Nick "Nicodemus" Dalton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nick_garou) wrote2014-03-30 01:46 am
nick_garou) wrote2014-03-30 01:46 am
Spying on the Suits--and getting too close.
I dropped Riley's good luck charm off in her mailbox and then borrowed the Walker's cargo van. I drove to a restaurant about a block away from the police station, and camped out inside starting just before lunch. A little Correspondence magic and a carefully angled reflective surface off my Kindle allowed me to eat very, very slowly while keeping tabs on the police station. I didn't have to wait long before a pair of Suits emerged, got into a black SUV, and drove off. It looks like they don't have designated vehicles. Instead, they're requisitioning from state and federal vehicle pools.
I dialed up my Correspondence magic and initiated a full-sphere scan on the two occupants. It took a little time, but I belatedly realized that the passenger was human, but there was some powerful drug cocktail in him that, I estimated, boosted his willpower and resistance to the Delirium. The driver? He's a clone. Not a "we cloned Dolly the Sheep and now we have baby Dolly Sheep" type of clone, but a xerox of a xerox of a xerox of a xeroxed adult human male. None of that childhood years stuff. Ready-to-use adult clone fresh out of the vat. Something going on with Mind (more drugs or Something Else?), Life (likely enhanced bones/muscles), and Matter (hidden cybernetics? Fire-resistant skin grafts?). I watched them and listened in on their conversations for most of the day. They went on a stakeout and used a Fire Marshal hangtag to park illegally so the driver-clone (clearly the leader) could take pictures of an area. The human-on-drugs passenger thought this dragnet approach was ineffective and wanted to go find "her" because she knew something, and if they found her they could call in SOCOM (shit!). "Pick up his sister." Clone said fine, how do you plan on finding her? End of discussion.
They had Mexican for lunch. (Surprisingly mundane.) More stakeout. Talk of hemavores (vampires obviously). They've done this before. They had intel, even if it was outdated. They were talking about gangs, looking at gang signs.... Have they figured out garou glyph tags they use in the city to mark territory? They finally wrapped up for the day and went to an Extended Stay hotel. There were more black SUVs there, so that looks like their hideout. They went to different rooms. I don't think they are friends outside of the job.
I wanted to Dreamwalk the drugged-up human because he seemed like the weakest link. Start small and then go bigger when you know what you're up against. I wasted hours and hours of time over at SCCU's library reading up on REM sleep, dream interpretations, and the biological and psychological effects of dreaming--preparations and ideas before the ritual. I then drove out west to that remote, wooded area where Salem had taken Naomi for me to countermagick that other mage's spell on her. Parked the car. Tipped the seat back. Dreamed.
It was hard getting into the guy's head. Really hard. Like there were barriers. (Drugs? Pretty sure of it.) But I finally got through and into his dreamstate. I watched and waited for a while. Dreams about lemon juicers. Dreams about a restaurant in another city. Dreams about.... Seriously? Seriously? That's your thing? To each their own, I guess. And finally, a work-related dream. I stepped in and turned it into an anxiety dream. Performance review. I invited him to sit down. Asked questions of him.....
I moved out, afraid they would be coming for me. This is definitely Technocracy, but not Iteration X or New World Order. Progenitors. The clones are a dead giveaway. I didn't realize they were into custom pharmaceuticals too, but that's not a huge surprise. It makes sense, actually. Drugs = Magic Potions of the Future. I stayed on the move for an hour. Nothing came for me. Nothing I could detect, at least. I pulled over, made a fire, and burned my Kindle Fire (irony?). Smashed my new iPhone. Took the GPS circuitboard out. Fashioned it into a hasty anti-scrying wonder like I'd done earlier for Naomi. Burned the rest of the phone in the fire. Called Salem from a pay phone to arrange a meeting about an hour's drive out of town. Checked for tails the whole time, but none.
Just because I can't see or sense them doesn't mean they're not out there or searching, though. Got to keep moving. Got to get this information to Salem in the event they get me. Please don't let them get me.
I dialed up my Correspondence magic and initiated a full-sphere scan on the two occupants. It took a little time, but I belatedly realized that the passenger was human, but there was some powerful drug cocktail in him that, I estimated, boosted his willpower and resistance to the Delirium. The driver? He's a clone. Not a "we cloned Dolly the Sheep and now we have baby Dolly Sheep" type of clone, but a xerox of a xerox of a xerox of a xeroxed adult human male. None of that childhood years stuff. Ready-to-use adult clone fresh out of the vat. Something going on with Mind (more drugs or Something Else?), Life (likely enhanced bones/muscles), and Matter (hidden cybernetics? Fire-resistant skin grafts?). I watched them and listened in on their conversations for most of the day. They went on a stakeout and used a Fire Marshal hangtag to park illegally so the driver-clone (clearly the leader) could take pictures of an area. The human-on-drugs passenger thought this dragnet approach was ineffective and wanted to go find "her" because she knew something, and if they found her they could call in SOCOM (shit!). "Pick up his sister." Clone said fine, how do you plan on finding her? End of discussion.
They had Mexican for lunch. (Surprisingly mundane.) More stakeout. Talk of hemavores (vampires obviously). They've done this before. They had intel, even if it was outdated. They were talking about gangs, looking at gang signs.... Have they figured out garou glyph tags they use in the city to mark territory? They finally wrapped up for the day and went to an Extended Stay hotel. There were more black SUVs there, so that looks like their hideout. They went to different rooms. I don't think they are friends outside of the job.
I wanted to Dreamwalk the drugged-up human because he seemed like the weakest link. Start small and then go bigger when you know what you're up against. I wasted hours and hours of time over at SCCU's library reading up on REM sleep, dream interpretations, and the biological and psychological effects of dreaming--preparations and ideas before the ritual. I then drove out west to that remote, wooded area where Salem had taken Naomi for me to countermagick that other mage's spell on her. Parked the car. Tipped the seat back. Dreamed.
It was hard getting into the guy's head. Really hard. Like there were barriers. (Drugs? Pretty sure of it.) But I finally got through and into his dreamstate. I watched and waited for a while. Dreams about lemon juicers. Dreams about a restaurant in another city. Dreams about.... Seriously? Seriously? That's your thing? To each their own, I guess. And finally, a work-related dream. I stepped in and turned it into an anxiety dream. Performance review. I invited him to sit down. Asked questions of him.....
The man behind the desk is shrouded in darkness, even as the agent comes and settles down in the blinding lights. It's possible he's never actually seen his supervisor's face. The supervisor's voice sounds like something out of a memory, though, so they've talked before. The agent is cool, calm, collected - this is an anxiety dream, sure, but the potent cocktail of drugs keeps him as steady as a duck in a pond. It's a little frightening to think that this /is/ him in an emotionally perturbed state. "Sir." He says, settling down in the smaller, metal chair.
"Saint Claire number 632?" The Agent asks, as if for confirmation. Then, details seem to fall in line easily, and he sits a little more upright.
"Full situational containment. There was a class 3 media incident beginning 17 February, 2014, and a class 3 materials breech for local police and state troopers. It grew to a class 4 media incident the 18th, at which time we were dispatched with orders to One: contain media coverage and reduce public panic, Two: remove all suspect materials from local law enforcement. Three: secure guilty parties by any means necessary to prevent further material breaches." He rattles off, easily. He starts counting off: "Objective one instituted 24 February, 2014, accomplished five March, 2014. Objective two accomplished 26 February, 2014. Objective three was accomplished..." He stops, in confusion, the middle aged man starting to frown. "Objective three was accomplished... Uh..."
"Seventeen, April, 2014," the dream-supervisor says, filling in the blank. "A successful mission, despite the occasionally disagreements among the agents as to how to pursue case number 632. For the record," the supervisor presses a key on the laptop, "could you describe the disagreements the agents seemed to have regarding this case? And were they fruitful or did they hinder the investigation?"
"In the end, your hunch about focusing on SCCU's campus and the surrounding environs paid off, despite Agent Ess's repeated objections and threats of insubordination." The supervisory figure places a hand on the manila files. Perhaps they hold more than just records about you? "I'll be talking to him tomorrow. Now tell me how you think you excelled on the case you worked prior to 632, and one thing you would have done, in hindsight, to make that operation go smoother if we had to run it again." Nick sets the stage for the agent to focus on the past instead of the future, gradually relinquishing control of the dream as the agent's dream persona elaborates on past accomplishments--with the seed of a potentially subversive action left to linger come the morning.
The dream-supervisor places a hand on one of the files, pulling off the top of the stack. "Let's begin with the case you worked in Saint Clair, Washington State. We've had conflicting accounts on the quality of your performance there. To begin with, do you recall the purpose and primary objectives of that particular project?"
"Saint Claire number 632?" The Agent asks, as if for confirmation. Then, details seem to fall in line easily, and he sits a little more upright.
"Full situational containment. There was a class 3 media incident beginning 17 February, 2014, and a class 3 materials breech for local police and state troopers. It grew to a class 4 media incident the 18th, at which time we were dispatched with orders to One: contain media coverage and reduce public panic, Two: remove all suspect materials from local law enforcement. Three: secure guilty parties by any means necessary to prevent further material breaches." He rattles off, easily. He starts counting off: "Objective one instituted 24 February, 2014, accomplished five March, 2014. Objective two accomplished 26 February, 2014. Objective three was accomplished..." He stops, in confusion, the middle aged man starting to frown. "Objective three was accomplished... Uh..."
"Seventeen, April, 2014," the dream-supervisor says, filling in the blank. "A successful mission, despite the occasionally disagreements among the agents as to how to pursue case number 632. For the record," the supervisor presses a key on the laptop, "could you describe the disagreements the agents seemed to have regarding this case? And were they fruitful or did they hinder the investigation?"
The Agent sits forward, giving a curt nod. "Lead Agent Ess Five and myself disagreed on approach. Agent Ess Five favoured a broad scale, net dragnet based approach based on prior incidents, along with a partial mapping of all human and non-human lifeforms in the area. I believed that a targeted-intel based approach would be preferred, to minimize system disruption, and to maximize search-hours. In the end, we... uh... in the end we..." Again, another fleeting frown from the agent, as he doesn't remember things that hadn't happened yet. "Uh..."
"In the end, your hunch about focusing on SCCU's campus and the surrounding environs paid off, despite Agent Ess's repeated objections and threats of insubordination." The supervisory figure places a hand on the manila files. Perhaps they hold more than just records about you? "I'll be talking to him tomorrow. Now tell me how you think you excelled on the case you worked prior to 632, and one thing you would have done, in hindsight, to make that operation go smoother if we had to run it again." Nick sets the stage for the agent to focus on the past instead of the future, gradually relinquishing control of the dream as the agent's dream persona elaborates on past accomplishments--with the seed of a potentially subversive action left to linger come the morning.
The Agent nods in acknowledgement, as if in agreement that that's exactly what had happened. As as he begins to describe what he would have changed, there's an abrupt pounding on the door to the dreamy office. A moment passes. The pounding gets louder. Then, shouting. The agent sits up abruptly, looking back to the door with a concerned expression.
Nicodemus attempts to push the dream so that it wakes the agent up, transitioning from dream to reality--where there may or may not be someone pounding on the door--and providing him a conveniently coincidental "jack out" point.
"Wake up! There's someone in your mind! Wake up! Waaaaaaake uuuuuup!" Nicodemus doesn't need to push the dream - things seem to be shutting down around him. The door is flung open, revealing a copy of the agent, yelling at himself to hurry up and wake. About then, the whole room is flooded in light, and Nick finds himself suddenly directly in the dream, though himself as a shadowy figure in that light. Polygonic CG black ice starts flowing out of the walls, devouring the whole dream in its wake. The ice 9 starts to flow towards the intruder, destroying the desk, the lights, the laptop, the shadowy boss, and the second dream-self of the agent in the process. The Agent himself draws his gun, as things start go tits up.
Nicodemus raises his left hand as if it might function as a potent, bullet-stopping barrier as he rushes for the door, the only visible exit. He attempts to dodge past anyone trying to block him, hopefully making good use of the parkour he's been practicing for years now.
The digital ice consumes everything in its wake, save the agent himself, as it pursues the mental invader. Nick ends up in a long corridor, all shining and white. There are windows and doors on either side, but they show labs, tanks, strange creatures being interrogated by dozens of copies of the same agent, over and over again. This dreamy building, is packed to the gills with aliens, shadowy overlords, vampires, and worse, all of them crystal clear, directly from memory. As he runs past, the dream-copies of the agent turn hostile, each pulling out a gun and starting for the door to pursue the foreign body as well. Bullets fly through some of the window at the faceless figure of Nicodemus, but the mage's mental prowess deflects them around him. Things begin to get more and more static-y as the all consuming black surface chases he mage down the hall. As it gets within a few feet of him - that icy black digital surface - the static grows until Nicodemus is forcibly expelled. Any attempt to go back in, or hang on, is immediately blocked, even with extreme exertion of will.
Nicodemus jerks upright, banging his legs hard enough on the underside of the steering wheel that there's bound to be bruising later. He gasps for air, eyes wide, and--failing to get the door open fast enough--whatever bits of goop and liquid remain from his extended lunch are vomited onto the inside door panel of the car. "Fuck," he chokes out, spits, and wipes vomit particulate onto his sleeve. Rather than spend time cleaning up the mess, he starts the engine and hastens the car into motion--heading west and away from town once he's back on pavement. Just in case.
I moved out, afraid they would be coming for me. This is definitely Technocracy, but not Iteration X or New World Order. Progenitors. The clones are a dead giveaway. I didn't realize they were into custom pharmaceuticals too, but that's not a huge surprise. It makes sense, actually. Drugs = Magic Potions of the Future. I stayed on the move for an hour. Nothing came for me. Nothing I could detect, at least. I pulled over, made a fire, and burned my Kindle Fire (irony?). Smashed my new iPhone. Took the GPS circuitboard out. Fashioned it into a hasty anti-scrying wonder like I'd done earlier for Naomi. Burned the rest of the phone in the fire. Called Salem from a pay phone to arrange a meeting about an hour's drive out of town. Checked for tails the whole time, but none.
Just because I can't see or sense them doesn't mean they're not out there or searching, though. Got to keep moving. Got to get this information to Salem in the event they get me. Please don't let them get me.