DAY 1. 11PM. 36.208413169652246, -115.0586987291666

Sometime past sunset, the chip begins to bother you. This isn’t the strange thing about it. You don’t know where it came from, other than it landed in your hands by a lucky coincidence, and you haven’t been able to cash it in even though it appears to be legitimate, and worth a heft 100 grand at that; if you tried, circumstances just didn’t work out. However strange it has been, tonight it is doing something new. It seems to rattle around on its own, enough to make a noise if you left it on a hard surface, or annoy you if you left it in your pocket. Once you pick it up, you begin to notice one of the marks appears to be pointing somewhere, as you adjust it, the chip itself rotates to keep the mark pointing in a direction, like the needle of a compass. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe just to get it to stop bothering you, you start to look where it’s sending you. After a bit of work, whether it’s just driving around, pulling out a map, or using more exotic, magical methods, you get an idea where the chip wants you to go.

The place it leads you to is on the far outskirts of Vegas, miles away from the tourist traps of the Vegas Strip. As you head there, you find a golf course on one side, the runways of Nellis Air Force Base on another, and the rest surrounded by trailer parks and warehouses. This is a reminder of another great resource Vegas had, alongside loose laws, big dreamers, and desperate people: cheap land. Piles of scrap, junked cars, building materials, and the businesses that dealt with them all sprawl in every direction; back east you could fit an entire township in this area, but in Vegas this was just for taking care of it’s waste products.

The chip is pointing to one junkyard in particular, nothing stands out about this one. Like many things in this city, it’s open late, and the sodium lights overhead cast an orange hue over the chain link entrance gate. The guard sits in his little cubicle by the gate, a heavyset man sweating from the underpowered AC unit, spending more time watching tiktok on his phone than the security monitors on his desk. He’s not paid enough to care, he will let just about anyone in as long as they don’t look like a tweaker out to steal scrap metal. Even the most basic excuse is enough for him, to the point that if someone waits patiently long enough he’ll just assume they’re meant to be there and open the gate. On leaving, he’s more careful to check that people paid for everything, though that’s easy because it’s hard to conceal anything worth stealing in a place that makes sales by the ton.

Once inside, the overhead lights cover a gravel path through the yard, but nothing else, the rest is dark. There’s little to see among all of the piles of metal and broken cars, except one tower of lights. This very tower appears to be where your chip is pointing, it’s not far from the main path, a side path takes one to a small clearing where you can get a fuller view. The tower is as tall as a telephone pole, and looks like the work of an insane engineer. It’s violently asymmetrical, built from a latticework of old metal in a vague pyramid shape, and every side of it is covered with a mixture of neon lights and an irregular assortment of antennas. Wires are wrapped all over the structure, and they end in a giant bundle connected to a port on an Econoline van parked next to it. Fading letters on the side say “EZ-Fix Electrical”. If you arrive early, you may catch a glimpse of a man entering the back of the van, but he is goes inside and closes the door before you can speak to him. Peering through the front window shows that he is in there, but the back is dark and hard to see much more.

“Well that’s a kick in the teeth…” Robert would mutter to himself from his perch on a pile of junked cars a decent distance away from the tower of lights, as he absently rolled the 100K chips that had lead him here across his knuckles.

Honestly this whole venture was proving itself to not really be worth it so far, regardless of the fact that apparently 100K was on the line. Not that he’s terribly surprised, it had felt a little too easy to luck into such a score in the first place.

It had been in a stack of lesser chips he had won off a three card monte set up a few days ago. But the fact he missed in the first place should have been a giant red flag in and of it's self.

Then there was getting nearly tossed out of the casinos in his attempts to cash it in. Which, honestly, his weird, screwed up, nature is what kept him from getting shot from some of the security stooges. But that did mean it would take a couple more days for the heat around him to die down so he can go back to playing the Blackjack tables.

Then finding out the thing started glowing after sundown, which was new, and worrying. But seeing as he had nothing better to do, he decided to follow the breadcrumbs. Which meant a long ass trek across the city, since no cabbie has ever been able to remember him for further than a block or two so they were out, and boosting a bike was just sad, and too easy by far, so all he could do was hit the bricks and take the slow way

Which meant he couldn’t really earn any scratch or work on anything particularly vulgar to try and figure out any new tricks or patterns. Meaning the whole walk felt like a waste of time.

The poor bastard working security didn’t even lift his head when Robert walked past and jumped the gate. But really that was just par for the course.

But now that he had made it to the end of the rainbow, what did he find?

Magick bullshit.

He stayed at his vantage point just scoping out the tower, the van, and the clearly Awakened guy in the van. He’d bet money the guy in the van was connected to his chip, so Robert wasn’t fully sure he was undetected, but now Robert had to ask himself if he was willing to actually ante up to this very clear thing.

Not that he had much clue of what it was, or could be.

It did stink in his professional opinion, however. Which, when you add in everything else he’s dealt with so far, had him seriously considering just cutting his losses as they were and leaving. He’d have just enough time to find a decent bar to hustle someone in pool if he left now.

But… Fuck. He was curious.

Rolling the chip to the end of his knuckles he would flip it up into the air letting it fall into his palm on the way down before pocketing it. After he’d pull his 1911 and double check it was loaded, before tucking it back into his waist band.

“I’ll give it an hour.” He’d say to himself, checking the time on his phone. “If no one else shows I’m gone.”

With that he would pick his way down his car stack and move towards the edge of light being put out by the tower. Hell, there might be others also waiting out of sight already, but if not, not the best idea to sneak up on whoever else is next to show. Assuming this isn’t all targeted at him that is, which he doubted, but he literally can’t remember who his enemies could be so who knows.

Either way he would pull out out a deck of playing cards in the meantime. He could work on his shuffles or play some Solitaire in the meantime.

The front seat of the Challenger was comfortable, the chassis rode low and Nate was keeping his head on a swivel as he neared the junkyard, tires kicking up dirt on the sand-strewn roads. The chip was on his dash: to most the small, subtle shift in the spade along its surface guiding him. Such a valuable chip outside a casino was a worthless thing, not that the poor-fellow soldier cared for its material worth much. The RFID wiring inside it was already scrambled something terrible, yet still its face pointed unerringly towards the growing piles of strewn vehicles and appliances, past it, towards a small but prominent tower that loomed despite its meager height.

Even so, the Templar could see more, that slight golden light behind his eyes was more than a youthful vigor or solemn wisdom. God was guiding the hand of his chosen, and Nathaniel could see plain as day that the tower was not as unassuming as the pile of junk made it seem. This was not the first time that he had found himself among the discarded things and people that clung to this yard. While he was leery of the technomancers who often called this place ‘home’ or ‘testing ground’ he knew that there may yet be something greater if he was being called here.

The woman in the seat next to him, one only he could see and hear would say simply “The hands of Man are guided by Him, and their works draw forth the Chosen.” Her voice was light, but Nathaniel could never see her face, knowing better to keep his eyes on the road. He would nod, speaking aloud to himself “Well, consider me drawn.” With a small grin. “But the Fallen too seek works to corrupt and destroy.”

He would park outside the yard, rising from the side of his vehicle with a black combat boot emerging first from his steed. He reached into his jacket pocket, thumbing along the beads of his rosary. He did not believe this place to be compromised by the Enemy, but one could never be sure in these times. He said a short prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel as he took the chip off the dash. “Defend us in battle against the wickedness and snares of the Devil…” and began walking plainly into the yard, knowing that God’s protection was with him.

He looked the part of someone who could be there, his bulky leather jacket over a white shirt and dark jeans kept pretty in the stylings of local bikers and gearheads who would not be out of place picking parts from the hulks of fallen vehicles. Of course, he was packing his collapsed MP9 in a shoulder holster under his arm, but such a thing would not be apparent if he didn’t raise his arms. The security guard was enjoying his blessed sleep anyways, no need to disturb him drifting in.

Seeing the Van now that he was in direct eyesight, he would be far more direct in his approach, not yet having seen the man he would speak “Hey, anyone there?” once he was about ten yards from the vehicle.

---

"Why does it have to be here?" Samuel remarked as he sat in his car, engine off, but both hands on the steering wheel. Staring at the junkyard with a serious face. He has not been to this place in a long time, and a reminder of his past with the Snakes. The last time he was here was years ago, and Samuel would rather not go in. But his poker chip, which he left on top of the dashboard. For some reason is pointing towards the junkyard.

Now, Samuel is torn between just leaving and ignoring his defective but magical poker chip. Or follow the chip, head inside, and see what exactly is waiting for him inside.

He sat there in his car for who knows how long, staring at the junkyard and ready to turn the car back on and leave. But, eventually, Samuel made his choice. Though he realizes he may just regret it. More so if he sees a member of the Snakes there. Either way, with a sigh, Samuel stepped out of his car, locked it, and with his poker chip in hand. He walked to the junkyard and headed inside.

Getting in was the easy part, and one he remembered how to do. Now, as he ventured inside, following the direction of the poker chip. Samuel was on his guard, he does not know who he will find here. Mainly, it was just if he gets unlucky and the Snakes. But who knows who else is in the junkyard at this hour?

Still, after some time after following the poker chip, did he reach his destination. Which there was a tower that was not here the last time he came to this junkyard. Samuel could feel the energy radiating from it. Alot of energy was coming from it, and he can feel it across the electromagnetic spectrum as easily as he can feel the light it is producing.

Then his gaze fell on the EZ-fix truck, that sight is not a new one. Smauel has seen that truck here before but never met its owner, and at the time when he was with the Snakes. He paid little attention to it. But now with the tower and it being nearby. Maybe there is a connection between it and the tower, or at least whoever was in the truck might know who made the tower. Unless he is assuming too much here. Samuel is still new to magic here, and he is still trying to figure out how it all works.

But, after a moment of looking around, did he hear a voice. One he did recognize, and to his relief, one that did not belong to a member of the Snakes. So Smauel turned to the source and found Nathaniel. "Nate? What is he doing here?" Samuel wondered quietly to himself as he thought about what to do next.

Since Samuel does know Nate, barely, but better than being a stranger. So maybe he can trust the man, and maybe he is here for the same reason he is? Well, Sameul decided it was time to find out.

So, Samuel, after taking a deep breath, and hopefully this is not a mistake, he walked to Nathaniel cautiously, as not to surprise him, and greeted the man. "Hey, Nate, I did not expect to see you here." Sounding friendly but cautious,"What are you here for, and I hope I am not interrupting on your end."

“Ya know, there’s a saying I think fits about now.” Robert would pipe up, interrupting the impromptu reunion. His presence suddenly and jarringly snapping into existence from nothing. He was about fifteen feet back from Nathaniel, just out of the hard edge of the circle of light pouring off the tower. A halfway played game of solitaire dealt out in front of him.

That wasn’t the case, he had been sitting here since before Nathaniel showed up as point of fact. But Robert knew it was all too easy to overlook him if you weren’t on the lookout for him in the first place. Besides, he had been curious if the voyeur in the van was going to react to the call out.

But the other newcomer decided to respond instead.

“Something about three times being enemy action and all that.” He would add as he absently continued his game of Solitaire, though it was clear his attention was more on Nathaniel and Samuel then the cards in front of him. Not that it seemed to hinder him at all.

“Going to go out on a limb and guess you’ve both got about a hundred grand burning a hole in your pockets as well, and came here hoping the end of the rainbow would finally let you cashout?”

Kalen Fiaccola was not having a good day.

In fact, the past 24 hours had been among the worst of his life. Not the absolute worst, mind. That distinction belonged to the day before his Magick awakened, when he was convinced he was having some kind of psychotic break. Then the church had burned down, which caused no small amount of relief – he wasn’t crazy – and then a subsequent wash of guilt that he’d been relieved by an event that had claimed multiple lives.

The only other day that had been even close to that awful was the time he was 14, went to Christopher Andretti’s birthday party and got busted smooching the birthday boy in the hall closet. In retrospect, that hadn’t ended too terribly. Once the teenage mortification died down anyway. He and Chris had gone to the junior prom together, he’d been an excellent first boyfriend. He and Jin had gone to Chris’ wedding last year and laughed about the whole thing.

So as far as the list of shitty days, this would be a solid second. Since he’d arrived in Las Vegas, he’d managed to lose his bags in the back of the Uber, dropped his phone in a gross puddle on the strip, and was already sporting a nasty sunburn on the back of his neck since his good sunscreen was in his bag, in the back of the aforementioned Uber, who had vanished to parts unknown. Thank God he hadn’t packed the ring in there, otherwise the whole trip would have been a very expensive disaster.

If things had gone properly, he would have met his beloved Jin at the top floor of the second fanciest hotel in Vegas. He’d gone over the words of his proposal so many times he could confess his undying love in his sleep. Everything had been ready. Not perfect, but as close as he could get it.

But Jin hadn’t shown up for dinner last night. Or answered his many calls since. It would be one thing if they was the type of person to flake on a moment’s notice, but no. They were probably one of the smartest, well organized people Kalen had ever met. One hour had turned into two, had turned into three, had turned into sympathetic glances and whispers from the servers, a comped bottle of unopened champagne, and a morning of subtle but increasing panic.

Something was wrong. His Magick had been whispering it since he got off the plane, buzzing at the back of his senses like a fly. But he’d honestly thought he was just nervous. Who wouldn’t be? After he’d given in and gone back to his hotel, he’d made a valiant attempt at a location spell. One tea candle, one precise thirty second alarm on his watch, one single question –

“Where is Jinayah Ifriti right now?”

He’d shielded the tiny flame while slipping out the back door of the hotel where it seemed to push opposite of the wind. Pointing him down the neon lit streets, down a dumpster alley, and suddenly - shoulder to shoulder with a stranger carrying two massive trash bags. To his shame, he’d dropped it. He’d dropped the candle upon contact, and after apologies given and waved off, picked it up again.

It was too late. The flame was snuffed. Nothing but a haze of smoke that his powers couldn’t grasp the direction of.

To his further shame, he’d tucked his back against the greasy brick and simply cried for a few minutes. He felt like he used to as a kid: overwhelmed with anxiety to a degree that made his vision narrow and skin prickle with panic.

Once he’d calmed enough to speak, he lifted his phone to his ear. His Avatar didn’t have a phone number, but no one looked at you weird when you talked to yourself with a device to your ear. “Alessandra… what am I supposed to do now? Should I go back and try again?”

She didn’t always answer, but it was useful advice when she did.

“Chin up. Look ahead.”

Usually useful, anyway.

“I appreciate the pep talk, I’m good now, but I really need to know what to-” The lightest pressure struck the back of his head, like a delicate smack to corral a misbehaving child.

“Look. Ahead.”

She wasn’t always a woman of words. Kalen took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his head as he straightened up. He figured that she was just telling him to man up, in so many words – until he caught the edge of a poker chip against the harsh city lights.

“What the hell… that’s a 10k chip, isn’t it?” He hadn’t bothered to step into any of the casinos yet. Jin – and the lack of Jin - had taken focus. “Damn.” He picked it up, and then looked around. Did the trash guy drop it? But that had been several minutes ago, and he had no idea where the stranger had come from or gone to.

“Well. Maybe I can get my screen replaced if I cash this.” Maybe his luck was turning around.

-

Or maybe he was going to die in some random drug deal in an alley. Kalen was facing a very random assortment of men. One of them looked strung out, one of them was dealing cards like a retiree on a Sunday morning, did that guy have a gun? - and all of them made his senses bristle.

This whole situation smelled, and it wasn’t the rust and rot that was doing it.

“Heh… This is not my hotel, Google Maps.” He found himself smiling in what he hoped was a placating way. Slowly, his fingernails clicked against the wood of his rosary, a calming motion. He’d dealt with weird before – he was from Chicago, cities were just like that sometimes. Best to not make any sudden moves.

"Any of you fine gents know where the nearest bus stop is?"

---

Nate’s head would snap to the movement of the ex-ganger, his expression softening for a brief moment at the familiar face, only for his hailing to attract the attention of yet more lurking among so much piled junk. “Samuel—” he started, before he realized they were not alone outside of the van.

His eyes flash, his vision filling with the glow of living souls and the patterns of the His creation coming into clear view. When his hand rests on that cold metal under his jacket below his armpit, it holds for a moment before lowering back to his side. This wasn’t a suit that was liable to appear, and if he was fallen, he wasn’t carrying the taint on his soul.

The templar saw the game of cards laid out before the man, almost disappointed to realize it was not one of the more popular among their kind. Tarots and arcana of even more esoteric provenance was usually the expectation. The man playing the game was almost hard for him to see, a blurred silhouette even in his divine-guided eyes, but His light pierces even the deepest shadow. He was awakened, and even as his form flickered in and out of Nate’s mind, the knight was at ease.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think these chips are going to be giving you much more than questions. I’m here for answers, not a payday.” He says smoothly.

The fourth face was much more casual, and he’d even crack a smirk “’Bout a block and a half down, and not past a security gate.” He say with a small shake of his head, turning back toward the van. “This is starting to feel like a trap. I’d suggest getting out here and stating your business.” He’d call out again to the vehicle.

A man walks out of the van, obviously in no hurry as he slowly opens the door and steps out, one foot after the other. He wears a workman’s uniform, and looks to be in his forties, traces wrinkles in his skin and strands of grey in his hair. One of his hands holds a wirestripper, which he keeps hold of as he speaks and gestures towards the tower. After getting his bearings and taking his time to look over the group, he says

“If you’re here, then I guess that means the tower must’ve worked. It’s like a big ole’ beacon, supposed to attract people, but only those with good intentions. Right now I’ve ran it with enough charge that it’s aetheric flux field oughta hit the whole city, but someday want to really overclock it, get people all across the world, across others worlds to be able to see it.”

With the back doors of the van now open one can see that the interior of the van is far larger than the exterior. It could fit a large one bedroom apartment inside, and from the doorway you can see that every free corner is devoted to an elaborate electronics workshop. A table crowded with tools dominates the center of it, soldering irons, lenses, lamps, mechanical arms strewn about, and the walls are covered in bins holding electronics parts. Wires, antennas and oscilloscopes stand on carts and on the floor, all of it stubbornly analog; there isn’t a single computer in sight, but there are plenty of vacuum tubes and CRT monitors. Aside from tripping hazards, it’s messy but not dangerous. It’s difficult to see the far corner, but it appears that there is smaller second level overhanging the lab, with a bed and a small sofa indicating that this might be his living area. There are no exterior windows, all light comes from the glow of many, many incandescent bulbs.
He's got smile on his face, happy that the beacon worked, and happy to meet some new people. He says

“Anyway, I’m Ezekiel Thomas, guess you could call me an electrical engineer, of a sort anyway. People told me I can get in trouble if I call myself that, cuz the work I do ain’t exactly conventional. I just say they’ve got too narrow an idea of how electricity works. If there’s something I can help you with, might be best to come on in, there’s space inside the van for everyone and that’s where I can get real work done. Oh, and that includes you too, Jianghong, I see you out there hiding. Why didn’t you tell me you was back in town?”

He turns his back and begins to re-enter his workshop, gesturing that people are welcome to follow him.

---

"Hmmm, a trap." Samuel thought about that as more people showed up to the junkyard, and it looks like he and Nate are not the only ones herer. Who else got that chip and that has to be a reason why they are all here. "I have been here before that van." Samuel pointed towards the van, "That van is a regular sight here, but I never met the person who owns it, and the tower is new." Before Samuel could think or talk more about the van or the tower. Did a man come out of the van and introduce himself.

Ezekiel Thomas, that is a name Samuel does not recognize, and that explains why the tower is putting out so much power. But, when Ezekiel spoke about reaching the whole world and beyond. He had to say something. "Why do you need the tower to be that strong to reach... beyond Earth?" Admittedly, Samuel was a bit nervous and surprised. Yes, Ezekiel said he is looking for people with good intentions, but to go beyond Earth. That is a big net to toss out. "So these chips are apart of this?" Samuel looked down at his poker chip before flipping it and putting it into his pocket.

This is going to be a long night, Samuel could just feel it in his bones about this. As he gazed inside of the van and noting how big it was. Samuel made a choice since Nate was here, and he could trust him. Perhaps if this does turn out to be a trap and then he can rely on Nate to get them out of this. If he follows that is.

So Sameul turned to Nate, "well I am going to see where this rabbit hole goes and... see what this is all about." Samuel let out a deep breath and then turned and went to walk into the van. Hoping that this is not a trap and not really expecting what will happen next.

Man Jianghong

A slender form slid out of the shadows, perhaps surprising the other new arrivals. As it stepped forward into the harsh light, it became a woman in a qipao dress, long dark hair tied back in a braid as severe as her features. Coal-dark eyes set wide above angular cheekbones narrowed at Ezekiel.

"Hello, Ezekiel," she said, her voice low and smoky, a whisper of an accent hardening the consonants. "I didn't think I had business with you. I still don't know if I do. It's not like you to advertise. And this display - " she waved a hand negligently at the tower that was blasting energy across the EM spectrum " - is not your style. That makes me a little suspicious."

Her hand closed into a fist, held lightly at her side.

"When I get suspicious, I get nervous. Remember, Ezekiel? You don't like it when I'm nervous. Better start explaining."

A mild snicker followed the unexpected answer to Kalen’s quip. The guy who was almost definitely strapped was kinda funny. Before he could gather more information, someone came out of the van. This became sketchier by the second. Not helped at all by the pretty, buff lady seemingly melting out of the shadows.

Unable to help himself, Kalen stared into the van, looking bewildered at the sheer amount of stuff on display. "Wow. It's like a pawn shop had a baby with a Radio Shack. And then the baby exploded." Jin would love this - the mountains of electronic junk would have held some kind of electronic treasure. Then they'd go off, brown eyes sparkling, explaining it in a way that'd leave him only slightly confused and mostly enamoured. He’d stopped being good at math around the time algebra started. Which was half the reason he’d gotten to know Jin so well in the first place…

“Look, I’m not here for… whatever this is. I’m just looking for someone.” In a way, it was good that Jin was not here. Mostly because he’d never get them to leave. “And they’re not here, you’d know by the way your stuff would be reorganized when you turned around– Just to be sure.” He pulled out his phone, grumbling internally at the cracked screen. Carefully, he pulled up a recent picture and zoomed in. Jin’s happy face appeared beside his.



“Please, has anyone seen this person? They're missing, and... yeah.” He had to call the cops. Some exhausted sounding officer had said they couldn’t file a report without Jin being missing 48 hours, which was insanely stupid to him. But it was closing in on that time. “If not, keep the chip and I’ll be on my way.”

Robert stayed seated, seemingly cool as you can be despite nearly getting a gun drawn on him. The ease on his face distracted from the tension in his hands and legs, not that that tension had anytime to be noticed by the others. Not when yet another person showed up.

His bullshit radar was absolutely pinging, but before Robert made the choice to just. Fade and be done with all of this. Their illustrious voyeur finally made himself known.

“Well, that’s for sure not something you hear every day.” He would mutter to himself, turning his attention back to the bright shining tower. He lets his Sight drift sideways, washing the world in the fractal mosaic that it truly is. He tries to pick out the threads and edges of its output in more detail, but gets no further then he did when he first saw it.

He can’t help but wonder if this Ezekiel was talking Good or ‘good’; as Robert wasn’t one to put himself in the former category. He also didn’t care too much about the comment about aiming for beyond Earth. Could be true, after all, could also just be ‘True’. Robert sure as hell didn’t know enough to say one way or another.

But what he was interested was in how Ezekiel talked about electricity. An Awakened expert on the topic might be able to help him figure out the frequency and color of that particular set of patterns. Hell, sticking around just to watch anyone here might be able to help him figure all sorts of things out.

In a smooth motion Robert collected his cards and stood up. “Well no idea if you’re more The Man on the Moon or Thawne.” He’d state as he rummaged around in his pockets for a cigarette and his zippo lighter. ”But you’ve got my curiosity I suppose.”

”As for you Kid.” Robert would go on to say, pointing at Kalen. ”If you’ve got anything of theirs on you, I’ll trade you your chip for telling you if they are still in the City.”

He'd light up his smoke after giving his offer, wondering if anyone else would offer up a better one, seeing as everyone here was supposed to be good after all.

---

When Ezekiel emerges, Nate gives pause, watching him with a skepticism on his eyes, the claims of miracle workers were often overblown, but one stuck with the Templar sourly. “How are you sure everyone who can see it has good intentions?” he has a genuineness in his tone, not dismissive of the idea, but never fully confident in mechanisms of the awakened scientists. He was unsurprised by the final arrival, but he was nervous about the amount of heat that this little gathering was liable to attract.

“What sort of work do you have in mind?” He asked, beginning to follow him only for Jalen’s words to immediately draw his attention. He looked over the man closely, those eyes carrying a golden glint as they rest on that crucifix at his side. “Haven’t been looking for her, but I’d be glad to help you with that. Wouldn’t be the first missing person.” He said with a slight somberness that indicated those didn’t always end well. A reassuring smile was all he could offer as he entered the van behind the technomancer.

Ezekiel sat on the tailgate of his van, looking the group over, still with a relaxed posture and talking.

“This machine puts out a signal that doesn’t quite resonate with bad vibes, but gets stronger with good ones, so whether you pick up on it depends on where your headspace is at. I’ve got my theories and tests, but the fact I ran it for a while and none of the men in suits showed up yet makes me fairly confident it’s working damn well.”

He took a look at Jianglong before he said his next part

“Jianglong, you know me, when I get a project in my head I go for it, and I don’t worry about telling people until I’m deep into it. People can find out when they find out. This was the kind of thing that was difficult to test in the small scale, but I do have my precautions in place just in case it gets the wrong kind of attention. Namely, I’ve got eyes all around the junkyard and a damn fast escape route if I need to ditch the tower.”

He had gotten a look at some of the chips they were holding, and heard them talking about them, but from far away he couldn’t tell much about them, not even their denomination. After squinting to try and get better a look, he gave up and spoke to the group.

“I heard you asking about chips, don’t know anything about casino chips, and despite what it looks like I don’t deal with the computer kind either. All my gear is analog, digital stuff just can’t connect with the frequencies of the universe. If you got some chip that you think might be a little off it and tell you if I notice anything, but I’ll tell you right now I didn’t make any.”

He had one last thing to do before going back into his van. Ezekiel took a good look at Kalen’s photo, but paused to think for a bit. As he turned his back and went into the van, he said

“I can’t say I’ve ever met somebody named Jin, but something about that picture looks familiar. I know I’ve seen it somewhere.”
He went over to a desk that had some kind of CRT television on it next to an antenna array. After tweaking a few dials and seeing different images dissolve into one another on the screen, Ezekiel said

“Hold up, I think I might have it. “

He ducked under the desk to flip some switches on a thermal printer, giving it a good thwack before it started. Gradually, a piece of paper began to come out of it.

Ezekiel said

“The law is hassling me over something I didn’t do, said I messed with slot machines when I haven’t even set foot on a gaming floor all year, nothing but trouble there, and hacking slot machines ain’t even fun. I was wondering why they are trying to pin this on me, it’s not the first time they’ve gone after me over some BS, but this got me curious. I worked some of my old tricks and found that the bulletin they sent around about me was actually the second version, and the first draft had some pretty major differences”

The page had finished printing now, and Ezekiel grabbed it and handed a copy of the sheet to Kalen. He said

“Here, this is the report they sent around but then recalled before it hit the public, they thought they were being slick but they’re up against someone who knows Van Eck Phreaking the like of which they’ve never dreamt of. TEMPEST ain’t gonna do them any good when I’m on them, and tricks like this are what keep me alive.”

The paper was smudgey, and had a thin feel to it, like a giant CVS receipt. On it, there were two police bulletins, side by side, bearing dates one hour apart

The body text was the same, “SUSPECTED OF TAMPERING WITH SLOT MACHINES, PLEASE REPORT TO LAW ENFORCEMENT IF ENCOUNTERED. DO NOT APPROACH OR CONFRONT”, but the headline was different. The suspect’s description and the photo had been completely swapped out between versions; the original had a blurry CCTV photo, but one that was unmistakably Jin, and the later copy had what looked like a professional headshot of Ezekiel, with no explanation for how it could change so drastically only hour apart.

As Ezekiel had his mind focused on the paper, there was action unfolding on another CRT monitor, one mounted high enough that anyone inside the workshop would have a good view of it. It looked like the signal of CCTV camera, one pointed at the junkyard entrance. Through scanlines, one could see a distinct screen: five incredibly generic men in black suits at the gate of the junkyard, having some kind of conversation with the gatekeeper and clearly growing frustrated with his mix of confusion and laziness.

Kalen scowled at the stranger who offered to trade their chip for a basic spell. “Oh please.” Now he was just irritated. “Las Vegas is about 136 square miles. In the city could still be anywhere – if you think your offer means anything, I’ve got a lovely tower in Chicago to sell you.” Annoyingly, he couldn’t even get a decent glare going. His eyes just wanted to… slide off this man’s face. Weird. “If you really wanna do me a favor, let me bum a cigarette and a light.” He’d been trying to quit, but if he didn’t do something to settle himself he was going to start chewing on his rosary.

“You, though…” He looked firmly at Nathaniel. “You seem okay. I could use reliable help. I tried a tracer spell, but I dropped it, literally. Haven’t been able to quite get it to work since.” He’d relit the candle about an hour before the chip called him out. Oddly, the flame had been weirdly still. No wind, no motion. He wasn’t sure of what it meant, and Alessandra had refused to answer him.

His attention was drawn to Ezekiel the second he said that Jin’s picture looked familiar. The printed paper was hastily snatched, and the surprise sunk in. “…that’s them. Tampering with slot machines? That doesn’t make sense. Jin wouldn't do something like that.” Not publicly anyway. Sure, Jin would probably love to mess around with theory and what-ifs, but to actually do it? And then get caught? That wasn't Jin. But the printout in his shaking hands was real. Blurry or not, it was definitely his sweetheart. “How-”

He never got to finish the question. A shudder ran through him, like someone had dumped ice water down his back. The same sensation he’d felt a thousand times over, one he’d finally learned to listen to over the years. It meant one thing:

“...trouble’s coming.”

---

The knight would raise an eyebrow when Ezekiel spoke to the provenance of the chips, apparently there was something even greater afoot. Whether it be provenance or a greater plot by powers not that high, he was here now, and the quest before him was quickly becoming clearer still. “Sometimes it takes a little more than spells to find someone when you need to.” He says, his expression betraying a slight unease with the more mundane and lower ways of hunting someone down.

That brow would lower quickly as he saw the figures on the CCTV. “Seems the pure intentions have ran out, Ezekiel.” He says flatly, taking a few steps towards the junk pile. He reaches down towards his hip, drawing a combat knife from a concealed holster under his jacket as he faces away from the crew.

He grasps the blade firmly with his left hand, crimson life dribbling down the blade and soaking into his jacket. His voice is little above a murmur, unlikely to be heard unless anyone was listening closely. “I do not fear, for you are with me. I will not be dismayed, for you are my God. You strengthen me, you protect me, and you hold me in your righteous hands.” He takes a couple breaths, and even at a glance he was more physically robust, like he gained a couple inches and about twenty pounds of muscle on his lean body.

He turns back to his fellows, reaching into his pocket to draw his machine pistol, a similarly brutish, bulky thing with a flipped up electronic sight “Who can hold their own here? Need to make the call if we’re fighting them off or trying to get out of here.”

“Everyone is a critic.” Robert would mutter as he rolled his eyes at getting shot down. Not that he was surprised, the kid clearly had his head on straight. But Robert knew better then to try and promise more then he could guarantee, at least when it came to legitimate offers.

Different rules when it came to running a Con after all.

Either way he was in the process of pulling out a cigarette for him when everyone seemed to wind up on edge.

Glancing up he too would noticed the CCTV and-

‘The suit was itchy, and he would always swear he could feel it trying to dig it’s hooks into his soul but-'

‘-rywhere we go is in at least two man teams, even in a larger op, everyone has a designated part-‘

‘-uit up men! We've got out marching orders! Time to hunt some Realit-‘

He blinked, the world slotting back into place. The back of his neck itched, and the press of Existence was loud in his ears.

It was time to leave. It was long past time to leave.

He was nearly about to pull his damaged nature in close. And just Fade and be gone. But his gaze landed on the CCTV again. And he could only count five people.

‘Where was the sixth man?’

Splitting up was a bad idea. He could bail later, once they had gotten clear and free.
“Sticking around here is a good way to get iced.” Robert would call out, though he too had pulled out his own piece. A worn, but well maintained, 1911 Colt handgun. “We might be able to take the company, but they can get backup and we can’t. And that flow shift isn’t something we can punch our way out of.”

He would turn to Ezekiel. “You got a quick way to take that thing down?” He would ask gesturing at the Tower with his free hand. “Not sure it’s a good play to let the suits walk away with it myself.”

---

So this night is going to be a long one, Samuel thought as he listened to everything happening around him. He pulled out his poker chip, looking at it like he was studying it. If Ezekiel is not the one behind them, leading all of them here, then why did these poker chips lead them here? Maybe it was the tower, like the chips were attracted by the signal or something else.

Samuel put his poker chip back into his pocket, and he can say he was glad that the Snakes were not waiting for him here, and this was not a trap by them. Which had him relieved, and as he listened to what the others were saying and discussing. While Samuel did not say it, he did not recognize the person who was Kalen was looking for. Alot of people come to Vegas, and it is a big city. Even a local like him cannot help with this, and Samuel felt a bit useless in this situation.

But that soon changed when he heard Kalen say Trouble is coming and looked at one of the CCTV monitors, and it looked like he was right. Samuel sighed, since of all the times he carried a pistol on him. Tonight was not that night, and he mentally kicked himself in the head for the oversight. The time he needed it, and he left it behind.

Then, responding to the question that Nate asked. "I do not have a gun on me, but I know how to fight and use a gun if anyone has a spare." Samuel feeling a bit useless again right now. "But, I am fine if we decide on running for it." Samuel, looking back at the CCTV monitor. "We might to able to take him if we got enough people who know how to fight and backup is not coming."

When Ezekiel saw the men on the monitor, he jolted upright. He gave the monitor a whack to make sure it was reading right, then started rummaging through the scraps beneath the table for a canvas back, before practically running to another corner of the van's interior. The whole time, he was talking. He said

"Spooks are here, always bad news, and I've had enough run-ins with them this week. None of this crew look like the really scary ones round here; word gets around about them, but usually the no-names are the first wave before the big guns come round. If you want to just get right out of here as quick as you can, I can help with that, but it'll mean leaving the tower behind, more evidence for them. If you buy me a few minutes, I can scrap it and we can all head out in the van. Just do whatever you're gonna do quickly."

When Brian Card built this office he had one overriding demand, that it have the best views in town. That’s why it was in the Stratosphere Tower, in a room left off all of the building plans, built in a manner that would make geometry scream. It was far too big to be hidden the way it was without hypertech compressing space, and he made it even trickier by demanding massive windows that still somehow remained unobservable outside despite giving him a perfect view. He only got it done in the first place by calling in a lot of favors from the Void Engineers, they were still grateful for helping him with the whole Groom Lake business over the decades.

On another hidden floor was the nerve center of sensors, watching, probing, keeping Vegas safe, a frenzy of activity and spartan finishings crowded with personnel and electronic gear. This place was the opposite, spacious, grand, furnished with his personal favorite mix of mahogany, marble, gold accents, and fine leather furniture. The only difference between it and the gaming floors of so many of the casin’s he had shepherded into the world was the lighting, he liked to keep it dim to appreciate the skyline outside, rather than assault the senses. He got up from his position on his desk, appreciating the small miracles that they had cooked up like a wood finish that would never be smudged when he rest his fine Italian shoes on it, or how invisible forces shepherd his papers into the exact drawers after he had finished with them (Card was still skeptical of too much work on the computer). After checking his appearance in the mirror and confirming that age, wrinkles and weight gain still hadn’t diminished his million dollar smile, he walked down the hall to the conference room.


Card was several minutes late to the start, as always; that sent a message to anyone who thought the schedule was more important than the man himself. He timed it perfectly, having worked a little of his own tricks to walk in right as Bennett was going for his own power play of trying to convince the rest of the attendees to start without him, moves like that were for amateurs. The conversation died down quickly when he took his seat at one end of the table, flanked by an overabundance of empty seats around. As he looked at his Patek Phillipe on his wrist he said “Well, I know Gita said she couldn’t make it, but it looks everyone else is here except our guest. She should be here in a few minutes.”

He looked at each of them individually, skipping over the cloned assistants standing in the back, those were the equivalent of office furnishings. Jack Bennett was seated closest to him, looking sour as usual, like he just wanted to be back at his desk working on more deals and financial models. No matter how perfect he could wear a suit and fill a seat, Bennett was never a people pleaser. On the other side was Janice Sulkowicz, with a perfectly content expression on her face. That was how she always was, ol’ dependable Janice, never one to make waves, never one to break the rules, and certainly never one to fail to look proper on a formal occasion. Further down the table was Ronaldo Tavarez, wearing a suit he clearly didn’t care about, poor fit, unsuitable color choice, but it was something he rarely had the occasion to wear. Card saw him twitching while in his seat, with anyone else this might make him worried, but that was how Tavarez was, the computers in his head were probably running more optimal combat simulations even now and they didn’t let him rest. If the meeting got to be too long, Tavarez could be on his way in any case.

Lastly, at the furthest end of the table was the newest member of the amalgam, Braden Lang, only twenty two years old. He had a fine tailored suit and a carbon fiber Richard Mille on his wrist, but Card always had trouble getting over the kid’s broccoli perm haircut. Braden looked around the room casually with a mix of amazement and confusion, despite his attempts to clench his jaw and keep a stone expression on his face, Card knew the kid was still taking it all in. Amusingly, of all the things the kid was looking at, he hadn’t paid much attention to the Vermeer on the wall that was officially still classified as “missing”.

After a little more awkward silence, all eyes naturally concentrated on the elevator, waiting for the guest of honor. A late guest of honor. Down below in the haze of Vegas sun, heat, and concrete that guest of honor stood near the western pedestrian entrance of the upper parking garage, closer to the entrance to the amusement park than to the casino, watching Ubers and Lyfts and delivers come and go, pale plums of thin smoke inking out across the air around the figure as they concentrated on nothing more than base level observation and bringing cigarette to lips, and back to off to the side of them.

The last time Tessa was in Las Vegas, it wasn’t the weed capital of the United States. She watched two hotel workers pass a spliff between each other, their conversation kept to the volume of just between the two of them, not that it stopped her from eavesdropping on their tit-for-tat rants about their low-grade direct supervisors. Just the cathartic vents of the underemployed and underpaid, judging by their choice of smoke.

The tourists were either smoking cigarettes or vapes, there didn’t seem to be much in-between. It was, like far too many things in their shared reality, a matter of means. When they caught her eyes, their gazes became pensive, defensive, and temporary, quickly moving from the woman in the corner behind the benches wearing white linen Armani; button-up sand silk blouse with sleeves pushed up to the elbow, top button unbuttoned out of comfort, not flirtation, her three inch heels close toed, gold buckled, and base a light wooden grain rather than the off-white cream of the rest of the show.

There was no handbag, and there was little guessing where she’d even gotten the cigarette from as she flicked it out and watched it fuzz and fade from what constituted her immediate reality. It wasn’t fair to say she made the meeting reluctantly, it was just a matter of process and procedure. It was next on the schedule, even if she had a harder and harder time caring about such things the further, the longer, she dared to go on her journey. Eventually the end would come, and she knew the mirror at the end that awaited her.
It was as discomforting as it was absolute to know exactly what the monster at the end of your road looked like.
The way to the elevator wasn’t familiar, but it wasn’t unknown, either, a quick pace with one hand neatly, casually, folded into her pants pocket, the other tapping the rose gold metallic slender device with white frosted tip mid-length fingernail as she stepped into the elevator that went to the floor that wasn’t there if you wanted to continue existing as you currently did.
Without authorization, anyway. The doors opened to the expected sight of the man, to which her lips gave dutiful upward tug towards, “Card,” Tessa found herself saying in a typical sing-song half-sigh as she closed the distance and regarded the surroundings and the other attendees with the interest of an art critic breezing through an upper east side gallery, wondering which she’d erase first, “what’s going on in Sin City?”

At the end of the question, her head cocked just, barely, to the side, her subtle red glossed lips encroaching into smile territory like a slow burning fire threatening to skip a fire barricade and go full wildfire. She knew she needed to be here. Control made that clear, it was the details in-between that she didn’t know yet.

Card said

“A lot, Tess, a lot’s new. This city’s like on of ‘em deep ocean fishes, it just starts moving and it never ever stops, even when it wants to rest it’s still running. I still remember what you said about it last time, and I’ve been puttin’ some stuff for the highbrow crowd around. Look down the strip, got buildings by Pelli, Foster, Liebeskind, public art by Ai Weiwei, hell I’m even classin’ up Fremont Street. No more off brand Disneyland, it’s about class, vice, and making vice classy.”
David got up to walk and talk, as liked to do. He didn’t feel like he could make the point as well without adding some motion to his delivery

“Rest of the business is going well, I was worried for a bit when the big ‘ol VPs got that whole legal gambling thing through, but with Bennett here as my money man things are better than ever, and he even found a way to get some of that national money to flow back here. I know I rag on him cuz he doesn’t always take the classy approach, but he never fails to deliver results. Janice, well she’s got all of the normal government busybodies and newshounds on our side, can’t say much about that either; and whenever crazy stuff pops up Tavarez shuts up down real fast. Braden here, the kid’s new, but I’m sure he’ll be alright once he gets something to do, you know the RD activity has been kinda quiet, they’re all a little scared after we busted up their little club at the Luxor and neutralized that crew.”

“I always keep my mind on the big picture, and right now I’m tryin’ bring some of that tech money to the outskirts, Graff’s the biggest whale out there and I know I’m close to getting him to open up his pocketbook, when he does the amount of cash he’ll drop on the area will make that time I got Mr. MSG from the big apple to drop a cool 2 billie on that big ‘ol eyeball look like a $2 off coupon for Applebees. Other stuff, well you know I got that eyesore Xanadu out there that just can’t quite get finished, and but the town is smooth, people bitch ‘bout homeless people or make up stuff about killers cuz they don’t remember how bad it was, like the days when the mob was running wild. Coulda always used your help of course, maybe some bad times wouldn’t have hit if you were here.”

Card made a gesture and Janice pulled out a tablet that she handed to Tess. It contained the briefing on suspected reality deviant activity. As she handed it over, she shot Braden a nasty look, who only then realized that he was supposed to join her in reviewing it. David never stopped talking during this

“Anyway, I know I gave my whole spiel about how it’s all so rosy, and I know you’re gonna ask for the files and rip me a new one over some unresolved threat that ain’t so bad, but before you do, I got one thing to show you. You’re about to see the finest work of art in the whole city, and I ain’t talking about this ‘ol Vermeer missing it’s home in Boston that you got me.”

He tapped the desk and some of the wooden panels in the wall slide away to reveal a hidden compartment. The rest of the people around the table looked barely amused, like they had seen this trick before. In the compartment was a tank full of stasis fluid holding an inanimate human body inside it, one that looked like the spitting image of a younger David Card, perfectly healthy and vigorous. If one had known David in his younger days, they would realize it wasn’t a perfect replica, it had been cleaned up in ways the original lacked. A stronger jawline, a few extra inches of height, fuller hair, toned six pack abs, like a perfected version of his younger self. Card said.

“Ain’t he perfect? Gita worked on him extra hard, I looked over every follicle myself, wanted him to be right if I’m gonna do the whole mind transfer thing, cuz we can’t all age as well as you, Tess. I’ve been doing the whole backstory thing for him, couple glamorous photo ops, some stints at elite schools, a party here or there, just enough to plant him but not overexpose him. I figure I’ll make the jump to the new body soon, just gotta put the ink on a really great deal and figure out how to give myself the most Vegas funeral you’ve ever seen. If I’m gonna start walking around with Junior on my name, I gotta send the original out on a high note”

It felt to her like Card had delivered the punchline before he even told the joke, as inspiring to her as a Top 100 list. Her dark eyes took in the painting as relaxed as a cat regarding an old scratch post, flickering to the tank again, and then to the attendees once more. “Revisionist history, Card?”
She asked, blinking back to the man, remembering the young Card. She hadn’t changed much. She wasn’t always certain why, at that, but when the mirror watched and waited as you forced a smile and waved goodbye to life as any regular soul might process it in the whirs and proton exchanges of the universe, you just kinda went with it.
Not Card. “Do you think he does it for a joke? Maybe there are oaths involved?” The crack came at the detriment, or benefit, of the kid at the table. She could see the new-ness, and she could recall the file, several hours or several years, it was all about as equally bleak at that point in a Technocrat’s career.
The kid probably even thought he had a real chance at being somebody. Whatever that meant. Her eyes went back to the offering of the tablet as she started to focus, her tone half-present, half-consumed by what she read, barely able to respond to his poke at if-only she’d been present more, “yeah, my fault, becoming Control’s boogeyman fills up a planner.”
She could feel it. It was there. Where? She scrolled, white frost tipped fingernail going fast and faster, until she simply sighed, and set it on the table before her, and placed her rose gold ‘phone’ on it, her fingers tight on the phone as information hyperspaced from digitized bits to her brain, and through it, her reality-stretching intuition.
It was Janice that Tess turned her eyes on next, intensity firing on quantum levels of brightness, the very hue of her following tone dangerous enough to make the inherent danger or who, and what, Tess was painfully abundant, as if there was no Card, just a senior investigator and an analyst who was about to be blinked,

“Expand on recent deviant history. Focus on clustered activity.”

Janice scowled, but internally she lit up. She spoke with a monotone, summoning precision and speed like someone that knew these words by heart. She said

“If you will look at the filings, tracking deviancy is a tertiary responsibility of mine, as we have elected to follow structure 7E of the approved amalgams standards specified in the Precepts of Damian, code section 97865.234.2357.9mu, current revision. This structure was reaffirmed at our all-hands on January 8th, 2019, with unanimous signoff. 7E specifies that our termination division will hold primary responsibility for tracking deviancy, and as the lead of our administrative affairs division, my tertiary responsibility requires only that I log known deviants I encounter in my normal conduct, and you will find quite extensive descriptions of every known or suspected encounter I or someone beneath me in our org structure has determined to be suspicious, sparse as such encounters have been given my duties. Our structure splits the termination division among two branches, a syndicate specific branch and a non-syndicate action group, and specifies that both are to share the responsibility equally. Tavarez is the head of the action group, and the syndicate duties would lie with Card, but he has used his right to delegate to give them to Bennett, who has in turn used his to give them to Lang, with considerable vacancies in between. I apologize about the state of record keeping for their work, but as specified 97865.234.30097.9phi, if I were to work their records that would require executive level approval to avoid violating information integrity protocols. I wish to inform you that Tavarez has repeatedly invoked protocol 97865.111.3588.9xi, a formal request for modification of record keeping standards to maintain tactical readiness. He has not informed me as to whether the request has been granted. The syndicate branch has not filed such a request.”

It came to her lips like blood, the metallic taste of it her first realization it was even there, “…nephandi?” Her eyes blinked, her feet took a half-step back as her heeled feet clicked on the polished floor of the conference room. The phone came off the tablet, her eyes might have been on Janice, but her gaze was barely still in the same spectrum of light as the rest of them, the very floor and walls of the room beginning to hum, like the deck and hull of some great ship vibrating from the power of its engine deep within and under foot. And then it stopped, and Tess found herself sighing.

And wanting another cigarette. There wasn’t another note spoken to the assembly, just a quick heel turn and suddenly she was walking out, tossing an afterthought behind her at the group, “The kid is with me until further notice.”
We’re all going to fucking die in this city.