<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body">Boost: Fake ID<br/>Boost: Spotter Map<br/>Major Cost: Botched Investigation<br/>Compel: Puppeteer: <em>Sticks his [REDACTED] where it don't belong</em> (+1 Fate Point)<br/></div></div><br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Tagging </strong>Hachi, Antimony, Anima, Forklift<br/><br/>The restaurant was an open air affair in the middle of a plaza. The sun drowned out the neon lights advertising various foods and other services. The ever-present hum of restraunt-grade makers could barely be heard over the sound of their outputs being dumped into hot oil. The eternally popular noodle stand was present, with a dozen or so congregating at the edges of the plaza. Nearer to the center an enterprising synth was selling crabs to an enthusiastic clientele of local octopi.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Tagging </strong>Drop, Puppeteer<br/><br/>The view from the 'tower' was commanding, albeit incomplete. The tower itself was more of a cable. It was one of several that more or less hung taut from the dome, studded with communications gear and sensors. The clusters of equipment seemingly randomly cropped up on it, some to small to notice, others large enough to throw a decently sized party on.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Tagging </strong>---<br/><br/>The slitheroid paused, temporarily ceasing its work. The large, black, robotic, snake-like transhuman's eyes glowed in a pattern suggesting a raised eyebrow. It slithered away from the workstation and began gathering equipment and making calls.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Tagging </strong>Puppeteer<br/><br/>Big Sis returns a piece of info: one of the local Triads has been gathering muscle in the Souks for the past couple of hours. The pattern suggests they're preparing to raid someone, but your current knowledge of Triad politics doesn't suggest a target.