[Poindexter]

<<@Team [Bookworm] I can ask my fixer about a safe house if we don't just want to find another no-tell motel like we found last night. Maybe one in the less than nice part of town so we don't attract attention? I'll message her anyway and see if she has anything available>>

<<@Team [Hopeless] I dont trust those places. We need someplace without as many prying eyes. If your girl doesn't have anything, I have one or two longshots I can take. Keep me posted.>>

Then, as the four of them drive through the city on their way to god-knows-where, Ian sends off a flurry of other messages. This is what the face does, right? Gets info and equipment from contacts to make the job easier? Time to stop relying on the mage and the sam to do your work for you, "Mr. Face."

<<@B-Know [Hopeless] Looking for a place to stay near college station. Got anything?>>

<<@Tammy [Hopeless] You got any friends down in college station?>>

<<@Ticker [Hopeless] Here's that jing ya loaned me. Thanks. Really saved my ass there. Also...Hypothetically speaking; If I were in college station and wanted to physically meet up with you at some point today, what would be the best time and place to do that? Hypothetically speaking, of course...>>
==Transfer funds: 100.00==

[rednblack]

In the next 20 minutes, as the Americar tools around College Station, there is a flurry of comm activity.

@Hopeless
<<Incoming Message
<<Sender: Dadlez
<<Message: Some upfront money sounds fair.  I have attached a 5,000¥ deposit on services to be rendered.
<<End Message
<<Attachment: 5,000¥ transfer

<<@Hopeless [Tammy] Hey, darlin' been awhile.  I've done a couple parties down there.  Might be able to hook you up with a friend of mine who handles entertainment at some of the casinos.  Say 300, and I'll slot you his commcode>>

<<@Hopeless [B-Know] Hoi, chummer.  I got a line on a spot.  Nothin fancy, but you're not looking for the Hilton, null?  I'll have to check and see if it's occupied. What specs you want?>>

<<Incoming Message
<<Sender: Ticker
<<Message: Thanks, Ian.  Literally, I'm at the clinic at least until 6:00 tonight.  Hypothetically, I could meet with you after, say 6:30.  We could either meet at the clinic, if you want to stay under the radar, or are in need of services, or we could meet at a little soykaf spot down off McEwan.
<<End Message

@Bookworm
<<@Bookworm [Eiroa] A lot of that going around today.  It may up the price, as I'll have to jump to get my deposit in before it gets snatched up.  I know of a good spot up in Ork Town that's recently been vacated, and a higher end spot in S. College Station.  500¥ and 1500¥ respectively.  Let me know.>>

[JackVII]

[21APR2075 1320 | Post Oak Mall | College Station, TX | CAS]

<<@Team [Bookworm] Sounds like the temporary housing market is kind of hot at the moment. My contact has access to two locations, one for 500, the other for 1500. I have a feeling the 500 spot may be the place you all were already staying. The other offer is for a place in south College Station for 1500.>>

Bookworm sat quietly in the back seat, waiting for the rest of the conversation to play out. On a whim, she shifted her senses to the astral and checked out their potential co-worker.

[Poindexter]

<<@Hopeless [Tammy] Hey, darlin' been awhile.  I've done a couple parties down there.  Might be able to hook you up with a friend of mine who handles entertainment at some of the casinos.  Say 300, and I'll slot you his commcode>>

<<@Tammy [Hopeless] Thank you so much. We'll catch up when I'm back in town.>>
 <<Transfer funds: ¥300.00>>

<<@Hopeless [B-Know] Hoi, chummer.  I got a line on a spot.  Nothin fancy, but you're not looking for the Hilton, null?  I'll have to check and see if it's occupied. What specs you want?>>

Ian contemplates responding, but doesn't wanna waste his thuggiest friends time if he doesn't have to. Better to hear what bookworm turns up first.

<<Sender: Ticker
<<Message: Thanks, Ian.  Literally, I'm at the clinic at least until 6:00 tonight.  Hypothetically, I could meet with you after, say 6:30.  We could either meet at the clinic, if you want to stay under the radar, or are in need of services, or we could meet at a little soykaf spot down off McEwan.
<<End Message

Hmmmmmmm...

<<@Team [Bookworm] Sounds like the temporary housing market is kind of hot at the moment. My contact has access to two locations, one for 500, the other for 1500. I have a feeling the 500 spot may be the place you all were already staying. The other offer is for a place in south College Station for 1500.>>

<<@Team [Hopless] Well, the Johnson finally came through on some startup money, so let's go with the expensive one, as long as you trust, trust this contact. We can't afford any more surprises. Also, I know a guy, a street doc I can trust. He happens to be in town and willing to meet up with us if you're still hurting from those wounds, Bookworm. Furthermore, I've got another contact I could call on about a safehouse, but i'm not 100% on him. He's never done me wrong so far, but he is kind of a dick. Just in case things don't pan out with your people, y'know?>>

-------------------------------

After getting the arrangements worked out and the appropriate people paid what they need, Ian sits back in his seat, visibly relieved a little bit. They finally have a destination. At that, he turns to the still facially obscured man next to him and says, "So, I suppose it's about time we get you on the team channel, ain't it, Red-eye? Turns out I still owe these two in the back the full story on everything that's gone down so far as well. We can handle all that once we get to the safehouse."

[JackVII]

[21APR2075 1320 | Post Oak Mall | College Station, TX | CAS]

Bookworm felt she got a pretty solid read on Red-Eye. Lightly augmented, more than a little apprehensive and tense... basically just like everyone else in the car other than Error. Satisfied, the mage shifted her perception back to the mundane world and read through her new messages.

<<@Team [Bookworm] Well, I'm not sure I'm supposed to trust anyone in this line of business, but the contact is my fixer. So if she is determined to frag me over, we probably do not have much chance in any event. I'll let her know we want to the slightly nicer place. Just slot me the nuyen and I'll send it to her. By the way, Red-Eye scans out okay in the Astral, nothing odd.>>

Hopeless responded by simply sending a 1,500 nuyen transfer voucher. Accessing the funds, the dwarf loaded the amount into her response to Eiroa.

<<@Eiroa [Bookworm] We're going with the South College Station option | Nuyen Attached>>

[rednblack]

@Hopeless,

<<@Tammy [Hopeless] Thank you so much. We'll catch up when I'm back in town.>>
 <<Transfer funds: ¥300.00>>

<<Incoming Message
<<Sender: Tammy
<<Message: XOXO
<<Attachment: Mason Tremens <<Commcode>>

@Bookworm,
Eiroa responds immediately.

<<Incoming Message
<<Sender: Eiroa
<<Message: You're paid in full.  Parking garage is in the basement.  Take the east-most elevator to the third floor, and a porter will be waiting for you.  Cheers, omae.
<<Attachment: GPS coordinates: Med-Eval Office Park
<<Transfer: Med-Eval MARK invitation

@All,
Bookworm shares the GPS coordinates with Hopeless who plugs the address into GridGuide.  Traffic is rather light, and the team makes its way to the Med-Eval Office Park just off State Highway 6 quickly.  It's a rather non-descript plascrete building surrounded by a fence.  When the Americar approaches the guard station, Bookworm uses the MARK on her commlink to open the gate, and a guard lazily waves them by.  The team parks and takes the elevator as directed and is met by a shortish and slender Japanese fellow who bows slightly as the team enters the third floor.  "Greetings, greetings," he says with an easy smile.  "We don't see a lot of traffic in the off-season, I certainly hope you were offered a discount."  Despite the smile, it's obvious the man thinks by the look of this group, they could use a discount. 

He leads them down a faux-marble hallway, complete with Corinthian style columns to their room, a 4 bedroom suite with a kitchen, state of the art trid set, and mini-bar.  He does a quick head count and produces 4 plexi-glass cards.  "Here are your meal vouchers, should you decide to frequent Hoops, on the first floor.  I'm sorry to say that there won't be any regular entertainment scheduled this week, so you'll have no one but the wage slaves to contend with.  We have business offices on floors 1, 2, and 4, so I request that you keep it down during normal work hours, that's 7:00-7:00 for those of who are not familiar with, eh, shall we say gainful employment.  Otherwise, I am Mr. Takara.  Please let me know if I may be of any assistance," and he produces another plexi-glass card and sets it down on the kitchen counter.

"If there is nothing else," Mr. Takara says, his hands crossed in front of him, a credstick peaking out in front of his thumb.

[JackVII]

[21APR2075 1345 | Med-Eval Office Park | College Station, TX | CAS]

Bookworm swiped her plexi-glass meal voucher from Mr. Takara's hand. He should really put that credstick away, it's likely to get stolen... she thought as she waved to the man. "Thanks for the information!"

Making her way to the couch, the dwarf eased herself down onto a cushion and kicked her sneaker-shod feet up onto the coffee table.

[rednblack]

Hopeless slides 10¥ on Mr. Takara's credstick, and shuts the door in his face before facing Bookworm, Error, and Red-Eye.

"Alright, chummers, I promised y'all an explanation, and I intend to deliver.  The job pays 30,000¥ with a bonus upon delivery.  Our Johnson has fronted us 5,000¥ for expenses.  Originally, there was five of us: myself, a cat named Dantes who y'all met on the motorcycle the other night," he says nodding to Error and Bookworm, "a crazy fuckin' mage named Loki, Wind, and Breeze.  Yeah, I know, what are the chances?

"Anyway, the job was originally to break into the Texas A&M Applied Magics Lab to lift a few hundred doses of CAS grade deepweed, but the Johnson didn't do her homework very well, and it looks like Dantes was a plant.  Add to that the fact that Loki decided to start a fuckin' riot on Friday, then disappeared, Wind disappeared shortly before that, and then the head of the Magical Theory department, this fragger named Leonard Drampe, and the whole job's gone to hell.  Now the deepweed is going to be located at the airport, under the watchful eye of the Texas Rangers.  Luckily, we've got an inside man and a date for insertion and extraction.  Our inside man will be magical support, so he should be able to keep the astral clear for us, and he says he can make it look good.  That leaves physical security, and all our legwork is now bust.

"What else, what else?  Oh yeah, there's a group of anti-meta, anti-magic users called Retro-futurists who were involved in the riot, and one of their own, I think, was also present at that little shootout in the pit.  We possibly have a lead on his legal SIN, so we should check on that.  Then, there's that other team who appears to be warring with the mafia, and they want to get their hands on the deepweed too.  Apparently, they're a trio of female runners called the Putas de Muerte, and they seem about as much fun as their name suggests.  Lucky for us, it seems one of them has already been geeked.  So yeah, now that we're down to 4, the payout should be good, but it's a high rick job.  Questions?"

[JackVII]

[21APR2075 1350 | Med-Eval Office Park | College Station, TX | CAS]

Bookworm nodded along as Hopeless relayed the situation. Most everything clicked with what she had already guessed at, although she was surprised to hear that the team itself, or at least one of their former members, was apparently responsible for instigating the riot in the quad. Glad that guy's not around any more... she thought.

As Hopeless concluded, the little dwarf raised her hand. "What day are we planning on hitting the airport? That's the only thing I'm not clear on at the moment. We're going to need to get details on airport security. We know they employ drones for defense, given what happened last night, but I bet it's a lot more locked down than the Magic Studies Lab. If we've got the time, we might want to sit down and figure out our opposition. Given what happened to Breeze, I don't want to worry about them showing up again and, to be honest, I bet we all want a little revenge. If we can figure out who they are, we might be able to make their lives very uncomfortable."

Pulling out Breeze's cyberdeck, Bookworm looked at Red-Eye while calling up an ARO and said, "As I understand it, Breeze sent Archive several files, but if he or she wants to look through his deck to see if there was anything Breeze failed to send, here's the comm code for the deck."

[JackVII]

[21APR2075 1350 | Med-Eval Office Park | College Station, TX | CAS]

"Alright, while you all figure out what you're going to do, I'm going to try to dig up information on Niles Gray and Odysseus Max. Red-Eye, since Archive is probably better at this than I am, just have them send me a message if they want to split our efforts so we aren't searching for the same things. I'm going to be using Breeze's deck. Sien julle later..." With that , Bookworm's head fell promptly against the couch pillow and her tongue lolled out of her mouth.

>>The behatted mage burst into existence in a puff of yellow smoke. Cracking its knuckles, the small figure reached up and pulled out one of its yellow glowing eyes. Inscribing the arcane words of a search string across it surface, the small figure launched the orb into the skies of the Matrix and waited patiently for its return.

[rednblack]

No sooner had Bookworm "typed" out Niles Gray that Breeze's auto-fills go to life. 

<<Niles Gray Shooting in College Station>>
<<Niles Gray roommate>>
<<Niles Gray missing>>
<<Niles Gray possible Retro-futurist ties>>

Well now.  The news stories are easy enough to find. 

<<Source: Aggie Tribune
<<Staff Writer: Jorge Villanobos
<<Headline: 1 slain in Breaking and Entering on Campus
<<Body: Jefferey Crane was found dead in his dorm room at 9:15 a.m. this morning when an RA noticed the door ajar.  Lone Star was summarily called, and Howell Hall is currently on lock-down.  The student's roommate, Niles Gray, is missing, and authorities are urging anyone with information to call their anonymous tipline at: <<###-##-#####-##>> with any information.

The story goes on to explain that the victim's head was severed cleanly, and the room apparently tossed.  On the A&M student boards, Bookworm hears various students posting anonymously pitching their own theories.  One popular claim is that this is a pro-meta retaliation for Niles' involvement with retro-futurists.  Others counter that Jefferey most likely wouldn't be dead if that were the case, followed by the counter-claim that metas are stinking piles of filth, and they're likely to kill anyone if they think they can get away with, or send a message.

Another claim that's making it's way around the board is that Niles actually did a little shadow-running on the side, and the bloodshed is a result of a run gone south.  To which, the following reply is posted:

<<Poster: Anonymous
<<Message: Come on, chummer.  Niles was one of those drone geeks.  He spent all his time with the aero club down by the airport when he wasn't making his drones give him little mechanical handjobs.  Niles is a fucking joke; there's no way anyone would hire him for serious work.>>

Others claim that Jefferey was indeed the target of the hit, somewhat supported by the fact that Jeffery's father is apparently a middle manager at SK, and maybe this is a way to get back at him for something corp related, but that thesis is summarily dismissed by the rest of the board, as unlikely due to the fact that Niles is still missing.  Of course, the reply there is: it's been like 8 hours.  Maybe he's just sleeping one off.

In some of the less savory corners of the matrix, Bookworm is able to find unedited footage of the crime scene, undoubtedly leaked by a less scrupulous Lone Star officer.  Jefferey Crane's head was indeed separated from his body, and cleanly so.  A mono-filament whip, by Bookworm's guess.  There is also the claim on those boards that the video feeds in the dorm went out at 7:00 a.m., and came back live at 7:07.  There's no mention of it, but Bookworm also assumes that if they, whoever they are, were able to cut the feeds on the entire dorm, they probably did the same for whichever path of ingress and egress was made.  In other words, this was professional work.

[Ryo]

"I'll let Archive know you're willing to tag along, but he's pretty particular about who hacks with him." Red-Eye remarks, taking his plexi-glass card and picking a room.

"I'll give him the info and he'll get to work. I'll let you know when he finds something. In the meantime, I'm gonna be in my bunk. I prefer to sleep during the day."

In his own room and with the door shut, Red-Eye heads over to the bed and collapses into it, crawling under the sheets and getting into a comfortable position before sending a few mental commands to his Deck. His body slacks and his eyes shut, and a whirlwind of data tears across his senses as he finds himself standing out on the grid in his Archive robes.

"Now, let's see if we can't make a little headway here..." Archive mutters to himself, a dozen windows appearing around him as he begins to browse the Matrix for his needs.

[Ryo]

Archive's digital fingers fly across the keys of his virtual Browse window, taking a few minutes to find out as much as he can on Deepweed and the transporting thereof. He skims the data as it streams in, channeling it directly into a repository in his deck for future reference. Long lines of data flows around him before disappearing beneath his robes as he saves everything he finds. He'll read it later, right now he's just getting this search out of the way.

"No, for the real challenge. The blueprints..." Archive mutters, turning his attention to the hosts of A&M university. He spots the public facing student host well enough, a perfect representation of the campus quad rebuilt as a floating monolith of data in the distant Matrix sky. He ignored it out of hand. There was no reason blueprints for an airport would be stored with prospective student pamphlets and tuition information. He focused his attention instead on a second host within the first, sculpted to resemble and administrative building.

In an instant his digital body was standing before the glowing surface of the front doors, closing his browser windows as he gazed up at its surface.

Executing Probe.exe. . .
>>Host Parameters: F1001DP1010A1000

Archive lets loose a low whistle as he examines the defenses in front of him. He might actually have to try on this one. He quickly reconfigures his deck, data circling his icon and tendrils of binary extending out from within his robes to gingerly make contact with the surface of the host. He pressed into it, working his code with the precision of a scalpel as he felt the firewall resisting his efforts. It pushed back with great force, like a dam about to burst, but he kept his cool and concentrated on the single flaw he was worming into, code diving deeper and deeper until his mark was encoding itself into the Host's databases.


>>Access: Admin Host
>>Acquiring Mark: . . .
>>Mark: 1
>>Command: Enter Host


Archive presses his hand against the host and sends his command, connecting to the mark he just placed and smirking as it eagerly opened the door for him. The hardened shell of the firewall shifts and is suddenly permeable, parting without resistance as he walks forward into the host.

[rednblack]

The imposing wall on the outside of the Texas A&M host gives way to a . . . a cattle town?!  Inside, Archive finds himself on a dusty main street, townsfolk in bowlers, long dresses, dusters, the whole bit, swarm around busily from building to building.  Archive would hate to see this place on a Monday morning.  It seems to him the host may have just about outgrown its internal geography, though he can't argue with the renderings.  Little dust trails fly up behind icons as they pass, and the tumbleweeds roll with physics perfect precision -- probably some graduate team's collective thesis, he guesses.  A couple tin stars with twin six-shooters on their belts double check MARKs from some of the townspeople carrying particularly large satchels, and Archive figures he'd better move on his way. 

In a flash, he's standing in front of the town library, and enters, noticing how even the glass pane rattles a little as he closes the door behind him.  A librarian device wearing a severe bun and flower print dress nods at his arrival, and before he knows it, the card catalog opens before him, long drawers that would be impossible to sift through in a meat body, but he makes quick work of the indexing.  He pulls up news articles about the airport, school announcements posted by the Drone Club, aeronautics fairs, but nothing for blueprints.  He glances to his right to see the librarian device standing next to him.

<<"I'm sorry, sir, let me check my records,">> she starts, and there's a brief pause as the device goes through its mainframe in a flash.  <<"The information you require can be found in our archives.  You'll need to check the mine.  Have a nice day, and Go Aggies!">>

Archive pauses momentarily on the main street again, as he scans the horizon for the mine.  When he catches sight of some old hewn crossbeams in the side of a digital mountain he approaches, puts on a mining helmet, grabs a pick, and descends into its depths.  Inside mining devices are busy planting diamonds, emeralds, and other gems in the rock face, as another tin star watches on.  This will be tricky, and he'd better be quick about it.

[Ryo]

Archive blinks at the unexpected sculpting, but takes it in stride. A few mental commands and his icon flickers and changes, data coalescing around him before vanishing to reveal a three piece suit of a fashion popular in the old west. He adjusts his sleeves for a moment and dons a hat before beginning his search, pulling out a ledger that represented his Browse program.

As he crossed the host, careful not to draw attention to himself, he briefly checks the data he had been given by the team as well as Breeze related to the main who killed him: Niles Gray. He couldn't believe his luck as he noticed the man was apparently a student at A&M. After failing to find the blueprints for the airport at the Library, he made a stop off at city hall to check for any data on Mr. Gray before heading out towards the mines. His icon changed again, this time becoming a dusty pair of linen and leather fit for a prospector, and his Browse program took on the shape of a pickaxe that he swung over one shoulder.

"Let's get started, shall we?" He mutters to himself, swinging his axe against the walls as he begins his search. At the same time, he briefly glances over the files on Gray he recovered, before deciding he should diversify his search a bit.

>>Send Message
>>To: Renegade
>>"I've got someone I need to find. Interested in helping me dig up some data trails?"

<<Incoming Message
<<Sender: Renegade
<<Message: Will this be the end today of the wanted man?  Send the necessaries here?
<<End Message

>>Send Message
>>To: Renegade
>>"I'll owe you one if you can get me a Trace for this bastard. I fully intend to erase him from meatspace. I'll attach the info I've got on him and leave the rest up to you."
>>Attach file: Niles.zip