Dissent Into Darkness (Shadowrun 4e)

[Galvain7]

The Sixth World.

By all accounts a rather pleasant place to live, where the sun shines all day and the trees and flowers bloom under the watchful eyes of a vigilant population of talented and empathetic caretakers. The Awakening and UGE forced the peoples and governments of the Earth to reassess centuries old prejudices and ideologies and the balance of power shifted away from huge uncaring nation-states and toward the smaller, more democratic micro states. A court of corporations holds the reigns of power, stabilizing the Earth. After all, the corporations are the people and the people are the corporations: What's good for the shareholders is good for us all. No more conflicts over resources, race or creed. The battles of the Sixth World are fought in the boardroom. No more blood, no more misery, no more needless suffering. The Dream of all Humanity has finally been realized: True Peace.

Until you turn off the VR, open a window (the one embedded in the wall made of ballistic plexiglass) and smell the Sixth World. Feel the oozing stink of acid rain, taste the grey oily smog seeping into your pores, hear the coughing death gasp of seething 12 billion strong mass of humanity as it clings, like a crazed animal, to the last vestiges of the gutted corpse of an Earth given to us by our ancestors.

You can be forgiven for preferring fantasy.

However, if you are one of those unfortunates prone to optimism, cursed with the vain desire to hope there is perhaps reason to take heart. Cagey and Ruthless the human race has once again proven it can adapt to any disaster, even one of its own making. Toxic smog and acid rain have been decreasing steadily since the 2060s, slowly at first, as those that can make real changes abandoned fossil fueled electricity and transport in favor of nuclear and microwave power, (mostly as a cost consideration) then gaining momentum as reliable solar panels, biofuel and waste compactors came online to smooth out the rough edges of the power supply matrix. Even the prenial problem of nuclear and toxic waste, once thought unbeatable, have been reversed with expensive new technologies- and magic. A greater push for green spaces and toxin resistant plant life has taken hold and the once-thought dead Environmental Research Agencies-Renraku unveiled the first real smog eating conifer. The zombie like nation states have risen grudgingly from the dustbin of history to take stock of the few resources left to them, focusing with sluggish determination on the few problems they can tackle. Widespread violent crime has slowly decreased as better social infrastructure, technology and tolerance led to slow, halting improvements in the life of the suffering man. The Great Matrix has spread nearly everywhere, carrying with it all manner of depravity and filth- and the entire accumulated knowledge of the human race.

The end hasn't hit. Not yet. And humanity marches on.

********
1001 hrs: 01/11/2076. Tequese Facility- Ares, Seattle, UCAS


Today is shaping up to be a fairly average work day. The 0800 security shifted out and reported no problems, and Lourens Rasmusen's custodial work docket showed only routine cleaning and a request by building security to have the mag-locks on the parking garage elevator re-calibrated. Apparently a drunk salaryman was beating the lock with his briefcase in a vain attempt to access "his pound womanz" before being escorted out of the building.

The only thing worth noting was the arrival of a uniformed guard, #287716-B, bearing a note from the other L. Rasmunsen, on the 13th floor, his personal office. The note read simply 'Come see me as soon as is easiest.'

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens

Taking the note from the guard, Lourens nods and turns his back on the man, not wanting to see his look of disgust on the mans face as he turns away. It was something he just had come to grips with.

Pulling open a window in his AR, Lourens shuts down his drones, letting their systems run diagnostics while they were shut down. The guard made a small startled sound as the room full of people simply melted away to leave bare concrete walls, and an empty room, and Lourens couldn't help but smile to himself. The holograms were quite realistic.

Stepping past the guard, he moves down the hall at a brisk pace, ignoring the looks of the others as he makes his way to the elevators. It was odd that his brother would use something archaic as paper, but it was without a doubt for good reason.

It wasn't long before he found himself at the door to Lawrences office, and the secretary waved him in without looking up. They'd already exchanged nicities on previous encounters.

The office was spacious and decorated sparsely, a large wooden desk off to one side, his brother facing out the large window on the opposite side of the room, his hands clasped comfortably behind his back.

"You called? Or, rather, sent for me? Must have been important, to put your poor secretary through that. I know she's complained - I've read the interoffice memos."

Moving over to the desk, he looked at the grain of the wood - real wood. It never ceased to amaze him.

[Galvain7]

As Lourens leaves his office, the obviously befuddled guard moves to follow, falling in just behind Louren's left shoulder. Another guard is sitting on a stool in the elevator. They exchange nods.

Yet another guard is waiting on yet another stool just outside the door on the 13th floor. A pair of technicians are bolting a ballistic plexiglass shield across the secretaries desk as she pretends not to be annoyed, poorly. She makes a motion to the commlink on her blouse and the door to Lawrence's office swings open noiselessly. The guard that had been following you stops just shy of the threshold.

Lawerence had managed to make even the post modernist bog standard office look stylish, with neo art deco chrome fittings and Warhol style chairs. If he noticed you joke he gave no sign, wordlessly waving you to the chairs. The face reflected on the clear window was the perfect mix of concentration and concern. Everything about him was perfect: Perfect blue eyes, perfect blonde hair, dignified nose, masculine square jaw. Your parents had paid a small fortune to make him this way. Every aspect of his frame was designed in utero to reflect the most perfect specimen of the elven race.

"Yes, I am aware of that.... No, I am putting someone on it. One of my best.... It would be better for you not to know names.... Think of it an investment. Yes, but I am confident my operative can get the results in the proper manner...." You see his jaw clench. "You won't be."

Lawence tugs an earpiece out of his left ear and tosses it into a tray on his desk without looking. "Bastard." He effortlessly swings his muscled frame into the office with a sigh. "Brother." He says by way of greeting, looking you over without blinking, studying you. Its an odd ritual you share with him: each gauging the other, feeling moods, testing boundaries. Not in wolfpack sort of way. More like sharing experiences. The slight coloring around the eyes- short sleep, 1-2 hours. A paleness around the tip of the fingernails- no breakfast. A slight twitch on the right mandible muscle- stress, mental. Whatever he sees in you, the proper rectification was coffee, and he pours a cup from the carafe on the desk and passes it to you without asking.

"I'm sorry to drag you into this drek so early into the morning. There's been... an incident. Brace yourself, this is ugly."

A few twitches of his fingers brings up an AR video display. The serial number across the bottom of the screen identifies a security camera in a middle class district. A side display shows the location as a toy kiosk, owned by AA Japancorp subsidiary of modest means called Let's Play! (LLC). You are familiar with the company in vague terms. In frame, A dozen or so tween school kids in cranberry uniforms and a minder in Ares civilian brown are listening to the jovial Japanese kiosk manager explain basic retail practices. Rolling stock, inventory, economics of scale and how the invention of the mass microchip press enabled the Japanese AAAs to corner the consumer goods market for nearly a decade. The kids are only half-interested.

Suddenly a white van crashes through the doors off screen, hurling shards of glass straight into the panicked crowd. The jury rigged plow on the front of the van collides with the manager and he skids across the mall floor lubricated with his own blood. The side door rolls open and a dwarf woman with blue hair steps out. 'Terra First' is emblazoned across her earth green armored vest.

She has a machine gun in her hands.

With a smirk the dwarf flips the safety off. "EARTH FIRST!" She howls, and the bullets fly.

Instantly the minder jumps forward 'Down!' she screams, just before she dies. The kids run in all directions as the crazed, laughing woman pumps bullets into the dead minder, before turning the gun on the crowds. After what seems like an eternity the gun goes dry, and a massive hand jerks the dwarf woman into the van as it speeds off.

Lawerence curses and switches the display off. ""The children escaped unharmed, mostly. The only immediate death was the Minder, Sarah Fairchild. You might know her. She works- worked here. According to company records she was a programmer working on our section of the O-M Act Project. Average stuff, nothing special. I've sent you her files."

"This was a hit. It was supposed to look like a terrorist act but it was a hit. The upper managers have their suspicions, but I need you to find out who, and why."

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens

At the sight of the guards, Lourens frowns a little, but corporate security was what it was. With the commotion that had been kicked up by the O-M Act lately, it shouldn't really come as any surprise that the security protocols would be increased accordingly. Billions in potential profits were an amazing motivator for corporations.

As his brother spoke over his comm, undoubtedly to his superiors wanting to know how he was going to keep their project on schedule despite his decreased manpower, ect. ect. It was a never ending cycle, but if he couldn't handle the stress and deliver, Lawrence wouldn't be in this position.

As the perfectly proportioned man moved across the room, Lourence felt a slight pang of envy, which he shoved down deep. My condition isn't his fault. It's just the hand I've been dealt. I'm happy for him. I am.
The words were true, but he still had to remind himself of them on occasion. Seeing the ease and grace with which his brother moved. It was like the man was a second away from breaking into dance.

"It's quite alright. I wasn't doing anything important just yet - just taking a little break on the beach. My hologram suite could have some real applications in a couple quarters when material costs decrease..."

His voice trails off as the AR feed fires up, and he watches in silence as the violence ensues. Blood. Blood everywhere. The violence is sudden, extreme, and as far as he can tell, entirely calculated. That many bullets inside, and only the one casualty of significance. Too many rounds focused on Fairchild. The initial burst would have done it, and a wide spray would have maximized additional damage. For a group willing to go through the effort up setting up such a theatrical display, only to have a single casualty? It didn't add up. Sending a simple data request to his brothers system, he snags a copy of the video for himself, pulling it open in a window off to one side.

Three man team at least - shooter - female dwarf, blue hair.
With little effort, he seperates the audio logs from the rest of the feed, isolating the womans voice from the background noise, adding it to a dossier he's already assembling on the woman, setting his comm to use the data on hand to extrapolate her height, weight, hair length, and any other details the system could aquire.
The large hand is suspect two - troll, from the size. Setting the system to give rough estimates on size, he frowns and growls low in his throat. Hands are so varied - general assumptions could be made, but little else. Unless he was of excessive size, the ranges would simply fall within standard parameters for trolls. Still. Better than nothing.
Suspect three. Driver. Unknown. No sign in the video feed, but there might be other angles somewhere out there.
Pulling the engine signature roar, he sets it up as a new file for the driver and shoves the windows to the side, letting his software analyze the information as he continues his conversation.

"I can do that. Upper managers can think what they want, but I'll follow the facts. I'd rather my conclusions be unbiased."

Taking a sip of the coffee, he blinks with a bit of surprise. The real stuff never got old. Like black energy being poured down his throat.

Sending an AR request to the corporate food service, he has his brothers preferred meal ordered with a rush delivery, paying for it with his own cred.
"So, I know you're a big boy, brother, but you've got to take better care of yourself, or you're going to look more and more like me by the minute. There's some hot food on the way up, and while it might pull a few minutes from your brooding and worrying, I suggest you eat it, and down some of that sweet black poison, then get a 20 minute nap in. It'll increase your productivity - I gaurantee it."

He smiles and stands, finishing his own cup as he does, and stretches his sore body. He'd been working out more lately, but it wasn't going well. Story of my life.
"So, I'm assuming this will be a rush job? What exactly was she working on for the O-M? Anything I can help with? You know I'm here for you."

[Galvain7]

A quick biometric sub-routine back-checked against a profiling database gives you a rough outline of the dwarf woman's physical build. She falls squarely into the average range of the bell curve, with the computer estimating an average height of about 4' 6'', 200 lbs. The voice recognition software has created a clear audio file, but matching this VI would take days. Narrowing the search to known Terra-First! audio files reduces the time-to-match to 1800 hrs and change. If there is a match.

The initial assumption of a troll 'grabber' seems correct: As the hand reaches out to snag the shooter a small bit of skin is exposed between the too short sleeve and the plether glove. Thick, epidermal hex common in trolls.

"Good. Like I said, I hate to dump this one you, but none of my people can match your... technical skills. Sigh. Thanks for breakfast, brother. As to Fairchild's projects, I'd love to give them to you, but Upper Management locked down all her files like it was a VITAS outbreak in the Barrens. Suddenly everything she had was reclassified and shipped off to Central- in Detroit. I'm supposed to establish a motive for a hit with no idea who got hit. No, I need you to focus on chasing leads on the killers, for now, I-"

A sharp buzz from the commbank on the the desk cuts him off. "Sir, you are not wearing you earpiece. Upper Management wants to speak with you right away."

"Tell them politely this time that I'm on another line, Mike. I'll transfer the call myself."

"Okay brother, here's to luck," he says, shaking your hand and tapping you on the shoulder. "and back to the grindstone I go. Keep me posted on any updates."

As he shoos you out the door you feel him slip something into your pocket.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens

"No worries about dumping anything on me. I'm here to help. I asked you for this cushy job for a reason, you know."
As the commlink buzzes, he falls silent as he stands, giving his brother a smile. When the call goes silent, he heads for the door, pausing only long enough for his brother to open it.
"Be sure to eat - you'll be no good to anyone if you crash."

Pulling open a second AR window as he walks out of his brothers massive office, Lourens checks the status of his small army of cleaning robots and makes sure they are operating according to his protocols before letting them run according to their pilot systems and autosofts. They each had their own series of scripts on operating schedules, so they shouldn't be an issue while he was working.

Closing the window down, he uses the access ID from the surveillance video to pull up the building schematics the kiosk was in, making a note of all of the other businesses that were in the vicinity.
This is going to be a long day, and probably night too. At least I've got a time frame to work on, but compiling a full video of the incident was going to take time.

As he moves past the gaurds, he notes one falling into step behind him again, and gives a small smile. The man was professional, at least. He never said a word, but Lourens was sure that his visit was well documented. Such is the price of corporate life.

Pulling open a second and third AR window, Lourens starts by looking at the area outside the door where the van came crashing through - he'd hopefully be able to use grid-guide to follow their path. It'd take a bit to get into their systems, but it was doable, for sure. If nothing else, and the group had hacked grid-guide themselves, he could check traffic flow for the vehicles that weren't there - they'd register as empty space, but it was still possible.

The ride through the elevator was slow - or perhaps it just seemed that way because of the dip in the transmission rate. Either way, it wasn't until he was safely back in his little corner of the building that Lourens moved over to the recliner he kept in one corner and relaxed, pulling the object out of his pocket.
A little cloak and dagger, Lawrence. What're you up to?

Setting his drones to surveillance points around the room, the thirty of them covered it completely, and the holo projectors turned the room into an honest to goodness maze as he slipped into full VR, the restraints of his twisted body slipping away, and he suddenly felt alive once more, as though he'd just stepped from a low resolution trid into the real world.

The digital world was one of beauty and chaos at the same time. Electrical pulses and bits of data everywhere - and this was an area of relative peace. The wireless negating walls and landscaping blocked most of the signals, but there was still enough pure data coursing around him to look like a fireworks show.

As his Reality Filter set into place, Lourens could feel his body shift to match his avatar - a simple man in a black suit - proportioned as perfectly as his brother, but infinitely more graceful. The face was blank, and he was bald, but it didn't matter - the Avatar was beautiful without it. He'd rendered every bit of it himself, and he had to smile as his system check showed all systems running accordingly.

Taking a moment to load up a few programs he'd coded, he stepped forward and the world shifted around him in a blur - the corporate node appeared as a massive doorway, a single giant, flaming eye watching all traffic passing over him with only a momentary pause.

Stepping through the doorway, the Matrix stretched out as far as he could see - his own version of the sprawl stretching out before him in an endless array of streets and highways, back alleys and buildings - from miniscule shacks barely big enough to rise up to his ankles, up to massive structures that pushed the boundaries of the virtual sky, it was his own version of the digital world, and it was a thing of beauty. It was Home - or as close to one as Lourens had ever felt he had. No one here judged him for his limitations. They didn't sneer and flinch at the sight of him. Here, he was beautiful.

Stopping just on the outskirts of the Corporate Node, Lourens pulls open a variety of windows - his own video feed from his spot secure in his chair - the drones keeping watch over them.
"Security protocol, folks - just keep a steady eye out and pop a flare if there's any movement - just the one door in, after all."
There was a chorus of beeps as the drones acknowledge the command, and the video feed window was minimized to a small dot of light, hovering off to one side.

Alright. Checklist. Video surveillance first.
Setting his feet to pavement, the world flew by him at impossible speeds, the buildings little more than grey blurs as Lourens started running a search for the kiosks and businesses that would have direct view of the incident in the building, making a note of each one. Time to get to work.

OOC:

Alright. Time for some fun.
I'm going to do a simple Data Search for the businesses in the building -
So that's Browse + Logic - +2 for hot sim and full VR - 20 dice total
In full VR, it shouldn't take more than a minute.
[roll0]

Hits - 7 hits, a good start

After that, I'm assuming there's probably going to be about 6 of them with decent view of the kiosk, including those on a higher floor, if possible. I'll probe those for weaknesses, running two separate windows, since I can do that with multitasking - each will take about an hour per test, so I'll just roll those.
It's going to be my Hacking+exploit+2 (16 total) vs. (System+Firewall) of the store, +6, since if you're not going for Admin, there's no point in going for it. lol
Luckily, since I'm probing, I won't have to worry about them detecting me until I actually log on. I'll pick up the weak spots for all 6 first, and see where that puts me, time-wise.

Once I log in, they'll get an Analyze+Firewall vs. a threshold of 5 for my stealth program - you'll have to be the one to decide which devices see me or not, and we can go from there, if you want.

Edit: P. 236 is the spot for hacking glitches, for your reference, since it seems like we're going to need them. lol

So, System 1 -

Hour 1 -
[roll1]
Hits - 3, 4 1s, so that 's a glitch, though not a critical one

Hour 2 -
[roll2]
Hits - 5

Hour 3 -
[roll3]
Hits - 2, and 4 1s, so another glitch. Not a good start

Hour 4 -
[roll4]
Hits - 5


System 2 -

Hour 1 -
[roll5]
Hits - 4

Hour 2 -
[roll6]
Hits - 7

Hour 3 -
[roll7]
Hits - 7

Hour 4 -
[roll8]
Hits - 7


System 3 -

Hour 1 -
[roll9]
Hits - 8

Hour 2 -
[roll10]
Hits - 7

Hour 3 -
[roll11]
Hits - 6

Hour 4 -
[roll12]
Hits - 4, with 5 1s, so if the system goes this far, another glitch, but not a bad one, again.


System 4 -

Hour 1 -
[roll13]
Hits - 6

Hour 2 -
[roll14]
Hits - 6

Hour 3 -
[roll15]
Hits - 1, with 3 1s, so glitch. dang.

Hour 4 -
[roll16]
Hits - 3 hits, 5 1s, another glitch. Hopefully this is a less secure system...


System 5 -

Hour 1 -
[roll17]
Hits - 6

Hour 2 -
[roll18]
Hits - 7

Hour 3 -
[roll19]
Hits - 7

Hour 4 -
[roll20]
Hits - 6


System 6 -

Hour 1 -
[roll21]
Hits - 6

Hour 2 -
[roll22]
Hits - 1 hit, 4 1's, so here we go again...

Hour 3 -
[roll23]
Hits - 6

Hour 4 -
[roll24]
Hits - 7

[Galvain7]

Thankfully, it doesn't appear that the mall nodes using anything stronger than basic security for the kiosks- enough to deter the bored mall rat, but not someone with the resources and time to mount determined attack on the nodes individually.

Once again, corporate paranoia comes to the rescue of the intrepid matrix 'free information specialist'. Because the overhead mall company is old and rents based, and no one wants the nodes linked for common security, and the individual kiosk nodes only share basic information with a line in/out for the parent company. As you dart from node to node, working the programs like a master organist in the Cathedral of webspace, the befuddled nodes share only a vague awareness of your efforts with each other.


Perhaps this lends you a bit of overconfidence, as the first node recognizes your attempts and locks you out.

Undeterred, you move to the second node, cautious this time. After an initial close call, you manage to distract and bypass the security programs and pillage the camera files with admin access! This Kiosk has a top-down view of the van: A White GMC Bulldog Step-Up. The resolution on the camera is too poor to make out much of the driver through the tinted window, however with a little resolution tinkering and clean up you can ascertain that the van was driven by an in seat driver, and not rigged remotely.

The third kiosk node does not want to render its secrets easily, but after the third attempt you manage to nudge it open and extract a useful tid bit of information. While the security camera footage remains off limits, you have a flash of inspiration and jump into the trashed spam files. Amidst the usual pile of advertisements for goods, there is only one advert for a used tire rental, triggered when the van's wheels passed an RFID scanner by the checkout. The Ad is for a place called 'Smitties' and lists an address. Trying once more for access to security footage becomes a mistake, as the system is alerted and sends a bump down the wire to a cyber security company.

Since you are aware of the alert, you can roll to defeat it with a spoof or something else- your discretion.


Unfortunately, System 4 appears to be a non-corporate proprietorship, and the owner spent some proceeds on cyber-security. The system stonewalls you on the first two attempts, tries to hack you on the third attempt, and during the forth attempt the system purposely reveals a nasty IC program cooking, the matrix equivalent of waving a loaded gun in your face. You decide to leave well enough alone and jump to another node, but not before you get a profanity laden bump warning you to 'not try that drek again me bucko.'

System 5 rolls over on the first attempt, giving you an excellent view of the van, the driver and a heretofore unseen angle on the shooters face: She has a tattoo of a bluish green serpent coiled around a combat knife behind her right ear. The pummel of the knife is colored around a datajack. The driver is a muscular orc, and while his face is covered googles you note that his has cyber hands and chome capped tusks.

System 6 puts up only minimal resistance and you access the cameras on the first attempt. Someone forgot to lock down all the ports it seems. (They were the ones glitching this time.) You mossey around the node like its your own, and the data contained therein confirms the data you have already obtained, in addition to some nice still frames of the driver and the shooter. Grabber's under-wrist is tattooed with a Lone-Star Prisoner ID bar-code, distinctive because of the near impossible to cover up ink.

The data chip your brother handed to you is in fact the complete company files of Sarah Fairchild. Tapped for an Ares funded education plan at 17 after an expectational aptitude test scores in high school, Sarah attended Seattle Technical University and graduated with a computer programing two year. Sarah's average grades were not a measure of her competence at programing, as she was rapidly promoted and tasked with increasingly complex tasks. While not at all adept at cyber-security, Sarah's specialty was code layering: redundancy protocols for vital programs. Any faulty user commands or glitches would trigger a backup protocol and drop the routines to a new setup.

Sarah's final assignment had been to program the construction drones for bridge overpasses. Shortly into the project, Sarah was contacted by a Mr. J. Smith in Upper Management and tasked with familiarizing herself with other AAA company programing systems, particularly SK and Renraku.

Fairchild's requested transfer several times to a less stressful position, but was denied. To compensate, Upper Management increased her hourly rate by .05 nuyen, and replaced her overtime hours with a light duty as a minder for company children.

Next of kin is listed as a mother in the Tacoma neighborhood and a sister in Cal-Free Los Angeles.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens

With a smile, Lourens walks towards the massive structure that represents the mall central node and with a flourish, he produces a black leather rain cloak, settling it securely over his shoulders before pulling the hood up over his head and face. waltzing through the public node without leaving a trace, he stops at each of the individual nodes, reaching into a pocket each time to place a small sphere on the ground in front of each building, and letting the exploit programs circle the nodes slowly, scanning the systems systematically.

The first exploit program to find a weak spot and attempt entry spins off, the sphere turning into an amorpheous liquid, trying to squeeze into the crack in the node, only to be shut out securely as the system recognizes the attempt.
With a sigh, Lourens shuts the hack down and shakes his head as it collapses into a murky puddle, dissolving into the ether of cyberspace.
I need to slow down. Brute force like that rarely solves problems. It's just so nice to be out. To be free...

As the second ball finds a weakness in its scans and turns liquid, it widens the tiny security crack into a full-fledged door, which Lourens casually opens, walking into the node as though he owned the place.
Little pig, little pig, let me in...

The node was little more than a series of filing cabinets in a tiny room, with a single door at the other end.
With the utmost confidence, he moves to the back door, feeling the lock open at his touch, and allow him access to the security logs. The room was little more than a solid plywood desk with drawers on the back side. They slid open easily with a tug, and it took only a second for him to find the video footage file, laying the folder out on the desk.
Some things are just second nature.

The video files appeared on one wall, playing in real-time. The time and date made finding the proper section easy.

Case file 4 - Vehincle. White at the time of the crime. GMC Bulldog. Of course. There's no shortage of those in the sprawl.
Driver. Interesting. Tinted windows.
File note - have system run light levels in the mall to ascertain tint levels of the van.

Picking up the manilla folder containing the footage, Lourens pulls it apart, but instead of ripping, it copies neatly into two seperate files, one of which he slips into his pocket, the other he drops back into place - but not before pulling out a vial of ink and pouring it liberally into the manilla holder with a smile.
Good luck getting that information back.

Alright, I'm going to hit the data file with a Corrupt program - it should be a simple thing to do with this node - 4 hits is enough to destroy an entire police dossier, after all.

[roll0]
Hits - 5 - good luck getting that back.


Taking a moment to pull out the access logs, Lourens pulls out a lighter to burn the evidence that he was there, and strides back out, closing the door with a smile.
One down.

The rest of the evening goes in at least a similar manner - success or failure, something is learned each time, until he's collected about as much information as he was likely to from the mall security, but he could at least assemble the facts. Making sure to clear out as many of the details as he could, he corrupts all the files he takes - it wouldn't do to have someone else follow the trail.

Case File 1 - Driver.
Male, Orc. Well muscled. Possible athlete? Body-augmentation or devoted weight lifter at the least.
File Note - Cyberhands. Possible weakness - keep eye out for wireless connectivity enabled if encountered.
Chrome capped tusks - obvious 'bling'
File Note -
Psychological Profile note - Powerful, possibly vain. Takes good care of his physical body and takes great pride in his appearance. The Driver was likely very outgoing and social, enjoying face time with others of his criminal and social class.
Possible conclusion - Barring the possibility of fourth team member, there is a high probability that the driver is also the team face - though it is not outside of the realm of possibility that the dwarven woman or troll are not. Currently, it is speculation.

Case File 2 - Man Behind the Scenes
Judging by size, best guess is troll. Male. Dermal structure supports the theory, as well as obvious application of strength. Subject 3 is Female dwarf, approximately 200 lbs, and was lifted with little effort at full arm extension. Conclusion - Immense strength. This fits current assumptions of metatype.
File Note:
Suspect has a criminal history. Lonestar Prison Id Bar code.
Possible courses of action: yet to be determined. Searches into Lonestar penal records are dangerous.

Case File 3 - Dwarven woman
Shooter, violent, height/ weight, as previously determined. File update: tattoo behind right ear as well as partially hidden cyberware.

Case File 4 - Vehicle
Customized GMC Bulldog. White. Possible lead attached to tires.
"Smitties" Garage and rental. Follow up.

Assembling the footage, photos and audio, Lourens leaves the nodes, the whole thing looking more and more solid - at least he could track the poeple.
Well. I've got vocal patterns, tattoos, body mods, RFID tag regristrations from the tires. Time to do some legwork.

Taking a second to logout, Lourens sighs as his senses flood back into his miserable flesh, suddenly feeling sluggish and tired. With a groan, he pushes himself up and out of his chair, limping a bit to his personal bathroom as he massages a knot out of his leg. His mind was still racing at light speed, unfortunately.
So, they've likely worked together previously. If I can track down information on one of them, there's a good chance it will lead to the others as well. After all, you don't drive a vehicle into a public place and commit aggravated assault and murder with people you don't trust - all it takes is one person to flip, and you spend the rest of your life behind bars.

Moving back over to his chair, Lournes settles in and drops back into VR, feeling re-invigorated.
With a sigh, he steps into the building that is his own node, which resembles his own den - open and blank, and utilitarian.
On a workbench to one side is the data-chip file his brother had passed him, and reads over the file quickly.
Standard, really. She wasn't a mover or a shaker. The highest probability for her involvement was like Lawrence said - due to her connection to the construction drone programming, and her familiarization with competition programming. Two possible Johnsons for the team.

Forcing his mind back to the physical for a moment, he removes the chip from his comm and slips it safely into a hidden slot in his leg before letting his body slump into VR and off into the Matrix.

Smittys was the next course of action - he could retrace the Gridguide cameras after, but it would be less dangerous to gather what data he could through other means first.

As the information shot by him, the routing ID for Smitties recovered from the kiosk leading him directly to the node, Lourens loaded his Stealth program and exploit, knowing he'd need those at the very least, and likely more.
After a seconds thought, he pulls a small rueger pistol from his coat and slips it into the docker clutch at his side, safety off.
Any place catering to shadowrunners is likely to have a little something chilly waiting inside. Better ready than dead... y. Never was good at rhyming. Go figure.

As the node took the shape of an ancient firehouse, Lourens dropped his exploit program and let it run, taking the extra time to clean up the footage and other files from the kiosk nodes, assembling them into efficient and concise data files.

OOC:

Alright, so I'm just going to say that the kiosk with the alert was one I logged off of. No damage was done, and he can spoof his ID to keep them from tracing him, so it's not an issue - they're not going to put the effort into tracking every skript-kiddie that tries to break in. It's a mall, after all.

Smitties -
Exploit -
[roll1]



I'll take some time to use Edit to clean up the pictures and video and audio too.
[roll2]
Edit: - 4 hits, and edge to reroll the others gave me 6 more.


I forgot that it might take a bit more time, so Hacking roll 2 -

Edit - 8 hits, 1, one - for a total of 18 hits.

[Galvain7]

Smitties' occupied that fine line between legitimate business and black market shop, falling somewhere in that niche sociologist call, 'Greymarket informal economy.' Smitties posted basic ads and had paid a private security fee but a fake better business license and a physical address in the Redmond Barrens. They had an online inventory you guess was at least partially stolen parts, and offered repair services for reasonable fees. The proprietor also rented vehicles.


You route your address and trail through a dozen onion servers and substantially alter your net id in order to pose as a prospective customer. Once inside the store you browse the virtual rack of parts with feigned interest while cooking your exploit. Smitties' ad hoc security and fly by night programing prove no match for your hacking virtuosity, and you glide into the node with almost supernatural ease, the watchdog programs blissfully unaware of your entry. A little nudge grants you access to the system entire and you browse Smitties records.

Inside you find financial accounts, inventories both legal and not, a vendors list, connections to several bank accounts, a drone command node, security footage and business log of transactions and repairs.

Yesterday at 1115 hrs a customer requested a Grey GMC Bulldog Van for rent, with ballistic tires, raised clearance, and what was called a 'Mob Plow' attached. A command was sent to two repair drones to begin alterations, which were completed by 1245 hrs. At 1302 employee 'Sten' completed a manual check on the tires and plow, refueled the drones and sent an email to the customer.

Said customer was logged walking through the doors at 1423. Employee Sten charged the standard fee for modifications, but only after the Customer provided a SIN. (A text file added by Sten notes that the customer was very reluctant.) The modified van was rented for 3 days to a Fatima bin Garmal, resident of Seattle Metroplex at 1439, after some spirited haggling over the SIN.

A quick jump to the security camera footage shows a female dwarf wearing a black headscarf, shapeless dress and sunglasses enter the shop and argue with a male human in a jumpsuit. Eventually she relents and drives the van outside. On a whim you decide to to check for footage outside, and sure enough a muscular ork is leaning by the door, wearing a red and yellow tank top (despite the rain) black fatigue pants and heavy boots. His hands are covered by gloves, but the chrome tusk caps are visible. He has a black mowhawk and a style goatee commonly called a 'soul patch'.

Shortly after being rented the RFID tags tracking the vehicle go offline, except for a tag embedded in the left rear tire.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens

The node was little more on the inside than it was on the outside. Lourens reality filter took the information from the sales and shipping information, as well as the business liscense and used it to interpret the information as a crisply rendered garage - probably far cleaner and organized than the real shop could have ever hoped to be. Not if it was in the barrens.
With a smile, Lourens walks through the front door of Smitties' node and gives the watchdog IC a pat on the head. It was nothing if not obedient. It had done such a fine job, that Lourens decided that the poor thing deserved a night off. Taking a moment to pull up his administrative account, Lourens unloaded the IC from the active register to keep it from constantly scanning him as he worked.
The dog obediently wandered off to a mat to one side of the door, and contentedly started chewing on a huge chunk of bone. With a smile, Lourens continued into the room, analyzing the objects one by one. Things were never what they seemed in the matrix, though his reality filter helped with the majority of the background data noise, filtering data and files into objects related to their content. Still. It was far from perfect.

Slipping behind the parts counter to one side, Lourens pulls a massive listing book - too large for any man to have lifted in the real world, and sets it down on the counter, the thousands of pages stacking up from just under his waist to just below his chin.
Some people have no idea how to properly sort and assemble data.
With a glance over to the watchdog, he speaks out loud.
"When on earth did they last do a system restore and defrag? I think there's peices here from before the First crash."

Shaking his head, Lourens looks the pages of the book over, first one, then the other, the data nothing more than accounting figures and cost projections for new hires. Closing the covers, he flips the book upside down and opens it again, the pages suddenly turning black as he starts pouring through the security logs and black market data.

As he finds the information he's after, Lourens copies it the same way he did before, pulling the pages into two seperate copies, folding one of them and putting it in his pocket before pouring black ink all over the second, and putting it back into the folder, erasing all proof of the runners ever having been there. Well. close to it.

Taking a moment to turn the ledger sideways, Lourens does a little creative editing to the security logs, leaving himself a backdoor into the system - a skylight that only he knew about. And as a bonus, a sub-routine for the watchdog - anyone coming through the skylight would automatically tell the IC to unload itself and go to standby mode. It would make for an even easier time getting in, should he ever need to again. Setting the IC to reactivate a few seconds after he leaves, Lourens edits the logs to erase all the activity he'd done, closing them back up before putting them away, pausing by the door to give the dog another pat on the head.
"Good boy. Back to work now."

The node closed up behind him, and Lourens stepped forward into the street, a single streetlight flickering overhead as he did so.. Where to now? It seems to me that Fatima bin Garmal is in need of a visit
Flipping back to AR, Lourens blinked hard at the harsh lighting of his space and adjusted it down a bit. Setting up search parameters to find everything he could about the suspects, he let the system run cold - the information would gather while he slept.
Setting it to alert him if there were any hits, he shoots a single message to an anonymous account he often used to get in touch with Lawrence. "L:L. Progress."

Setting his alarm to wake him in thirty minutes, Lourens reaches out for a bottle of purified water and extra strength caffeine capsule. A power nap, and it's time to really sink my teeth in. Letting his eyes drift closed, he smiles. Just after 1400. Not a bad afernoons work for a cripple.

OOC:

Alright - I need to sleep. it's almost 1 am.
On a side note - have you seen "Warm Bodies" - it's a zombie romance. It's surprisingly amazing.

I know I need to make rolls for the edit, corrupt, data search, ect - My brain is working poorly at the moment, so I'll edit them in in the AM.

Basics though -
Corrupt, to erase the Shadowrunners tracks
16d6 -
Hits - 7 hits, 3 ones, so good to go there.

Edit - to clear out the security logs before he leaves.
16d6 -
Hits - 6 hits, 3 ones, again. good

A quick Software check to write a bit of code for the IC
25d6 (woot!)
9 hits, 6 1's - so good to go there.

I think there's an edit to create the backdoor
Alright - Software + Edit first to make a legitimate account - Threshold (6)
14d6 -
Hits - 6 , 3 1's, so just barely made that one.

Then a hacking + Stealth to switch it over to a Hidden account, so it won't show up on a security audit (like they've done one)
16d6 - (Firewall, 10 minutes) Extended test
Hits - 8 hits, 2 1's - so that one was a breeze. Good deal.

Data search - for the shadowrunners.
Alright. I'll do each of these separately, with the information I've gathered.

Searching the entire Matrix is an extended test (1 minute), and the difficulty is well, the difficulty -
Easy - (2), Average (4), Hard (8) - most likely, Extreme (16)
I'm guessing they're going to have hidden what information they can on themselves, so at least an 8. At least.

Troll - Mr. Grabby
Data Search + Browse - 18d6
1 - Hits - 4, and 4 1's, so progress, but barely
2 - Hits - 6, and 3 1's - better
3 - Hits - 6, and 4 1's - so that should bring up at least some information when the data I have on him is used to correlate

Ork - Rumple-shinyskin
1 - Hits - 5 and 3 1's
2 - Hits - 5, and 1 1's
3 - Hits - 7 and 3 1's

Dwarf - Trigger Happy.
1 - Hits - 5 and 4 1's
2 - Hits - 6 and 4 1's
3 - Hits - 4 and 4 1's - that was a close one

[Galvain7]

Lournes successfully covers his tracks and builds a nice backdoor for himself should the need arise. In keeping with his modus operandi, the security footage and transaction data are also blacked out, creating a hefty bargaining chip for future... negotiations with the team of murderous malcontents.


Criminal trolls are not as common as the trids would leave the average citizen to suspect, and so the data search is aided by the relatively small number of registered trolls verses those listed with criminal tendencies that merit prison time. Even so, the computer is able to direct Lourens toward several thousand trolls that fit the vague bill. A filing under the Freedom of Information Act would require Lone Star to surrender data for the individual matching the barcode, but even with preference given to AAA's the request could take months to fill. Given the animosity between Lone Star and Ares' Knight Errant over lucrative security contracts its unlikely the Lone Star would ever comply. All is not lost however. The VI directs Lournes attention to Troll House, the employment charity. Currently Troll House keeps a secure data base of many trolls in the metroplex area, acting as a check-in hub for transient trolls. The data search also turns up several chat room rumors about a 'Black Troll House', a net-only service that acts as an employment agency for fixers seeking trolls with rarefied skills. Supposedly, the website is operated by the 'Criminal Union of Trolls', an obviously mythical underworld group. Without any solid biometric data, Grabber remains elusive.

Ork Shiney-Tusks' search is more fruitful: using the photographs of him and mindful that he had had some cybernetic surgery, you manage to sort out the millions of orks in the Metroplex area, eliminating all but four hundred possible contenders. Further deductions and logic leaps eliminate most of those: No day job, no industries that forbid body modification, no AAAs or security companies. In the end four remain that might be the perp, assuming the decision to remove both hands was involuntary:

1. Santiago Vega, former Metroplex Guardman. Led a breaching team during the Ren-Arch siege, lost both hands. Currently Technocrat organizer for President Coulter. Physical condition listed as 'above average' in the Metroplex Guards Reservist Database. Numerous awards.

2. Dan O'donnel, welder, lost both hands in a foundry accident. Some limited media coverage as to the event, currently unemployed.

3. Boz wa' Urgahth Smith- Orkland Activist. Lost both hands during 'Night of Rage' riots. Currently on probation with Party Orkland for unspecified reasons.

4. Biddy Bite- 'professional clubhopper', maintains a blog of nightclubs. Lost hands during a drinking game with a troll.


The search on Fatima bin Garmal is nearly rather dull by comparison: public hospital birth, public school education, a few minimum wage jobs in the service sector, normal taxes. Official residence listed as Appt. 76D, 2518 Harriot Street West, (near the Tacoma neighborhood.)

Data searches using the face-model created by the obtained surveillance paint a different picture: a nearly identical blue haired dwarf woman is shown in a dozen or more trid broadcasts relating to Terra-First! actions. The few remotely sympathetic news feeds list her as a 'Vixen Bluesnake', a member with a reputation for violence and depravity. When Terra First! split over the issue of making common cause with the Green Century and other non-violent groups, Ms. Bluesnake celebrated by shooting a dozen members of the pacifist wing. Lone Star is offering a 10,000 nuyen bounty on information leading to her arrest.

As you drift off to sleep the drone-manager VI announces that another drone has joined your group. It is not responding to command sub-routine.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens

As the information slowly collects, Lourens sorts it to one file or another, updating his to-do lists as he goes.Criminal Union of Trolls. That doesn't seem ominous by any means. Still. Bears looking into. Grabby, the giant mutated eigth dwarf. I'll find you yet.

Narrowing down the search on the driver was satisfyingly effective - four names to go on was next to nothing, and with four names, histories and other information, he'd be able to find everything he needed to know about each of them.

Fatima bin Garmal. Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine. Thirteen recorded murders tagged to your name and a violent history, coupled with a preference for violence when it comes to Eco terrorism.

Pausing a screen shot of her face, screaming, he frowns, studying it a bit more."You honestly believe in what you're doing. The run was a job, but the premise of the hit was your idea. You could kill two rats with one stone. You get paid, and you further your agenda. You're dangerous. A true fanatic, aren't you? Fascinating."

Compliling the information on her, he adds to his list of objectives.
- gather information on Fatima
- investigate multiple addresses - lonestar can't be THAT incompetent.

Letting his mind relax and wander a bit, Lourens starts to shut down his comm when he gets the notification that another drone has joined the others.
What? That doesn't make sense at all.
Forcing his mind to move, he pulls up an AR window and tries to isolate the drone signal and runs a search for any other wireless traffic in the area that might be operating on hidden, sending a commands to all but a couple of his drones to return to their case and shut down before standing and walking over to his workbench, where the flies are landing efficiently in a small metal tin. Putting the lid on, he slips the tin into a slot in his leg and heads for his door, flipping his own comm to hidden mode.
Who on earth would be bothering him down here? Other than the occasional security check, no one ever came down here.

OOC:

Alright - scanning for wireless nodes. A threshold of 4 is needed to detect any running in hidden mode, but that shouldn't be a problem.
Electronic Warfare + Scan - 16 dice
[roll0]
Hits - 3. Wow. Just missed it. Well, it is what it is.

[Galvain7]

Your scan fails to detect any hidden nodes. :smalleek:

The unidentified drone's pattern is much slower then the standard MCT Flyspy Drone, but it swerves toward you with uncanny accuracy. It appears to be weighted down by a large syringe. Suddenly, the microwings whip into high gear, and the needle laden probe kamikazes toward you!

OOC:

Are you still in the matrix? If this is indeed true you wouldn't get a change to dodge the oncoming attack. If so, make a toxin resist test as the needle plunges in!

If not, you get a defense action. I read the post as you being plugged in. Just being clear. Misunderstandings make me a sad GM.

[TheMightyQuinn]

OOC:

Nope, he's using AR, but you can see normally while using AR.

If you're using full immersion and try to get up and walk around, you get a -8 modifier to all of your actions, so that'd be almost impossible for him.

Dodge -
[roll0]
Edit! Woo - 1 hit! I doubt that's enough, but hey, it can't hurt

[Galvain7]

You manage to insert your left arm between the incoming needle and your torso, stopping the needle from plugging your heart. Nevertheless, the entire dose is loaded into your body.

With a click, the drone drops the needle and it shatters on the floor. Suddenly free of its weighty burden the tiny drone darts toward the air vent just above your door.

Your breathing increases, and you start to feel dizzy.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens

*As the needle plunges into his arm, Lourens gasps, swinging wildly for the drone, but already his vision is swimming, twisting from the effects of the drug.
Stumbling, he braces himself on a wall and shakes his head slowly, trying to clear the effects from his mind with little effect.
His thoughts were... swirling. He felt great.
Sleepy. Didn't I just take a nap? No.... this is wrong. This is...
Sending out a single for his last two drones to head to his pocket, he slumps against the wall, the strength fading from his limbs, but his mind was still working.*
"L - trouble. Something... help. druuug. h..."

[Galvain7]

Just before you loose consciousness a ping reaches you from Lawrence's account to which you sent your distress signal:

"We're sorry. The account you are trying to reach has been disconnected. If you would like to re-route your message please con-"

*****

Feeling begins to return to your body slowly. First your chest. Then your legs, and arms. Finally you become aware of your breathing, and faint drops of sound filter into your ears.

"-- awake. Dose him."

A sharp pain tears into your left arm and your eyes jolt open with a snap. You turn your head just in time to see a syringe with a needle like a screwdriver pull away from your body. Recoiling in terror you find your body strapped to a medical-like table with metal restraints.

The Autodoc robot clicks. "Subject condition stable. Bio-systems will reattain 95% funtionality in 2 hours."

"Power off." The machine beeps and whirls. You turn and reguard the speaker, trying to reactivate your logical facilities. His face is impossibly generic: Average eyes, average nose, chin, mouth cheekbones, ears. He regards you with wholly unremarkable cool brown eyes.

He seems to have been acclimatizing himself to your rather unique appearance, for if there is any reaction to your features there is no sign. Apparently, he takes little stock in you, as he smirks, reaching for a cigarette case add in his suit coat. He flicks the lighter. His fingers...

There. Suddenly you have a sense of the Flat Man, and the cogs of your mind whip into motion. The smoking is an old habit, from before. Before he was a made real company man, before his face was surgically modified to produce his features. He has no need to smoke: medical addiction removal. Smoking isn't part of the accepted company culture. But he smokes anyway, like a ball player wearing lampblack on the day of the big game.

And this is the big game indeed. He's confident. Confident in his training, his modifications, his knack. Confident he can beat you. Hubris? Maybe. Certainty is better.

But the real picture is a bit less defined than the carefully bland features of his face. He's also afraid. Hiding it. Burying it very well, perhaps unaware. You have the distinct feeling he is being pushed. Schedules disrupted. Plans remade. Adapting, moving, shifting. A forte but not a pleasant one. Troubleshooter pandemonium.

"Unhook the subject, then leave." A gas masked guard detaches from the wall behind the Flat Man and moves over to where you sit. He manually unlocks the restraints, then smoothly sits you up while moving the table to a seated position. Your head swims.

"Lourens Rasmusen. Ares. Age 35. I've read your file. And your private file. Very interesting indeed. Listed as a Facilities Manager, tasked as a top level programer. It makes a good read. And you have been busy. I admire family values, really I do. But you and your twin brother have been into some things that best be left alone. So. let's do our best to clarify a few misunderstandings." He pulls out a digital tablet displaying the face of the dead Sarah Fairchild."Starting with her. Tell me everything you know about this employee. Do not lie to me. Consider this an... honesty test."

[TheMightyQuinn]

Lourens
*Turning his head around to look slowly, Lourens blinks, feeling the effects of the drug start to wear off, and he looks at the Flat man, blinking hard before he shrugs.*
"A test? Of honesty?"

*he thinks for a moment and shrugs before repeating exactly what he'd read in the file. Not verbatim, but close enough for accuracy.*

*After sitting another moment, he shrugs again and shakes a few more of the cobwebs out.*
"It's nothing a corporate man like yourself couldn't get ahold of. The real question is why you need to hear it from me. Sure, I've got some talent at codes. There's at least a dozen hot shot doe jockies I can think of working in R&D that slap bits out faster than me. I just do it as a favor for my brother, and I get to keep the job I like. It lets me.... be secluded, for obvious reasons."

"So, there's that. I don't like playing games, Mr. Flat. Why don't you tell me what I'm doing here, exactly."