Cabals and Communes

Margot
It was midday Saturday with pleasant weather in June, you had better bet your ass that the park was crowded as hell today.  Clouds passed quickly across the sky in bunches, offering relief from the bright sun and bringing a summer-hot wind along with it.  No rain, though, not in the immediate forecast, so the park was not denied its typical weekend burst of life.

The good news about being surrounded by a sea of joggers with their dogs, clutches of friends playing volleyball or frisbee, and families with their kids picnicing and playing on the playgrounds?

Food trucks.  Plenty of them, parked in a line in the parking lot for the lunchtime push.  There were a couple of stands on the other end of the park, too-- mobile, smaller, one offering tacos, one offering falafels, and a third offering drinks and ice cream and other summertime confections.  It was at the last cart that Margot was standing in conversation with Dr. Sepúlveda while handing a couple of dollar bills to the mustached man running the cart, accepting an iced coffee drink in a plastic to-go cup in return.

They were in a middle of a conversation turned on a more mundane hinge thanks to the ears (and mustache) right in front of them.

"I'm thinking maybe I'll switch jobs and work at a bookstore instead, to keep an eye out for things to add to my Library all the better.  The dispensary's probably not going to have any curious tomes passing over its counter anytime soon."

Sepúlveda
Between the strip club, the Verbena's abode, and the brunch place up on Colfax - where the waitress was glad to see him actually interacting with other people and not just yelling at the two kids who, as far as she can tell, are his parolees or probates or foster kids or god knows what people think when they see Margot and Ned getting chewed out by Dr. Sepúlveda - the Etherite has been having an awful lot of outside time the last twenty-four hours.

Before he goes home, he extracts the kids from their respective places of dwelling with like 15 anchor emojis and a question mark.

And now here we are.

Despite the heat of the day, the Doc is wearing jeans, loafers, and a yellow button-down work shirt underneath a cardigan. His hair is a mess and his glasses could use a polish, but he seems to be in a decent enough mood.

As they wait for Ned to show up, he considers Margot's observations. His eyebrows lift up as if to ask if he's supposed to respond, then sucks an answer out of an eyetooth and says, "If it does, run."

Very funny.

"What sort of 'things' are you looking for?"

Margot
Today Margot was dressed in a china-blue-and-white printed sundress, capped sleeves with a low back and skirt that was loose enough for the breeze to tug but not lift from where it hunt above her knees.  Her hair was down, a straw sunhat on her head in lieu of sunglasses.  Flip flops, though, simple and broken in for park strolling.  Her face wore its standard amount of make-up, which is to say minimal, and she found time somewhere in the mix to paint her short fingernails a bright sunshiney yellow.

She sipped her coffee and wandered idle away from the concessions cart, but didn't walk with direction or purpose so as not to lose the designated meet point and thereby lose or miss Ned.  The game of 'where are you?' text tag was not one of her favorites.

"I don't really know.  I'm hoping to add more things on Prime and Entropy to my shelves, right now they're pretty heavy with medical texts and Spirits and other dimensions.  That stuff is easy enough to pick up, is the more insightful stuff that I want a chance to find."

Sepúlveda
Sepúlveda scratches at the crook of his jaw, short nails singing against the growth of beard. Thinking. His own library is expansive. The reason he's renting a suite instead of a room at the Crawford is twofold: he wants to be able to put the kids up if they get into trouble, and he has too many damned books to crash at a bedbug motel by the highway.

Besides. There's a bar downstairs. He might never leave the Crawford.

"You planning on becoming the initiate of a tradition any time soon?"

Ned
Ned shows up with a careful layer of avoidance in his gait and demeanour. His brow has been permanently furrowed for the last week and a bit and one might think this a normal state of affairs. He's taken to t-shirts, blacks, navy blues and the occasional white, with pairs of loose fitting jeans. His converse have been traded in for a nice pair of firm cross-trainers. He's sporting a belt and something like a small harness at his hip, cinched to the belt via a loop. It looks long and slender and empty.

He weaves around various bodies, taking little notice of their brief glances or Saturday afternoon 'pardons' that are few and far between. The careful steps and easy motions came more comfortably now, given he was starting to actively pursue the odd 'anonymity' that hovered around him like a second skin.

Spying the Doc and Margot wasn't difficult. A week ago (not long after The Incident) Ned had opted to download an app onto Margot's phone that tracked Friend locations. She could glance at her phone and know where he was, so long as it was on and vice versa.

"...Working on it." Was his reply to the Doc, a scattered glance cast at the man before eyeballing the Verbena-to-be. "Last I checked though, the options for who to talk to were...limited. Didn't you say you had a line on someone who could make you an offer?"

Margot
Perhaps the question about traditions had been aimed at Margot, but it was Ned's voice that had answered.  He'd come up from the side, and Margot startled just enough to turn her head sharply to find him.  For a moment she eyeballed Ned back (something different there, the Doc may pick up-- a tension, not caution not anger, not the kind of tense that came from fighting but it was something), then let her gaze get pulled away as a particularly young and fluffy puppy ran by with its human on a leash.

"....I'm still going through some formalities, but I've spoken to a couple of Verbena.  I think that's going to work."

She sipped her coffee and wished that she wasn't wearing a dress so that she had a place to tuck her other hand away.

Sepúlveda
[i love rolling empathy so much]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Sepúlveda
And the Doc does pick up on the exaggerated startle reflex in his younger pupil. It isn't a proper panic attack, but she just jump enough that he can tell it was Ned's arrive and the suddenness of it that spooked her.

Rather than drawing attention to it, Sepúlveda does something that will either betray the depths of his capacity for giving a shit, or will make it seem as if he didn't even notice. He does nothing. Just keeps his hands in the pockets of his jeans and heaves a heavy sigh when Ned asks his question.

"If you think it will, it will," he says, to the matter of the Verbenae working for Margot. Out of one of his pockets comes the flask, from which he takes a hard pull. Points at Ned with the finger of the hand holding the flask and frowns, pointed, before putting away the flask. "I said what?"

Ned
"Was talking to Margot."

Ned corrected himself and the Doc together, head bobbing toward her momentarily.

"She mentioned someone that Nick and Pen were going to introduce her to. A while ago..." A pause. Frowning. "I think..." Shaking his head. "I need to have a sit down with Nick. Once I'm sure he doesn't try to convert me to love all the animals and disney princess' damselling, I'm going to apply for the Euthanatos." If Ned seems at all disturbed, cautious or afraid of their surroundings and who might be overhearing them he doesn't let on. This conversation seems to be happening at a careful pace, wandering in no particular direction at all.

His hands jam into his pockets.

"...We need a place to live." Switching lanes with the fluidity of the abrupt. "...And I put in my two weeks notice."

Margot
1````

Sepúlveda
[hi hazel!]

Margot
Margot's eyebrows hopped up in mild surprise when Ned said he was talking to her, like she was under the impression that the question had been for Doc as well.  Then she blinked and nodded her head.  Popped the coffee drink straw from her mouth to answer.

"Yeah, Thane.  And Thane introduced me to this Kat woman, who's a real insightful badass.  She's a disciple of War, too."

Ambling onward, she listened while Ned explained that he was going to apply for the Euthanatos (in a move that no one saw coming).  Her gaze cast forward and to the side, like she was fly fishing for anything else to pay attention to in that moment.  Coffee straw went back into her mouth and she found some geese on the pond to watch paddling instead.  She only had enough time to watch them paddle a dozen meters before the subject of quitting ones job cropped up.

"Shit, already?"  She asked Ned, sounding surprised and looking (as usual) worried.

Sepúlveda
Overtop Margot:

"The fuck'd you do that for?" He rubs his temple with the middle and ring fingers of his left hand, like he's got a headache brewing. Before Ned can answer he goes on: "Good to hear you two have plans."

Because they didn't get a chance to talk about it the night he patched up Ned's collapsed lung, bitching the entire time but not asking too many questions.

Ned
"Makes sense. I don't want to be there anymore and...Well after learning Entropy...I didn't think hospitals could get anymore depressing, really." Ned's frown is deeper, thicker at the mention of this and his head rocks to one side as if to physically clear the expression from his face.

"Doing things officially, means I can maybe look into another area that isn't so time intensive. Pay will be less and really, most of my money goes towards takeout and transportation anyway." A pause. Abruptness: "I gotta start riding my bike more."

Then around at the people they are passing by, as if he'd only just noticed where they are and what normal folks do in situations like this.

"I've got a plan for the near future. Distant is another story..." That frown threatens again. "I want to know how 'safe' we are here and how much or many threats I need to learn about."

Sepúlveda
With the most long-suffering sighs in the history of long-suffering sighs, Andrés takes a few steps away from the kids, wanders off to the shade of an oak tree, and sits down. Or... flops, is more like it, since he ends up on his back.

"The Choir was right," he says, to himself and knowing full well they can still hear him. "The One is punishing me."

Margot
The point about the hospital being all the more depressing with Entropy in the picture was accepted with a nod and Margot contented herself with watching geese and ducks and puppy dogs again.  She got several steps away after Doc veered to the side and Ned no doubt lagged to continue the conversation with him.  Stopped after she realized she was walking alone, turned around, frowned a little, and walked back to stand on the edge of the shadow-splot of the tree that Doc had flopped beneath.

"The Distant Future could range anywhere from dead in the dirt to Ascension, there's no sense in planning it in much detail," she offered over to Ned, then glanced down to where Doc was laying in the grass.

"I think with what we know we're safest here... Just here, in Denver, where we know people and have help.  Outside of that, we're just going to need to learn to ward and banish to stay safe."

Sepúlveda
The Doc peels his glasses off his face and lets them lie bridge-down across his chest, showing no intention or sign of getting back up just yet. Grass gets in his hair and the daylight brings out the green in his eyes and something about the far-off sounds of laughing children and chirping birds and splashing fountains really brings out the surreality of their existences.

This is the reality into which they have Awakened. It doesn't have to be like this. If Sepúlveda decided he wanted to turn the grass purple, he could. One would have to ask why, though, given the backlash bitch-slap he recently absorbed.

"Edward," he says, "based on my own anecdotal evidence, you're safer here than you are in any of the major coastal cities. You're definitely safer here than you are in Chicago. Never go to Mexico. Not because of the drug cartels, sabes, because of the vampires."

Ned
"I hear punishment with God often comes with lessons yet to be learned."

Like it was read off the back of a fortune cookie. Ned veers clear of the other people pushing and shoving past, doing his level best to remain out of their radar which isn't difficult. Arcane made him the 'third member' of this little party, folks would pay less attention to over someone like the Doc (loud and shit givingless) or Margot (Pretty and Expressive).

"I don't want to move cities or pack up and be elsewhere. I want to be better at protecting myself and others. Distant future is all robots and skynet for all I know. I'm more concerned about Localized Distant, as opposed to global. How to make home..." A hand thrown around at the park "...Denver, safe for us. That includes resisting kidnappings, hostages, eavesdropping and ugliness cropping up on repeat." A pause, Ned's purposefully keeping out of the shade of the tree, to one side, face turned up into the sun.

"...Or at least learn how to anticipate." A hand rises to scrub at his chin. "Entropy's helping with that, though."

Margot
The comment about vampires in Mexico piqued some interest in Margot.  Certainly she'd heard about the Mexican plauge of vampirism before, and she was starting to piece together that some of the monsters and fairy tale creatures she'd read about throughout her youth were actually real.  Nobody needed to tell her directly that fairies were real.  Nobody had to tell her that werewolves were either.  Now, of course, she knew nothing of their mechanics societies or politics just yet, but the 'just yet' was the emphasized point in that sentence.  Margot was a smart little student.  She'd figure all this out given the chance and a point in the right direction.

Ned expressed that he wanted to be able to set up a shop, a home, and keep it safe and protected.  She nodded her agreement, and mused quiet and somber.

"I'm reading about the spirits in particular.  The Gauntlet's just.... there's too much come and go, spirits crossing over and bringing things back.  I'm going to learn to..."  She searched for the right word, and even went so far as to reach into the air in front of her with her palm up, fingers curled, like she could pluck what she was trying to say from the very air.

"...To calcify the Gauntlet.  Shove things back across and then seal off the door they came in through.  I'm close.  I'm pretty sure I'm close."

Then she looked down to Doc and tipped her head aside.  Moved the hand that had been word-hunting to stop her hat from slipping off her head when she did.  "Doc, I think what Ned's getting at is that all of this would be easier, keeping each other safe, if we didn't all go to sleep in different places at night.  The salt on my window sill still only does as much good as my prayers and a rosary would right now.  I can't ward up my home, Ned can't his."

Ned
"...And given your history of 'volatile relations' I would think having outside perspectives around to keep an eye on you, would ultimately be better..."

Ned offers on the tail end of Margot's words. Unapologetic, expectant almost.

Sepúlveda
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

He's going to stick to his contention that the volatile relation in question wouldn't have gone so bad if it weren't for the kids antagonizing the Kha'vadi woman, thank you very much.

For this next bit he sits up, using his core muscles rather than his appendages, more graceful than he looks, and takes another swig once he's upright again. His glasses topple to the grass. He leaves them there a moment.

"The odds of you two doing anything of any use to keep me safe is so small I can't--" He puts on his glasses. Squints. "Nope. Still can't... still can't see it. The odds. Because of how small they are. Your outside perspective means precisely dick to me, Ned." He stifles a burp. "If you two want to come play Sleepover at my hotel room, that's... that's fine, but the first time I hear you two... making out, or whatever it is you do in your spare time, through the wall, no more Sleepover."

Grace
She doesn't pick up on the entire conversation, does Grace. Only Margot's worries about wards, and Ned's about volatile relations. She knows what he means by that, she thinks.

Now, Grace, today, is not the most reassuring sort of person to bump into. Mike makes sure that she sleeps, at least, so she doesn't quite look like she's been pulling so many all-nighters it must be finals season. But she's taut -- tense like perhaps there is something to be worried about out there.

"You guys... Hey."

Margot
"Making out?"  Margot cast a look at the Doc that was all incredulity.  "I'm beginning to suspect that you really do think we're fourteen year olds...."

Then, suddenly, a wild Grace appeared.  For a second time that midday there in the park a voice announced a presence prior to the face and body doing so, and for a second time Margot startled with a small bodily jerk and sloshed the ice of her coffee around when she did so.  Had there been no lid then there's a chance it would've spilled down her arm, but bless to-go cups and their foresight for clumsy spills.

"Oh," she said, sounding relieved when she found Grace to be the person who had broken from the crowd of park-goers to say hello.

"Grace, hey.  How are ya?"

Margot?  She looked okay.  That was really the best word for it-- like somebody who didn't sleep enough and worried way too much but still had enough give-a-shit about perceptions that she stood in the sun and pretended that neither of those were the case.

Ned
"A house, Doc. With many layers of walls between me and whatever pervy nonsense you get up to-"

Ned pauses those words when Grace arrives. He isn't so much surprised as he is changing gears, body moving around in a tight circle to grant Grace a bit more surface area beneath the shade of the tree they are 'lounging' under. His smile is tight, tiny and his attention brief, catching her gaze should she throw it at him, momentarily before lifting his face back into the sun.

"...Suns out. Should put any lingering worries you may have about my undeadness to rest." His smile is a bit needling, though the tone doesn't have enough bite to make it sarcasm. "You need more sleep, Lady." Abruptly delivered, eyes peeling open to scan over Grace's features and frame.

Sepúlveda
Sepúlveda stares at Ned for a good three beats of silence, his brain flooded with so many one-liners that they gum up the entire works. He chases down the remnants with a wash of tequila or whatever the hell he actually has in his flask.

"Gracia!" he says. "How's that OCR scan coming?"

To his students: "A bunch of apprentices have gone missing in Colorado Springs, two out of five of them murdered, and I have a sneaking suspicion whoever did it is paying off the El Paso ME's office, because there's, like, no evidence from either of the crime scenes." A pause. "Oh, shit, did I forget to tell you guys about that? I can't think of what was going on a couple weeks ago that I wouldn't--"

Grace
She can do that, at times -- pop out of nowhere, like the crowd or the background just ejected a person you know. Sometimes, she'll announce her presence by doing something strange in the distance, but that's only if she remembers. It's hard to notice that you are hard to notice.

"I sleep plenty," she replies to Ned. "I have someone making damn sure of that, trust me."

But there, an admission: she needs someone to make sure she sleeps instead of just losing herself in the chase.

"OCRing it, I don't know. I was just going to grab the real deal. I can't stand printouts."

She gives Margot a smile. Don't worry, dear. It'll be fine. "You guys looking for a place to live?"

Margot
If Margot seemed a little solemn earlier (despite the bright sunny summery outfit), that was nothing compared to how very grim she became when Doc began to speak of Apprentices going missing and how some of them had been murdered.  Grace's arrival had been a welcome one, given how a touch of the worry in the corners of Margot's eyes and mouth had faded away, but what good the Virtual Adept's appearance had served to the would-be Verbena's sense of calm was quickly washed away.

"We were out of town."  She said this quick and sharp at the end of Sepúlveda's open-ended musing about what was happening in the past few weeks that may have caused this news to escape his pupils/cabalmates/kids/whatever-the-fuck-that-relationship-was.

Grace's question was absorbed with a brief flutter of hazel eyes back in her direction.  "More like hammering out details for cohabitation," she explained, and then looked back to Doc again with a serious weight to her expression, and dragging her shoulders down as well.

"Isn't anyone besides some paid-off police looking into the matter?  You know, someone like us?"

Sepúlveda
I have someone making damn sure of that, trust me.

"Gross," he says, and takes another drink.

Ned
"...And that never stopped you from Text bombing us before..."

Ned chimes in after Margot, murmuring it with little to no force. If anything, Ned's own concern and worry suddenly goes inward and he seems to pull his attention back from the conversation, allowing Margot to take the first steps in the matter by asking questions.

Sepúlveda
"What never stopped me from text bombing you before?"

Margot
"Distance," Margot sounded clipped and anxious and heard it in her own voice as soon as the word snapped out off her tongue.  She closed her eyes, took a breath in through her nose, then tried again.

"I'm sorry.  Please, though, come on.  What's happening with the apprentices?"

Grace
Grace gives Dr. Sepúlveda the look of pure confusion. "What's gross about sleeping?"

She stops, considers the tree. Still can't figure it out. Decides to drop that thread, because whenever she gets confused like this, it doesn't bode well.

"I am looking into it. Though, I just found out about it, and don't have a whole lot to go on," she says. "Apparently, there were a lot of new Mages in Colorado Springs. There aren't anymore. And whoever's doing it is sweeping their tracks."

Sepúlveda
"There's a Chorister on the CSPD who caught wind of what was happening, she mentioned it to me, I scraped up what little evidence the perp or whoever was helping the perp left behind, I gave it to Grace. We're handling it."

That said: "Hey, Grace, that hitman you're shacking up with, I want to sell him an initiate. You think you can get me an estimate?"

Ned
"Sweeping how? Cleaning kill sites? Bodies missing?"

Ned pauses to stare around at the Normals that are haunting the area. His voice is purposefully low and he takes that moment to step a little closer so as to allow his voice to lower.

"...And how far outside of the Springs do the murders go? Is it just that area so far?"

Sepúlveda
"It's just that area. If you want to help, do nothing. I need to have to rescue you two from a serial killer like I need a hole in my head."

Margot
Grace explained what she knew and what she was doing, and the Doc followed up by cutting to the meat of the topic by explaining the situation in an overview.  It must have become apparent that Margot wasn't handling the toying around very well.

Do you see the tandem at play here?  Margot had begun voicing questions and finding information initially and Ned had fallen quiet.  Now here, where he was inquiring about the murder radius, Margot had discovered silence in turn.  Doc spoke of rescuing them from a serial killer and Margot's jaw clenched, lips pressed thin, and brow furrowed heavily-- a hard scowl at a fresh and horrible memory.

Following that she found a spot in the distance behind the tree to stare into unfocused, and took to slowly sipping the rest of her iced coffee through the straw.  A perfect excuse not to speak as any.  That hard frowning moment disconnected her from the discussion and now she seemed to be tuned out and waiting for it to end.

Or grappling with something in her mind and heart on the spot and trying not to lapse into a panicked state.

Maybe all of the above.

Grace
"He's not... exactly a hit man, and you..." Know that. It's just Andrés Sepúlveda being himself. Right. "Want to sell him an initiate?"

She sighs. The man is incomprehensible at best.

"And yeah. As far as anyone can tell, the murderer left only a partial fingerprint and a single hair behind, in five murders. Something fishy's going on, definitely."

She turns her attentions back toward the actual people, notices the discomfort in the area. "Look, after this investigation shit is over, I have a project you guys might be interested in. I've got some money burning a hole in multiple bank accounts just waiting to be spent on some real estate. An apartment complex, you know? For people like us. You'd be able to 'cohabitate' with a lot more ease, maybe?"

Ned
"You tried looking for the ghosts of the victims? I can't imagine awakened dead, being horribly murdered is going to leave a particularly restful spirit."

Ned and Margot both had some experience dealing with that. Well...once. Unpleasantly. It nearly got them killed by Zombies. That had been....fun? No, wrong word. Regardless, Ned seems almost to ignore the Doc's mention of Serial Killers and rescuing them, directing the question toward Grace....which of course, was probably more to do with Doc's irreverent take on Ghosts and the Spirit Sphere in general.

"Relax, Doc." Ned finally turns to look at Andres. "Margot and I are taking a hiatus from 'rushing in to Scooby Doo things'. The more questions I have answers for though, the more likely I can take precautions going to and from home, incase whoever or whatever this is, decides Colorado Springs is all dried up and wants to make a move to bigger pastures."

Then back toward Grace at mention of 'Money' and 'Apartment Complex'.

"Isn't that sort of putting all our eggs in one basket? And wouldn't the multitudes of conflicting Paradigms make for a Paradox buffet of epic proportions?"

Sepúlveda
Want to sell him an initiate?

At least Andrés thinks Andrés is funny. He takes a swallow from the flask instead of answering and looks over his shoulder to make sure Margot hasn't gone too far away. No remorse in his gaze, though it's hard to tell with the glare over his glasses and the fact that he tries to keep his emotional range between Excited and Annoyed.

You tried looking for the ghosts of the victims?

He flicks his eyebrows and cants his head to one side. No. No he did not try that. Because he has no training in Spirit. Still, it's not a bad idea.

Drink.

Margot
[Get out of your head, Margot]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )

Margot
Margot's silence stretched out long enough that she came back in around talk of moving on from Colorado Springs and into bigger, greener pastures.  Her eyes had been out of focus and she was drifting nearer and nearer to the middle distance that she stared at, and thusly further and further inward (rescue you from a serial killer.... we don't need rescuing, we just proved that... how'd you handle the serial killer, Margot?  what did you do?  what did you do?  what did you--).

With a sudden sniff Margot came back to, ducked her head and lifted her hand.  The wide brim of her hat hid her face from view so that she could more effectively pretend to be catching a bug or bit of pollen out of her eye.  In reality she was brushing away tears and scrubbing at her eyelids fiercely with her fingertips and coaching herself to get it the fuck together.

When she lifted her head to show her face again she looked like she was about ready to cry, or like she had only just recovered from crying perhaps.  She sniffed a little again, swallowed, but her voice was clear enough and steady enough (after the very first syllable) to pass.

"I don't know... I mean, there would be plenty of wards and watches there, but that sounds like a beacon of magick too.  A big old target."

Grace
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Ned," she says, but the smile on her face takes a bit of punch out of the language. "Paradigms making a Paradox buffet? Paradox happens if you screw up or do something wildly out of bounds, but I've never heard of it happening just because people are living together. Besides, you were the ones just talking about cohabitation -- and you're thinking about doing it with him," she says, pointing at Dr. Sepúlveda.

"I can see the wisdom in not putting our eggs in one basket, but I can also see the wisdom of strength in numbers, and having a place with wards and robot dragon security guards... I mean, that sounds so amazingly wise to me," she says, grinning like she might have a touch of mad scientist to her herself.

She shrugs at Margot. "We're always a target. Anyway, it was just a thought. It'll be there, if you guys change your mind. Or even if you just need a place to go for a week or whatever."

Sepúlveda
[http://i.imgur.com/aMgG2jh.gif]

Ned
"....Nevermind how you even police privacy or respect or courtesy...most of us can barely interact without some sort of friction, tension or sarcasm...and that's just us saying hello..."

Ned climbs down the length of the Tree the Doc is stationed under, settling onto his ass with a grunt. His eyes trail towards Margot briefly at the sniff, perceptions catching the downturn of her mood and the silence that had preceded it but he doesn't comment or mention. Simply listens to Grace's commentary and returns to the conversation.

"Difference between a Cabal and a Commune....appreciate the offer though. We'll keep it in mind." Ned's wiping his hands down the length of his jeans, brow furrowing together. "Back up though. You just started the investigation? All you got was a hair and a partial fingerprint. How many did you say have died so far?"

Sepúlveda
[corr 1/time 2: hang on, doing stuff]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (3, 5, 7) ( success x 2 )

Sepúlveda
Sepúlveda sighs when Ned starts asking more questions. Rather than repeat himself, he rummages through his pocket to remove a device that looks like a GPS and a calculator had a rough night and starts to punch in... coordinates? Time signatures? It's hard to tell even if you're watching him closely.

From the machine comes the garbled noise associated with a tape rewinding. It's the moment they all just shared together, going backwards on the screen. Ned returns to the tree, Margot goes and comes back. He tilts it so Ned can see the screen when the activity starts to move forward again.

--gone missing in Colorado Springs, the image of Sepúlveda is saying.

He then proceeds to talk over himself, saying, "Damn, my hair looks good today."

--and I have a sneaking suspicion whoever did it is--

"Whoops."

Rewind.

--two out of five of them murdered, and I have a sneaking suspicion whoever did it is--

Yeah he could have just repeated himself with, like, words, but that takes all the fun out of it.

Ned
"....I can do that to...It's called an Iphone, grandpa..."

Sepúlveda
"I'll show you an iPhone, you little shit."

Margot
Margot didn't sit to join the rest of her cabal that they wouldn't outright call one but instead remained standing in the shade that the tree cast.  She glanced down to watch Doc fiddle with some device that literally went back in time and pulled his voice from it to explain to Ned that two out of five missing apprentices were found murdered.  Then they bickered about iPhones.

Margot just sighed and rested her forehead and eyes in one hand, supported the elbow in her other hand.

This moment right here could be the snapshot that their cabal sigil was built off of.  Just take it in for a second.

"Grace," she said to interrupt the two after a second.  "Will you keep me in the loop, please?  I'd like to know how many times a minute I need to check over my shoulder and if that should change."

Grace
It's like watching a dysfunctional family dysfunction, isn't it? Grace's eyes go a little wider, like maybe she's just not ready to appropriately handle Ned and Andrés right now, but then Margot saves her.

Keep her in the loop, she says.

"Of course. Absolutely."

"Um. Also, I'll tell Mike you wanted to sell him an initiate, though I don't know exactly what you mean by that," she says to Sepúlveda.

Ned
"....Wait a minute how many initiates do you know?" Pause. "...Margot's not for sale..." Pause. "Fuck you."

The Case of the Disappearing Rookies

Grace
It takes longer for Andrés to get to this place -- Jubilee Roasting Company. Coffee and art. Grace could care less about the latter, really. The reason this spot was chosen was because it contains caffeine and isn't a Starbucks.

That being said, there is a wall of books here, in old wood shelves. An old, rusted bicycle hangs from a wall. The ceiling is a mess of pipes and ductwork and rafters. And yet, there is also local art on the walls. It is the kind of place that is trying rather hard at hipster.

The coffee is as delightful as one might expect from a small roastery like this one. Grace has herself a tall mug of vanilla latte by the time Andrés arrives, and appears to be scowling into her phone from her table near the wall-o-books.

Dr. Sepúlveda
This time of day, coffeehouses tend to teem with trust fund babies and freelancers and retirees. People who don't have set hours and prefer to drink coffee out in the open, with friends, on couches that have had lord knows how many asses in them since the business's opening. A small establishment like this one draws a smaller crowd, of course, but it is still a crowd.

The Etherite comes barreling through the front door like a tiny hurricane shaped like a man, briefcase in hand. Does a bit of a wheel-around when the barista greets him. He's dressed as he tends to be when he comes straight from the morgue rather than straight from the federal courthouse: slacks and a button-down shirt, loafers, cardigan, glasses on, hair a mess. This particular barista seems to find him charming. Blame it on the accent.

A moment later he's at Grace's table with a mug of coffee. Sets down the coffee, sets down his briefcase, pulls his flask out of a pocket before dumping himself into the seat across from her.

"Word from Colorado Springs is," he says, pouring a liberal amount of god knows what into his coffee, "five out of seven rookies have gone missing. Well... okay, the word is 'murder,' and their case files look like shit."

Sip. Wince. Glug.

Grace
This is Grace's life now. She gets dragged away from a mission to crack a snuff porn server, to be met by the medical examiner fresh from the morgue to talk about murder. The surreal nature of this isn't exactly lost on her. It's just the background radiation of her life. It goes without saying that things will be surreal. Her eyes still ask why, though.

She squints at  Dr. Sepúlveda. "Five of seven? Rookies?" she lets out a sigh. The only rookie from Colorado Springs she knows is Lydia, and, well, hope the girl is okay at least. Not good odds, though.

"What would anyone gain by..."

But then, she was targeted as a rookie, wasn't she?

Dr. Sepúlveda
This turn of events doesn't seem to strike the Etherite as surreal. His history being such as it is, one almost has to wonder what it would take for this man to sit up and say Yeah you know that is strange. Or maybe one is better off not wondering. There are rumors, see.

Her squinting and sighing provokes his eyebrows to lift and the expression on his face to echo a clear What's the problem? before she tries a different tack.

"By what? Killing newbies?" More booze goes into his coffee, and then he gives a small shrug and takes a nip out of the flask before screwing the cap back on and pocketing it. "They make great Quintessence batteries..."

Grace
Grace blinks at him. "Quintessence. Batteries."

Yeah, okay, Sepúlveda. You can stop saying creepy shit any day now. She looks down into her coffee.

"In what way do the case files look like shit, exactly?"

Dr. Sepúlveda
Sepúlveda will stop saying creepy shit when he's dead.

They swing back to the matter of paperwork which is not only exciting but the catalyst for this conversation. His eyebrows hop up one more time and then he reaches down to haul his briefcase into his lap. Rifles through it as he talks.

"Either the El Paso County ME doesn't know his head from his ass, or someone went in and lifted all the evidence." He frowns at a manila folder, then tosses his glasses onto the table and keeps rifling. "Only thing that's left--" There it is. He tosses a pathetic manila folder in her direction. "--is a partial print and DNA from a hair, which supposedly didn't flag any matches in the database. I can reconstruct the print, but I can't do anything remotely, you know?"

Grace
"I might be able to do something with that hair..." she says, frowning at the manila folder before opening it to inspect the contents.

"But, if someone is really making quintessence batteries out of people and going to great lengths to not be found, I might not be able."

She slides the papers out of the folder, takes an absent-minded drink of her coffee. "I can certainly give it a try."

Dr. Sepúlveda
... I might not be able.

"Iii dooon't knooow what they're doing with them," he says, slow, like she's the one being ridiculous. "I'm a doctor, not a mind reader."

Says the fellow who literally tried to read her mind within the first two minutes of meeting her.

I can certainly give it a try.

"That's the spirit."

Glug.

Grace
"If they're specifically targeting us, they're probably protecting themselves against us. I mean, tactically, doing otherwise could lead to a very short life span. But, I''ll give it a shot," she says, before scowling at a piece of paper pulled from the envelope. Oh, fantastic. They took a picture of DNA data and printed it out. How adorable. Might as well have photographed the paper on a wooden table first before printing it out again.

"Do you have the DNA in data form? Or even... the hair? Otherwise, I'm going to have to OCR and interpret this, and it may not be as accurate."

Dr. Sepúlveda
Though he doesn't come right out and say it, it ought to be obvious to anyone who's spoken to him for longer than five seconds that he barely had two fucks to rub together to create a spark of interest in this dilemma. It's far enough away that it oughtn't concern him. If Martinez really needed the help, she would have asked for help. Et cetera.

Huge sigh.

"You ever try to sign out physical evidence when a case is assigned to you?" he asks. "It's a huge pain in the ass when it's in your jurisdiction, which this isn't."

Grace
Grace rolls her eyes. "Of course I haven't. I've never been anything 'official' with 'cases' and 'jurisdictions'. I guess I'll go crack open some government servers then. They're easy."

Yeah, easy. But now, there's two messes on her plate, with people's lives on the line. Can't exactly stop going. She rubs her eyes, wondering if there will ever be enough time...

"I'll uh... let you know if I find anything, I guess. You and some others I know in Colorado Springs."

Dr. Sepúlveda
"Don't work too hard," he says as he returns his briefcase to order. "Worst case scenario, we get another dead body when the killer strikes again. Fresh evidence!"

He puts on his glasses, kills his coffee, and stands.

"Later!"

And away he goes, off to happy away an hour somewhere else.

Grace
Worst case scenario, some newbie gets killed. Yeah, dude. State the obvious. The creepily obvious. It just gets an eyebrow-raise from Grace. At least she has coffee.

She downs some. Maybe it'll help with this headache.

"Later," she says to his back, and returns to scowling at her phone.

A Date with Death (Red Room SL)

Michael
An hour ahead of L.A., Grace knows the drill by now. It's better to call the Euthanatos Adept in the afternoon if she hopes to get ahold of him. He will not answer his phone if he is turning the Wheel. Administering a Good Death. What have you. This is not one of those times. When she calls, he answers.

"Grace!" Thank you Modern Age and your life-changing caller ID technology. "How are you?"

Grace
The voice on the other line sounds tired. There's more than one way of being tired, really. You can overwork, under sleep, or just be tired of this shit. With Grace right now, it's mostly the third.

"I'll be a lot better once I clean up this mess I found," she says. "But hey, how are you?"

Michael
A small pause in between her question and his answer. She knows what that pause means.

"I'm well. What mess?"

Grace
"I was out doing my thing, and I ran across a myth of the dark net. People say it happens, but nobody can find proof, you know. I did.

"I found a red room. A streaming video site where you can pay to... Suggest things to do to a captive. And they do it. It's a snuff porn thing, basically."

There is a sighing quality to her tone. This is what people sometimes do with the pure freedom that encryption brings. She has a duty as a champion of freedom to ensure that people don't use it to become petty kings over a fief of torturers.

Michael
A thousand miles away, Michael stands from his desk and walks to the plate-glass window looking out over downtown Los Angeles. Shucks back a panel of his suit jacket and hooks his free hand on his hip. Looking out helps him focus his thoughts while Grace explains the mess.

"Finding proof of myths' existence is rarely pleasant," he says. Commiseration, sounds like. Then, "Where is this red room located?"

Grace
"That's part of what I'm trying to figure out right now. I think maybe somewhere in Montana. But first things first right? It gets messier.

"The video I found was of a woman being tortured, but she escaped. She Awakened. The lights went out, and when they came back, she was gone.

"Her boyfriend is this amazing hacker, but he's a Sleeper, and didn't know what he was looking at when he saw it, which of course he did. Started asking questions and trying to get revenge. And then, there was Lydia.

"I found her in Colorado Springs. She's safe, at least. Being taken care of by one of your people."

Michael
"Which person?"

Grace
"Angela Avella was the name she gave me," Grace says, knowing that among their kind, names are rather mutable.

Michael
"Angela..."

Musing. Sifting through the ashes of his recollection to find the face to whom it belongs. This doesn't take long.

"Angela Avella. Does she still do her crossword puzzles with a pen?" That's an easy enough question to answer and the answer isn't important. He does know Angela though. Knows her enough to ask, "Does Angela intend to take on Lydia as an apprentice?"

Grace
"I don't know. At the moment, it just seems like she's taken her in because she's a scared, freshly Awakened person who has no idea what's happened to her yet. Maybe?

"Angela does kind of seem like the kind of person to do her crossword puzzles in pen though. Seems like a good woman for the job."

Michael
Nothing she has said yet has given him the impression that she cannot handle the problem. It is a nagging problem and it is one that could become difficult to solve with too much attention paid to it. She can hear him weighing his options in the scant silence that follows.

"What can I do to help?" is what he comes up with.

Grace
"With the technology side of things, not much. I'm going to try to make the internet forget that that video exists, which will be... Difficult.

"But other than that, there's still a lot of real-life shit going on here. I got the info on a guy who was kicked out of the business for being too gross even for them. Wanted to branch out into new markets, specifically little kids. He runs a Christian charity in Thailand, or so his card says.

"Also, I'm pretty sure their IT support for this whole shit show is a minor. Probably someone's kid who's been press-ganged into helping with the family business. He'll need... Help. Not to mention all the people they've kidnapped.

"It is a colossal mess, Mike. I'm glad for any help, really."

Michael
"Of course. I'll do what I can."

To that end:

"Does the the fellow running the charity in Thailand have a name or an address on his card?"

Grace
"Oh, yes. He goes by Doc Brad, but the name's really Bradley Olliver. Docbrad@internationalcharitiesinc.org."

She knows, even before she's said the words, that she's probably signing a man's death warrant. But there's no hesitation. They're on the same page here.

She gives him the phone number too, and later on, he'll get some encrypted email with all the messages and forum posts that show the man to be, yes, just as she said.

Michael
Scribble scribble scribble.

"Alright," he says with a jovialness that belies the severity of the solution she knows he's come up with. A final scribble, and then: "I'd like to take you out to dinner after I meet with Mister Olliver, if you would be amenable."

Grace
"Oh!" she says, with a lightheartedness that he hasn't heard in her voice since the start of their conversation. "I'd love that."

There's a breathy sigh on the other end, and then: "Gives me something to look forward to in all this."

Michael
"I find it helpful to have something to look forward to in times of stress."

Like when he's about to board an airplane to interrogate and kill a monster.

"I'll call you when I'm on my way to Denver. In the meantime, be safe. We'll find the red room."

Grace
"I know we will," she says. "I adore you, you know that, right?"

Michael
"I know." I adore you too, he says without saying. "We'll address that after dinner."

So smooth, Michael. So smooth.

Grace
She huffs a low-toned laugh into the phone, and then: "Address it good and proper, huh?"

Not quite as smooth as he. Never was, really.

"I'll be waiting for your call, then."

Michael
"You won't have to wait too long." Because he is literally packing up his briefcase and headed to the airport right now. One of the perks of having a Euthanatos on speed dial. "Be good, Grace."

And off he goes.

Lydia (Red Room SL)

Grace
The first time she found Lydia, the woman was in Colorado Springs, talking to some cops. Grace decided to leave her be, because she wasn't bleeding in the street or something horrible, and it was so definitely naptime. Sleep is important, sometimes. When you remember, and all.

The day after next, when her sleep schedule has been repaired, is when she decides to head out again, Chloe IV underneath the driver's side, on a small road trip.

We're going to Colorado Springs to chase down a newb. Or, at least, get close enough to help her out if needed.

First things first, though, she pulls out the bit of tape with Lydia's hair stuck to it. Got to find the newb again, right? Right.

Hair that used to be on her head. Hair that has a connection to her, that carries her DNA. It's just the thing that Grace needs to forge a link to this specific person she's never met.

[Corr 2, Life 1: Track this person! Diff = 5 -1 (Personalized instrument) -1 (taking time)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (4, 4, 10) ( success x 3 )

flux
Grace doesn't have too much problem finding the young lady. She finds her outside of an apartment building. The apartment building itself seems to be a hazy location, difficult to really scry but it would appear that Lydia is far enough outside of the location that she's still findable.

She seems to be headed away from the apartment at that particular moment.

Grace
Apartment with wards, eh? Okay. They could be Trads. Or Disparates. Grace sighs. Okay, time to go meet the woman you've been stalking. No nerves, now.

She starts the car and heads out of the dentist's parking lot that had been her temporary hideout.

She's got Cheetos and canned espresso for the ride (because its suuuch a long trip). Let's do this.

flux
Oh god, and it is a drive. Colorado Springs is an hour and some change away, but with the sheer volume of morons that one has to deal with at any given time it feels like it's an eternity when you are driving. Worse than Missouri (and there's a reason that Missouri sounds a lot like the wordmisery.)

But, soon enough, Grace is able to get to the apartment complex and follow along with her little tracking knowledge to find the young woman that she has ever-so-gracefully been stalking.

Or, well, about where she is. When she gets to the location, she has to really focus. She's looking for Lydia, knows she's at the pool, but Grace no doubt overlooks the sunbather a couple times (despite the fact that she is the only one there). Like the girl is a blip in her memory, like the conversation they are about to have is going to be one that she has to really hold onto.

Grace
Arcane meet Arcane, eh? Grace doesn't want to be found out too often either. She knows how it goes. Still, it's annoying being on the opposite end, isn't it?

Grace isn't dressed like a pool-goer. Dark jeans and a blue jacket zipped up almost to her neck complete her ensemble today. That and a wild mop of hair she hasn't brushed.

She sits down on one of the pool chairs next to Lydia, clears her throat, and says "Hi. Sasha is looking for you."

flux
Grace clears her throat, and it does seem to be enough to get Lydia's attention. She pulls her sunglasses down, looks at her and it takes her a minute before she finally seems to register what the lady just said.

And she is immediately on her feet and trying to make a break for the gate. "ANGELA!"

Grace
"Wait! I'm here to help!"

Fuck it. Grace gets to her feet, pulls her phone out of her pocket.

Tries to make a run for it...

flux
It's a mess out here, ladies and gentlemen. Not a lot of people are home, a chick in a swimsuit is making a break for the gate. Grace is making a break for the gate, and from a nearby apartment, there is a lean Hispanic woman making a break out of her front door.

She's built like someone who has done more than a couple foot chases in her life, runs like she is most alive when she is running. Feels determined, more than anything. What detracts from her general aire of authority and strength is the fact that she has run out in a pair of My little Pony pajama pants and a tee shirt that is three sizes too big for her.

Grace
Run, Grace, away from the women who have gotten the wrong idea. Not hard to see why, in hindsight, but you know...

"Please, I'm not here to hurt you! I know it looks bad, I can explain!"

flux
[Angela- vault!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

flux
The older woman jumped the fence, and while it wasn't graceful it was very clear at that juncture that Grace was in a situation that was about to go from bad to worse. Once she's cleared the gate, though, the Hispanic woman stopped.

Regarded Grace for a minute, and tilted her head to the side before something like recognition dawned on her. She nodded.

"... c'mon, let's go talk. You can explain, I can make tea."

Grace
Grace breathes for a second, because she wasn't quite ready to go sprinting today. Angela, she presumes, isn't ready to tackle her anymore, and that's a good sign.

She nods. "Tea. Tea is good. Okay."

Her phone goes back in her pocket, and raises her hands in a bit of a mock gesture of goodwill.

Please don't shove my head into the pavement, lady.

flux
Lydia makes her way through the gatequickly, and seems keen on keeping Angela between herself and Grace. She hadn't come out with anything at that juncture.

Angela walks at a pace that is leisurely towards an apartment whose door is sitting wide open. "So, where are you from?"

Her tone is conversational, and she waits until everyone is inside of the apartment before she shuts the door.

The place isn't terribly big- it's a one bedroom with a small kitchen and a dining room that seems to act as part dining room and part pantry. What should be the pantry has the door open- it looks like a small library/shrine. Books where the food goes, and a rather ornate set up with flowers and offering bowls and candles and an altar table set out for an effigy of a skeleton in green and gold robes. Cloaked in sunlight with roses at her feet. She looks almost like the Virgin Mary, but one would have to think better of it. The door to the pantry locks from the inside.

"And how do you know my guest?"

Grace
"Denver," she offers, when the question comes up. Grace walks along with them, because the only other option is to flee and let this thread of a mystery hang.

It does let some of the tension out of her shoulders though, when she sees that shrine. Okay, definitely not 'Crats.

"The name's Grace. I'm with the Mercurial Elite. And I know your guest, because I found her boyfriend trying to find her via a hack."

flux
The mention of Denver makes Angela's eyebrows knit together. Her mouth press into a line. She continues on with the heating of water and the brewing of tea, because they were going to have tea and this was going to be a conversation. Grace says she is with the Mercurial Elite.

"Angela Avella, Chakravanti," she offers. Takes another look at Lydia and seems to contemplate how to progress forward.

"What's a Mercurial Elite?" Lydia asks, cocks her head to the side and takes a seat on the couch.

"Reality coders," Angela replies, "what turned you on to Ms. Zharkova's case, Grace?"

She handles these matters like a police officer would. In fact, when her face isn't obscured by distance, it's clear that she is one of the women from the greasy spoon she'd seen when she was scrying.

flux
[Lydia, WP: totally not freaking out over that[

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

flux
"Did you get anything about a location?" Angela asked, seeming to pass voer her own obvious confusion when she mentions something about the dark net- there are things she has no idea about. The digital world isn't her world.

"I heard something about Montana?" Lydia offered, "it was all really blurry... I was meeting with someone to talk about mission work."

flux
Lydia looks absolutely horrified by what Grace is implying- all soft hearted things are, "who would ever do something like that?"

There is a little more from Grace, how she says she's making sure that Lydia was okay before she proceeded, "but what about Grant? There's still people out there."

This seems to surprise Angela. brows raise, but she is in the process of managing tea, so she lets Grace lead the investigation here.

flux
"He said he used to live in California," she said, "Grant Kherrington. We had a couple meals together and then he went away and I went away. They seemed pretty pissed that he was talking to the girls there."

flux
"What makes you sure he hasn't already?" Angela quirks a brow, "how did he see what happened?"

flux
"If there is a video floating around of someone teleporting into Colorado Springs it needs to get buried or debunked so fast that the Technocracy's collective mirror shaded heads spin. We heard things were going down in Denver, and I do not want them here again."

Again, Angela said. Again, like they've had to deal with the technocracy in Colorado Springs (more times than she'd like).

"You understand, my only source of information right now is you and a girl who has become aware of the magickal world for about a minute. If you can deal with whatever is going on online, we can handle the offline repercussions."

flux
"Given that Denver has proven itself to be more reasonable than it has been in the past, you can expect to hear more and see more collaboration with the city of Colorado Springs," she says. Calm. Collected. Ready, "and if you could make sure this young lady gets paid for the time she's worked, that would be greatly appreciated."

Cabalists' Reunion

Kalen Holliday
Kalen could use a friend right now.  And thus, naturally, instead of calling his friends he has come to Washington Park.

There is no scarecrow by the lake.  There is almost never a scarecrow by the lake, but Kalen has yet to give up hope of seeing The Message again.  Washington Park is also where he runs into other friends and fascinating things happen.  It is largely for that first thing that he has spread a wool blanket over the ground at the base of a tree and settled down to stay awhile.  He's sprawled partly on the blanket and partly against the tree.

He's been in and out of Denver and he's running with no few projects simultaneously, so he is sipping at coffee.  However much he loves Washington Park and however much he would like a nap, this is not the place for sleeping.  At least not alone.  There are books in the bad that he brought, but he is not reading through any of them in an attempt to cling to productivity.  Instead, he watches the park through half-closed eyes.  Both he and the park are calm enough for that, at least for the moment.

[And, how distracted by Resonance are we?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 5 )

Alexander Brandt
[Awareapathy]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 2, 4) ( botch x 1 )

Alexander Brandt
[Ugh...]

Alexander Brandt
One thing that an observer might have noticed about Alexander since his ‘release’ was just how much time he was spending outdoors.  He had always been an active person, preferring to be outside than stuck inside, but this was almost being taken to an extreme.  Home was somewhere to store things, to sleep.  He had some plans to change some things – those white walls needed painting, for one thing – but they were things that he was in no rush to get to.

The park calls to him for a similar reason to Kalen.  It’s somewhere peaceful in the city, and it’s a place with memories tied to it.  He comes here looking for the same scarecrow, although not really expecting to find it.  There had been…  maybe not a promise as such, but certainly an acknowledgement that travelling through the Umbra together was something that he and The Message could both get something from.  Alex had no way to get through the Umbra – yet, anyway – and so he returned from time to time to see if The Message had decided that it was time.  Not yet.

There is something he picks up on, though, close to the lake.  There’s a presence close to the tree line, something that makes him tense up.  He doesn’t turn to look, but it’s something he would always remember.  Something Potent, Incisive and Reflective.  He has a light jacket on, which he reaches into to check for something.  He doesn’t close, doesn’t turn to look.  He walks away.

Grace
Kalen, trusting in Fate, just brings another blanket as means to summon friends. If he were anyone else, if Denver wasn't what it is, this might not work. Fortunately for him, he is Kalen and Denver is Denver.

Denver sometimes likes to be a dick, though.

Grace is Grace. Taking straight lines through curving sidewalks, only moving for the trees, because the probably won't move for her.

She's in nature, yes, but distracted by her phone, because this is the kind of relaxation a Mercurial Elite enjoys. Get away from it all, and plug into the all.

Kalen Holliday
Kalen senses Resonance, but it isn't familiar.  Interesting, but unfamiliar.

There was a time when he would have gone to chase down this new Mage.  Evaluate them.  Offer them things.

What does he have to offer now?  Not Ginger.  Not the library.  He himself is hardly in a position to take on a student.  Friends?  He in't sure he's in much of a position for that either.

But then there is Grace, proceeding linearly through the park.  And so, he chases nothing, at least for now.  Instead he waits.  Perhaps Grace will get this new Mage.  Perhaps Grace will come alone.  Regardless, he stays where he is.

Alexander Brandt
[Totally trying again, given the new Resonance!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (7, 7, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 5 )

Alexander Brandt
[I AM NOT SERAFINE!!  But at least we can get them talking now.]

Alexander Brandt
Alex walks around the edge of the lake, getting further from that unseen resonance.  It brings him closer to another, though.  Something familiar, someone who had come to see him out at the motel.  This time, no awkward semi-nakedness to get in the way.  He pats his jacket pocket again, reassuring himself that he has some kind of protection.  Hopefully it won’t be needed, but you never can tell.  He gets closer to her, skipping the niceties as he tells her, “I think I just felt a Technocrat.”  He jerks his head in the direction of the treeline, still not turning to look.

Grace
[Awareness!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Grace
Grace looks up, smiles at Alex, until his serious face and words sink in, and that's no longer the appropriate response. The seriousness in Alex's face gets reflected, then.

"Kalen's here. We should get with him. Strength in numbers," she says, though she doesn't sense anything more than friendlies, herself.

She then sets off, quicker now, more alert now, in the direction she had already been taking.

Alexander Brandt
Grace starts to head off again, but Alex grabs her arm to stop her.  “If it’s who I think it is, he’s powerful.  More powerful than Sera is, or Victoria was.”  Now he starts scanning the treeline, looking for some sign of movement.  His hand goes pack into his jacket and stays there this time, a faint click of something metallic following.

“With you on the safety in numbers, though.”  He walks along side Grace when she sets off again, although does slow down if their route seems to be heading towards that feeling of resonance he picked up on moments before.

Grace
Their route is heading toward Kalen, if that is where Alex is afraid to go. But look, it's him, on a blanket, and Grace is undisturbed.

Well, maybe a little disturbed by the noises coming from behind her.

"Let's try using diplomancy first? If it comes to that. But I'm glad you're prepared."

Kalen Holliday
Kalen looks up to see Grace approaching with the new Mage, who appears not to be new at all.

Different.  Everything is different because of things that happened and Alexander feels different.  Kalen is used to reaching out and breathing in the solidity of Alexander's Resonance, but now Alexander is closer to the kind of infinite possibility that Kalen has always seen.  Closer to what he should be, perhaps.

Grace is with him though.  And Grace wouldn't bring him here if he was angry.  If she knew.  Would she know?

He sets down his coffee, rises from his sprawl, and heads slowly out to meet them.  They are wary of potential Technocrats.  Kalen is wary because abandoning him, one way or another, is basically what people do.

"Hey," he says quietly as he reaches them.  Just that.  And then he studies them, more Alexander than Grace, as he waits.

Alexander Brandt
Let’s try using diplomacy first?

“Right.  Sure.”  Because that’s totally what got him into the whole pile of shit two months ago.  Nothing to do with being shot in the leg with a tranquiliser, nothing to do with blacking out after having his knee destroyed by gunfire.  Either way, he isn’t planning on shooting the floor if circumstances ever repeat themselves.

He still slows as they close with Kalen’s rug, expecting… something.  “Oh, I’m the proverbial boy scout, right?”

It isn’t Kalen that he’s expecting to see.  He doesn’t immediately react to seeing him, instead turning to check the other parts of the park that are visible from where they are.  The bastard must have gone somewhere.  He is still a little paranoid in some ways, but now he knows that the bad guys really are out there.   He finds… nothing.  Nobody.  There’s a deep growl, followed by another faint click and Alex’s hand coming out from his jacket.

“Hey.”  The distraction fades and Kalen’s presence is registered more.  That much is obvious, as Alex closes the distance between them and pulls Kalen into a bear hug.  “I’ve missed you.”

Grace
Grace watches them hug, but more importantly, watches the people, keeps her senses open. And then, takes her phone out again.

"Alex thought he sensed a Technocrat. I'm going to set up some protection," she says, all business and focus.

[Corr 2: Stiffening space against Corr manipulation. Diff 5, -1 = taking time]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (1, 2, 4) ( success x 1 )

Kalen Holliday
Infinite possibility is a thing with which Kalen has at least a passing acquaintance.  And he has, on occasion, been accused of unchecked optimism and completely foundless hope.

Hell, he has tried to make peace with vampires and wants to make peace with the Technocracy.  He loves to live in the edges of the world where improbability and reality and faith and hope collide into something transcendent.

And Kalen Holliday, despite all of these things, never considered this possibility for his reunion with Alexander.  He does not, at all, fight with being hugged.  Kalen fighting against hugs is not a common occurrence, particularly from people he is close to.  It takes a second for him to process exactly what this moment is, because he expected something so very different.

"Missed you too."

Grace mentions a potential Technocrat, but Kalen stays where he is.  Grace with get them some kind of protection.  Alexander is there.  And most of what Kalen can do about the Technocracy he could do without stepping away from Alexander anyway.  And, from here, no one is taking Alexander without taking him.  There is, also, that.

"Welcome home," he says softly.

Alexander Brandt
Alexander has changed.  More than the simple (or not so simple) changing of his resonance, he had been given something of a wake-up call over the past couple of months.  Part of that is that he needs other people.  He’d pushed others away before, when things were going badly.  He might return to old ways later, but for now?  For now he doesn’t push, but pulls them closer.  Kiara had been the first, now Kalen.  Others, too, who are close to Alex may well get the same reaction when he meets them.  Other who may be equally surprised.

Welcome home.

“Funny that.  It finally does feel like home.”  He releases Kalen, turning back to scan the park.  “But, yeah.  I felt…”  A pause.  “Someone.”  There’s the flow of Grace’s resonance around them as she does something that Alex can’t, yet, comprehend.  With more experience, a greater connection with reality, he might be able to do something more to help.  His connection had strengthened, but it was something that he was barely beginning to scratch the surface of: that being able to make a change, rather than standing and watching.  But he’s never been one to sit and watch others do all the work.  So he looks around, concentrating on finding that familiar resonance again.

[Per+Awareness, WP because we’re really blood trying to find him]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (7, 9, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 6 ) [WP]

Alexander Brandt
[Third eye: well-squeegeed.  Bill Hicks would be pleased.]

Grace
Grace is still hard at Work. She clunks her phone hard across the side, because sometimes you need to do a bit of manual debugging, right? Not everything is going smoothly with this. But if she tries, really hard...

Oblivious to the rest of the world, she continues trying to weave the connections of the world in on themselves so that they cannot be used...

[Extending, with wp, because the code is being dumb]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (1, 7, 8) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Kalen Holliday
Alexander releases Kalen and Kalen takes a half step away.  He stays close.  He has sensed nothing.  There is, even if there are Technocrats present, some chance that there may be no cause to fight.  No need to get aggressive and provoke anyone.  He tries to remember Ms. Grey and that Technocrat from the coffeehouse more than any of his other experiences with them.

Years of coming to the conclusion that more blood is not the way to the world he wants war against a decade of training that his enemies are clear and his responses are equally clear.

Grace is still working, so, for now, he waits.  Alert enough, but not quite concerned enough to be spooked.  His eyes scan over the park

"Once you're ready, Kit," he says quietly.  "I suggest a change of location."

Alexander Brandt
“Dammit.”  It’s a mild curse, quietly spoken.  Maybe the guy had moved on, or used some way to hide himself.

Experience shapes actions, and recent experience has perhaps made Alexander a little less tolerant in some ways.  Blood is, mostly, not the first option unless it can’t be helped.  But there are now certain circumstances where he is more likely to fight before talking.  More than standing between an Apprentice and her potential abductor, this is something more targeted.  Something that comes from fear that it could happen again.  And a very certain attitude that he wouldn’t be caught again.

Alex nods, though, at the suggestion of changing location.  “Being somewhere else seems like a great idea right now.”  He hasn’t completely shifted the idea that he’s still being watched, but there doesn’t seem to be an immediate danger now.

Grace
"Yeah," she says to Kalen. "I was making it harder for them to track us on the way to said location."

She sighs and lets her eyes scan the park again, a little upset at how weak her shield was, but what can you do?

"Let's go."

Go where? That's something she leaves unsaid, because there's more than one way to find out where people are going to go.

Kalen Holliday
Kalen glances between the two of them.  It takes him less than ten seconds to come up with a workable plan and then an alternate plan. He takes the few steps to pick up his coffee and his blanket, then looks back to them and smiles.

"My car?"  Apparently he isn't interested in broadcasting their destination, or potential destinations, either.

Alexander Brandt
“Works for me.”  Alex would normally offer to help Kalen carry something, but he doesn’t want to get his arms tied up with anything right at the moment.  He lets Kalen lead, knowing where the car is currently parked.  “I can drive.”  It seems sensible: he assumes that he’s had the most experience behind a wheel, and the others can do more if they’re not distracted by patty issues like not driving under an 18-wheeler.  Still, there’s no talk of location until they’re safely away from this one.

cricket
(My vote is they all rock up to Kiara's apartment at 10PM without warning.)

Alexander Brandt
[Partay!]

Kalen Holliday
["Hi, Kiara!  Haven't seen you in ages.  Brought my friends and maybe the Technocracy.  Got any whiskey?"]

Family Squabbles

Margot
Meet me at 3?  We can get coffee and talk about this?

Sure.  I know a place.

A link to a coffee shop's location in the Sante Fe Art's District was sent over through text messages soon to follow.  It was a Tuesday afternoon and the weather had been fairly chilly-- a hell of a thunderstorm swept through and brought a cold front along with it the day before.  Margot would have ordinarly sat inside on a day like this but at least the clouds in the sky were pale gray and high in elevation, not threatening to dump any more rain upon them anytime soon.  The winds from the day before had stilled too.

With a paper to-go cup from the shop in her hand, Margot was hovering outside in a hoodie and jacket with the hood pulled up over her head-- not far enough forward to hide her face like she was trying to mask her identity (that'd be the best way to draw attention, to look like you were actively hiding anyways), but just to keep the damp cool air off her neck.  Jeans, sneakers, nose ring.  All she needed was a cigarette to look the part of a proper coffee shop loiterer.

When Grace approached, the petite young woman nodded her chin up and lifted a hand to wave.  She would smile, but there was no pretense at play here-- while she was trying to keep Pen and Nick oblivious to the situation that was impossible with the request she was making of the Virtual Adept.  So, it was an expression of grim resolve that greeted Grace today.

Grace
Okay, grim resolve. Meet grim resolve. Grace wanders up in her jeans and grey turtleneck jacket, zipped up the neck, her hair messed up and her eyes tired, like she suggested coffee for a reason.

But when she finds Margot, her eyebrows raise a little. Hi there. She walks over, slides into a chair like it is comfort itself.

"So. You want me to trace someone for you?"

Margot
Following Grace's lead to sit at a table, Margot stopped hovering near the wall like a weirdo and sat down as well.  She slipped into the seat across from Grace instead of beside her-- not many people wanted to hang out on the patio, so there wasn't a need to huddle heads for the sake of privacy.

"Yeah."  A pause, where Margot's jaw set.  "My brother."

The coffee cup moved up, but paused as she thought to add a little more clarification.

"He just got out of prison-- or maybe rehab?  If he's out this early?  Anyway, he called me with a none too friendly message and I don't want him visiting unexpectedly."

Grace
Oh. Grace's head ticks up a notch at this new information. Finally, Margot has decided to provide some.

"Ahh. In that case... I could probably set something up for you. But listen -- would you like something else? To feel more safe perhaps?"

Margot
The question posed had Margot looking up into Grace's face.  With how her eyebrows were raised up, she appeared surprised.  She didn't expect an offer for protections as well, and after blinking a few times the surprise gave way to a softening of an otherwise grim visage.  Not entirely relaxed, but relieved certainly.  Appreciative, for sure.

"Grace, thank you.  Knowing where he is is going to be a big enough help."  She took a sip then lowered her hands to hold the cup nearer to her lap.  Seemed to consider the offer for a moment, then consider how to explain her own thoughts on the matter before finally she huffed a breath and gave an answer.

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but hear me out:  I think that I'm supposed to be facing him on my own, at least as much as possible.  My Avatar, she's a War Goddess, and I feel like this is happening as maybe a test of some kind?  To show my mettle?  It's... a dick move, I think, he's mybrother, you know?  But still."

Another sip, then a reassurance after a pause:  "Ned's helping me prepare to defend myself, and I've been staying at his place until I'm ready, where Luke won't find me."

Grace
"I would be careful about trying to literally interpret what your Avatar is saying," Grace says, looks up at Margot with a bit of worry in her eyes. "Once, my Avatar made me a contestant in the Wheel of Fortune with Pat Sajak and Vanna White."

Just, you know, let that sink in, Margot. Sometimes, Avatars are weird too.

"Everyone on set kept encouraging me to play, including my best friend and worst enemy. My Avatar was saying all these things to me -- do this, do that, do the other thing. The lesson was to say 'no'."

She looks up toward the ceiling, examining the room a bit for people within earshot. Keeps her conversation low.

"Every time, I've had to fight my Avatar, stand up to it, stab it, take from it what I need. You say she's a war goddess. What does she think about you surrendering to her all the time?"

Margot
"I think 'all the time' is a bit excessive," said Margot with a quiet tone of defense, the kind that came with a tiny bit of a sting to her pride.  There wasn't much pride built up in the way of Magickal affairs just yet, but when it came to the matter of the strength of your spine even bookish little things like Margot Travers could get a little touchy.

"I mean, think of it this way:  I've not really been much of a warrior up until this point.  I ran away from my problems and have shied away from violence when I can, either by avoiding the situation, running, or negotiating and talking reason.  I have dreams about Andraste, and when I see her in my dreams she has sharp black teeth and her hair is a literal river of blood.  She wants me to...."

The scowl got heavier here, because she was trying to interpret what her Avatar wanted again and she knew that Grace just cautioned her against it, but there was a loss of other ways to describe it.  She licked her lips, took another quick sip of her coffee, and tried again.

"I suppose I should say that I feel like I'm supposed to become more like her.  I don't feel like I'm supposed to worship her or copy her, but I'm supposed to be her Right Hand.  And I think that she needs to know that I can fight and find Magick in the battlefield instead of just letting my own blood and burning my own supplies."

Grace
"And you think she wants you to kill your brother?"

It's direct, her question. If Margot says yes, perhaps she won't offer guns and ammo...

Margot
At first the silence between them answered the question, filled only by the background sounds of the city surrounding them and the quiet sip that Margot made at her coffee cup.  Perhaps Grace had heard enough and was about ready to just let the Apprentice stew in her own poor choices before the girl sighed and pressed her lips together and looked down at her knuckles.

"I don't want it to come to that.  I want to be able to explain what happened to him and make him understand, but... I don't think that's likely.  I took his arm away.  He--.."

Her voice cracked and she swallowed against the sudden dry patch in her throat.  Took a breath and bit her lip.  Clearly this was a topic she struggled with.  She spoke of it fretfully, like walking on untrustworthy ice, unsure of whether she should bolt across it quickly and hope that she beats the surface cracks or if she should ease around it instead.  Apparently she just found a particularly thin patch of recalling events in her own psyche and chose to skirt around it instead.

"He might be out here to kill me.  And if prison didn't keep him away once it won't keep him away a second time.  I'm gonna... gonna try.  Gonna try really fucking hard with him, but if it comes to it...  If it's him or me, it's gotta be me."

Grace
"Try. Really fucking hard. You want to be able to tell yourself later that you didn't have a choice. You want to be able to mean it," Grace says, eyes Margot's coffee like she wants it. If it weren't for the prospect of sharing germs, she might just go for it.

"I can get you some light body armor," she says, still looking at the coffee, but tugging at her grey jacket like: 'See? This.' "Was going to offer a place to stay, but you've got Ned... Would you like a highly-trained dog?"

Margot
The words of caution about trying very hard, if for nothing more than the sake of her future self's conscience, were accepted with a serious nod.  Margot was listening, and she was taking Grace very seriously.  She wouldn't have reached out to the woman if she didn't think that her words and wisdom carried weight.  Ultimately the actions and decisions would still be her own, but guidance didn't really hurt.

Eyes hopped next to the gray jacket that was indicated, and she smiled.  "If it's not too much trouble, I think that would be handy for this and any number of other issues I'm probably going to come up against in this bright new world.  As for the dog..."  A shake of her head, and the smile turned into more of a grin-- humor, even if only a little, was a healthy thing.  "My apartment's pretty small, and Ned's is somehow even smaller.  I even found someone to keep my pet rabbit, there's so little room for extra bodies.

"I do really appreciate the offer, though, Grace.  I mean, I know we haven't, like, hung out much or anything?  But I trust you, and I'm glad that trusting you was a good choice."

Grace
Grace unzips her jacket down to the bottom, strips it off, revealing the t-shirt underneath. It's the one with the giraffe on the front who's wearing about 10 ties with the line "Trust me, I'm super professional" on it. She hands it over to Margot.

"Try it on, see if it fits. You look pretty much maybe my size."

So, literally the shirt off her back, she will hand over.

"It's cut-resistant. Not easily stabbed or bitten through. Got it for zombies."

Margot
Grace unzipped her coat and shrugged it off and Margot just stared at her in disbelief at first.  The coat had to be held out to her for a couple seconds, maybe even shaken to indicate that Yo, girl, you're supposed to grab this before she finally reached out and accepted the jacket.

"Jesus, Grace, thank you."  Really, the coat off her back.  Margot analyzed the jacket, feeling the material between her fingertips.  Then she set it over the back of one of the empty chairs cluttered around their table and stood up.  Unzipped her own brown jacket, not nearly as sturdy but it was a worn old leather and just a little bit big on her petite frame.  The lining was clean and warm looking, though.  This was also put over the back of the chair so she could try the coat on.

"You can replace it for yourself, though, right?"  Concerned, of course, but Margot was also checking the length of the sleeves, how the jacket sat about her waist and chest and hip when it was zipped.  She pulled the hood of her sweater back up over her head after tugging it free from the coat's collar, then gestured to the brown coat on the chair.  "It's not nearly as awesome, but it's warm...  Not a fair trade, but it's yours."

Grace
"Oh, no. Keep it. I can get another jacket. That's just for expediency's sake," Grace says, waving it off. "I could go for your coffee though."

Also, for expediency's sake.

"About your brother? If he enters Colorado, you'll get a birthday email from me, okay? Consider it the warning. I'm not going to be around for a while -- going up to Colorado Springs to do a thing. You be careful. If you need help, ask for it. Reinforcements are a part of warfare, after all, right? Being smart, tactical, all that."

Margot
The expression on the girl's face showed a measure of discomfort with accepting what she deemed to be such a valuable gift without providing something in return, but she didn't argue.  The coffee that was being requested out of her hand wasn't monetarily worth much but Grace looked as tired as she herself felt stressed, so the still hot drink was handed off without hesitation.

"I'll keep my  eyes on my email then.  And yeah, I have my back-up in place."  She didn't point out the fact that her back-up wasn't her dangerously mad scientist of a mentor, but rather her fellow Apprentice of a cabalmate.  She just smiled gratefully and gathered up the brown jacket in her arms, still wearing the one that Grace had bestowed upon her.

"Seriously, thank you again.  My favors aren't as big as yours yet, but they'll get there, and when they do or even before I'll owe you one, alright?"  She looked like she was getting ready to go-- no doubt Margot had a number of things that she was trying to get figured out and in order before her brother descended upon her.  Who knew how soon or how far away his arrival would be?

But before she went, she felt it prudent to add:

"Oh, and whatever you're doing in Colorado Springs?  I hope it all goes well for you."

Red Room (Part 2)

Grace
What Grace has seen so far is pretty damning, and she's pretty sure she doesn't want to dive into this rabbit hole to see how deep it goes. But she wants a mountain of indisputable evidence with names to go with it. She feels some sympathy right about now for Sam, who had to watch all night as The Artist's minions skinned people alive.

First, let's find out who is responsible for the .onion site. Let's see who is running 'Mortis Cafe' as the hex address reads. Let's read their email. And see what comes next.

flux
Grace, seeing as how she is not only with the Mercurial Elite but is also a brilliant computer person, only has to take a good twenty minutes while some program runs in the background and she decrypts the emails in the box. Public key? Private key? Pfft, when you're a mage data is data. Knowledge and power is a digital skeleton key that can unlock damned near anything with modern-but-mundane encryption.

The emails for the webmaster at Mortis Cafe are from the standard anonymous email service that anyone with a little bit of time and a lot of boredom can secure. The person who does most of the maintenance at the current happens to be someone who is currently going by "nomnomdead" (Or "Nomz" as people in emails tend to call them) and they put forth the requests to the execs at Vivid Xxxtreme to up the security on the site and bandwidth issues. Overall, the emails that this person gets are very standard emails that someone gets when dealing with any website- evenif that website livestreams torture and murder.

There's a rather heated discussion thread in one of the between Nomz and someone named DocBrad. It would seem that DocBrad was trying to convince Nomz to talk to the execs about moving their operations out of the states and into Thailand. (Aren't you sick of Montana yet?) The argument is that they would be able to operate Mortis Cafe with a little more freedom in Thailand and branch into other markets.

Nomz was having none of that, and has seemed to tell DocBrad to take his money and ideas and fuck off (No amount of coin is going to make me let Murphy know freaks like you want more than you're already getting. We cater to voyeurs, not monsters.) There are occasional emails from execs asking Nomz to survey a few emails, and a few more regarding IP addresses and ranges that needed to be blocked, and the occasional mention of reference.

Someone going by the name of Capricious seems to do the background checks of potential buyers in, and is new to the job. It would seem that DocBrad was doing it before he and Nomz had their falling out.

Grace
Voyeurs not monsters? That's what they call their snuff stream? Voyeurism? Monsters do what -- kill children on live video? Because that would be the market to 'branch into' in Thailand. Ugh. The banality of it all is sickening enough. Bandwidth issues and IP blocking and torture.

Okay. Chill. They're in Montana? Isolated place. And who are the execs here? Any financial or employee data that might lead to DocBrad, Nomz, or Capricious?

flux
As expected, Nomz isn't on any of theliteral payroll documents in the server though Vivid Xxxtreme seems to have an abundance of money tied up into miscellaneous fees and equipment costs- the kind of costs that would imply that they are buying a new piece of major filming equipment every month or, at the very least, buying a new car every two months. Many of the purchase orders and involices are for companies with either very generic names or for goods that are easily returned for cash.

Or, conversely, for goods that aren't actually goods.

The employee data is complicated for this particular company. Models, talent, financial advisors, HR- there are dozens of names. And interns. They have interns. Grace knows that when she looks through the employee and financial data that they are easily covering some of the cash made in their livestream shows at Mortis Cafe by saying they pay their infrastructure top dollar (even if she knows, with a little digging, that half of the people in company don't seem to actually exist).

She knows the payrates are wrong, the models she's heard complaints from online have said as much- they didn't see most of the money that they were promised, and they were promised enough that the offers were tempting. Savvy people would have seen them as "too good to be true", or perhaps just overinflated. Vivid Xxxtreme pays their talent on the higher end of average, even though most of their actresses don't see most of their money.

There is, however, a curious list of people in their internship program- one of them being a Lydia Zharkova (who exists in both their internship program and in the contract employees section under talent) and a Bradley Olliver as head of that particular department.

Grace
Lydia. And DocBrad? Do they keep all their victims on payroll in order to launder the money? Grace sighs. Bradley Olliver goes on her list.

It's time to go ask the internet about what she's found. They are creatures of the deep web here, there's bound to be some chatter, right? Ask about them. Anonymously. Carefully.

There's some key words. Nomz, Mortis Cafe, DocBrad, Capricious... Things she can look for in her own way.

[Corr 2, Entropy 3 -- Index the Unindexed. We're searching the deep web for things that should be unsearchable... except Magick, yo. Diff = 6 - 1 (personalized instrument) -1 (Taking time)

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (4, 5, 6) ( success x 3 )

Grace
[Extend!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (2, 3, 6) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Grace
This shouldn't be possible. But Grace has a quantum computer with an ungodly number of qubits under her dashboard. The creation of the index is, as in all search operations, the hardest. She must invoke a quantum oracle and tie it to the data of the web. From there, a combination of partial quantum searches (fast, to probabilistically weed out the non-matches) followed by full ones (to get closer to an accurate result) allows her to get somewhere.

It's not easy. And it's still not fast. She'll get back fuzzy results. But what remains after the filtering is the best shot she's got.

flux
Say what one will about the data that she had, it would seem that Nomz (or nomnomdead) was a smart cookie when they picked out the handle to go by. They made a distinct choice, and one that is easy to get picked up and looked over. There's little bits of information here and there, but the most accurate thing she can figure out is that Nomz is young- younger than she is and younger than Samir and probably not old enough to drink. (Three years ago, from a forum thread relating to amateur film making. Wilhemina: U still grounded or RU ponying up 4 festival? Nomnomdead: hahahahafuckoffyes.) Doesn't spend a lot of time going other places. Had some ties with Silk Road and Evolution before they went down. (Lilyphobia: Thank god for SR3, I don't have to leave my house for weed now. TehEmperator: Whoa there, going Nomz on me? Lilyphobia: haha, Nomz couldn't hit the mailbox, I'm not that bad.)

There is other information there as well. DocBrad seems interesting enough. Some people think he runs a travel blog, goes along the world and experiences life and the world around him. Either a travel blogger or a talent scout, but he's as much a Doctor as Kesha's producer is and probably just as skeezy. Seems interested in fastest toys and best buys, purchased a few bogus passports and doesn't have any complaints against him. (Oberon22876: real fuckin' whale, this guy. Callas himself discerning. I'd say he can fuck himself but he always finalizes quick so why the fuck do I care?)

DocBrad aparently met Capricious on a trip to the Ukraine, said "If I'd known the fucker was going to steal my job I woulda dropped him in Chernobyl." Capricious is a shady figure. Doesn't dabble in much outside of moving money around for people. Is a person who knows people, and knows how to know people.

Mortis Cafe is an interesting one. There's rumors that float around about whether or not it is real. Some complaints about the buy in being too high to see nothing. Something about being accepted in sometimes but tossed out others. (The name "Capricious" really does fit. Took the cash and never gave the codes to get in.) Some people say it's the real thing. Other people say it's a hoax, there are some videos circulating around that are taped showings of what is there, but those tend to just be rumors.

Another rumor is an interesting one. Grace comes across this conversation on a forum:

u/killimanjango- Mortis is FAKE. Ten grand to get in to a cheap magic show

Justice: whoa, whoa, I know the real thing when I see it, this is real. 

Oberon22876: No, he's legit. Bought in twice. First was primo, 2nd- bitch just disappears. video quality cut out, no refunds and no moneyshot. lame. 

Isis: Never happened to me. MC delivers, sounds like someone has buyers remorse. 

Justice: Pics or it didn't happen. 

The integrity of Mortis Cafe has been questioned, given that the first videos seemed so good and then one video where their "model" literally seems to disappear. Nobody seems to have video of it, but the footage seems to be the stuff of urban legend now.

Grace
Grace has 'just disappeared' plenty of times, and her brow furrows at the thought of someone Awakening during torture. But, Awakening enough to escape.

She bites her lip and eyes Lydia2.jpg. Perhaps she can remove the Trojan, piece together the actual video underneath. That shouldn't be too hard. Watching it, however...

That's going to be hard. Maybe Lydia... got away? Only one way to be sure.

Grace
[Int + Computers, Diff 8 -3 (Chloe IV)]

Dice: 9 d10 TN5 (1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 6 )

flux
The other hacker who left the files might have been good, but let's be honest here: Grace was better. The average IT nerd would have been plugging away at this file for hours, converting it from its current format to the format it was supposed to be viewed in while removing the virus attached to it without accidentally letting the virus build in a back door and leave your system a zombie in a network of interconnected zombies.

She opens up the file, and it plays.

"I don't know why I'm recording this, it's not... it's not like I can do anything," the voice says. It's male, sounds like some Californian or someone else from the west coast. Like it's a voice overand the person has a dozen or more things running on his toolbar and he sure as shit isn't running an out-of-the-box operating system. "I don't-"

He sighs and turns off his microphone, clearly wearing a headset of some kind. It's just an empty room on screen and IMs are going off and there's a host of things that seem like distractions in the wake of this. The video is going on.

There is a brief interview when our person of choice comes out- she looks like she hasn't eaten anything in a couple days. She's still pretty, when she speaks she sounds like she's Russian. ("My name is Lydia... I'm twenty one... I live with my boyfriend and I am starting college in the fall.") There are other questions asked and she looks uncomfortable, doesn't want to answer some, but does anyway. Most of the questions are hard to hear, asked by someone off camera.

Instant message chat outside of the chat in the webcast comes up in the video.

nomnomdead: Please don't watch.
nomnomdead: I tried
wordsoffire: i can't leave
nomnomdead: sasha
nomnomdead: stop

His connection lags, the video in the room starts to fade out. Lag. It looks liek his connection is going to go dead.

wordsoffire: nomz, knock it off
wordsoffire: i have to see
nomnomdead: you don't live here, please.
wordsoffire: i can't leave
nomnomdead: neither can I

The video goes on, things start to become unpleasant. There is standard fare as one would expect. Faceless people and expect camera angles to obscure the right people and damned if that blood doesn't look real. Someone pays twelve grand to have them pull one of her teeth out- and that seems to be the catalyst for disaster. At one second she is obscured and the next there is a loud electrical pop. Half the lights falter, and in what looks like half a heartbeat Lydia is gone.

Just a pile of clothes and a confused man holding a pair of pliers.

The feed from the room cuts out.

nomnomdead: wtf
wordsoffire has logged off

The video ends.










Grace
This is... confusing. Not the woman disappearing, necessarily. Videos can be edited, and so can the universe. Maybe it was Lydia herself, or someone watching who decided to hell with the Rule of Shade. No. The social connections here are bizarre. Nomz -- a kid? In charge of this thing? And he doesn't seem to be doing so willingly.

Who is wordsoffire?

Who is it that she helped to deliver this payload?

Maybe the answer can be found within the virus. Botnets need a way to phone home, after all.

Grace
[Int + Computers, Diff 8 -3 (Chloe IV)]

Dice: 9 d10 TN5 (1, 1, 3, 3, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )

flux
And it does go back. Grace has no problem navigating the complicated world of the online, because to her this is home. To her, there is no complication. She is here and this is simply the way things are. She travels forth, and within an hour she does trace the trail back through all of its loops and swirls (and my, what an impressive little network there is) to an apartment in Portland.

Leased to one Sasha Armstrong and Lydia Zharkova.

flux
She's done well enough that, if she wanted, she could easily tap in and see what he was doing via webcam or security system. He didn't leave the back door open per se, but to Grace Evans there is no such thing as doorways.

Grace
She's tired. This whole ordeal has taken its toll on her, despite all the cans of cherry soda and chocolate-covered coffee beans she took with for sustenance. But, it's not going to be over yet, is it?

Grace could look in on Sasha if she wanted to, but privacy is a thing.

No, let's just say hi. Hacker to hacker.

[Corr 2, Entropy 2: Secure Connection. Directly connects to a target device, bypassing networks entirely, and encrypting the transmission. Diff 5, - 1 (personalized instrument) -1 (taking time)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (1, 5, 6) ( success x 2 )

Grace
[Extends!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (3, 5, 8) ( success x 2 )

Grace
A message pops up on the computers hooked into the network for Sasha's apartment. No traceroute will be successful, almost as if the data just appeared directly at the port.

It reads:

Hi, Sasha.

Don't panic.

I saw what you just did. Call it fate, but I was doing nearly the same thing at the time. I want to help.

flux
What. The actual. Fuck.

And he goes through the motions, too. Checks the traceroutes and can't find anything that he can see going on. Grace can see the general processes and the pushback on something that isn't there.



hi, Fate. How do you know my name?

Grace
Short version? Trojan -> botnet -> network -> apartment -> lease records -> Sasha and Lydia.

I assumed you were Sasha, and Lydia was the woman in the video.

You're not about to be busted or anything. I'm like, the furthest thing from a cop.

flux
good, because i am way too pretty to go to prison. If the cops get this it will go underground again and pop up somewhere else. 

Do you know where she went?

Grace
He's looking for her. Lydia who disappeared into thin air. Does Grace know where she went? She breathes out a sigh.

I actually went and cracked their servers because I wanted to stop them. I would like to keep them from going underground again and popping up somewhere else.

That's when I found that someone had beat me to the punch and was fighting an admin. Admirably.

I don't know where she went. Do you know where she left?

flux
She was going to meet some guy about a travel blog or something. She said he'd done some mission work in Thailand and wanted to talk to her about maybe doing the same in Russia. I'll check the texts. 

(a moment later, he opens a picture of a business card- Dr. Bradley Olliver [phone] [docbrad@internationalcharitiesinc.org)

That's the guy's business card. It was supposed to be some big trip up to Salem, she took a Grayhound. Got off in Salem but she never got back on. 

Grace
Okay. Next question, who is Nomz?

Sasha seemed to know the guy -- kid. Nomz who tried to shut down Lydia's torture, but failed. Who seems to be in on this whole thing, but why a boy like him?

flux
IDK if he's just really sick or agoraphobic or both. He's into film making- we met because he was looking for someone to submit a project for him to the LA Indie film festival. He didn't want his name on it on account of who his mom was- Nomz was scared it would bias the judging panel. 

There's some silence after that, as if Sasha is trying to figure out what to type next.

We hacked together for the lulz (poor Scientology). He went pretty dead air on things about a year and a half ago. I know he lives in Montana now with his dad. 

Grace
Who's his mom?

And, who's his dad? That seems to be the more pressing issue. If his dad is making him do this... Grace, well, let's just say she's trying to find an out for Nomz. It's not that long ago that she was a kid online doing bad things for the lulz herself. If someone could be salvaged...

Maybe it's too much to hope for?

flux
Bunny something. She was some scream queen in the 80's and 90's. 

Grace
Anything else you can tell me about all this? About Lydia? About where she might have gone perhaps?

flux
She randomly disappeared on camera, IDK where the fuck she would have gone. 

A pause

She likes animals and hates thunderstorms. She used to go camping a lot so if she was out in the middle of nowhere she could actually last for awhile.  

Grace
Middle of nowhere is a big place, Grace thinks. She's going to have to trace the girl somehow, though. Ugh, think.... Maybe she has a hairbrush or a toothbrush or something in the apartment? Something to get DNA out of? Something to help Grace with the tracking?

I'll see what I can do, Sasha. Don't do anything too crazy -- not that that was crazy. Good job. Let the sickos burn.

And then, Grace is focusing on another task. She's looking around the apartment for XX chromosomes -- female DNA. Something Lydia used has got to be here, hasn't it?

[Corr 2, Life 1 -- Looking for a hairbrush! Diff = 5 - 1 (taking time) - 1 (personalized focus)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (1, 5, 8) ( success x 2 )

flux
ANd she finds it! She finds it relatively easily at that because everything is exactly where one would think it would be. Sasha and Lydia seem to be tidy people. Hairbrushes are in a drawer in the bathroom and ne'er do the two's hairbrushes seem to meet.

It comes up easily enough, and is more than enough for her to find anything she needs.

Grace
A few hairs out of a brush shouldn't be missed. It's not like Sasha is going to open the drawer some day and go berzerk looking for hair that's gone. Her target's small enough that she can just reach through and grab a couple... But the universe isn't going to like it much.

She starts up the program again, having found what she needs, and it shouldn't hurt... too much?

[Corr 3, Life 2 -- Teleport some DNA samples! Diff = 6 - 1 (taking time) - 1 (personalized focus)]



Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Grace
She doesn't feel the ice in her veins as she reaches through a wormhole and pulls through a few bits of Lydia's information. It's something. Something to hone in on. She can ask the universe where the majority of this information can be found, can trace it back to the source.... hopefully.

[Corr 2, Life 1 -- Trace the strands back to an owner. Diff = 5 - 1 (taking time) - 1 (personalized focus)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (1, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )

Grace
[Extends!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (2, 4, 8) ( success x 2 )

flux
If the FBI had the kind of technology and skills that Grace Evans had, there owuld be no missing persons cases. That, or at the very least, they would be greatly limited. Grace is a very capable mage, very capable and very thoughtful. Had Lydia even been dead, she would have been able to find where her body was without a problem, if only because she has the adequate knowledge of both the living and nonliving to be able to make this work out for the best.

She goes through her motions, plays through the scenarios and follows the data to where it seems to want to go.

The location she finds is remarkably close- Colorado Springs.

Which, as Grace is well aware, is nowhere near Montana.

Grace
Ugh. Colorado Springs. Bastion of conservativism in Colorado. But whatever, it's close, right? If she wanted, she could drive there right now, except...

The sun is rising.

Grace has been up to this all night, and forgot to sleep again. But at least Lydia isn't out in the middle of nowhere. She rummages around in her laptop bag, and pulls out a bit of tape, which she uses to secure the hairs to. If she needs to find the woman again, she can. And she will. Tomorrow.

Just... There's a niggling thought. What if she's in danger? Usually, Grace wouldn't do anything like this, for fear of catching someone in the bath or mid-coitus or something, but... She just wants to know if Lydia needs help like, now.

[Corr 2 -- What's going on at that location? Is she on the street bleeding, is she asleep in a nice bed? What? Diff = 5 - 1 (taking time) - 1 (personalized focus)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

flux
What she does see when she tunes in is two people sitting at a diner. She knows that she's looking for Lydia- she knows that she's looking at Lydia, but even looking directly at her it is like her brain wants to forget that she is there at all. Wants to pass her off as some other brunette who is sitting across from a couple of off-duty cops. They're both Hispanic women, one decidedly more petite than the other. The smaller one looks serious, has her eyes trained on the door like she's expecting something bad to go down.

The other one is decidedly more calm.

Things, for now, seem to be relatively safe at this unassuming greasy spoon. One of the things that Grace does get, though, is the feeling of magick. The very distinct feeling of somethin g supernatual on the other side of that line and it doesn't seem to be entirely centered around Lydia. Grace knows how supernatural creatures seem to flock to each other.

... is this what's going on here?

Grace
Yup, definitely something Grace is going to prod at in the morning. Afternoon. When she gets up.

The connection drops rather immediately, now that she knows Lydia is safe, and what's more -- there were more people on the other side who might have an idea what Lydia is.

Shields. Up. Now. And then, to one of her temporary homes, to sleep this off.

[Corr2: Warding against what Grace just did to someone else, lol. Diff = 5 - 1 (taking time) - 1 (personalized focus)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (5, 5, 9) ( success x 3 )

Grace
[extends!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (1, 1, 9) ( success x 1 )

Grace
[grr!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (1, 3, 7) ( success x 1 )