Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:33 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton starts up the his van as Book straps himself in looking for Dean and Vick to load up.

As they start to roll out, Book continues with the planning discussion,
<@All [Book] Ok, we've established that I'm a shaman. I'm a little light on the offense. We've also established that our rigger is without drones. Anyone else have drones? What is your expertise? Vick? Dean?>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:33 EST; Matrix Node, Fulerton's Office, Atlanta, CAS

Sculpted Matrix Nodes looked great and provided an interesting experience, but you never knew what you were looking at without extensive analyze routines.

When Jazz's Reality Filter kicks in, the fancy sculpted look vanishes and gets replaced by a rather concise and simplistic - at least a Matrix designer would call it that - color-coded icon structure. The stripped-down layout makes it easy for Jazz to make things out and reckognize them for what they are. It offers speed and performance, both of which are important for her tasks. Fancy looks won't get you very far here.

< [Jazz] Alright. I'm in. Looking around now. >

The first step, whenever you have entered a new Node, unless time was really limited, is a thorough analysis of the surroundings...

Sunday March 2, 2070 04:33 EST

Dean put his reply out on the team's comm node, a little hesitant but trusting that Jazz would make it pretty secure. Just in case he tasked his agent program to monitor the commnode and alert him if anyone tried to hack in. He hustled out to the van, making sure he had his gear stashed about his person neatly.

That done, he shot off his reply.

[ALL]Dean: Actually, I'm a generalist, used to working alone most of the time. I've got magical abilities but no where near the specialist you are Book. I can summon and cast spells, but I'm also pretty decent in a dust up. Think of me as a utility in-fielder for you baseball fans. I'm going to be more use summoning than spell casting, but I might be able to surprise anyone not expecting spells to be coming from me. Most of my spells are general use, ignite, heal, magic fingers, that kind of thing. I have a couple of offensive stun spells but that's about it.

Sunday March 2, 2070 04:33 EST

Vick packs up his rifle and accessories, loading them in the van. He rides shotgun.

<[Vick] "Neg, no drones here. Not really my thing. Guess it wouldn't hurt to have one or two for myself, right? An extra pair of eyes is always useful, huh? Anyway, no, in this group I'm best deployed on point. Now let me tell you, I value good recon, I hate surprises, and I hate fighting fair. You don't get to be as old as me doing what I do without learning to stack the odds in your favor."

"Let's get rolling, we've got a decently long drive ahead of us and I'd like to be done with recon before the bagel shops run out of the good stuff.">

Jazz sees a very organized file structure. She gets the feeling that even without the Reality Filter she would most likely be able to find what she wanted. Each "drawer" is labled with it's contents. There are files for donors, political enemies, friends, new donor targets, proposed legislation, and the list goes on.

The drive goes smoothly this early in the morning. Outside of a few construction crews, the path downtown is clear. Getting close to the headquarters is simple. Now the waiting game begins.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:34 EST; Matrix Node, Fulerton's Office, Atlanta, CAS

After taking some time to look around, Jazz pays closer attention to friends and political enemies, copying as much data as possible for later perusal. The hacker also looks into donors, might be a place where some inconsistencies could be found.

Afterwards, she will search for Fulerton's personal mail account.

It would appear that Mr. Politico doesn't rank people into "normal" groups. He has no "friends" per se but he does mark enemies. Everyone seems ranked by levels of influence and his statues with respect to that influence.

The allies (friends) folder turns up few interesting tidbits. His staff obviously and a few other politicians who are both up and coming as well as those that entrenched. Surprisingly, he has associates from the other three parties as well.

The threats (enemies) folder is not as thick as you might expect. He obviously considers his opponent - Mark Roloven - to be a threat; however, the top spot is reserved for a well known businessman - and reputed underground figure - Sirius Black, an ork with an attitude and, if the file is correct, far more influence with the Star and City Hall than any legit business man has any right to have. There is a small dossier on another enemy that simply identifies him (or her) by the name - Feliz.

The money (donor) folder is so full of information that it is overflowing. There are the obvious links such as Humanis and such but everything seems on the up and up except for two details:
1. His biggest donor is paying cash. There are small notations as to what should be done with the money to make it appear legit; however, Jazz can't seem to follow the trail.
2. The second largest donor is non other than Ares.

A check of his mail turns up very little. There is one interesting, half erased, tidbit: A note that says, <Wednesday. 2200. My place.>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:40 EST; Matrix Node, Fulerton's Office, Atlanta, CAS

After looking through the information, she found, Jazz decides that there isn't much else to be found here for now. She erases the traces left in the security log and then logs out.

< [Jazz] Got a few things. Most interesting is a half-erased mail, which points to a meeting at wednesday. Maybe his 'girlfriend'. I have downloaded everything I could find, if you want to take a look. >

Jazz copies the information to the other's commlinks, so they can also look at it.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:41 EST; En route, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton pulls out of the driveway and begins driving the crew towards their destination.

Book then replies to Dean,
<@All [Book] I can use both the illusion of physical mask and the transformation of shape change in addition to invisibility. My only offensive spell is stun bolt though. I have several bound spirits as well. I assume you can't project then?>

In response to Vick's commentary Dalton says with a grin,
<@All [Dalton] I think I can swing a bagel shop on the way. Do you have audio and video feeds as well?>

As Jazz's feed begins coming in:
<@All [Book] Looks like we have several places to begin.. Cash donor.. 10 o'clock meeting on Wednesday... Not sure the enemies are worth our time given our goals... Jazz, can you look through those cash donations and see if there pattern..? Certain time and day of week...? Cross reference the cash times to his calendar and look for commonalities at or shortly before the large cash donations..?>

<@All [Dalton] I've always been told one way to measure a man is by his enemies...>

<@All [Book] I know, but I'm not sure that spending time their will get us any progress towards our goals...>

<@All [Dalton] We don't have a lot of leads here.>

<@All [Book] Ok. If there is time and null risk, then perhaps.. Jazz if you are able to determine why those two are enemies that information might be useful..>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:42 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] Sure thing. I'll let you know, when I find something more specific. >

Jazz then proceeds to analyze the data as requested.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:57 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

< [Jazz] Some interesting stuff here...

He seems to work quite a bit with Senator Jorge Gonzales of the Republican Party on certain legislation that would expand meta-human rights.

Sirius Black has apparently been in contact with Terry on an irregular basis. Extortion would be the apparent motive as he has quite a bit of leverage with both the Star and City Hall. However, there is no cash trail in either direction.

It turns out that Feliz - the spanish for Happy - is the codename of a local Madam. She apparently has some dirt on him that would be uncomfortable but probably not derailing to his campaign. Not enough.

The two standout details from the donor list:

1. Can't follow the trail for the cash to its origin. The best I could do for now was figuring out, that the money is coming from offshore accounts. The best guess is that the money is coming from the Azzies based on datatrails but nothing affirmative here.

2. It would appear that Ares is making regular donation deposits every two weeks. The deposits are being made to a PAC that is working on his campaign. It is getting it pooled to campaign adds, public relations and get-out-the-vote efforts. There is also a note for a meeting roughly every two weeks at Starbucks near his office.

The half erased email seems to have originated from a public terminal near the Krispe Kreme where the Johnson hired you. Quite interesting, huh? >

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:57 EST; On the Road!, Atlanta, CAS

<[Vick] Did you get a timestamp for that half erased email? Looks like someone wants to warn our target.>

< I agree about AZT being #1 donor - If Ares is #2, it narrows the field down a bit, doesn't it... >

< Meeting at a Starbucks every two weeks to - what exactly? - hand the man a briefcase full of Ares scrip?? Other than the timing, I don't see the connection; that's not how campaign contributors, even ones preferring to remain silent, do business. >

< The madam could still be useful - either his ork "girlfriend" is in her employ, or he's cheating on his ork girlfriend; that info will put her in our pocket. Remember she's likely got personal access to our senator-to-be. >

< Are there any details on his work with Senator Gonzales? How secret is that? Anyone in his camp a Humanis member? That info could put them in our pocket too. >

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 04:59 EST; On the Road, Atlanta, CAS

Dalton continues to drive as the conversation continues.
<@All [Dalton] The email is especially troubling... We have to assume that everyone on the team has been photographed.>

Book replies:
<@All [Book] If that is true, then potentially my face is the only one not currently recorded. That will definitely increase the complexity, but may also provide us some opportunities for subterfuge and mis-direction... How long since the last Starbucks' meeting..? Can you access the security cameras at the Starbucks and determine how long the video is archived?

I'm still not sold that the ork is a girlfriend. I could be wrong, but I still feel that its a relative.. Perhaps even a child.>

Dalton snickers:
<@All [Dalton] Wouldn't that just be the cat's ass? That would even be a worse shot than a lover I would think....>

Book nods:
<@All [Book] A bill to expand meta-human rights? That don't make sense. I thought he was the big anti-meta-human candidate?>

<[Vick] I think it's more accurate to say he's the candidate for the party that leans the farthest toward anti-metahuman. You know, if we knew the specifics on that legislation, it just might clue us in on his relationship with the ork woman.>

<@All [Book] Vick - I think you have a darn good point...>

<@All [Book] This isn't making sense. Johnson said 'he plays up the need to keep metas in their place', yet here he is working on a bill to expand meta-human rights.>

<@All [Dalton] Are you sure you didn't get something backwards there?>

<@All [Book] I think I scanned it straight...?>

<@All [Vick] Maybe AZT is buying that legislation? *sigh* I dunno - it really doesn't make sense to me either. He's not working on this bill in secret, or isn't hiding it very well, anyway. . . . Someone must be pulling his strings. Maybe he and Rodriguez know the same people - AZT, Ares, or Black.>

<@All [Dalton] Hehehehe.. Maybe that ork is pulling funky mind control magic on him. Got him under her spell!!>

<@All [Book] It don't work like that. But it does give credence to the ork being a relative.... or a legitimate lover.>

Dalton audibly snickers: <@All [Dalton] Likes him the TUSKER loving!!>

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 06:30 EST; Downtown Atlanta, CAS

Book has no reply for Dalton's off color attempt at humor so the rest of the ride occurs in relative silence. Dalton locates a Bagel shop near the headquarters and pulls in to a parking spot.

Book casts physical mask as the van is parked, but is not happy with the results. He casts a second time and is much happier with the results.
Book's form morphs to that of a human male in his mid thirties. Nice suit and haircut. He exits the van and proceeds down the street to get a good feel for the area. There is nothing that compares to actually walking the streets to get a feel for them. When he passes the HQ, he will assense the building. He is primarily looking for watchers or elements on patrol or visible signs of a ward or protective circle through windows and the like.

Dalton on the other hand turns the Vick and Dean. "What's the plan chummers?"

"Have a look around." Vick removes his Predator from its holster and gives it a once-over while speaking. "I'm going to go blend in with the street walkers, find a perch, and get a feel for their physical security. I know the personal security biz, and there might be information to be gleaned from an old man's eye on the scene. Won't be getting too close, though; there's a possibility of getting made. Dean, I want you shadowing me. Dalton - no drones on this rig?"

<@Jazz [Vick] "Jazz - Are you still in the system, and can you reach security from where you're at?" >

Dalton replies, "Nope. No drones. Though we got a sizable enough retainer...."

Book scowls as the spirit takes notice of him looking to the headquarters. He looks away, quickly changes his perception to the meat world and moves away from the headquarters. Time to make myself scarce before they decide my actions warrant reporting or something.

He moves on down the street then cuts a block over before heading back towards the van.

Dalton meanwhile kicks back while Book and Vick perform the initial recon. He shakes Dean, "Wake up Chummer. We're here."

Sunday, March 2nd, 2070; 06:30 EST; Druid Hills Country Club, Atlanta, CAS

Jazz is taking a small nap in the meantime.

Sunday March 2, 2070

Dean wakes up with a start and his eyes snap open. The visage he finds himself peering into isn't one to inspire confidence and he instinctively reaches for a gun before getting a hold on his emotions. He stares at Dalton for a second while his wetware re-boots


"Shit, must of dozed off, sorry mate. I'm up to speed now."

It takes only a few seconds for Dalton to fill him in on what was happening and soon Dean is back up to speed.

"Okay, so now what? I hope Jazz can spoof our comm signal cause if I were a security goon for this guy I'd be taking some random samples of the local nodes to check the traffic.

Does anyone know who provides security for this guy? Are they all in house operators or are they hired thugs? I mean, if he's got close ties to the Azzies or to Ares then it would make sense for them to put security guys in his retinue to serve as the corp's eyes and ears. Maybe one of them would have data available."

A middle aged ork in rags bangs up against the side of the van and starts screaming, I need suh monie. Cun ya spaw a few neyuan?

Dalton replies to Dean, "Book and Vick are both on recon right now."

The banging on the side of the van causes Dalton to instinctively reach for his sidearm. He stops then for a moment to think. Could just be a bum.. Could be undercover security... Could be a freaking Peacekeeper/Scarran hybrid in a bunny suit...?

Looking down at his mode of dress he looks back to Vick, "You want to go around and handle it?"

Dean nods to Dalton.

"I'll take care of it."

The adept checks to be sure his weapon is free in it's holster then slides out the door to find out who's banging on their ride.

The individual banging on the van reeks of alcohol - and not even the swill they sell in the barrens. He looks at you cross-eyed and again asks for money.

"Stop banging on the car chummer, it's bad for your health."

Dean approached the booze drenched vagrant but kept his eyes moving, looking to be sure this idiot didn't have friends.

Hey, a mans gatta eat ... I mean drink, I mmmm ......

With that he slides to the base of the van apparently passed out.

Dean breathes himself into astral perception and view's the apparent bum's aura, then steps forward and quickly begins to frisk the man for weapons.

He sees an aura damaged heavily by drink and old cyber. The search for weapons comes up naught.

Book rounds the corner a block away and sees Dean outside the van and dealing with some situation. He looks around for Vick...

Dean lifts the old drunk from his place on the van and gets the guy moving towards a nearby wall, anywhere away from the team's ride. He tried to settle the old drunk down comfortably against the ferrocrete wall but with the condition and the smell eventually just settled for dumping him in a drunken wad.

He headed back for the van, wishing he kept some wet wipes to clean the filth off his hands. Course, if they'd contained alcohol the old boozer probably would've gone berserk and tried to take them.

Dalton stays in the rig, watching to see if they've gotten the attention of anyone in the area.

Book, mask still in place, returns to the van.
<<@All [Book] Magic surveillance is pretty tight. I'm not getting in there and depending upon the spirit orders, we may have a problem going around them. They were watching for magically active near the perimeter. Anyone seen Vick?>>

As the team arrives back at Dalton's Chrysler-Nissan Patrol, he locks it down and pulls out into traffic. Vick's com going silent had Dalton concerned.. It's not unheard of for a runner to throw away an LTG and walk away. Hell, several runners had done it on this run in the last 24 hours. It's not gonna be a cake walk, but this is ridiculous!

As he monitors the agent navigating traffic he spins the command chair around to look at Book and Dean. A pair of spell-slingers here and a hack-master back at the safe house.. Perhaps this was for the best. Trim the team down and finish this baby out.

As the pair in the back kicked back for the ride home, Dalton did the same. The auto-pilot was more than adequate and he did get up and 0:dark:30.....

The auto-pilot begins taking the car back to the gated community. The group passes the incoming traffic headed downtown. The grid can't keep up with the number of people and the traffic jams start. Those who stay awake see the various security forces, both professional and amatuer chase the homeless away from businesses so that the illusion of a highly functioning downtown is maintained. The air is sweet for the first time in weeks which means that a thunderstorm is on its way. The rain will clean the streets for a while and then the afternoon sun will bake the area with true southern humidity. Leaving the center of town they pass by several neighborhoods that have seen better days; however, the presence of the Star has kept problems to a minimum. Farther out, they cross over into true desolation and the grid stops working. The auto-piloit is content to plow on through and the group reaches the resort with minimal delays. Now that others can see them in the daylight, they get several stares and each can feel the unspoken question, "What are they doing here?"

Monday, March 3rd, 2070; Mid-Morning; Downtown to Druid Hills, Atlanta

The deceleration of the vehicle awakens Dalton as they exit the highway and begin to navigate the smaller streets in route to their safehouse. At one point, Dalton pulls over in a car wash and quickly applies the Super-Flush Plumbing decals to the side of the vehicle.

As they stop at the gates to Druid Hills. Dalton again enters the supplied pass code and rolls the vehicle into the gated community. He rolls on past the various over privileged lot out for their morning walks with Fluffy or Atlas or whatever silly name they give their pampered pets. Those ugly little furballs eat better than half the kids of this city. The thought darkens his usually indifferent mood for a few minutes before he releases the thought from his mind and focuses back on the short drive through the heavily wooded properties.

The stares of the strolling residents and their air of righteous indignation are not lost on Dalton, he simply smiles and waves. A plumber is so beneath these people...., but the knowledge that they are providing the needed cover for the team's operation right under their noses injects a bit of joy in Dalton's day.

As the Chrysler-Nissan comes to a halt in the secluded driveway of the safehouse, Book stirs from his nap, invigorated. <<@All [Book] Jazz - You up? Did we agree to make a run out to the neighborhood where the partially deleted message originated?>>

Monday, March 3rd, 2070; Mid-Morning; Druid Hills, Atlanta

< [Jazz] Morning. Not sure if we already agreed on what to do, but this still sounds like a good idea. Anything you could figure out on your trip? >

<<@All [Book] I believe that conversation actually occurred while you were napping. As far as magical surveillance, he's spent a great deal of money. Large, expensive wards.. Multiple spirits one of whom actually observes magically active people near the building.. I'd like to own the magical security company he employs.>>

<<@All [Dalton] Physical security was pretty much the same. Saw a number of cameras, crossing zones.. You have a back-door into his computer system? I bet you'll find a bit that I missed. Fair enough to say, it sounds like physical penetration would not be pretty.>>

<<@All [Book] And we seem to have had another of the crew walk off into the night. Just the four of us now. Perhaps you should contact your fixer, Cole, right? .. and let him know about the changes to the team size and complement. The pay was by person at seven people. Being down three, we need to rethink a little bit here. Not sure what we want to ask for to get evened back out though.... >>

<<@All [Dalton] Drones..? We could use a few of those...>>

<<@All [Book] Of course. Back to next steps. I think the Azzies money angle and the ork girl are the two we need to focus our time on. Shall we load up and head back to the meet area.. Check out the phone booth? See what shakes out in the neighborhood? We need to find out if we've been made or if the ork girl is the connection to the neighborhood... >>

Dean watched the ghostly text scrolling down into oblivion and tried to figure this out. With physical security that tight making a direct run on the HQ seemed conterproductive, the money wasn't much good to a guy sitting inside a prison cell. The girl seemed to be the best angle at this point.

<<All: [Dean]: I think the ork girl is our best bet. Security at the site was insane, he can't have serious security on the girl or everyone would know about it by now.

<<@All [Book] Agreed. Giving her security, at least in any realistic measure, simply draws a target on her.>>

<<@All [Dalton] Listen. I've been thinking. We need multiple vehicles to begin trail him unless we can establish some other method to follow him. He's not kept his secrets this long without being able to slip out unnoticed. We need to figure out his angle... How does he slip in and out for these meetings and not be seen?>>

The momentary sun is again covered by clouds that are dark black. In truth it is smoke - thick curling black smoke. There are sirens to be heard in the distance. A few moments later the AR pop-ups begin with news stories about a building off in the residential area that was ... depending on which station you listen to:

* bombed
* caught fire
* the victim of a gas main explosion
* sight of ritual magic gone terribly wrong
* etc.

<<@All [Dalton] Ok crew, let's load up and move out. Ready to go Jazz?>>

Book looks over at the driver, not pleased with infusion of military hoopla. He raises an eye brow lets a small frown slip out, but remains silent for the moment. The variety of incidents currently reported in Atlanta raised an idle curiosity, but nothing therein presented an opportunity associated to the current objective... at least not at the moment.

< [Jazz] I agree on the ork girl angle. If security in his office is a nightmare, than we should stay away from it unless absolutely required.

As for the vehicles, I got my car, my bike, and a few drones.

As for the team... maybe we should take a look for some replacements? I could give a call to Cole so he checks if someone trustworthy enough is available. >

<<@All [Book] Sounds like a plan. We could use a face... >>

As the team loads up, Dalton puts the vehicle in gear and exits the pristine little community. On the way back to where this little run all started, they make a pit stop by Gadgets, Gadgets, Gadgets.

There, Dalton makes his way to the microdrone case. When the clerk comes over he motions to one of the fly-spies with several upgrades. "I'm thinking that one with the thermographic enhancements and an encryption program.. but I know I say a comparable model over at New Egg for 250 nuyen less.... Listen, I'm here now... What can you do for me on that price?"

Let me see what I can do. As the barely over teenage clerk turns back toward the office a withered little frenzied man comes out of the back of the shop. He has dark olive skin bordering on black and a look of terror on his face.

No, no, NO! THEY might be watching. Pay me the cost of the goods and get out out of my store.

The clerk smiles weakly and asks, Do you want paper of plastic with that?

Dalton is taken off guard by the paranoid man coming out of the back. His first thoughts are to bitch-slap the psycho-boy, but what little discipline stuck keeps him in check.

"Yea, ok.. Whatever.." He collects his purchase and heads out of shop, back to the van and down the road.
--------
As they continue on the current leg of the trip, Book considers the various options available to them. We have to locate the ork girl. Don't care about the politics, nor the motives of Johnson... Just fulfilling the contract... But should I care? This is big time stuff....

The early traffic that gave way to gridlock has once again slackened as most have arrived at work for a the time being. Others are leaving and arriving in more or less predictable patterns. The effect is something like ants scurrying in and out of their hill. Rush hour representing after the hill is damaged in some way.

The group is able to negotiate back to the Krispe Kreme without incidence. The parking lot is surprisingly full for this time of day. There are a few cars from the Star in the lot as well.