carron Dalton strolls into into the safehouse with two sacks of food.
<@All [Dalton] I brought munchies! I got zapper burritos, a 12-pack of Meister Brau, chips, soy-kaf, Monster Drinks, everything we need for a few days.>

Eric looks over the food only slightly less impressed with it than with the choice in beer. He shakes his head and continues on towards one of the bedrooms to get some sleep.

Dalton put the food in the refrigerator.
<@All [Dalton] So what's the plan?>

Sunday, March 2, 2070 23:01 Lap of Luxury, Atlanta

Dean made sure his gear was securely stowed, then wearing headed back to the main room, his heavy pistol openly exposed on his belt. He looked around at the crew that was quickly gathering and moved to take a seat in one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs.

"So where should we start then?"

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:02 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton places all the food into refrigerator except two burritos and two squeeze-packs of beer. He drops one on the table in front of Jazz and answers Dean, <@All [Dalton] I was thinking a recon of the head-quarters with the mage at zero-six-hundred. See who comes and goes find out what time our boy comes in to the office.>

Eric still on comes while preparing to get a little sleep, adds to the conversation, <@All [Book] I have it from a reasonably good source that he is rumored to sleep in a loft at the campaign HQ when in town.>

After placing two burritos in the microwave and taking a drink from his beer Dalton continues, <@All [Dalton] Well, I guess we can prove or disprove that little bit of intel tomorrow. A good heads up though.> Dalton looks over at Jazz as he continues silently speaking into the coms, <@All [Dalton] Where are we with getting his schedule?>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:03 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Jazz picks up one of the bottles and raises it slightly. "Thanks!"

< [Jazz] I'll see what I can do. Don't expect any results soon, it takes a while to get in there while keeping a low profile. And I need to finish my beer first, of course. >

Vick has finished inspecting his gear, satisfied with its collective condition. He dons a quick draw holster and stowes his Predator there, loaded with Stick n' Shock. The silencer stays in a pants pocket.


< [Vick] To recap, here's the short list Book texted earlier: >
< [Vick]
1) Connection to Azzies
2) Ork girlfriend
3) Ares kickbacks
4) Schedule here in East Point
5) Fund raising dinner in a week at his headquaters in downtown
6) Other..? >
< Lots to do. . . especially for you, Jazz. Maybe we can get a tap on our man's personal commlink. If he's too secure, then maybe someone he trusts will be just as good. >

< We need more details on the ork girlfriend. Her status, her connection, their history. I have a feeling she's easy leverage. >

< We could put a tail on our candidate, but I dunno how much good it's gonna do. It's more likely to attract attention than discover anything useful. No, believe me, I know, for this kind of job, we need leverage on the inside. >

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:05 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton starts a second beer as he pulls his burritos out the the microwave and looks over the list in AR. Two bites and the first burrito is down, then Dalton speaks again. <@All [Dalton] Not much the rest of us can do tonight to that list. I'm gonna follow Book's example and get some shut-eye. I'm thinking: Set the alarm for 0-400, pull out at 0-4-30, try to be at the HQ around 0-600. Who wants to go?>

Book adds his $0.02 from the small bedroom, <@All [Book] I'll go just to run a little astral recon. Place is probably tight as a fort, but you never know when you can cut a break. If we do start tailing the candidate, we are gonna need to switch tails frequently. Who else has a vehicle?>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 23:15 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Jazz puts the now empty bottle back on the table before her. "Alright."

< [Jazz] How 'bout this. You guys figure out what you can do without relying on information I can dig up, while I look for a way in. Takes a few hours, minimum, so you got plenty time in the mean. Once we got an entrance into their system, I can start looking for any clues, and we can go from there. To work! For me, anyways. >

With that, Jazz leans back onto the sofa, in a quite relaxed position.

Monday, March 3rd, 2070; 04:00 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

<@Dalton [Dalton] *BEEEP* *BEEEP* *BEEEP*> Dalton swats the "OFF" ARO and rolls over. He does three push-ups just so he can say PT is done for the day. The house is quiet. The civilians are still asleep...

As he enters the living room and sees Jazz sitting on the couch, he imagines the hacker is the one member of the team who is still awake. Imagine she'll catch her shut-eye while we chase out the leg-work.

Sliding into the kitchen he almost grabs a beer, but conscious gets the better of him Focus on the run... and he makes a cup of instant soy-kaf and a burrito instead. Breakfast of champions.

04:10
Dalton heads into the smaller bedroom to wake up Book but doesn't get the chance. As soon as he opens the door, some sort of spirit-form rattlesnake appears on the sleeping shaman's chest and begins hissing and shaking its rattles.

"What?"" is Book groggy challenge to the violation of his sleep.

Dalton smirks, "Time to go to work. Day's a wastin'."

Book shrugs and sits up in the bed, fighting to stay awake.

Dalton continues his rounds to rouse Vick and Dean, careful not to get himself shot, melted, fried or simply slugged in the process.

04:15

Vick is up and heating up soykaf.
*yawn*
"Well, like I said last night, I'm currently between vehicles. I make a competent shadow, but someone would have to let me drive."
*slurp*
"Did we get the guy's itinerary? Or a name on that tusker?"

04:15:00 Kitchen

Dean huddled over his cup of steaming soykaf, trying to jump start his brain.

"We could visit the target's campaign headquarters, maybe scope out the security. If we had a chance we could pull the tag numbers on some of their vehicles, maybe help track the target's movement."

He pulled his head up, loosening the muscles in his neck.

"We should also establish some security around here. I'd think a couple of independant cameras, maybe a couple of motion detectors or a drone or something just in case we become targets. We need to work out some basic code words to let us communicate when we might be overheard, like in the middle of a firefight. If we have a couple of slow hours, maybe we could spend some time drilling for combat situations, things like how we're going to clear a room, move down a hallway, etc. A little practice now might make all the difference in the world latter, even if we just talk our way through the scenarios rather than run a physical drill."

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:05 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

With the sudden realization, that someone else is in the room, Jazz reflexes kick in and the adrenaline rush jump starts her from zero to hundred. Instinctively, she reaches for her gun, but (luckily) it isn't within reach.

A split second later, she recognizes Dalton in the room.

"Sorry! At this early time, reflexes outrace the brain."

After stretching her limbs, neck and shoulders a bit, Jazz slowly gets up.

"Coffee? Good idea."

Monday, March 3rd, 2070; 04:20 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton grabs a clean cup and nukes a cup of instant soy-kaf for Jazz and presents it as though it were a cup of java in a five-star hotel.

Book on the other hand looks at the rigger... almost with pity... but men who fawn over Jazz deserve what they get. He nukes some water and produces a tea bag from a baggy in his jacket pocket. Ahhhh... Nothing like a black tea blend in the morning.

Dalton replies to Dean, <@All [Dalton] Check. Let's start with secure communications. We definitely also need a communication protocol in case the tables turn. Something like 'Tell your mom Hi' if we become compromised and need to warn the rest of the team. And as to drones... anybody have any?>

<@All [Book] Spells and spirits... Just spells and spirits myself.>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:30 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] I'm almost done with my perimeter check. Will be able to get you some more info, soon. Alright. Back to work, I guess. Oh, yeah. Good morning, everyone! >

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:30 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton eats his burrito and drinks his soy-kaf thinking about the remaining beer in the refrigerator. He stares at the ice-box for several long minutes as his internal battle wages. One beer before we go will be ok. That's not outa line. No! Why am I even thinking this. Its a run. Its time to be a professional and getting sauced, or even having one drink before hand, is not professional. I need this connection and this run. Time to focus soldier.

Dalton looks at his chronometer in in AR as Jazz makes her announcement,
<@Jazz [Dalton] Good morning to you too sunshine.>
<@All [Dalton] Ok, time to load up and move out. If you're catching the train to town, now is the time to go.>

Book wearily eyes the driver whose street clothes form a stark contrast to Book's cheap suit. He has street clothes in his backpack, but they are heading into a district where Book needs to blend with the upper class, not the lower class. He starts to reply to the much too chipper rigger, but decides its just not worth it and following his out to the car.

Vick packs up his things.
<@ Dalton [Vick] Dalton, what's your rig? Is there room to stow a rifle out of sight in there?>

Vick will just be wearing street clothes and his armor jacket, but he figures anyplace downtown gets a good mix of people. The Predator, loaded with stick n' shock, gets holstered, along with a few extra clips. The Alpha is bagged up. He picks it up, but waits on Dalton's reply.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:31 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton spins on his heal in mid stride to turn back to face Vick, <@All [Dalton] A 2068 Chrysler-Nissan Patrol with a blue-printed 405 horsepower dyno-hybrid engine and the full defense package. Painted dark gray, no markings and decals for the sides for Super-Flush Plumbing, UPS, 8AM Delivery & Pizza Team's High Threat Delivery Unit. We got plenty of room for the team and our tools. My suggestion was we head down to the area; It'll take a while to get there. We can discuss specifics on the way and give Jazz more time to plan.>

Book chimes in as well, <@All [Book] In so much as we devise a plan before anyone goes off on a limb and blows the run for us. We can park a few blocks away. I can perform a distance astral recon, someone can do a walk by.. perhaps... and hopefully Jazz will have some details by the time we get there to assist in some detailed planning.>

Dalton keeps the momentum going, Sure whatever, I don't want to blow the run. You smart guys tell me how we want to play this and I'll drive..>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:31 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] Sounds good, guys. I'll get back to you, when I have something. >

Jazz then continues where she had stopped, when she dozed off earlier, and once she has found a hole in the firewall, she will create a new account for the system, getting it administration level access permissions, as she will need to be able to access Mr Fulerton's personal files.

Jazz finds herself immersed in the system. She notes that there is a momentary jump in the image and she finds herself staring at her favored image - her filter is working.