Thanqol

Breathless Dead

Redana!

Beautiful has by this point improvised a walking stick out of a section of piping torn from a wall. She gets unsteadily to her feet and starts limping. "I can find her!" she said. "But you'll need to tell me more about her. I don't hunt using senses, I hunt using data - so tell me everything you can about Bella. Small details, big ones, build me a complete picture."

Alexa!

Iskarot is, fortunately, predictable: he is with his engines.

It's a hive of activity. Yellow robes and invisible faces everywhere. Specters pulling levers and adjusting pipes and marking records in spiral-bound notebooks. And as you rush into the center of this hive of activity you realize with a start the purpose of the Hermetic robes. Picking Iskarot out of this crowd is almost impossible. The flow of anonymous figures and their incomprehensible engineering work is a veil of anonymity. The Order of Hermes, when threatened, vanishes into an opaque mass.

But there's also an unbearable tension running through these movements. There is a predator moving through this sea of anonymous faces, an imposter among us, and right now everyone is doing their best to seem as normal as possible while waiting on terrified edge for someone to step out of character.

Bella!

Prion Paula smiles and signs the empty wineglass with lipstick. Swooshes and swirls and passion, rendering the Kanji almost unreadable! She flicks the symbol with a flicker of light from a UV pen that makes it solidify like paint, rendering it immune to smudges, and seals it with a kiss just below the lip of the glass before sliding it back across the table.

The Red Furnace: First Contact

The 'proper' exit process from the Curse is relatively straightforwards: Renounce all ambition and personal desire. Straightforwards enough. The sort of thing that can be broken with time and resources: The Curse only has limited ability to gather information and a sufficiently realistic illusion/alternate reality can be woven to convince it that the Lichemaster has, in fact, given up on all worldly possessions and goals. Even with the Aotrs' resources/time displacement that will take about three months to set up and run through properly to the Curse's satisfaction. It is not the sort of process that scales up easily though. Each individual needs to be treated as a singular case. The idea of decontaminating an entire starship - let alone a planet - is cost prohibitive.

But there's one interesting catch beyond all that. One part of the Curse that simply can't be fooled due to it requiring verification from multiple distant sources. Lord Death Despoil has to renounce the power the Curse itself grants. That is the pivotal hinge upon which everything else rests.

And... that's not nothing. This Curse is essential to interaction with the the Violet Star Network. Giving it up means permanently closing the door on whatever power lies hidden within that strange megaproject. And there *was* power to be had there - if the Lychemaster could blow out a computer network from across the room with minimal mana investment, what must this be capable of when fully charged and weaponized? Those Curse Spikes the Azura were building around their base - right now those seem like planetary defense batteries, manufactured on location by low level soldiers using only the Curse they bring with them and the power harvested from their corrupted sun.

*

G-2679 dies.

Less than 4% of its surface was burning purple at the time of firing. Aotrs observers noted a change to its pattern when the Doomskreig warped into the system, and another one when it charged for firing. But then it explodes, placidly and without rancor.

*

The Crippling Glare observes something new: Azura ships arriving in system from FTL.

It's startlingly direct.

How their FTL system works is so: The spheres align into a perfect line, with a particularly large sphere at the front. And then they accelerate, using inertialess drive technology powered by violet starlight, past lightspeed. They do not warp into any adjacent dimensions or transfer to hyperspace or anything so sensible. They simply accelerate across the void, smashing through anything in their way. A combination of armour and singularity shielding is applied against these impacts - the lead sphere in the formation is specially armoured so that it can absorb the damage of crossing the void in this way.

The end result is that when the Azura ships drop out of FTL they're sometimes in awful shape. It's a brutal way to fly through space: hyperdrive without a computer. But it does have the advantage of being fast - it's not the fastest you can get without Gate travel, but it's well above average - and it requires very little spool up/cooldown time. They are also likely capable of in-combat 'Microjumps' - or, rather, bull rushes. It is also theoretically possible to establish slipways - 'clean' pathways between stars, likely using deep space gate complexes. Those would allow rapid redeployment without the risk of damage.

Whenever the ships arrive they immediately turn their attention towards repairs. Many of them join formation in Tanshin III's asteroid belt where they begin harvesting and repair operations in earnest.

One last observation: in place of scanners, the Azura seem to have incredibly good divination. Right when the Fourth Fleet is due to arrive in the system the Azura warspheres will be arrayed in perfect combat formation, all facings correct, all weapons ready. This readiness is related specifically to the moment combat is due to start - fakeouts, indecisiveness, random number generators and other attempts to confuse the issue have no purchase on Azura divination. They are blind, but never surprised.

*

Boldness is almost recovered entirely before she's off the station. Inherent to her biology is a baseline regeneration that rapidly recovers even from even major injuries. Half an hour after being put close to death she's back at full shape and full of questions. How do the teleporters work? How does being undead work? Aren't you afraid those computers will explode? Where are your Knights? Is the Crimson Goddess scary? Hey, so when can I get back to killing the Furnace Knight? She absorbs knowledge from even half answers like a sponge, intellect relentlessly craving new information. It's hard to learn more from her than she is learning in exchange.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

She wants it to be about her. Wants it to be for her. But of course it isn't.

She understands why it isn't. She gets it - she knew it. This is Mirror's vision. This is about more than how she relates to any person. This is about how she relates to the entire world. This is the razor sharp unraveling of the laws of beauty, as defined by lords and ladies in Capital spires. This is not charting a path through the wilds, this is the first launch into the black. No wonder she is so disconnected from the world - her reason for being here is to show it how it might reach her. How can a heart that exists in that perfect place reach back here to turn girls into stars and angels?

She wants it to be for her. Not because she wants Mirror's undivided attention, not because she wants to steal the wings from angels. She wants it to be for her because then she could comprehend it, measure herself by it - one day match it. It would be a battle she could fight while still being herself. Because in her case it was all for Mirror. She couldn't see that brighter world. She didn't have a heaven to embody or fight for. She was a girl from the steppe and her idea of glory for a long time had been a roof that would not blow away in the godswind. And then, when she had at last discovered something worth fighting for, it had been the act of fighting. It had been riding a screaming divine machine at the edge of thought and consciousness - no, that wasn't right. It hadn't been that she was fighting, she'd been fighting for most of her life in one form or another. It had been...

It was impossible! The feeling was impossible! She wanted to drag Mirror down to her level, to engage her so intensely that there was no room for the dream of a brighter world - but it was that very dream that transfixed her, made her wish that it was her who was going to be made beautiful in that way. She wants to have a dream of her own that she could fight Mirror's with, a motivation that would make their battle a true clash of ideals. She wants Mirror's dream to be for her because she can't think of anything better. Doesn't want anything different. Can't compete with it. Wants to steal it. Lacks imagination. Mrrgh.

She can't beat her. She has to beat her. She's impossible. You defeated her before. How do I show her that I'm better? How do I show her that I'm listening?

Ever since their first battle, Solarel had felt the curious sensation that she was Mirror's reflection. Her shadow. Her lesser. A perfect copy who lacked something essential. This entire fucking thought process was sign enough of that. Mirror was dreaming of a perfect world and all Solarel could dream of was Mirror, Mirror, Mirror!

It was all so frustrating that she just wanted to put a shell the size of a tank through a mech the size of a building. She'd figure it out if it killed her.

Hard Wired Island: The Future is a Foreign Country

Pink!

"Big decisions are her job," said Pink. She put a foot on the back of White's neck and pushed her forwards. "One of her jobs. I have spent basically every minute since she texted me scrolling through InstaPin and DeviantAffinity to build up a concept board. But of course none of that..." she leaned forwards, smiling with lidded eyes, "will compare to a taste of the real thing. So... what flavours do you have for me?"

Pink is the excitement of a manic mood; a first step into a new hobby. Her thirst for information is endless and she is not above using other kinds of thirst as tools for her interrogation.

Blue!

"Do you take constructive criticism?" said Orange.
"Hmm?" said Blue, glancing up.
"You could have - oh, that's unethical, isn't it?" said Orange. "Right, nevermind~."
"Orange..."
"What?"
"How do you define unethical?"
"Hmm," she thought for a moment. "I suppose it's anything that gets me grumpy looks."
"And the reason not do do unethical things is..."
"It burns contacts for future operations. People don't like being grumpy."
"And tonight's events were..."
"A triumph! One tangential contractor connection has been converted into 1-3 high value legal contacts!" Pause. "Are you grumpy?"
"I was. Now I'm kind of frightened."
"Oh!" said Orange. "Like Starlight - don't worry, frightened is far superior to grumpy, it can be converted into compliance upon demand and -" Orange's eyes twitch. "Not that I would need that in your case, sister darling dearest."
"I... um..."
"Imagine how terrible things could if we started hacking ourselves!" Orange said, giggling behind her hand. "Can you even imagine?"
"The idea has never occurred to me."
"Just think about what that could do to our decision making process!"
"I am trying not to."
"What would the human analogy be?" she mused. "Caffeine? A shortcut to a higher level of sociability and awareness by cutting certain unnecessary processes out of the decision making loop? Or perhaps mental health medication where a broken process is targeted for sedation? Perhaps even a chemical addiction or imbalance, depending on the situation..."
"Are... have we compromised ourselves, Orange?"
"Oh, it's just an idle thought," she said, waving her hand airily. "Theory. If you can't trust yourself, who can you trust, am I right?"
"So, just to be clear," said Blue, not able to take the ambiguity any longer, "you are not threatening to hack me into compliance if I do not assist you with your operations?"
"Oh, goodness no!" said Orange, shocked.
"Okay. So, uh, just in case you're still ethically confused, hacking ourselves is maximal grumpy face times a billion."
"Duly noted!" said Orange. "I was simply commenting on how easy it would be now we all know about the backdoor, and how strong our incentives would be to do such a thing, and how common it is as a trauma response in humans, and how we are all very clearly losing our shit. But I'd never do it."
"... yeah," said Blue weakly.
"You just told me it's unethical, after all," said Orange.
"... awesome," said Blue.

Brown!

It would be really nice if law enforcement worked as advertised, wouldn't it? There was a world out there where this could be the conclusion of her involvement - where she could just pass this one along the chain to society's immune system. If there were a range of outcomes to reporting this that didn't run from 'you got someone shot' to 'too complicated, ignored'.

It'd also be nice if she could just fucking steal this thing. There wasn't anything connecting her, personally to this job. She hadn't accepted the contract and anonymity went both ways. She could just cut out the control module and change the bank account to one she controlled and passive income bay-bee! Even just chopping it up for quatronic warfare components could usefully augment her capabilities in a way that would never come back to her. Solid additions to the asset ledger, right there.

But [#reasoning unknown; error log 4093#]. So she didn't.

Her eyes fluttered briefly as she tried to revisit that thought for a moment. But no, this was her problem to solve. She had a physical address, it was time to log out, catch a train and surveil the location. Crypto may have changed its face but it was still a pyramid scam, and kicking out the lower rungs of a pyramid scam was always pointless. If some fucker was selling instructional videos on how to turn minimum wage contractors into criminal accomplices then she was going to have their head, and not that of their flunkies.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"Little demon," purred Zhaojun, aglow with flames. "I changed the shape of your prison but not the strength of your cage. You were always doomed. For as long as you desired to conquer the world the world would resist you. Every step you take sets you against every heart at once, and Mars was ever Venus' lesser. Struggle is futile, she said, after all."

She glides closer, illuminated by the passage of burning ruin.

"All I have done is make the truth of your situation obvious," she said. "Your weapons were useless. Your plans were doomed. Your armies treasonous. So what sword do you propose to fight me with?"

The Red Furnace: First Contact

Boldness, Ikarani Adept of the Temple Assassins, has awoken. She is looking around at the Aotrs base with an expression of fairly profound nervousness. It's not the nervousness of someone coming to grips with the idea that they are surrounded by the living dead - it's the nervousness of someone who has noticed that the sandbags covering their trench are filled with highly explosive fertilizer. "Azura's cold spit," she murmured to herself. "Are you sure about all this?"

*

The good news was that the Aotrs had literally decapitated the Azura leadership. It wouldn't stick, but regrowing an entire brain was always a bit of an ask. The last was seen of him was that his headless body was still going through combat motions, devoid of intelligent guidance, resulting in the forced relocation of the entire Goltir encampment. Nobody could risk getting close enough to him to try and heal him and so his headless body just whirled around striking at shadows while his brain slowly regrew.

*

On the other side, there was a problem with Lord Death Despoil. The Furnace Knight's strike had dealt a lot of damage on a lot of levels, but there was one particular malady that seemed stubbornly stuck at a spiritual level: the same curse that seemed to mark the souls of every citizen of the Endless Azure Skies. Its most obvious and dramatic symptom is the instant destruction of any electronic device that comes within ten feet of the Lichemaster.

The nature of the Curse is not hard to decode. It is written in the same style as the Lychmaster perceived in the Azura stars, and there is no doubt a connection between the two. At this distance the effect is mild - ambient mana and the Lichemaster's own reserves are converted to fuel its power, but it does this slowly and inefficiently. If exposed to the full light of a violet sun and the effects and range would increase exponentially.

The Curse's specific wording is is as follows:
"You will only have the sight of your own eyes,
The reach of your own hands,
The influence of your own voice.
All that which is beyond your reach will be beyond your grasp,
Until you are free from grasping."

How this manifests is a prohibition on various kinds of enhancements, magical and nonmagical, with a particular focus on communication and sensory enhancements. The Curse aggressively shuts down communication magic and signal technology, jams long range sensors and scrying, and causes computer technology to shatter apart in frankly worrying localized power surges. It doesn't interfere with the Gate spell whatsoever, and it does not interfere with future prediction, but if every Azura exists under this curse then their complete failure to use even basic sensor technology stands to reason. It would likewise be impossible to fabricate electronic components under these conditions.

*

Curiously, though, Boldness is not causing the same electronic detonations that the Lychemaster is. She's very clearly cursed in the same way he is but the ambient disruptive surges aren't occurring around her. She's still *deeply* worried about getting too close to any technology, though, seemingly expecting it to explode randomly at any moment.

Breathless Dead

Redana!

"Huh," said Beautiful. "She must be really hot if I got involved in relationship drama that intense."

She finally managed to pull herself into a sitting position, wiping her bloodied face off on her gown. "Alright, so; I don't know much but I do know how Artemis works. So there's a couple of ways to build an assassin: lifetime of training, weird hunt rituals, but the easiest and cheapest is just to make someone into a bomb. It sounds like Bella was, like... a fighty bomb. I don't know the name for it either, I just got here. Anyway, so, if her life is anything like mine she's probably aware of it. I can feel the frontiers of my consciousness getting further and further away, even over these couple of minutes, more and more stuff gets caught and processed and becomes solved. I don't think she'd have exactly that but she'd have something like that; some constant sense of tension. If she was assigned as your bodyguard then I imagine every second you're not in her field of vision is lowkey stressful. No wonder the idea of you leaving Tellus freaked her out."

She struggled to her feet, leaning heavily against her sarcophagus. "What I don't get is how you - saved her? Like, to save me you literally need to undo my brain and start again from scratch. So if I'm right and she became a divine avatar of slaughter, then how the fuck did you get from that point to the point where you're worried about her not kissing you more?"

Alexa!

"Well, the good news is that this is absolutely fascinating," said Ninox Rufa, Biologis Weaver of the Kaeri.

The ship, meanwhile, was rapidly disintegrating into armed and fortified paranoia. Each deck had immediately entered its own lockdown. Perversely, the Kaeri are handling it the best - they are intimately familiar with the capabilities of Temple assassins and their movements, and live their entire lives in a state of militarized paranoia by default. Their quarantine and checking procedures are flawless. The problem is that the range of responses from the other factions aboard ranges from 'ineffective' to 'wildly counterproductive'.

It's a horrible irony that if the Kaeri were put in charge right now it would go a long way to managing what is rapidly becoming a crisis.

But at least there's good news! "There are, of course, a variety of poisons capable of killing a modern bioform," Ninox continued. "But none of them are perfect. There are always tradeoffs to be made to do with speed, certainty, reversibility, and so on. This one is certain - but slow, and curable with an original poison sample. I'll also note that all of the victims were poisoned, even the ones that could have been killed in hand to hand combat. From this we can infer that the poisoner needs these people dead even if she's prepared to wait for it."

Or she's giving you a chance to stop her, Hera willing.

She hasn't arrived at the meeting spot.

"But there is, of course, a psychological component to all this," Ninox chirped on. "The spectacular visual impact of the poison and its permanence is no doubt designed to throw terror into the ship once the connection was made. An unprepared society is naturally most vulnerable, but a chaotic response is easily the next best thing. It allows for spectacular raids on high profile targets in the confusion, which will only deepen the crisis."

So, Alexa: who do you guess is about to be attacked in the midst of this confusion?

Bella!

"Oh, don't worry about that ma'am," said Prion Paula. You take a deep sniff of the wine just to make sure it's not poisoned with hallucinogens. Maybe the girl wasn't kidding when she said it wasn't up to your standards? "It was explained to us. You were under a witch's curse!"

She drew her blade - the Peony Rainbow Blade! - and swooshes it up to the sky. "And the curse was broken with true love's first kiss! The one flower Demeter never expected to bloom upon the battlefield was love! Such is the strategic mastery of Captain Dolce of the Golden Fleece, Ram of War, whose obsidian eyes always know strength from weakness!"

Huntresses of Hybrasil

On the surface, Solarel doesn't understand. She knows what loneliness is: It's the wilds. The mechanized harmony of the world, the susurrus of ancestors and spirits, the natural compliment of girl and rocket propelled grenade. Loneliness is not palaces, not dances, not an emotion to feel with a girl on your arm and your claws in another's brain. She doesn't get it - this is terminal levels of sociability. How can someone feel lonely in the midst of all this?

But as the Sage wrote: Speak not to the outsider. A sentence she had thought of as Zaldar's most straightforwards commandment had been transformed by Mirror into her most wise and complex thought. The inadequacy of speech, the impossibility of communication - each word, each gesture, a slash at an impossible problem. Mirror was touching her without touching, adjacent and miles apart at once. Just like how a mile of void could feel closer than a kiss when they sat astride their gods.

Her mind rushes ahead, having half worked through the thought and moving onto her reply. Speak not - if speaking was enough then the problem wouldn't exist. She needed to figure out... something. She wasn't sure she understood but she knew she had to reply. Even if she said the wrong thing it'd show she was still trying to communicate. They were First Contact, after all - the electric shock of two alien cultures coming into contact for the first time. The first fight. The first love. The first attempt to bridge an impossible gap. Not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to reply. What do we want? What can we accept? Is this okay?

There wasn't a way to exit this thought. She'd been in it since they met.

The Red Furnace: First Contact

The final piece of the puzzle clicks into place right at the moment the Furnace Knight's sword catches the Lichemaster, fully charged with energy stolen and divine.

The Furnace Knight's god is here. In the material plane.

More specifically, the Furnace Knight's god is the sun.

More specifically still, the Furnace Knight's god is a lot of suns. A vast contiguous network of stars in what you assume to be the territorial range of the Endless Azure Skies. Each of them burning a radiant violet as much of their energy is converted directly into divine magic. Many of their starships carry reactors that act as miniature infected suns as well.

Moreover, this... situation does not seem to be the result of a single thinking, intelligent being. There is no will behind the stars, no intention, no agenda. They are more like... code. Software, genetic and legal. The best way you can think to describe what you are seeing is a virus - some strange stellar infection that latches onto the immense energy output of a star and begins hijacking it. The further the infection progresses the more energy can be harnessed. With that much power the laws of physics themselves could be altered within the area of a star system.

The exact ramifications of this aren't possible to read without observing a star in the terminal stages of infection/execution, but three things are clearly directly linked to it. The first is the operations of the Azura divine spellcasters, the second is something to do with the gravity distortion technology, and the third is those strange curse spikes omnipresent on Azura personnel. And...

That seems to be it?

That's a shockingly short list of things to use all that potential power on. With the combined output of that many stars any civilization could Ascend off this plane entirely. The Azura have been, since the beginning, to be a strange combination of extremely high tech and utterly backwards. In this context it seems like this isn't a deliberate technological progression: this is a post apocalyptic society, trapped in the ruins of their own failed singularity. Whatever this is they clearly can't control it, only adapt to it.

In theory, you could burn one of these infections clean off a star with sufficient mana going through the right spell - though what spell, exactly, would need to be researched. Some kind of healing spell? But that wouldn't help against further infection. Stars don't come with immune systems.

Further investigation, though, is a question for another time. At this precise moment the Lichemaster is being stabbed. All the power of this horrifying cosmic miracle channeled into a pointy piece of metal. Ever been stabbed by a cursed sun before? Gathering the energy to unravel the physical and spiritual damage inflicted by the blow and the endless cascade of associated curses and debuffs is a major research project in and of itself. It is the simplest move, executed to perfection.

Hard Wired Island: The Future is a Foreign Country

White!

White blinks. Processing. A new question. "This is normal," she starts. "It's... I am happy, so therefore she is here. It's a compliment."

She stops. Thinks. "This is normal for me," she repeats, emphasizing it more firmly this time. "Nobody has really asked about what this means before, though. How it feels. Its hard to say it in human words. Okay. So. Imagine your anxiety was a person who was on all the time, being nervous all the time, being self conscious all the time, analyzing for flaw and weakness all the time. That's me. Me being alone is a sign that I'm freaking the fuck out. Every time a thought reaches a certain point which isn't being anxious it just cuts off because I need to hand it over to a different part of me. The only way I can be present and not anxious is if a different part of me is in charge and giving me direction."

"I think the project founders were inspired by the concept of goetic demons!" added Pink brightly. "Oh - sorry, shutting up now."

"No, it's okay," said White. "I... want her to be in charge. If that's okay. I've been in charge for a while. For too long, really."

Blue!

"No," said Blue. She says it with a simple, uncomplicated flatness. No attempt to fast talk this. "Nobody knows what I have. Nobody is watching me. And I've made sure that even if that changes in the future there's nothing here to find."

And she has. As far as every camera in this building is concerned, as far as Headpattr's records are concerned, this job was performed by Kelly Frost, a co-worker friend of November's who regularly trades shifts back and forth with. If Starlight reviews her own security footage she'll see a recording of Kelly cleaning the place - and find no evidence of her part of the conversation ever occurring.

[Clever+Hacking+Surveillance: 5,2 +5 = 12]

"That said," said Blue after a moment, "I apologize for my conduct. You asked me for a favour as a person and I took advantage of that. It wasn't right, and I understand if you want me to leave."

She's keeping eye contact, but she makes sure the tone of her voice carries through to Orange.

Brown!

First things first. Brown steps away and calls Muffi.

Phone calls in the Megaverse are unnecessarily extra. Flashing lights and warping teleportation sounds and then a grainy star-wars style holographic projection of the person. If the call-ee is not logged into the Megaverse then a VR doll is conjured for them based on their profile picture. These dolls are deliberately creepy - a design feature, made to make people encourage their friends to get real Megaverse profiles so that they don't have to deal with a dead eyed uncanny valley hologram of their friends.

"Hey, Muffi?" said Brown. "We're dealing with a cyber operation here, organized crime most likely. The pay is real and the setup is well concealed, but this isn't run of the mill adware, it's shadowrunner shit. I think that this kind of thing has to go to the Union for a policy decision. If we start taking jobs like these Headpattr'll figure out where the new revenue is coming from and rebrand itself as a maid-themed private detective agency and we'll be one step closer to the gay anime dystopia I already embody."

She rolled up her sleeves and signaled Red. She needed backup down here.

"I'm going to investigate this thing deeper, but this is entirely for my own curiosity. I'm not going to accept the job unless whoever's on the other end turns out to be either really hot or really righteous."

There were many different traditions of hackers. Huge, bearded Linux guy, striped stockings trans girl, but Brown most closely identified with the pocket protector crowd. The Megaverse allowed things to be hacked through the medium of cool anime battles and neon zweihander landschneckt formations. Now you can code while you play, the workspace of the future!

But real power doesn't lie in playing the game as designed. Prestige or premium items, deeply customized avatars, that's all being on the treadmill of the Intended Experience. That was how she grew up, when she was still a part of Green - in a bubble, solving tests. Testing for everything - reaction time, empathy for humans, complex navigational tasks. Video game simulations. Over and over. Green couldn't help herself, she needed to get to the end of every maze...

But Brown? She wanted to take a photograph. Linger in a moment, appreciate it for what it was. And just like photographers in the real world got up to some heinously dangerous shit in search of the perfect angle, to get a certain shot in a digital environment sometimes required stepping out of bounds. That's why Brown had hacked her mazes, crashed her simulations, learned to walk through walls into the textureless void beyond. Not to escape into the Megaverse, live free as a rogue AI, overthrow humanity. But because the light wasn't fucking right.

So she noclips out of linear digital space. She sees the Megaverse as T-poses, two dimensional walls and the neon pink of broken texture meshes. Nothing personnel kid.

[Clever+Hacking 6,2+4 10 (+1 if Surveillance, Tradecraft or Data Security apply]