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[5e IC] It Started at the Belmont

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Poindexter

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« Reply #180 on: <09-11-14/1613:59> »
"Yeah, I can fool the machine, but only if I have access to someone who has access. Drampe should work, and getting him to cooperate would be preferable; let's keep the drug route as a plan B, neh?"

Loki looked around the safehouse real quick. "You do some online digging and I'll see what I can find out about the situation on campus."

Ian looks back and forth between the two men and wonders what his part in things will be today. Being on campus yesterday was TERRIFYING. I just KNOW one of those fucking cameras got my face at some point. Yeah, yeah, yeah there's like a one in a billion chance that someone will even think to look and then put two and two together, but still... He nervously clears his throat before he speaks. "Ummm, I've got some... I mean, there's some things that I need-well, i mean that i could do around here today to like, get ready for the- y'know? the big event? But ummm, its all basically just, like, stuff to... to, y'know? cover my own ass in case things go bad? It's non-essential drek though. If ummm, one of you needs me- er, wants me to like, come along with you instead, I can totally do that too. I'm good with whatever needs doing, wiz?"
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« Reply #181 on: <09-11-14/1745:31> »
Dude, grow a set! Breeze tries to hide his exasperation by getting his shit together after viewing the vids and blueprints.
"Well, I’ll mostly be lying around in VR all day so I don’t know that I need anything. By all means use dead time to get any shit straight that needs straightening, we’ve got your commcode so we can holler if we need you."
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« Reply #182 on: <09-12-14/1033:46> »
After lunch, Loki puts on his game face: a younger, college-aged elf with a ruddy complexion and sandy hair.  He arrives at campus to see that some checkpoints have been set up, but it seems that everyone is ignoring them by simply walking around them, and Loki does the same.  The guards who are stationed at the checkpoints are not wearing any sort of riot armor, and they look absolutely impotent as students and parents walk by them, just outside their reach.  It seems the guards have given up on maintaining any real semblance of control, and from the expressions on everyone's face, it looks as though they're doing it with good reason.  One thing that jumps out at Loki immediately is the number of parents on campus now.  It seems everyone has flown in to check on their darlings, and parents are following their annoyed children who are of an age where they'd prefer to believe that they didn't have parents to begin with.

The second thing that jumps out at Loki are the AROs of Breeze's picture from the news.  They're plastered over practically every dorm window and digital bulletin board, all with some text that reads a variation of, "We don't know who you are, but thank you," and "Good Guy Decker doesn't need uni sec to save lives."   The tension in the air is very real, and there seems to be a lot of anger projected at the university in general at the moment.  Loki doesn't know quite how to take this.  Growing up where he did, there were plenty abuses of power, and he's never seen a push-back quite like this one.  One the one hand, it's comforting that people are paying attention, but on the other, he knows that if this wasn't the best and brightest of the CAS, no one would bat an eye.

Loki approaches the Magical Studies Lab to see that Drampe and a few of the other MS faculty are addressing a rather large group of parents and their students.  "Indeed, we are incredibly saddened by the events of yesterday evening, and we are taking this matter very seriously," he says.  "That two of our own are now in the hospital, it's like my own children are there, and I want you all to know that I will not sleep until this matter has reached a full and complete investigation.  We will protect your students here at Texas A&M&M, and this precisely the reason why I have been advocating stricter security in the MS lab."

"Ahh, this is bullshit," Loki hears a parent close to the back of the group mutter.  "I know I made my donations, and what do I have to show for it?  A daughter in the hospital, that's what."

Drampe continues on about the need for unity, and how the students and parents of the MS program are the chief resources needed to bring this matter to a satisfactory conclusion, but that they should avoid back-biting and criticism toward the MS program in general.  "This is a school security mater, after all," he says before excusing himself for a meeting.  "I am going right now to address this matter with school administration and the school security forces.  Please know that I will be bringing your concerns to bear in this matter," he says before excusing himself.

The parents linger after Drampe's departure, obviously unsatisfied with the present conditions.  Loki pulls aside the parent who spoke earlier, noting the human heritage, he asks, "You must be Felicity's dad, eh?"

"Yes, I take it you know her?"

Loki says that he's in one of the classes that Felicity TAs, and that he thinks she's just wiz.  The father introduces himself as Chance, and hands Loki an access card to the hospital where Felicity is staying along and slots Drampe's comm-code to Loki.  "Pass this along to your parents, would you?  Drampe says he's available to hear our concerns, fraggin' slotface.  Lotta good that does now.  Anyway, nice to meet you, I've gotta get back to my daughter.  Come by if you get a chance.  I know she'd love to see everyone."
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« Reply #183 on: <09-12-14/2159:46> »
When Loki and Hopeless had gotten out of his way Breeze had a light lunch and then got himself situated to delve into VR, hoping to dig out some dirt on the seemingly irregular finances of the good Dr. Drampe. Having already found some clues in his cursory background search of him Breeze tries to find some loose threads to pick at. He loses himself absolutely in his task and does not emerge from VR until dinnertime with his stomach growling and his bladder about to burst.

Goddammit I need some water right now but fuck it if this wasn’t worth it.
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« Reply #184 on: <09-15-14/0429:08> »
Feeling rather certain that all of the teams bases are covered for the day, Ian settles down on the couch, watching trid after trid about stage makeup. It was all coming back to him rather quickly from the acting classes he took back in the good old days at school. He always thought he'd be a great famous trid actor, and someone else would take care of the make up and costumes and whatnot, so he never really bothered to learn much about them. Ironic that NOW would be the time he'd actually finally sit down and learn about it. Pffft! Ian Bradley, the great leading man, action/romance/drama/comedic actor of the year. Jesus I used to be stupid.

Every few hours he takes a break from the VR to walk around, stretch his legs, and get something to eat from the kitchen. He's half hoping that he'll run into another member of the team as they do the same, and half hoping he won't. Slowly but surely, over the course of the day, he's starting to feel like he actually knows a thing or two about this. He's always been able to pick up new things really quickly, even if he could never seem to master anything. By the time the sun goes down, he's pretty sure he could pull off a decent looking old man or an ugly woman. He doubts he could impersonate another race yet, but he feels confidant in his ability to fool a security camera. Now, I'm just gonna need a disguise kit. Too bad I don't have any money. Hmmmm. Should be easy enough to get one from the theater department here on campus, by one means or another...
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« Reply #185 on: <09-15-14/1041:05> »
@Breeze,

If it was trouble gathering data that limited any pending CAS case against Dr. Drampe, Breeze concludes it wasn't for lack of trying.  Drampe's records are a veritable spider weave of donations, holdings, and "gifts," all just under the ¥10,000 threshold which would force any "donors" to reveal their identity.  Breeze tracks down organization after organization, with names like "United Hermetics Discourse Association," and "Magician's Archaeology Net," to find them all nova-thin, little behind their tax ID number but a couple lawyers based out of places like Frankfurt, and Heidelberg, and more recently out of Manhattan.  Searching for the lawyers doesn't turn up much either, except that they're all humans and fairly well off themselves.  One, a Lance Franz, took a free speech case against the University of Heidelberg, and while the records are sealed, Breeze thinks this has the stink of the retro-futurists all over it.

Maybe old Hopeless was onto something after all, he thinks as he changes tactics, and looks for donations placed within the last year to Magical Studies programs in Germany, and sure enough, a couple hits come back from "United 4 Magic," an organization supposedly based out of College Station that has never donated to its local institution.  Like the others, the front is thin, little beyond the tax ID number and the contact, Holden Capote.  As for the question of what this all means, Breeze decides to sit on it with a cup of soykaf.  Retro-futurists pop up, then donations from those locations are issued to MS programs overseas, and then more Retro-futurists pop up.  More donations follow.  With the resources Breeze has, he's unable to tell how widespread this goes: it could be a couple MS faculty in a few choice places, or it could be something much, much worse.

And then, there's the obvious: if Drampe is in bed with these guys, where are they trying to destroy him?  What's changed?
« Last Edit: <09-15-14/1043:25> by rednblack »
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« Reply #186 on: <09-18-14/1450:52> »
@Error,

It's been an interesting day so far for the ork.  First, one of the group that's been staying at Jule's old place decided to take a stroll around the neighborhood, and he did so the morning after one of the more active ghoul forays that have been happening more and more often to be honest.  Then Error gets a ping from someone he hasn't spoken with in a long time.

>>Incoming Message
>>Sender: Dadlez
>>Message: Been awhile, chummer.  You still down College Station ways?


@Bookworm

Delilah is down at the UC, where she is ostensibly studying, but like all of the other students around the Texas A&M&M campus right now, she's glued to the trids and their recent celebrity/infamy.  In general, there's not a lot of action to be had in Aggieland aside from a little numbers running and the occasional shipment of drugs to keep the college kids doped up and happy, so when Bookworm's comm pings from her regular fixer, she straightens up in her seat subconsciously and sees what's up.

>>Incoming Message
>>Sender: Eiroa
Message: Looking for some info, if you're looking for some ¥


@Dante, Breeze, and Hopeless,

The day passes quietly as the safehouse, though whenever Hopeless is hanging out in the kitchen in between checking his trids on disguise make-up, he notices an adolescent ork or two somewhere in the feed from the security cams.  They're certainly not aggressive, and Hopeless doesn't see any weapons, but he can't shake the feeling that they're keeping an eye on the place.
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« Reply #187 on: <09-18-14/1505:54> »
The day passes quietly as the safehouse, though whenever Hopeless is hanging out in the kitchen in between checking his trids on disguise make-up, he notices an adolescent ork or two somewhere in the feed from the security cams.  They're certainly not aggressive, and Hopeless doesn't see any weapons, but he can't shake the feeling that they're keeping an eye on the place.

Ian squints his eyes at the image of the two kids on the feed as he walks past the monitor to grab some icewater from the fridge, then pauses again briefly as he walks back to the living room. They're probably wondering why this crew of breeders just up and moved in here. I'd better be cool if I wanna look like we belong here. He grabs another 2 glasses of icewater, then uses up the last of the synthlemon flavor in the tap to make drinks for the kids. Holding their two glasses in one hand and his in the other, he opens the door to the sweltering heat outside and steps into it, feeling the sun assault his skin the very second he does. Closing the door behind him, he looks one of the surprised ork kids right in the eyes with a respectful nod. "Yall boys want something to drink? It's fuckin' hot out today, huh?

Be "cool" with these two ork kids: 6d6t5 3
« Last Edit: <09-18-14/1957:42> by Poindexter »
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« Reply #188 on: <09-18-14/1532:49> »
[20APR2075 1100 | Texas A&M University Center | College Station, TX | CAS]

Mentally pausing the trid feed, Delilah scanned the incoming text. Eiroa, huh? the dwarf thought, I guess she was okay with what I was able to get her last time. Delilah had been sure she had fragged that job up pretty badly, but apparently not. While the mystery behind Eiroa's request nagged at her, the dwarf set her mind to watching the rest of the trid feed to make sure she hadn't been caught on camera. She wasn't too worried about it, most of the trid feeds had been shaky and terrible, a result of having students filming the action, but it never hurt to be too sure. At least not now, not since she started doing jobs for Eiroa. Satisfied that she was in none of the trids and that their attention was focused on the mysterious Savior of College Station, she shut down the feed and mentally composed a text in return.

<<@Eiroa [Bookworm] I'm always up for digging around where I'm not supposed to be. What's up?>>
« Last Edit: <09-18-14/1548:53> by JackVII »
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« Reply #189 on: <09-18-14/1538:10> »
Closing, the door behind him, he looks one of the surprised ork kids right in the eyes with a respectful nod. "Yall boys want something to drink? It's fuckin' hot out today, huh?

Be "cool" with these two ork kids: 6d6t5 3

"Who the frag are you?" the smaller of the two ork boys says, bowing out his elbows and leaning forward, though neither makes any other aggressive movements as Hopeless approaches.  The taller one, who appears to be maybe fourteen eyes Hopeless wearily, and has a habit of licking his lips as he speaks.  "Hey, breeder, I don't know you from Dunkelzahn.  My momma didn't raise no fool, neither.  I don't know what you got in them drinks"

Regardless of their words, the two seem to be eyeing the drinks.  The younger one chimes in, "We weren't supposed to talk to 'em, Cyru--"

"Don't use my fucking name," the other one warns.

@Bookworm,

>>Incoming message
>>Sender: Eiroa
>>Message: Supposed to be a team down on campus.  Buyer's lost contact with them, and is worried about backup.  If you can find the team, I'll slot you 500¥.
« Last Edit: <09-18-14/1549:18> by rednblack »
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« Reply #190 on: <09-18-14/1602:16> »
"Who the frag are you?" the smaller of the two ork boys says, bowing out his elbows and leaning forward, though neither makes any other aggressive movements as Hopeless approaches.  The taller one, who appears to be maybe fourteen eyes Hopeless wearily, and has a habit of licking his lips as he speaks.  "Hey, breeder, I don't know you from Dunkelzahn.  My momma didn't raise no fool, neither.  I don't know what you got in them drinks"

Regardless of their words, the two seem to be eyeing the drinks. 

It's an easy sentence, one of the first they teach you in the language trids, so in decently pronounced Or'zet, Ian responds "My name is Hopeless." Then, he switches back to English and continues as he sets the drinks down on the front stoop and sits a few feet from them. "Hey, drink em if you want; I don't give a fuck." Knowing that the ice in this cup only has a minute or two tops before it melts and the drink starts to get warm, Ian downs half his cup in one gulp. "But if you don't, it's just gonna be me out here, drinkin three glasses of lemon shit by myself."

The younger one chimes in, "We weren't supposed to talk to 'em, Cyru--"

"Don't use my fucking name," the other one warns.

Oh boy. So they ARE lookouts for someone. Let's just hope it's some local gang we can pay off or whatever.

As he finishes his glass, he takes a look up and down the street to see if he can't spot whoever these kids are working for.

Anyone besides these kids seem to be interested in our place?: 9d6t5 1

Edge to re-roll: 8d6t5 1

He looks back at the older kid and raises his eyebrows a bit as he asks "Got any smokes?"

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« Reply #191 on: <09-18-14/1623:23> »
[20APR2075 1100 | Texas A&M University Center | College Station, TX | CAS]

The fixer's response came quickly. Delilah had to read the message a few times to make sure she fully understood the gist it. Several thoughts flitted through her mind in quick succession: a team of runners was working a job on campus, their Johnson lost contact and there could be something wrong, and there was a 500¥ payment if she could track them down. The simple mystery behind the first fact was almost enough to send her scampering down the Matrix rabbit hole. Why would someone hire a team of shadowrunners to do a job here on A&M&M? she thought. Adding to that the fact that something might be amiss about the job made it more intriguing. It's not like security is that tight around here, she thought, except for what went down yesterday... Intrigued by the idea, Delilah re-initialized the trid feeds to take another look at the scene with a different focus once she had finished texting Eiroa. While she was definitely intrigued by all these mysteries, Delilah was a little worried. The team, if they were still around, was unlikely to appreciate being looked into and shadowrunners didn't have the most merciful of reputations. Keep it together, Delilah, Eiroa's expecting a response. Mentally composing a response, she replied.

<<@Eiroa [Bookworm] Sounds like fun, I'll do it. What's the timeline and do you have any more details? How many, commcodes, where they were last seen, what area of campus on which they might have been focusing?>>

After sending the message, Delilah cursed silently. Drek! I always forget to ask for more pay! Seeking to remedy that, the dwarf began composing a checklist for future job negotiations.
« Last Edit: <09-18-14/2251:28> by JackVII »
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« Reply #192 on: <09-19-14/1118:05> »
It's an easy sentence, one of the first they teach you in the language trids, so in decently pronounced Or'zet, Ian responds "My name is Hopeless."

The younger ork says something in Or'zet, and the older one answers in a Spanish Or'zet pigeon, though Hopeless makes out the word "Breeder," easily enough.

Then, he switches back to English and continues as he sets the drinks down on the front stoop and sits a few feet from them. "Hey, drink em if you want; I don't give a fuck." Knowing that the ice in this cup only has a minute or two tops before it melts and the drink starts to get warm, Ian downs half his cup in one gulp. "But if you don't, it's just gonna be me out here, drinkin three glasses of lemon shit by myself."

He looks back at the older kid and raises his eyebrows a bit as he asks "Got any smokes?"

The older boy produces a nic-stick from his pocket, and takes a long pull, exhaling the bluish vapor through his nose, before handing it to Hopeless.  "Sure thing, cerri," he says in, handing off the stick as though it's a challenge.  When Hopeless grabs it, he leans down and picks up the two glasses, handing one to the younger ork.  "It's cool," he says before downing the glass.  The younger ork follows suit, and cracks what's left of the ice in his teeth. 

"You think we should bring him to big man?" the younger one asks his companion, and the older ork slaps him upside the head and issues a quick warning in Or'zet.

"What?  I didn't use his name," the younger one complains.

The older ork answers, "You were just saying that we shouldn't be talking to him period.  Now you want to take him in?  Bring a fuckin' glok around the club house, you fraggin' child."  He turns to Hopeless before continuing.  "Thanks for the drink, but what do you want?"

@Bookworm,

Eiroa stays Janie on the spot and replies almost immediately.

>>Incoming Message
>>Sender: Eiroa
>>Message: Glad to hear you're onboard.  I trust there won't be any unanticipated hindrances to your performance this time.  Commcodes are not likely to be helpful.  Johnson has been trying to contact team via their respective fixers to no avail.  Either the team has been compromised, or they picked up burners for the job.  Speaking of which, should you find that the team has been compromised, you are not to make contact, and should instead let me know ASAP, so that I can relay that information, and the Johnson can take the necessary steps.  Team was last seen in DFW.  I am unaware of the job, nor do I want to know, so I don't have any info on campus, but given that the team was sent down your way, and then there's been all that trouble, my guess is that is a big reason why the Johnson is concerned.  I'd start there if I were you.  I've also been given the name of the Johnson's contact on campus.  See attached file for info on runners and contact.  Good luck, B.
>>Attached File: B42X33





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« Reply #193 on: <09-19-14/1248:39> »
[20APR2075 1110 | Texas A&M University Center | College Station, TX | CAS]

Bookworm leaned back in the chair of her study nook and contemplated the message from Eiroa. Well, that's not much to go on, although maybe my instincts were right about the incident yesterday. Maybe the file will tell me more? Mentally clicking the attachment to the message, the dwarf scanned its contents.

Dr. Bauchon? What's he got to do with this?

With a direct link to the mystery at hand, Bookworm couldn't help herself. With her arms crossed over the desk in front of her, the dwarf brought the VR icon into focus and mentally slammed the button SO HARD. Deprived of consciousness, her face plopped down into her arms, appearing to the world like any other college student who decided the UC would make a great place to take a nap after a long night of partying.

>>The Matrix opened around her, her small icon materializing in the great expanse in a puff of smoke. The clearing smoke revealed a short, squat figure concealed by a high-collared black wizard’s robe and a tan wide-brimmed, pointed hat. The face was covered in impenetrable shadow, the only discernible part being a pair of bright, yellow eyes. The top half of the hat had bent and fallen backward. The robe itself was covered in yellow glowing formulae, both arcane & mathematical, crawling across the fabric. White disembodied gloves served as hands and the figure appeared to have no feet, simply floating in the air.

The rush of Hot-Sim was glorious, much of the Matrix appearing to move in slow-motion around her.Physically being in the UC, there were literally hundreds of icons around her, mostly commlinks and other mundane electronics. But today, Bookworm wasn't really interested in those. She was here for information. The little figure intertwined her fingers and flexed them, pantomiming a meat body cracking its knuckles. With a flourish, Bookworm reached up to her face and drew out a golden orb, leaving behind one glowing eye which slowly moved to the center of the dark shadows covering what may or may not even be a face. Rearing back, the one-eyed wizard tossed the golden globe into the darkness, her mental command giving the orb an overriding purpose: find basic details about Dr. Ken Bauchon. Within seconds, the orb returned, glowing a myriad of colors. Popping the globe back into her face, Bookworm downloaded the data to a file.<<


Well, that's a good start, the dwarf thought to herself. Quickly digesting the information, she refocused her attention on the Matrix.

>>Filled with success, the little wizard reached up and drew out her eye again. Tracing a few arcane runes across it, Bookworm once again launched the orb into the Matrix. Knowing this deeper search was going to take longer, she busied herself with creating a folder for the data related to this job, appearing in the matrix as an ancient tome floating next to her. Thinking she should protect the data from snoops, the wizard conjured a magical latch over the book, adding encryption to the folder.
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« Reply #194 on: <09-19-14/1434:46> »
The older boy produces a nic-stick from his pocket, and takes a long pull, exhaling the bluish vapor through his nose, before handing it to Hopeless.  "Sure thing, cerri," he says in, handing off the stick as though it's a challenge.  When Hopeless grabs it, he leans down and picks up the two glasses, handing one to the younger ork.  "It's cool," he says before downing the glass.  The younger ork follows suit, and cracks what's left of the ice in his teeth. 

Cerri... Glok... Are those like squish and breeder? Ian had somewhat of an obsession with racial slurs that applied to himself. He knew the derogatory term for "white man" in about 20 languages, even if it was the only word he'd bothered to learn. He'd never heard Cerri or Glok before though. Glok is definitely a slur, but Cerri could go either way, like chummer. After hitting the smoke a couple times, he passes it back to the kid with a nod, then leans his head back and finishes off his lemondrek with one more gulp. As he does, the ice shifts toward his face all at once, causing the last little bit of the fluid to run down his cheeks and onto his shirt. "Faaaaack!" exclaims the skinny white boy as he sets the empty glass down on the steps and tries to dry his shirt off before the sweetness starts to attract bees and shit. When he notices the two kids laughing at him, he starts laughing with them.

"You think we should bring him to big man?" the younger one asks his companion, and the older ork slaps him upside the head and issues a quick warning in Or'zet.

"What?  I didn't use his name," the younger one complains.

The older ork answers, "You were just saying that we shouldn't be talking to him period.  Now you want to take him in?  Bring a fuckin' glok around the club house, you fraggin' child."  He turns to Hopeless before continuing.  "Thanks for the drink, but what do you want?"

Hopeless crooks one side of his face with a little grin. "Aint yall the ones creepin round my spot? What yall want?" Seeing the "Oh shit, we're busted" look on the kids faces, he smiles and laughs. "I'm just playin', dude. Look, I know shit is real in the sprawl. I know someone had to notice this little crew of white boy breeders up in here. So, the streets probably wanna know what the fuck is up. Well, aint nothin up over here. Just a couple friendly, quiet, peaceful, broke-ass white boys mindin our own business. Wiz?"

Ian takes a small pause, then changes the subject to help ease the tension. "So i know breeder, squish, squishie, but what's "cerri" and "glok"? I know a little bitta 'zet and a little bitta spanish, but that mix yall spit? That's some crazy shit."
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