<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/67/48741167a506332b94559bc28ab571a7.jpg)</div><strong>Tara Robinson/Rave</strong>(https://docs.google.com/document/d/1o3X2QIlovjgMJnXUe8RYlZNIkGTWTFr9wRUhckPBuAk/edit)<br/><br/>Rave started in her own head—though it occurred to her she could probably find a few useful programs to assist her if she could ever spare the money.  She'd been on the Seattle club scene for a long time for a girl her age, dancing everywhere from Steam to Dante's.  She'd also spent a lot of time down the years just researching cool place to dance, and had even used the Matrix to dance at some really awesome clubs all over the world.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Street Knowledge: Dance Clubs (3 hits) </div></div><br/><br/>Once she'd thought all the things she could think, Rave carefully felt out the nigh invisible hair net woven against her scalp with it's microtech trodes.  She settled into a chair and fell into full SIM VR.  The place was a bit dim—and the local environment heavily overshadowed by both the corporate girds and the cloud castles of the GODs.  She paid these no heed—save to compensate by illigaly turning up the resolution, entering a state of interface called Hot SIM—and touched an icon on her own bookshelf.  Pulled into one of her own data constructs, she settled down beneath a tree on a sunny day—in a place that looked suspiciously like Pooh's Thoughtful Spot in the Hundred Acre Woods.  From here she began to work from the Matrix, running ever data search that jumped into her mind.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Intuition + Computers (3 Hits)</div></div><br/>After spending a while on that work, she focused her digital will into summoning a sort of chibi of herself that wore a striped leotard, and had a pink face, and droopy ears.  “Ravelet,” she told the very small creature, “I have a message for Professor Bone.  Please find out if he's on the matrix these days—or 2-Quick or Proteus can find him—and give him this message.  “Professor.  This is Tara.  Do you remember me?  I haven't been able to cook you dinner since last summer...”<br/><br/>The old troll known as Professor Bone was an extremely educated man with catatonic schizophrenia.  When he was coherent, the homeless of Seattle—especially the Barrens and Renton areas—knew him as both a good man for an enlightening story and protection.  Of course, the only thing that didn't get stolen from him every few months—usualy while catatonic—was his weapon of choice—a truly massive ivory cudgel made from the bone of some unknown paracriter.  A dragon?  Maybe...<br/><br/>After the Very Small Creature had nervously darted away across the Matrix, she sent another image—this one of herself on a flying broom in sexy Salem witch outfit—too the girls in her coven, asking them for information on the disappearances.<br/>