Ivy and Chrome PbP Forums

Dane leans back from the terminal, exhaling slowly, and for a moment he just sits there—fingers still hovering over the keyboard like they might slide back in on their own. He rotates his shoulders, trying to shed the weight of what he just saw. The adrenaline is still humming in his chest, a thin wire of tension that won't quite let go.

"Well, no smoking gun," he says, voice steadier than he feels. "Same M.O. as before. Tap into a compromised network anonymously and move on." He glances at Mosley, jaw tight for a second—he suspects how illegal that was, and knowing about it makes him complicit. But the damage is done. "Good work tracking that down, though. Probably need to get somebody over there to sweep for evidence anyway, but..." He trails off with a shrug that doesn't quite hide his doubt.

He stands, legs stiff from sitting hunched, and heads for the door to find his dad and Joe. Outside, he gives them the full summary—the network structure, the hidden message board, the security camera system they left wide open with factory defaults. The archived footage showing the Humvee parked across the street at the exact moment the trafficking post went live, then rolling smoothly away toward the bridge like someone was driving it by remote.

He pauses as he runs a hand through his hair, and for a moment he's just a tired teenager trying to sound more certain than he is. "What that means is, we need to find that rig. At the very least, I should be able to tell how close the operator is by how strong the incoming and outgoing signals are. With a little luck, I may even be able to triangulate a rough proximity, and unless someone catches the guys red-handed, don't approach the vehicle until I can get there. We don't want them to know we're onto them until it's too late."

Dane leans back from the terminal, exhaling slowly, and for a moment he just sits there with his fingers still hovering over the keyboard like they might slide back in on their own. He rotates his shoulders, trying to shed the weight of what he just saw. The adrenaline is still humming in his chest, a thin wire of tension that won't quite let go.

"Well, no smoking gun," he says, voice steadier than he feels. "Same M.O. as before. Tap into a compromised network anonymously and move on." He glances at Mosley, jaw tight for a second as he suspects how illegal that was, and knowing about it makes him complicit. But the damage is done. "Good work tracking that down, though. Probably need to get somebody over there to sweep for evidence anyway, but..." He trails off with a shrug that doesn't quite hide his doubt.

He stands, legs stiff from sitting hunched, and heads for the door to find his dad and Joe. Outside, he gives them the full summary, including he network structure, the hidden message board, the security camera system they left wide open with factory defaults. The archived footage showing the Humvee parked across the street at the exact moment the trafficking post went live, then rolling smoothly away toward the bridge like someone was driving it by remote.

He pauses as he runs a hand through his hair, and for a moment he's just a tired teenager trying to sound more certain than he is. "What that means is, we need to find that rig. At the very least, I should be able to tell how close the operator is by how strong the incoming and outgoing signals are. With a little luck, I may even be able to triangulate a rough proximity, and unless someone catches the guys red-handed, don't approach the vehicle until I can get there. We don't want them to know we're onto them until it's too late."

Joe and George glance at each other, then back at Dane, "Bridge it is!" Joe sparks up, heading for the truck.

"Mosley, you coming?" George shouts out, "You can lap it with Dane or ride in the back!" He leans, smiling towards Dane, "Like the old days with your friends."

"That's okay, I'll ride in the back. Maybe I'll see if I can get Meg on the radio." Dane climbs in the back and gets as comfortable as he can against the cab wall, the cold steel of the pickup bed biting through his pants. He pulls out the walkie talkie, checks the frequency, and presses the button.

"Hey Meg, it's Dane. You there?"

He holds the radio loosely, waiting for a response. The conversation will have to be quick because he wants to run the RF spectrum analyzer while they drive and his radio will interfere with the readings. While he waits for Meg to respond, he sets the radio down and pulls out the RF Spectrum Analyzer from his gear bag, powering it up.

"That's okay, I'll ride in the back. Maybe I'll see if I can get Meg on the radio." Dane climbs in the back and gets as comfortable as he can against the cab wall, the cold steel of the pickup bed biting through his pants. He pulls out the walkie talkie, checks the frequency, and presses the button. "Hey Meg, it's Dane. You there?"

Joe and George shrugs, letting Mosley begrudgingly sit in the middle. The truck fires back up, struggling with the cold weather, that threatens to bite through Dane's skin. He holds the radio loosely, waiting for a response. The conversation will have to be quick because he wants to run the RF spectrum analyzer while they drive and his radio will interfere with the readings. While he waits for Meg to respond, he sets the radio down and pulls out the RF Spectrum Analyzer from his gear bag, powering it up.

The radio crackles to life with heavy static, "Hey sweetie! How's ev..." The rest dissolves into a violent burst of static, a long, scraping distortion that almost sounds like someone trying to speak through it. Then, faintly, "...alked to your dad."

The spectrometer offers no comfort. Its display flickers with sparse signals, mostly thin, wandering blips that don’t form any recognizable pattern. They drift in and out as they drive, like something brushing past the edge of perception. They reach the main road with the bridge looming ahead. They pass the travel agency’s dark windows, and the air feels heavier, as if the atmosphere itself is holding its breath.

Then the analyzer spikes within a block of the bridge, it slams upward with an RF surge so strong that it's off of the dial. Every second closer intensifies it, the signal climbing in sharp, unnatural jumps, like it’s reacting to them specifically. And then the moment they cross the threshold of the bridge, it’s gone. Like it had never existed.

Dane realizes how badly his face and ears hurt. His fingers are beginning to fail him as he notices that they've turned a pinkish blue hue.

"Hey Meg!" Dane says, then forces himself to slow down through the static. "I don't know if you can hear me. Just wanted to say hi. I'll try back later."

He drops the radio back into his bag and then slaps the cab a couple times to get Joe's attention so that he'll stop the truck. "I picked up a massive RF spike near the bridge. It ramped up hard as we approached, then vanished the second we crossed." He forces his way into the cab before continuing. "That and I'm freezing." I violent shiver racks his body as he tries to get warm again.

"Hey Meg!" Dane says, then forces himself to slow down through the static. "I don't know if you can hear me. Just wanted to say hi. I'll try back later."

The radio crackles some more; he can't make out what she's saying but her tone suggest that she's happy to hear from him. He drops the radio back into his bag and then slaps the cab a couple times to get Joe's attention so that he'll stop the truck. "I picked up a massive RF spike near the bridge. It ramped up hard as we approached, then vanished the second we crossed." He forces his way into the cab before continuing. "That and I'm freezing." I violent shiver racks his body as he tries to get warm again.

The truck parks along the edge of the bridge as the nice warm trio climb out and peek into the bed of the truck. Dane's dad shows concern, "Where the hell are your gloves?" Yet, Dane needed his fingers to select options on the spectrometer... and... he didn't really think about it.

Mosley's eyes widen at the site of Dane's fingers. He reaches into his pocket and tosses him a pair of thick gloves, "Here! They've got built in warmers. You need those things!"

Joe doesn't even notice Dane's fingers as he looks around for anyone using an electronic device, computer or anything that could give off a radio signal. He slowly begins shaking his head. "Not seeing anything."

Below the bridge, the babbling water splashes over neatly formed chunks of ice and icicles which form cascading stalactites down the falls. Some parts have frozen so high that the river washes over like white water rapids, then passes under the bridge.

Dane catches the gloves against his chest and fumbles them on with numb fingers. He flexes both hands, trying to get the feeling back. He glances toward the bridge approach and raises his voice. "Let's do another slow pass and see if it spikes again. We may have triggered a security-system broadcast or something."

Dane catches the gloves against his chest and fumbles them on with numb fingers. He flexes both hands, trying to get the feeling back. He glances toward the bridge approach and raises his voice. "Let's do another slow pass and see if it spikes again. We may have triggered a security-system broadcast or something."

He feels the burning heat of the coils inside of the gloves. His fingers slowly regain feeling as a strong, dull throbbing with each beat of his heart. Joe nods, handing a warm cup of coffee, "Here! Sheesh kid. Speak up next time." As he walks back along the bridge, leading the way.

Mosley scoots up next to Dane, checking out the spectrometer. As the quartet walks along, near the start of the bridge, the signal pulses for a brief moment, then disappears. "Ooo!" Mosley ooks, "See that?"

Dane looks down at surface of the bridge; wondering if there's some sort of pressure plate that's triggering a broadcast. If so, then the the device doing the broadcasting is likely under the bridge. "I think we need to take a peek under the bridge. That's the most likely place the broadcast is coming from." [OOC: Can Dane tell anything from the broadcast frequency range about what types of devices typically broadcast in that range?]

Dane looks down at surface of the bridge; wondering if there's some sort of pressure plate that's triggering a broadcast. If so, then the the device doing the broadcasting is likely under the bridge. "I think we need to take a peek under the bridge. That's the most likely place the broadcast is coming from."

[OOC: Can Dane tell anything from the broadcast frequency range about what types of devices typically broadcast in that range?]

OOC2: Not yet, but he could do a packet capture and see what he could glean there.

"Well, let's circle around and take a look." George grins as he walks to the end of the bridge, circles around beside it and begins walking down. He waves for Dane to come over.

Joe follows along, staring at the spectrometer, "What is that doohickey?"