Worn Usually:
1xSubvocal Microphone

1xSunglasses

1xForm Fitting Full-Body Suit
1xSynergist Slacks
1xSynergist High-collar Shirt
1xSynergist Longcoat

1xShock Gloves

1xSmall Medical Pouch
+3xAntidote Patch 2
+3xStimulant Patch 2
+4xNoPaint (DSMO Patch)
+2xHyper (Syringe) (see SR3 for effects; I've used 400Y as a price per dose, to reflect it getting rare after the Second Crash)
+1xCyanide (Capsule)

1xConcealed Ammo Pouch
+2xClip (10 FMJ Rounds, Pistol)
+2xClip (10 EX Explosive Rounds, Pistol)

1xConcealed Knife Holster
+Survival Knife

Colt Government 2066
+Concealed Quick-Draw Holster
+2 Clips (10 FMJ Rounds, Pistol)
+Smartlink
+Silencer
+Additional Clip Mod

Carried On Occasion:
1xActioneer Business Clothes
1xAres High Jacket (WWII style)
1xGas Mask
1xHeadjammer 3
2xPlasteel Restraints
1xForensic Tools
4xLaes (Syringe)
4xLeal (Syringe)
4xSlab (Capsule)
2xHyper (Syringe)

Stored Away Safely:
2xNanopaste Disguise Large Container
Assortment (counter-)espionage devices
Medical Shop (occasionally rented out to Runners for a little extra income)
Shares in Ares Macrotechnology (providing even more cash to the already well-earning agent)

Vehicles:
Mitsubishi Nightsky (Service Car)
+Armor Concealed 10
+Personal Armor 2
+Life Support 2
+Hovercraft Upgrade Rebuild
+Pilot Upgrade 6
+Rigger Adaption
+Spoof Chip
+Vehicle Tag Eraser
+Morphing License Plate
+Electromagnetic Shielding 4
+Enhanced Image Screens
+ECM 6
+GridLink
+GridLink Override
+Manual Control Override (Drive-by-Wire)

Chrysler-Nissan Jackrabbit (Undercover Service Car)
+Pilot Program 6
+Anti-Theft
+Manual Control Override (Drive-by-Wire)

FBI, Seattle Branch (Positive Quality)
Working for the government has it's benefits. The FBI can be both a source of highly useful resources and highly troublesome work (or even paperwork, yuk); regardless, Harper's work plays a prime role in his life, and he can look back at a quite rewarding, if not always pleasant, career, starting as Autopsy Technician and ending up as Senior Special Agent.
Judith "Whisper" Templar (Lost Loved One) (Image)
Human - FBI Special Agent - FBI Special Agent - Loyalty 6

Harper and Templar's friendship, formed during their days as students at the FBI Academy, quickly grew into something deeper once they were partnered up upon Harper's "promotion" to Special Agent. Together, they've been through some of the worst things that can happen to a law enforcement agent (especially during the Crash 2.0), but also shared many pleasant experiences and a common dream to "heal" the world.

Mireille "Celeste" DuClaire (10 BP) (Image)
Elf - NSA Liaison - Hacker - Loyalty 5 - Connections 5

Depending on who you're asking, common descriptions of Celeste, tend to be somewhere between "citizen of extraordinarily commendable patriotism", "conservative", "holier-than-thou" and "stuck-up bitch". Regardless, the raven-haired girl born in the Puyallup Barrens' Tarislar area is a unquestionably talented Hacker, and none of her acquaintances would ever doubt the NSA's decision to recruit her as "Datasecurity Specialist". Harper can consider himself very lucky to have her on his side, for not only does she provide him with valuable matrix support but also ensures his data security by removing any mention of him or his activities from any digital system he does not want to appear on.

Despite the occasional difficulties, she and Harper form a quite good team powered by intense comradeship. Knowing each other for roughly a decade now, they've been through both good and rough times and Harper knows that he can always rely on her, no matter the circumstances.

Anton "Vodka" Lebedev (8 BP) (Image)
Ork - Penthouse Head of Security/Chauffeur - Ex-Mercenary - Loyalty 4 - Connections 4

Formerly a big number in the mercenary biz, Vodka, deciding he was "getting too old for this bulldrek", has retired from active field duty, opting for a job as freelance security consultant and manager. Harper acquired his contract together with his penthouse in Seattle's Bellevue district, and, finding himself quite satisfied with Lebedev's services, has extended it to permanent employment. And since Harper's not only paying very well, but also tends to provide Lebedev and his man with the occasional piece of rather hard-to-obtain hardware or license, the Ork is quite eager to keep up the status quo.

As his name suggests, Vodka's grandest passion is...vodka (he goes as far as always carrying a small bottle around with him, even when on duty). However, he is no addict - much unlike his brother Dimitry. While Vodka can drink amounts of alcohol that'd probably dissolve the kidneys of any other metahuman into an ugly goo-ish mess (without getting high at all), Dimitry tended to be either drunk or suffering from hangover at any given time - until Harper did Vodka a favor and cured him of his addiction (after all, an employee without a problematic family tends to be a much more diligent employee). For this reason, Vodka has been fiercely loyal to his boss ever since.

In addition to keeping Harper safe and acting as his chauffeur every now and then, Vodka, being a MET2000/ARGUS veteran, has a broad network of contacts within gun-for-sale circles which he is more than willing to share with him (especially if there's something in for the ex-merc).

Gabriel Sanders (6 BP)
Human - Representative of Seattle/Republican Party - Loyalty 3 - Connections 3

During his career, Harper made many enemies - but also a couple of friends. Rep. Sanders is one of the latter. When his son was taken hostage by a group of Halloweeners, it was Harper who was sent in to locate and extract him. Needless to say, the operation was a huge success - 13 gangers dead, 4 wounded, 'lil Johnny alive and well.

Still grateful, Rep. Sanders has proven himself to be a pretty valuable gate to med-level UCAS politics to Harper.

John "Sunny" Sanders (3 BP)
Human - Clubber - Loyalty 1 - Connections 2

"Irresponsible" is probably the word most people would be using when describing Rep. Sanders' son. He smokes, drinks, probably takes other drugs as well, visits clubs on a daily basis and would have quit College long ago if it weren't for his father pressing him to stay in. When Harper rescued him from the Halloweeners, he was quite embarrassed - he thought they were recruiting him, rather than holding him ransom.

Nonetheless, the boy has his uses; he knows his way around Seattle's club scene, where the VIPs hang out, which places offer the most extensive raves, what the newest street drugs are and where they originate from. He's neither very trustworthy nor really grateful for his rescue, but a little money might very well make him talk.

Carl "Bio" Hauser (5 BP)
Human - Shadow doc/fixer - Loyalty 2 - Connections 3

Bio the chiphead was Harper's partner when he worked in the FBI's Autopsy department. Together, they made the occasional piece of cyberware disappear from the bodies they cut open; Autopsy Technicians aren't paid very well, and hey, chummer, a man has to make a living.

Shortly before Harper became a Special Agent, Bio disappeared into the shadows (due to things being "more profitable" there), opening a small shadow clinic and extending his cyberware trade network. He kept in contact with Harper, however, whom he - in exchange for the odd piece of cyberware, certified credstick, medical drug or BTL chip, he keeps him filled in about what's going on in the Shadows and provides the Runner teams Harper hires every now and then with what they need.

Sara "Mother" Waters (6 BP)
Human - Shadowrunner/Ex-FBI Surveillance Specialist - Loyalty 2 - Connections 4

Just like Bio, Mother is another former FBI employee who has quit the Bureau in favor of a career in the Shadows, although her motivations where slightly different from the Autopsy Technician's - he quit for the money, she quit because government life isn't exactly what she'd hoped for. Following in her father's footsteps, she became a Shadowrunner.

Harper, who had worked with the woman before, and one of the few in the FBI who actually know what she's doing for a living now, decided that it would be a shame to let her skill go to waste (and that she didn't know enough classified information to warrant a hit contract) and promptly hired her for a little job involving Aztechnology and some "missing" evidence. As she and her team of Runners proved themselves competent, they quickly became regulars, and as the pay was good and Harper hadn't tried to cheat them yet, the two parties maintain a cordial, if shaky, relationship.

David "The Hulk" Keyes (6 BP) (Image)
Troll - UCAS Marine Corps Ordnance Corps Officer - Loyalty 3 - Connections 3

"The Hulk" is extraordinarily intelligent for a troll - in fact, he's almost as smart as Harper, though not as educated. They formed a friendship in High School, studied at the same College (where Harper had to vouch for his friend, else, they'd never even consider to let a troll in) and attended ROTC together, although Harper dropped out of the latter after 2 years when the FBI showed interest in hiring him.

Serving as a Major in Seattle's Ft. Lewis district, The Hulk can pull the one or other string to gift his friend with a "missing" shipment of hardware. Additionally, he can provide him with extensive data on truck schedules and similar chair force knowledge.

Shimon Weizman (3 BP)
Human - Rabbi/Mage - Loyalty 2 - Connections 1

While Harper was born in a family of diverse believes, he himself did not take the decision to become part of a specific faith until recently, when he found his place in a small Reform Judaist community around Rabbi Weizman, who also happens to be the only magician tolerable of his unique astral qualities. Weizman and Harper - a now quite pious man - maintain a quite amiable relationship, and they regularly meet after sermon to discuss a broad spectrum of philosophical topics.

Background

1) Where is your character from?
Clarence Harper, Jr. was born at his parent's home on the outskirts of Seattle on the 23rd of January 2036, making him the youngest descendant of the Harper Clan's bloodline. Substituting country for family, he considers himself a staunch patriot, supports his country whether it is right or wrong and is a Republican Party registered voter.

2) Does your character have a family?
The already mentioned Harper Clan (or Harper Magocracy, as it's members like to call it) is a family of magicians that rumoredly established it's magical roots quite a few generations before the crash (though Harper believes that it's much more likely that his grand-grandfather was just a loony). While he has about 20 relatives of varying distance, his core family consists of 2 brothers (Jonathan and Jacob), 3 sisters (Leena, Morgaine and Keira) as well as his mother Katrina; his father, Clarence Harper Sr., was killed in 2058, shortly before his graduation.

Due to Clarence's less-than-favorable magical emissions, he has always been an outsider within his family. Rejected by his parents and despised by his siblings, who all viewed him as the Clan's black sheep, he spent most of his time studying in the local library or doing physical exercises as well as hanging out with his best and only friend, a troll going by the handle "The Hulk".

When he learned of his Clan's ties to organized crime (and, rumoredly, even Insect Shamans), few who knew him where surprised at what he did: he arranged a meeting with an FBI representative, provided him with heavy evidence and, in fact, played a vital role in enabling the Lone Star SWAT teams sent in to arrest his family to bypass all the traps his father had installed to keep the law out of his manor. When the cops killed his father who tried to put up a fight, he was overjoyed - this was his very personal revenge on the man that had made his whole life miserable.

3) Does your character have an ethnic background?
The Harper Clan has only began recording it's bloodlines since the Awakening - and because his grandfather was less-than-talkative about his parents, not much is known about the Clan before him. The Harper Clan has been predominantly American, though quite a few of those who married in had been of European and Native American ethnicity.

Appearance

4) What does your character look like?
Harper is about 6 feet tall and of lean, yet athletic build; he wears his jet black hair in a short military cut, shaves regularly and while all the desk work had their impact on his physical shape, he still looks like someone you wouldn't want to mess with (unless you're a troll, that is). He never had any birthmarks (strange as it may sound) and all of his scars (of which he had quite a bit due to taking "fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves" very literally during his youth) have been surgically removed when he joined the FBI.

5) What does your character dress like?
Although his job may require him to disguise himself in order to blend in with a certain group or environment, he - given the freedom to chose his own wardrobe - has a quite distinct style: combat boots, dog tags, black sunglasses (which are more of a fashion accessory than anything else, given that his eyes were made by Ares) and a black Synergist "uniform" (consisting of military-looking slacks, a high-collar shirt with a zipper above a short-sleeved T-Shirt and a trenchcoat with many inner and outer pockets). When acting as Johnson, he likes to wear his trenchcoat closed and to exchange his glasses with a full-face, futuristic-looking gas mask with a built-in vocoder. He hates formal dress, but if it's really necessary (ie, the boss demands it and not complying will result in paygrade cuts), he will put on a custom tailored (and, of course, armored) Actioneer business suit.

Harper's status as FBI Agent allows him to carry a personal weapon with him on all but extraterritorial megacorp territory, a right which he really enjoys to exercise by carrying a concealed holster under his coat.

6) Does your character have physical quirks?
Harper gets slightly uncomfortable when starting a new day without his daily morning hygiene - though otherwise, "nerves of steel" is what comes to mind.

Skills, Attributes and Resources

7) Where did your character learn their Active Skills?
Due to being the only mundane in a Clan of magicians, Harper began honing his physical skills on an early age to compensate for his lack of astral talents. Most of his advanced skills, however, stem from a mixture of natural aptitude and intensive medical and field training at the University of Washington and FBI Academy.

8 ) Where did your character learn their Knowledge Skills?
Harper had always been an excellent student and a bright mind, but sadly, his parents weren't exactly eager to invest a lot of money into his education. Nonetheless though, be it through brilliance or just extreme luck, he somehow managed to get himself a partial stipend for a Public Ivy school: the University of Washington. Now the proud owner of two Doctorate degrees - one in Medicine, one in Psychology, both with a focus on forensics and criminology - and veteran of quite a few rather difficult cases, Harper can consider himself a very educated and experienced man who always knows what he's doing.

9) Where did your character get his goodies?
Being a government operative, Harper frequently needs access to hardware not available to Johnny Civilian. Because he is equipped with a multitude of (lawfully obtained) licenses and special permissions, he is able to obtain what he needs through official channels - at least, within certain limits. Should he ever wish to exceed these, Celeste enters the game: she applies a few quick, temporary modifications to his SIN, and Ares will be more than glad to sell him that prototype Assault Cannon he needs for a friend of his. As she's also able to remove any trail of data his purchase could possibly leave behind, it's also highly unlikely that anyone would ever notice...right?

10) Where does your character live?
While Harper is by no means a snob, he quite likes his Penthouse (complete with private parking, a heavily armed security service including both metahumans and drones, a panic room which may also function as holding cell, a small bar and a swimming pool on the roof) in Seattle's Bellevue district due to it's quiet, safe (and, most importantly, less-than-curious) neighborhood. He also maintains a small medical clinic he ran prior to becoming a Special Agent (which he occasionally rents out to make some extra cash) and a few subterranean safe houses throughout Seattle, some shared installations provided by the FBI, others private vaults, heavily armored and shielded and stocked full of ammo and medical supplies, unknown even to his employers.

Additionally, Harper is officially the owner of his family's estate - however, as the FBI found multiply artifacts buzzing with toxic magic within it during their raid, they declared it a contaminated zone and locked it down. So far, Harper has shown no interest in reclaiming the villa, most likely because he finds the prospect of returning to his old home rather uncomfortable himself.

11) Who are your character's contacts?
If you want to get things done, you'll need friends - a piece of truth Harper knows very well. Aside from his most useful "resource", Celeste, he also maintains friendly (or at least, professional) relationships with a multitude of people in- and outside the FBI (see Contacts section).

12) Who are your character's enemies?
While many criminals would do some very nasty things to Harper if they just *knew* who it was that brought them into jail, there are only two groups of which Harper knows that he has to be cautious about. On one hand, there is his extended family - while not all of them were involved in his core family's schemings, he knows better than to trust them and used his contacts within the FBI to have them monitored at all times.

On the other hand, there is the conspiracy around those who made his partner, Judith Templar, disappear. Harper has to be careful about his investigations, or he'll soon have to find out how much further than sending threatening matrix mails his enemies are ready to go.

13) What is your character's attitude towards Magic?
With most of his experiences regarding magic being rather negative, he maintains a rather cautious stance on it, even though he knows that his nature as an astral black hole would probably prevent the Awakened from invading his mind. Nonetheless, given the opportunity, he most likely would use any non-toxic magical resources at his hands to further his goals and interests.

Personality

14) What are your character's likes and dislikes?
While he is a smart, educated, well-read men, Harper's greatest passion would be the Desert Wars, which he had been following since he was a teenager. Quite possibly, they are the only thing other than his work and country that manage to awaken genuine enthusiasm within him, and he is a small, but regular monetary contributor to Ares' Damage Overwhelming team.

As mentioned already, Harper also is a staunch patriot and declared enemy of the CAS. Other people he despises are mobsters, drug dealers, NIJ members and communists.

15) What is your character's moral code?
While Harper isn't above the odd less-than-legal sale of previously owned cyberware, he views himself as a man of integrity. As such, he tries to justify anything he does by claiming it to serve a higher purpose (which it actually often, but not always, does) and avoids breaking his word; in short, he tries to be a "good person".

16) Does your character have goals?
While he keeps calming his conscience with the idea that it is all for the greater good, power, not necessarily as in authority, but also, capability, is definitely something Harper aims to gain. While he has been quite successful so far, there's still much more to achieve; be it a new assembly of strings to pull, another couple of promotions or a transfer to the CIA's famed Special Activities Division...

17) Does your character have personal beliefs?
Most men need something to put their faith in; be it their country, a religion, a certain political ideology or just they themselves. Harper is no exception to that. He believes there are men that have to do what has to be done - and that he is one of them. For God and Country, Harper will stand first in line in the defense of what is right and good, even if it means committing acts of questionable morality...

18) Does your character have personality quirks?
Describing Harper as "calm" would probably be an understatement, as he applies his well-built discipline not only to his work, but also to his personal life. However, he certainly isn't without emotion, and mistaking his cool attitude for the absence of aggression can be very dangerous, for he definitely knows how to get back at people that try to mess with him.

Running the Shadows:

19) Why does your character run the shadows?
Harper has been dealing with the less savory elements of society ever since he began working at the FBI, though he only began using them to pursue his own agenda since his partner disappeared.

20) How does your character view his/her role as a shadowrunner?
He does what has to be done, and tries to give it no further (moral) thought.

Bonus Round:

1. What happened (if anything) to you during the crash?
During the Second Crash, Harper was temporarily assigned to one of the FBI's HRT teams that stormed the White House. When his team's leader got killed in an ambush, he - heavily wounded - assumed command and kept pushing forward and completing the mission assigned to him (severing one of the power lines supporting the White House's central security system) before collapsing due to blood loss. His survival has been described as a miracle and for his most valiant action, he was awarded the Congressional Silver Medal.

2. What are your principal motivations for being in the shadows?
To find out what happened to his partner Judith Templar and uncovering the conspiracy around her disappearance.

3. What are your short term goals?
See above, plus avoiding any desk work the FBI throws his way. Additionally, Harper's job might involve further goals that are to be accomplished within a reasonable time frame.

4. Any long term goals?
A leading position within the FBI or a place in the CIA would be nice; so would any other position of power that would help him further his (mostly philanthropic) goals. Despite being a (mildly) religious person, Harper is also decidedly transhumanist, and has recently became very interested in Evo's research into cyborg technology.

5. Any family / friends that are important enough for walking plot hooks?
Other than Judith Templar, both Celeste and Vodka may cause Harper to pull strings and more. Additionally, his family may cause quite some trouble; while they can't use their magic against him directly, they are quite influential and some of them may be *very* motivated to get their revenge.

Check out this thread if you've not seen it already: Astral Hazing. It seems a tad over powered to me (not that the rules will play a huge role in this game and i'm going to downplay magic anyway I think) and also a bit freakish. I suggest a half power version of the quality for -5BPs would be better but if you want to try and convince me otherwise then I'm open to suggestions...

Well, the (lovecraftian) freak factor is what I've been aiming at by choosing this quality for my character, and I wouldn't really like to tone it down - but perhaps we could add some further disadvantages instead, maybe shift it towards something that also affects mundanes, making Void's presence generate a very literal void in those around him, influencing his interactions with other metahumans?

As for getting in with the Fraternity - I think I'd prefer a short storyline setting the mood for Harper's "downfall", perhaps revolving around him capturing and interrogating Thomas Moore or Celeste decrypting the matrix mail, to attending the the first meeting straight away. Associating with them will be a major turnaround for the man of integrity Harper is, and I'd really prefer him acquiring his reasons for doing so iRP.

Can I ask you to consider taking 'Mother' as one of your contacts? She's a prime runner and one of the fraternity contacts and also began work in the FBI. I've not posted up her bio yet as I'm considering starting a seperate cast of shadows thread but it is likely to be something like this:

"Sara Waters (Mother) was born human to a human mother and orc father and then had an unusual mild goblinisation at puberty. She appears at first glance to be an athletic human women of slightly above average height and indeterminate age (anywhere between 25 and 40). Only closer inspection reveals her slightly elongated lower canines and the faint point to the tops of her ears. She typically dresses in corporate casual clothing but this is dropped in favour of form fitting armour and combat webbing when she is working. She initially followed her mother in to a career in the FBI as a surveillance specialist but was disillusioned with government life and remade herself in the shadows following the path that her father had taken before her. She usually takes an operational intelligence role in runs which earnt her monica for the way she watches over her team mates. Her daughter 'Silk' is also an important part of her life and an active runner in the Balefire team."

It gives you another 'in' with the Fraternity if one is needed and Mother will probably play a significant part in the game to come.

A

Sure, making her an acquaintance-level contact would work - there's a little problem though...when creating Void, I really had to squeeze a lot of BPs out of other areas to get the contacts going, so I'd have to cut one of the other contacts (preferably Sanders Junior, as he isn't really that important). If that's fine with you, I'll edit her in.

Edit: in fact, I've been planning to have Void hiring a couple of Runners to extract Moore in my introductory post; with your OK (and, if I'd find a way to include her in my contacts) my character could hire her for the job.

Charisma -1 (+10 BP)

Unarmed Combat +1 (-4 BP)

Sara "Mother" Waters (6 BP)
Human - Shadowrunner/Ex-FBI Surveillance Specialist - Loyalty 2 - Connections 4

Just like Bio, Mother is another former FBI employee who has quit the Bureau in favor of a career in the Shadows, although her motivations where slightly different from the Autopsy Technician's - he quit for the money, she quit because government life isn't exactly what she'd hoped for. Following in her father's footsteps, she became a Shadowrunner.

Harper, who had worked with the woman before, and one of the few in the FBI who actually know what she's doing for a living now, decided that it would be a shame to let her skill go to waste (and that she didn't know enough classified information to warrant a hit contract) and promptly hired her for a little job involving Aztechnology and some "missing" evidence. As she and her team of Runners proved themselves competent, they quickly became regulars, and as the pay was good and Harper hadn't tried to cheat them yet, the two parties maintain a cordial, if shaky, relationship.

Emerging Experiment 2
Re-recruiting & changing tack – Prime Runners Wanted

Following on and continuing the Emerging thread (here) we are looking for some new players (and the existing ones to create some additional characters if they want) to continue exploring the themes from the Emergence campaign.

It is a story lead, rules light game. The original characters are fixers and other movers and shakers in the Seattle shadows. We are now looking for some Prime runners (see below), probably from outside Seattle to start with, who will be in contact with Monarch, a fixer who will bring them in to the game.

To help keep things moving I would like people to be able to post without waiting for anyone else so what I’m after is players who are looking for the challenge of creating either runners who work solo or a small team of 2-4 runners. I will ask for as much background as you can give me but won’t expect as much detail for those of you who want to take on running a team (but this is likely to be more work during the posts so isn’t an easy option ).

Priority will be given to existing players (who will hopefully also carry on their current characters) but after that we can probably accommodate 3-4 new people, perhaps more if there’s lots of interest. We probably want professional runners rather than street types, more mirror shades than mohawks please.

Solo runners 550BPs, groups can be created from 450-500BPs each. Skill maximums: 2 @ 6 or 3 @ 5, rest at 4, one skill group @ 5. Resources can be anything and no availability cap (but let’s not be silly here, your characters will be expected to travel!). The only freebie will be your contact with Monarch.

Because I’m not keen on book keeping I will probably follow the alternative matrix rules suggested by Bira (here).

Please post any character/team concepts and queries here and then I’ll ask you to put your sheets in the Emerging character thread later (here).

Hodder - mystic adept of the Qabbalistic Tradition

Key phrase to describe him: "The sneaky, little shit that gets away with it"

Hodder is the guy who would get squashed in a stand-up fight, but somehow always manages to come away from any situation nearly unscathed. He can't bring down real hurt on major opponents, but he can get 'minions' to do things for him. He is charismatic, and can be very much so if he uses magic. He has multiple ways of directing magic to get people to do things. He is smart, and can be very much so if he uses magic. He can think his way out of problems and build stuff to help him. He is willful and is hard to dominate or subvert, and ... wait for it ... he can be very much so if he uses magic.

Hodder is physically weak and vulnerable, but when possessed he is hard (NOT impossible) to damage. He uses his wits and charm to avoid dangerous situations, and his 'thick skin' and running like hell to get out of them.

Hodder, as Simon Berkoff, was a student of the Qabballah, in a traditional school in Seattle, under the tutelage of a rabbi. An incident in his family brought long-standing fantasies and jealousies to the fore, and he broke with his past (betraying his cousin Nathaniel Jones, great grandson of Indiana Jones -- a PC, Professor, I also played on DS) to live a life of adventure and profit, and become a hunter of antiquities and objects of art. He has a legitimate business (for which his fake SIN applies), which is mostly a front for the far more lucrative illicit international trade in antiquities. His naivete nearly got him killed in the early stages, but he learned from his mistakes and developed the skills necessary to survive in the criminal world. Though relatively new, he has some international contacts in the antiquities business, and a fair understanding of how that world works. His recently developed knack for languages has been acquiring him new tongues at an amazing rate. A few hours with a new language, and he can be arguing the football scores with the best of them.

What Hodder is only beginning to suspect is that there was a price to pay for abandoning what may have been a call from a Mentor Spirit (An instantiation of a Sephirot in the Qabballah) in those days in the school. The spirits that Hodder summons, the elohim, are willful and intelligent entities rather than just mindless forces, and they incessantly take pleasure in goading him about the errors of his ways, and his betrayal of the Orthodox Way of the Qabballah. Hodder doesn't care. He believes more in the Practical Way as interpreted by the turn-of-the-century mystic, Madonna. In particular, he sees himself as embodying her belief that magic can be brought into the world to make real changes, as manifested in the Sephirot, Hod. Hence, his street name.

A recent big score netted him a very handsome payoff for (re-)stealing one of the twelve Chinese zodiac bronzes stolen centuries ago from China by European powers. He feels good that he delivered it to Chinese agents, though he has no real idea whether it will become a national treasure, or just be hidden again in yet some other rich person's home. With the proceeds from that job, he purchased two Foci to aid him in his work. These, along with his earlier Initiation into the metamagic of Channeling, have greatly increased his flexibility and capability.

Hodder is basically a good man, but his desire to make up for a sheltered early life and wasted opportunities has placed him on a slippery slope, on which it is difficult for him to keep from doing ever more morally questionable things to prove himself. In another life, he would have been prime material for a gang. To whom he is trying to prove himself is perhaps the biggest question of his life.

Something snapped in Simon when Nathaniel inherited great grampa's fedora. He crumpled the letter from his cousin and hurled it across the room. It wasn't that Nathaniel didn't deserve the bequest. No, no, he was the golden boy of archaeology and loved by everyone in the family. And he had the Jones name. Of course he would get the fedora.

It was a moment of clarity for Simon. Years of "if only" and "I could have" and immersion in the imaginary heroism of games rather than the effort and discipline of studies came crashing in on him ... all of it ... all at once. What was the point of sitting here in the library, reading and thinking about the words of the ancient rabbis? What good would any of this do? Great grampa didn't bury himself in books and collect dust. He fought ultimate evil in his day, and did it by saving great artifacts from the clutches of bigotry and greed. It was not the Orthodox way, but the Practical way that mattered.

With the aid of the elohim, Simon would take the wisdom of the Qaballa to the world. He would do something, make a difference, make people sit up and finally take notice. Yes, great and wonderful artifacts were appearing all the time, and Magic was increasing. This was the time to carve his name as the greatest antiquarian of all. Great grampa's legacy would live, through Simon.

But first, there was the matter of Nathaniel. Let him have a bit of comeuppance. There was a dealer in Hong Kong who might be interested in what Nathaniel was unearthing in India. Simon needed a commlink, not traceable to him. That would be easy to steal.

Simon didn't even notice that the subtle, persistent call of the Mentor, Chokhmah, ceased, never to return, when he stepped out the door.

A night bird almost flew into him, veering at the last moment and disappearing into the darkness.

"You sound just like my mother," Hodder thought.

"Of course I do. Your mother a wise woman she is. A doctor she wanted you to be. A good man at heart, Simon you are. Talent you have. A great healer you could have been. Instead to be a scoundrel and a thief you chose."

"Nonsense. I chose a life of adventure and travel. Profit comes to those who seize opportunity."

"Baubles you seize, that belong to someone else, and sell them. Some son you turned out to be."

"There with my mother you go again. Shut up."

"Service request is that?"

"You know it is not. I summoned you to strengthen me and lend your magic to my purpose. Not to lecture me."

"Your every request I fulfill. As one with you in your flesh I walk. Conceal you I do. What I do on down time, my own business it is. And since control of your body have you taken to steal into this building, on down time I am."

"You are distracting me. Causing me to fall because I cannot concentrate is not fulfilling a service to me."

"Hmph. Very well. You should be so lucky as to have advice such as mine, but your way have it."

"Thank you."

Hodder continued to scale the wall of the chateau, much more smoothly now that the voice in his head was silent. He cautiously peered over the edge of the railing of the balcony. Yes, there was a heat outline of someone, armed with a firearm. Probably human by the size of him. Sonja had dealt with the electronics. The rest was up to him. Hodder gathered mana and channeled it towards the guard.

[[What a quiet night. A quick chicken sandwich from the kitchen wouldn't hurt.]]

The guard looked around, as if to see if anyone was looking, and ducked in an open doorway. He left it open in his hurry. "How lucky is that? I don't even have to pick the lock."

Hodder rolled smoothly over the railing. He took a few seconds to erase the signature of his spell, and then padded softly to the door. An astral glance inside showed no patrolling spirits there, either. Hodder flowed among the shadows through the drawing room. The hallway with the prize was just through that door. Check astrally, listen, quietly open and peer through a crack... the drill was second nature.

There it was! On the pedestal by the stairs, as he was told. A soft night light illuminated the bronze rooster head. Even at this distance, Castiglione's genius was apparent. No wonder the English and French stole the twelve of them from the Summer Palace. Seeing it in life for the first time, Hodder rued the paltry sum he asked of the Chinese. A little red flag went up in the back of his mind. "Not even a watcher?" There was no time to ponder. The guard would be diverted only so long.

Hodder approached the statue and Assensed it. "There you are, you sneaky little drek." A small spirit possessed the statue. It must have been prepared as a vessel, for such a weak thing to overcome it. And masked, too. "Probably as soon as I touch or move you, you will raise the alarm." Hodder prepared himself to snatch the statue, and focussed his will. With willpower alone, he attacked the spirit. No damage to the statue, and no astral signature to waste time erasing. It shrieked once as it disrupted. Alarm bells rang. <<"Sonja! What the frak?">>

<<"Sorry. Independent system. Didn't see it ... couldn't get it.">>

Hodder grabbed and ran. Out to the balcony, then he leapt over the railing to tumble onto the gymnastics mat he had unrolled on the ground before he climbed. Even so, only the hardened armour of the elohim spared him injury.

Gunfire erupted. Bullets thudded into his back as he ran for the forest. The worst of them only knocked him over. He rolled and continued running.

"Glad are you now that I walk with you, no?"

"Yes! Now quit talking and hasten me!"

"Of course ... master."

Hodder ran like a mustang and dodged like a rabbit. Once in the woods, he cut to the trail where he had left the motorcycle Sonja had jacked from some berk. Within minutes he was in town, and ditched the bike. He walked to his hotel, presented his baggage check to the valet, and took a taxi to Paris, to the Gare du Nord. From there, he walked to his hotel, and contacted the Chinese. There was time for a shower and a bite of dinner before the handoff. He changed clothes, and dismissed the elohim. "Thank you for your help. Know that I always appreciate the power your kind lends me."

"Know that my kind would rather you had continued your studies with your rabbi. Goodbye."

"Always the last word they need to get. Well, off to dinner. I think, chicken would be appropriate."

Dexter is old. Or at least, he is getting old. Had his life being that of your average corporate Joe, he would either currently be at the very prime of his time, or maybe even contemplating early retirement with a new pension. But it isn't the case. Dexter might not exactly be old, but he is surely feeling so. By the time they reach his age, those that thrive in his line of work are usually one of two things: retired on some tropical island with more money then they'd ever need, or dead. Either by some incredible turn of luck, or because he literally has been cursed, Dexter is neither of those. He hasn't gloriously died for his country. He hasn't made the very last stand for freedom, holding back the odds until his last clip was dry. He hasn't caught some random stray bullet. He hasn't given his life for a noble cause or any of the ideals he believes in. No. Dexter has survived. All his friends, all his comrades, all his brothers in arms and squad mates. Every single one of them is dead now. The screaming drill sergeant at Paris Island. His bunkmate during basic, all the commanding officers, all the NCOs. Every single last on of them. Dexter might be old. And he also might be tired. But not matter how tired and old he'll ever be, the man will always be a soldier. Even when most of what makes him a human being will be gone, he will remain a soldier. It would be a rather obvious cliché to state that Dexter started his life when he joined the CAS Marine Corps at 18. Like every single human being, he started his life by being born. Contrary to a lot of people you'll find out there, creeping around in the shadows, Dexter wasn't born in the UCAS, or CAS, or in any of those “new” country. Dexter Pope was born in a place that doesn't exist anymore... safe for inside his head. He was born in 2023, in New Orleans, Louisiana, United States of America. Actually, he was born a little outside of New Orleans, in a small farming community. By the time he was old enough to get beating from his drunken old man, the USA was in shambles, the family business wasn't fairing quite well, and redskins were causing all sorts of havocs. As much as the First Crash barely hit them, in 2029, the formation of the CAS was a whole other story. One thing Dexter had a lot of, beside beatings from his dad, were brothers. All older. And all of them had escaped the family life as soon as they had been able to, by joining the armed forces. When what was left the different branches had to pick which side they would stay on, most of Dexter's brothers left for the UCAS. The others ended up fighting in Texas... and all laid their life down to defend their newly formed country. For a whole summer, working with his dad and having dropped out of school, the young Dexter contemplated what he would do with his life. He sure as hell couldn't stay on the farm much longer.... or he'd end up killing his father in a fit of rage. As soon as he was old enough, Dexter enlisted in the Marine Corp. That was in 2041. Almost 30 years ago.


Fresh out of boot camp, the young Dexter was placed, like about 90% of the country's military assets, near the Aztlan/CAS border. For the first two years, Dexter saw very little action, until things started to flare up along the border. Nothing was ever publicly disclosed, but skirmishes with the Azzies became an almost daily occurrences. They test them, and in return, they'd try to sneak in as far into Texas as they could. But it still wasn't much. At least, it wasn't what Dexter had envisioned when he had enlisted. He wanted action. He wanted adventure. He wanted to make a difference and to take the fight to the enemies door. His time to shine finally came through when he was hand picked to be part of a multi-branch unit. Along with Special Forces soldiers, Dexter was sent deed inside Azzie occupied Texas to train militias and provide a little more firepower than they had. And Dexter did exactly that; he covertly tagged and bagged a lot of Azzie troopers, up until his unit was called back to CAS soil, months before Operation Reciprocity took place.Back in New Orleans, in early 2048, Dexter met a then student and waitress at a local bar; Sue Morgan. Cute, smart and most of all single. When Dexter's extended leave was over, and his unit was called back in, in 49, Sergent Pope was not only married, but also has a baby girl; Catherine. From the swaps of Louisiana, Dexter found himself waist deep in jungle mud as he became quite personally acquainted with Colombia... and how he could help their guerrilla fighters push back both Aztlan and Amazonian's forces. Dexter's unit, now “officially” disbanded, stayed in South America for three years, hoping from one covert assignment to the next, taking part in missions that still wake Dexter at night... doings things to people that still plague his nightmare. Dexter's last mission, as part of that unit, took place in 54, when a shard from a mortar shell ripped about three quarter of his right arm off, knocking him unconscious and, apparently to his squad mates, dead and gone. What did bring Dexter back to his senses, a few days later, was the rats gnawing at him. They had eaten through most of what was left of his arm, and taken a good bits of his right eye. Miraculously, Dexter survived and when the fighting died off a big, was rescued and extracted back to mainland CAS. It took Dexter a long time to heal... and not just physically. Most of the scars from his trip down in South America are still quite there. Most of the ghosts that still haunt him are from that time.


In 2055, the year the Chicago Containment Zone, Dexter was blessed with a second daughter; Emma. Sue had now been out of college for quite some time, and taken up a job with mid size law firm in New Orleans. She was making more than enough money to support the now growing Pope family. For the next two years, Dexter did very little but heal. He spent his time at home, taking care of his two daughters and getting acquainted with the new chromed part of his body. Even tho, his unit had officially never existed, he still received veteran's pay from the Corp... but money wasn't all that was important to Dexter. Yes, his two daughters might have been what mattered the most in his eyes... but he couldn't shake the feeling of uselessness from his bones. And he couldn't shake all those faces away from his dreams.2062 Black Ops in Yucatan

2063 Divorce, Leaves the CASMC because of “behavior instabilities”

2064 Begins as a gun for hire

"I take it you would rather not be here, Emma?" said the rather pot bellied round school counselor, eying the girl from behind round silver rimmed glasses. He had invited her to sit, but the folded arms and pouting face told him this might actually be challenging for once.

The clock, which he had gotten for a bargain at the flea market last week, loudly ticked every single second of dead silence. Her forehead wrinkled a little bit more. Not looking in any way meaner... but she had to be given some credit for trying. Maybe he should have gotten those antique chairs too... they weren't in that much of a bad shape after all... Her legs were already starting to cramp up. Well, maybe she could pout as well when sitting. No. Standing up made much more of a point. Her mother kept saying she had gotten all of her dad's stubbornness, and none of her common sense.

He took off his glasses, polishing the already crystal clear lenses in a manner that made him look like more of a scholar than he really was. He wasn't at all. His office was filled with old certificates and diplomas: framed and sealed stamped to make him look all important. One certified he was a damn good fisherman. Another one was just written in gibberish Latin. It didn't even mean anything. He'd just bought the frame and liked the little random filler piece of paper that came with it.

"So," he started, feeling the earlier chili he had eaten build into a slight heart burn "do you know why you are here today?"


**


"I still don't get why were here today." complained Frank, again.

Dexter sat next to Frank, smelling nothing but the awful menthol cigarette disgustingly sweet smell. It was the third since they had arrived. Nervous habit. At least, he was keeping his cool. For now. The seats weren't comfortable either. Some spring were pushing in places one should never have springs push. It was like trying to read Kant while sitting on a junkie's mattress (the kind that was on the bare floor and smelled of old vomit): you felt uneasy and confused. But Dexter was who he was, which was very much unlike most people. It meant he didn't really feel like most people. Well, part of him did feel, but he reacted with a very different attitude. He didn't care. He endured. He moved on. He had gone through the desert carrying twice his own weight, getting pummeled by hot sharp sand. He had lived weeks in the same smelly clothes, his own salty sweat making them stick like a second skin. He had spent three days waist deep in mud, living on a regular diet of fist sized beetles. This was a fuckin' cake walk.

Frank hissed through his teeth, pulling on the cigarette as he watch some woman walking her dog across the street.

"Check that out Pope! Now that's some prime quality grade A piece right there" he pushed out with the smoke. Dexter nodded absentmindedly, his attention focused on some third level window. The lights were still out. They'd have to wait a little more.


**


He flipped the tiny switch, bringing the screen to life. The blue hue danced on his face, carving the wrinkles that made up his fat face even deeper. Emma, now sitting, shrugged in a disinterested manner.

"This is the sixth time this year, Emma. The sixth time you're sent to this office for the same exact reason." continued the counselor, his eyes narrowing as he skim through her school file.
"It's not my fault. They had it coming! She was asking for it!"

The man lifted his eyes from the display unit, eying cautiously the fifteen year old from above his shiny Mister Important glasses.

"You know very well that this is not how grown up are supposed to deal with problems. I don't think you realized that this sort of behavior isn't appropriate."

Emma pouted some more, burrowing herself in the chair and doing her best to look mean.

"Do you what a behavior like that could cost you?"


**


"Twenty thousand."

Dexter nodded, his metal encased cyber eyes scanning the street up and down.

"Thats fuckin' it man. Twenty thousand. The guy's been running out on us and dodging all the regular collectors like the damn plague. So the big boss man, he called me up."

He took a long drag on his stubbed cigarette, speaking quickly through his closed teeth.

"You know how the big man is! He gets even more pissed off when it's small amounts. I don't get it man... Twenty thousand isn't even that much green."

He gestured around the small beaten up sedan.

"But here we are! Chasing after some low life motherfucker who owes a bunch of nickel and dimes."

Dexter looked over from the street toward the scrawny man fidgeting about next to him.

"It's not about the money Frankie. It's a question of principles."

Flicking his cigarette out the cracked down window, Frank swung his head around toward Dexter in an exaggerated move. He looked at his own reflection in the man's cyber eyes. When he had first met the cybered up old timer, he'd found it rather creepy. It wasn't just that he was sporting outdated looking chrome.... it was that he seemed more like a machine than a person. At times, it was as if he wasn't really there. That and not being able to look someone straight into their eyes made him uneasy.

"And I take it you know a lot about that?"

Dexter nodded slowly.

"Principles are what distinguish animals from men. There's nothing nobler than holding up to an ideal in an unmoving manner."

He looked away toward the building once more.

"Nothing a man owns should ever have more value than his own word. Thats how you can tell what a person is worth: by the value of his words."

Frankie just sat there, staring at the hired muscle with a slight hint of disbelief.

"Shit Pope, didja smoke something on your way here?"


**


"No." said Emma flat out.

"No, you don't think you have an anger management problem? I mean, it is common for a young woman of your background..."

Emma's face lit with red as she clenched her fists until her knuckles were white.

"And what is that supposed to mean?!" she said, now shaking as if taken by a sudden cold.


**


"Means he'll probably fold when he just sees us. The guy's a total punk. A strung out junkie. Gambles a lot. Thats how he ranked up the debt."

"I see. You know the guy?" said Dexter, reaching for a duffel on the back seat.

"Well, sorta. Met him a few times. You know... business stuff. He'd get stuff from a guy who knows a guy and we'd unload it for him."

"What sort of stuff? Drugs? Chips? Weapons?"


**


"That is none of your business!" gritted Emma through he teeth.

"Well, unsteady family dynamics are common occurrences Emma. It's normal to feel angry when your parents are divorced."

He looked over at the terminal.

"It says you live with you mother, is that correct."


**

"Yea, I'm cool with that man." said Frank, grabbing the small machine pistol Dexter was handing him.

The old gun for hire wrapped his chromed hand around the handel, pushing the car's door slightly ajar.

"Good. You ready?"


"Never! My father is not a violent man! He would never hurt anyone. He'd certainly never hurt me or my sister!"

Dexter cocked the sawed-off pistol grip shotgun, leveling it high toward where the doors hinges would be.

He gave one last look toward Frankie... who was, as always, grinning like an idiot.

"You go ahead Pope." he chuckled in a whisper.

Dexter flipped the cyber safety off.

"Knock Knock..." he whispered softly to himself.

In the small and shady green carpeted corridor, the shotgun roared like chopper, taking both top and bottom hinges off and blowing bits of synthwood everywhere.

Frankie's ears were still ringing when Dexter used his size 12 boot to get the door out of their way.


**


Emma jumped out of her chair.

"You see! Thats why I gave that bitch the beating she deserved!"

She waved a threatening finger toward the counselor... who didn't seemed even a bit fazed by her actions.

"My dad is a good man! He's not a drunk like my mother says! I don't care what it says in your stupid file! She divorced him because she's a money hungry whore thats why!"


**


"Wow there! Ease up will ya?" said Frankie, pointing the stubby pistol toward Benny who had started to get up from the couch he was half sprawled on. His hand was even half way to a fat six shooter that laid on the table in front of him.

In the corner of the room, some woman, most of her clothes missing, was screaming like someone had just blown the door to her apartment and came in uninvited.

Dexter's shotgun was still held at the ready, his trained body moving with a will of his own as he went about clearing the tiny 3 room apartment. He could hear the woman's shriek, but ignored it. He could see cockroaches scurrying away from the light when he entered the kitchen but he ignored it.

"Clear." he simply said, coming back to the living room, the shotgun now pointing down.

He lock eyes with the woman, who was still hysterically screaming her head out.

"Fuck's that?" said Dexter, jerking nonchalantly a thumb toward the girl.

"Yea man" continued Frank to Benny "would you mind telling your druggie bitch to shut the hell up?"

Benny seem to unfreeze from his torpor.

"Chill out Denise....."

It didn't do squat.

Benny got up from the couch and went over toward Denise, slapping her hard.

It didn't do squat. She was now shaking and making a whole mess.

Dexter grunted, breached the small gap that separated him from the odd couple. In an almost reticent motion, he pushed Benny aside and wrapped his chromed up right hand around Denise throat, lifting her feet off the ground.

"Don't make me kill you, Denise. Stop screaming and I won't kill you, ok?"

She fought a bit, trying to get some air into her lungs. She fought against the inhumane cold steel of Dexter's cyberhand. When she started to definitely change color, she managed to nod. Satisfied with her honesty, the old street sam released her from his death grip, turning his back on her now sprawled form to look straight at Benny.

"Tell him Frank."

Frankie came over and got his scrawny little fingers on Benny's shoulder.

"Time to pay up man. You owe 20, and today were collecting taxes in your corner of the world."

"I.... I don't have it Frankie... Not yet! But I will! I promise! Next week! Next week Frankie, I'll have it!"

"No no no! Thats not the right answer..." said Frank, like he was scolding a child


**


"But I don't want to!" cried Emma out.

"Anger management classes are obligatory. This is not open for discussion. You either go to them, each week, or you'll have to look for another school Emma."

"This isn't right! You can't force me to do something I don't want to! They were the ones who started it!"


**


"Oh yes Benny, I can do many things."

And she started screaming again. But this time around, it wasn't a scared scream. It was one of those deadly crazy shriek someone desperate launches out. She lunged the kitchen, where she had crawled to, with the craziest rusted kitchen knife you've ever seen. She threw herself wildly at Frank.

Without a second of hesitation, Dexter stepped in the way, the wicked blade burrying itself under his shoulder blade all the way to the hilt. And she froze. She froze like a deer in headlight.
Dexter made a sort of grunt; the annoyed kind. Frank was brandishing the small pistol toward the woman, and was about 2 seconds away from turning her into a pasta drainer when Dexter, calmly and collectedly, raised his hand up and gestured him to cool off. Slowly he reached around his backside and pulled the knife out in one swift motion. With a sickening popping sound, it came out, deep red blood flowing from the wound for a few seconds... before stopping.

The knife clicked on the ground.

"I hate it when people do that." grumbled Dexter, giving the woman but a passing glance and turning his attention back Benny.

"So what's it gonna be Benny. You got Frankie's money, or do I have to throw you ass out that window?"


**


Arms folded across her chest, Emma walked out of the school counsellors office. Ten sessions of anger management. It was that or another school. And mom would have throw a fit. She would have kept her from seeing her father.

"This sucks!" said Emma to herself, kicking some imaginary pebble from out of her way.


**


"This really sucks." thought Benny, seconds before his face connected with the pavement below.

"Thats gotta hurt..." said Frankie, looking out of the window at the pieces of Benny that were still aligned how they were supposed to.

He turned back to Dexter.

"Alright, let's rip the place for cash and get the fuck out. Someone's about to come round to check things out."

"Hurry up Frankie..." started Dexter, annoyingly checking the tear in his raincoat "I gotta pick up my girl from school."