@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:00:00 The Pad]

Becca you're so beautiful. I love you so much...I love when you do that thing you do. *WHAM* Why do you want it so rough now? Jack blinked. That wasn't Becca's hand... Jack rubbed his eyes clearing his vision a bit. An angry old hag stood in front of him. Jack sat up. More in shock than anything else Jack responded, "What the hell?" What are you doing in my home? Jack saw the troll from last night sitting atop an ammo crate, cleaning and polishing a gun that may have well been bigger than Jack's entire body. Then Jack realized he was as naked as one can get. This was a peculiar moment, because though he couldn't remember much about the previous night he could have sworn his clothes were on then. He looked at the troll and then at the old lady and decided ignorance is bliss, and ran to put some clothes on in the bathroom.

He looked at the clock when he was going through his morning routine out of habit. The numbers showed 5:01am. He clearly had a nightmare, Jack never had awaken before eight in this life. Most of the time he didn't get out until the crack of noon. He looked around and pinched himself. His fears confirmed he was awake. He peeked out of the bathroom there was the old woman who looked like she was about to start yelling at him to hurry up. This was worse than a nightmare, it was reality. Because of his respect for Hawke, Jack wanted to maintain his composure and not kill the old woman. Fear of retaliation from the troll may have played a small part as well. He rinsed off in the shower in ice cold water and put clothes on quickly before the woman gave him and even bigger headache.

He walked toward the kitchen area, avoiding ammo crates and grabbed some food so he could pop his morning meds. He felt he would need them this day. He forced a smile, choked back some of the more violent thoughts in his head, looked at the troll and said, "Thanks for getting me home last night."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:02:00 The Pad]

The troll smiled in a eerie and over-familiar manner, "No problem chummer, this is the most comfortable night I've spent in a place, having a roof over my head was nice... the bed was a bit small though." He put the gun back in the crate and got up off of his perch. "Anya here says she's volunteered to teach you something about guns and since I've got to lay low for a few days till the meet, I thought I'd tag along."


"Niet! You boys going to sleep all day? We have work to do! First you make me breakfast, then we go shoot those yellow bastards from last night!" Anya's very animated and obviously insane demeanor left Jack the impression that he was not the only person in the room short on medication. "Anya, thats biz for me 'n lexi and you know it. Cant have this greenie out there anyways. Why does lexi like him so much?"

Anya shook her head violently as she angrily attempted to remove the placating hands that were lifting her onto the bed. "Niet! The bastards must pay for the killings last night!"

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:14:00 The Pad]

Out of all of the rambling between the troll and the old woman, the one thing Jack agreed with was breakfast. Though he had some soymeal with flavoring packets to take his pills, a larger breakfast with actual food might be a good way to improve this day. If his previous dealings with this woman were any indication he would need the energy. Hopefully he would be able to get the education he wanted and be able to defend himself against further home invasions. It seemed a good win-win to him and Jacked like winning. Jack decided to run to a nearby food mart and purchase some spices and eggs and actual ingredients to make omelets.

Jack returned quickly and made omelets for the three of them with few words being exchanged between himself and the other two. They were already at it talking about revenge tactics anyway. This meant little to Jack, he was helping Hawke in a different way and felt no need to go on any suicide mission. He wasn't trained for it even if Hawke did want him to go along. Jack's mind kept daydreaming to the coming game. He kept running statistics and numbers in his head, playing the odds as best he could to make it look good. He planned to come back to game there later, preferably without the sponsor making him take a loss. The record would suffer, but the cash that had been given to him helped ease the pain a bit.

"All right, let's do this."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:15:00 The Pad]

The murmuring stopped and both the troll and Anya looked around to where Jack had been quietly ruminating over his breakfast. "Ok tell you what, we'll meet you at the range for practice in 10 minutes?" The troll got up and ushered Anya out the door. Before he moved out himself however, Jackal turned and said, "Oh and by the way... you may want to hide that ammo a bit better... no idea why you keep so much hardware in plain sight. I thought you were the one that needed training?"

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:30, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

The old man merely sat there for a few seconds as Scratch began to feel more and more uncomfortable as he seemed to lean towards her and peer with laser intensity into her eyes. Scratch felt almost as if an invisible hand was gently moving her thoughts around, as they streamed through her mind almost at light speed. I wonder if this is what it is to die.

Strangely, Scratch felt no remorse, if this man was going to kill her as it seemed then at least it was a gentle way to leave the world. She could see now that he was quite obviously not all that he appeared as a light blue nimbus had surrounded him and seemed to be flowing out to reach toward her.

Abruptly the light faded and she felt her mental pace return to it's old and familiar routine of worrying over every detail, every bit of information that meant survival. Before she had time to go into a fit the man smiled and rose from the oil can he'd been perched on, "You are lucky you have no intent to harm my domain Miranda. The supplicant is waiting for you and you are safe her while on my docks."

A hefty chuckle echoed from the broken down attendants shack as Col stepped outside, "Oh frag off it, you knew you were going to let her in the moment you spoke to her. Thanks for the protection though, I appreciate it." Col looked to Scratch and winced slightly, "Sorry for the theatrics but this is the only safe place outside the ACHE that I know of these days, specially with all the missing. You better come inside."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
[April 18th, 2072, 05:15:42 The Pad]

Maybe it had been the missing coffee, soykaf or otherwise, but Jack was slowly able to put two and two together. "Hold on a moment, this isn't my ammo. I thought you brought this in?" Jack wondered if his 'dead' mother had left him another present. He looked at the crates with the troll still barely fitting in the doorway. "Do she bring this in here?" Jack half said it to himself and then realized that this thoughts were verbalized and gestured toward the direction of the irritating woman who had just left his abode.

Jack went over and grabbed his link to check for messages to see if anything explained the crates. How in the world? Jack didn't know if he should be worried or not, but while his system was still waking up he was a bit bewildered.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
[April 18th, 2072, 05:15:50 The Pad]

Checking his commlink revealed no new messages or apparent activity. Feeling rather clueless, Jack shrugged and walked out the door after the troll, pausing to close it as he did so. "Erm, I'm not quite sure what to think about all that... not to mention how it got into these apartments...." Jack went silent as he rounded the corner to the elevators and noticed the seemingly huge security camera pointing down the hallway, "and how the hell I'm supposed to get it all back out".

The troll laughed and shrugged his shoulders as they waited for the elevator to descend the 8 stories from his level to the underground parking garage, "I don't know but it's a fragging nice win for you eh Wild? Anyways we'll be shooting alot today hopefully and then a nice ol' card game the day after. My idea of a vacation is any time I'm not getting shot at; by the way, names Jackal."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:44, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

The witch smiled faintly at the Sleuth sprite. That made two services. "You have lived up to your reputation, and your obligation to me is now complete. I release you." With that, Forcas disintegrated, the droplets of mercury comprising him floating off into the ether. Morgan's expression returned to a frown. And yet, she was basically back where she started. She knew where the girl was, and that she was revealing too much about herself simply by meeting her physical needs. But there was no way to act on this information. At least, within her own means.

Morgan opened a magic circle in the wall of the server, and stepped through it. On the other side was the familiar palatial design of her house's node. Hovering closer, she began looking for her parents' commlinks. "You've decided to eat your words, I see." The witch nodded distractedly. "Mmm." Were they set to hidden?

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:52:27 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

How do I want to do this? In my doss with a beer and infinite retries in Miracle Shooter, of course.

OK, let's go over to the door. I'll go through it first, you'll wait 30 seconds, watch for anything suspicious then follow. I'm gonna go right and use those bushes for as much cover as possible, try the same when you follow me. We'll meet up at the house's back door and see whether Tony's done his thing there as well.

He better have or we're gonna have to find out how to walk through walls; silently.

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 05:12:30; Redmond; a cellar]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

The drive home had been uneventful - a welcome respite from this night's events - and a good opportunity to think things over.

The spirits seemed to be on Adrian's side again; the members of the gang that "owns" the building he lives in had only nodded at him when he parked his bike; just this one time foregoing the usual illicit offers and derogatory remarks when he declines. Even more surpirsing, he even got five minutes of shower time - cold water, asking for more would be ludicrious.

In his small abode, fresh incense smoke wafting through the otherwise damp room, his head had barely touched the tatami mat he slept on before he fell asleep.
...
Waking up with a scream, Adrian takes a few minutes to realise that he had escaped his strange nightmares of armies of dolls with exploding heads, giant spiders that suck the magic out of entire stellar systems and a possesed taxi hunting him through the streets of Seattle.

Time to wake up, anyway.

Putting on some clothes that could be said - by a benevolent observer, at least - to be still OK, he proceeds to climb the stairs leading to his bike. Just as he is about to drive off, he remembers where exactly is about to head.

I better get rid off my vest and taser.

After a brief return to his doss, he finally blasts off, heading for Snohomish.

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:33:37, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Scratch shook her head to try and clear the fog away…what the hell…!

"Fraggit Col, you’re scaring the shit out of me! You said you might be able to help me find Summer, you make me trek out here and then tell me it’s safe?!”

The anger helped to mask the feeling of things slipping away from her

"Just wait until Ma gets hold of you! I think she’d have a thing or two to say about what’s going on here! Cummon then, what are we still doing hanging about out here? I hope inside is a bit more stable than out here, a swim is the last thing I want tonight…”

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

As you begin to move down the rusted gantry ladder into the stygian gloom you feel a waft of warm fetid air coming up from the depths below. There is a distinct feeling that whatever lies between you and your quarry isn’t friendly!

Ælias scowls ahead into the darkness "I can’t get through. Don’t know if I’m being jammed or if they just don’t want any signal leaking out…? All this crap…" and he indicates the decaying machinery "isn’t exactly helping either."

Stitch leads the way and you plunge on. Snake can still dimly been heard over the general astral static of this place hissing imprecations. As you go deeper there are increasing signs that hands other than metahuman had a hand in shaping this place and in many ways you are glad that you can’t see details too clearly.

When you are in the equivalent of the third basement level, perhaps ten to fifteen meters below the surface, the trail that Stitch seems to have been following evidently peters out. Suddenly from above you there is a shriek of metal and a large arachnid looking thing launches itself out of the girders and plunges towards him…it is barely visible to thermal vision and the lowlight flashlights make little impact on its mottled carapace…

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:07; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

The Professor ponders Anselm’s words for a moment and then smiles at you again,
"Hmmm, that should not be a problem. Mademoiselle Argent has authorised me to exercise my considerable contacts on your behalf and a registration licence is in some ways easier to acquire than a firearms one, at least for me. I take it you will be wanting the latter? Don’t worry, you shall all be travelling scholars on an extended field trip. I have a couple of favours owed to me from one of the noble estates near Taunton, they will be your initial destination. Now, for somewhere to stay until I can get things together…there is a discrete little guest house in the north of the city, little being a subjective term, yes that should suit your needs admirably. Now, is there anything else I can do for you before we part company?"

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

The minutes tick by slowly as they descend through claustrophobic corridors and rooms filled with rusting machinery. The walls, and even the equipment, seem to grow more organic the deeper they go. Worry and fear leak from the team and Snake's indistinct hissing only enhances her own nervousness.

How could they think this was a safe place to hide those kids.

Pausing a moment to wipe sweat from her brow and adjust her mask, the sudden shrieking of metal is her only warning of the bug's attack.

"Bug! Shoot it!", she yells as she tries to bring the big gun to bear before the thing can reach Stitch.

She hopes the bullets will work. She knows that the more powerful the spirit, the more difficult it can be to harm it with mundane weapons. She chides herself for not switching the ammo drum for the APDS one. Her feet move her forward without her own accord and she can feel Snake's presence, close now, as her features distort into those of a serpent despite the goggles and mask she wears.

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

The roar of Copperhead's shotgun lights up the gloom, the echos of the thunder coming back to you umpteen times from the depths below. Despite the darkness and the barely visible target the solid shotgun slugs impact in the things hide...and sparks rather than the expected ichor spring out. Her second shot rips one of its limbs off and with a squeel the thing crashes to the ground at Stitch's feet, a leg inefectually scrabbling at him until he fires his own weapon point down into the thing's brain pan.

"Fragging drone looks like...certainly looks like a bug on the outside but it's bleeding oil!"

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

"Wat da frag!", grumbles the snake-headed troll over the ringing in her ears, her shamanic mask reverting slowly back to goggles and respirator.

She steps close to the sparking drone and carefully prods it with the toe of a combat boot.

"Frag, I really thought it was a bug. Damn near pissed my pants."

"Ya know da boss lady nevah said anyfing about drones. I'm thinkin maybe dis belongs to whoever is snoopin' around. Would explains why dey wasn't willing ta talks to ya, Ælias."

She snaps out the Enfield's ammo drum and replaces it with the one loaded with APDS.

"But dat means dey is already here or is at least close by. And if dey is, dey sure knows now dat we is here too. So let's move it and find our deckers before anyone else gets ta dem."

She ratchets the action on the Enfield and nods at Stitch to move out, taking up her position at the rear so she can cover them all.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

"I think what we have planned so far will be adequate." Mordred holds out his hand to the professor. "Thank you."

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

"Excellent, excellent! Please pass on my regards to Mademoiselle Argent when you speak with her next. I will contact you as soon as the arrangements are in place...for now here is the address of the boarding house..." and he fires a link to your PANs.

The details are sparse but a cross check against the local grids gives you a bit more intel. It is a registered guest house, apparantly all booked up, clearly you need to be in-the-know to get a room there. It should be perfect! First check-in isn't until three so you have a couple of hours to kill wandering Oxford if you want to. It will take you about half an hour to walk the distance to North Oxford unless you want to hail one of the electric taxis to save your legs...

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

The silence is ominous after the roar of combat and your adrenalin levels aren't about to come down anytime soon. You plunge deaper into the maze of decaying below ground rooms, following some trail that Stitch is leading you on. Suddenly up ahead, down a long stretch of service tunnel, a light blooms as a heavy door is opened. You hear the frantic sound of whispered conversation and then suddenly it slams shut again. The sound of scuttling can be heard, the sound of either mechanical or chitin claws isn't clear...

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 06:45:00; Snohomish; inside a Buddhist temple]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

As always the contrast between Redmond, well any other part of Seattle really, and Snohomish was extreme. Decrepit buildings, torn streets, open violence there and trees - actual, healthy trees -, well-kept roads and an almost serene mood (if you kept away from the big agricultural enterprises) here.

As always, he had taken the roundabout route 'recommended' to him should he want to enter the area his Uncle's temple was located in unanounced.

As always, he had been spotted about two kilometres out from his destination and then discreetely followed by two Koreans on motorcycles not unlike his own.
The Komun'go ring had this area firmly under control and guarded it and the temple - owned and cared for by a foundation established by a wealthy Korean 'business man' on his dying bed- within. It fact, it was part of a small compound housing not only the Buddhist temple but also a Shinto shrine, several shamanic huts and a small church; whatever the benefactor had done in this life, it seems he had felt the need to garner goodwill from more than one source in the next.

Waiting for his uncle to exit the room he performed his morning meditation in, Adrian thought about whether a life of causing suffering could really be balanced out by one grand gesture at the end of it.

So, you're not here to stay. Yet you have come. Certainly to ask for something. How dare you, you insolent pup!

His uncle had snuck up on and surprised him. Before Adrian has any chance of recovering, his uncle continues with a chuckle.

Still as easy to spook, are we? Ah, it's nice to see my favourite - and only - nephew again. Come on, let's have tea.

Turning without waiting for Adrian, his uncle Wu heads for the kitchen.

Guess we'll both need it when you've told me why you're here; I feel trouble around you. Tell me, if you manage to find your voice, that is.

Scrambling after him, Adrian tries to recover for a appropriately witty reply.

Still makes me feel like a small kid, in a way my parents heven't in a long time.

...

Most of the events of the last 24 hours told, the two drink their second can of tea, Adrian finally getting to Dr. Bailey's office.

...a way serene like here, in fact very much like here, yet different, slightly off key, shifted in a ways. As for the man himself, it felt even more profound with him, he had the aura of someone in equlibrium, but still coiled, ready to unleash great forces. And he seemed to be covered in a sort of black net, tainting the very mana it came in contact with....

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

Encouragement wasn't exactly his forte, but Mordred had a few words of assurance for Monsieur Collot. "Nearly there. We just have to do a little more driving. How are you doing?" On an escort job, it wasn't enough that the runners were prepared and equipped to get the job done. You had to consider the needs of the person being moved from Point A to B. Speaking of which, so long as they had some spare time, the adept decided to contact the person who had given him this advice.

Mordred sent a quick message to his (other) mentor. What do you know about Clearwater in the UK? Also, does the name Argent mean anything to you?

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:17:27 Leaving 'The Pad'

The troll seemed a reasonable sort, most of the trolls he'd known at this first place were all security grunts. Some were more friendly than others but they were usually fairly easy marks for a couple of quick bucks with a game of poker or a five finger discount when earning money wasn't an option. Jack felt no need to test this particular troll, he was going to teach him another aspect in survival. Jack needed all the friends he could get out here. It was painfully obvious how alone he felt away from where he had grown up for most of his life. Friends like Becca came around once in a lifetime. It seemed to Jack that the stars that shine the brightest also burn out the fastest. Jack worried for Becca in that moment for no other reason than it had been too long since he had seen his best friend.
Turning to Jackal, "So Jackal? How does one earn the name Jackal? Or should I wait until after we're done shooting to ask that question over a keg or two, my treat of course."
Jack followed the troll out of the building wondering only briefly about the ammo crates and if his mom had some news for him or if it had anything to do with her at all. It's going to be a fun day.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:17:45 Leaving 'The Pad'

The big troll just shook his head and pointed to a scar that traced from the top of his forehead all the way down to just above his adam's apple, "You live desperate, you fight desperate sometimes. I earned this one, the other guys, well they got what they deserved to kid." He paused for a second as they walked down to the wrecker that Jack recognized from the previous night, "you'll learn that too kid, you stick around long enough. Why stay around this life hmm? Trust me, it isn't all glitz and glam kid. My job is to keep you company at the tournament, and I'll do it too. It's a milk-job and life teaches you to take them when you can but don' count on us just being chummers k? I'll keep your back cause doin tha keeps my hide together for another night, and then you stay in this nice apartment yous got here. You don't want to get in with our kind, not when you have a choice, scan me?"

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:18:12 Leaving 'The Pad'

Glitz and glam? My place may be posh, but a prison is still a prison. "Impressive scars though, some lessons are tough to learn others are impossible to forget." Jack was more lost in thought at that moment. The troll was leading while talking but Jack couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. If Jackal thought this was easy money, then why did he get assigned for a simple card game. There was probably a lot more to this than just losing a card game. As far as Jack was concerned it was above his pay grade. Time to learn how to shoot.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:52:34 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Sil nodded and Mark took off through the door, aiming for the bushes that seemed, at least in the semi-darkness, to be waiting animal guards watching over the small estate. Superstition or perhaps nerves made Mark halt for just a fraction of a second; enough for his less willing companion to pass him as they made cover behind a particularly large topiary carved in the fashion of a crane. "Frag!", Sil stumbled and fell backwards onto Mark, nearly knocking him over from the suddenness of the course change. The dim light revealed little but Mark could just make out the fact that Sil's arm wasn't in quite the right position, in fact it appeared to be much lower and wierdly shaped than it should have been in any normal circumstance.

Muffled cries echoed in the still night air that had suddenly gone much more than eerily quite, as if the whole world was spectating, as Sil bit and bit hard on his black duster. Closer inspection, as long as it took because of Mark's already frayed nerves, revealed that his compatriots whole shoulder had been sliced cleanly and only a few mere tendons held the arm to its owner. Given the injury it was a miracle that Sil was even alive but the slim man had quick reflexes and had instantly ripped open an clotting factor from his med kit and managed to get the bleeding to stop.

"G'damned monowire..." All the words that Sil could spit out without screaming and a vague motioning hand spasm directed Mark's searching gaze to where he would have been gutted if not for that fortuitous stumble which had made him seconds slower than Sil. Hanging in the pale-orangey haze was the faintest glimmer of a strand stretching from the topiary at a diagonal and fading into the distance amongst the bushes, it was much easier to see now that it was quietly dripping blood but the sinister nature of the slow, repetitive drips put Mark even more on alert than he had been.

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:45, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

The distraction held her up for mere nanoseconds even though the security on the family node made sure that everything was compartmentalized to create more icons than usual but the tell-tales were obvious to anyone in the family; a heart here, an old pocket watch there and finally an old locket that had her parents initials engraved on the outside, burnished and obviously old but also obviously valuable. There was one thing which always was held within the family walls, that family was the fortress against the world, and her Father was the staunchest believer in blood being worth more than gold. Well, dad, it's time for your daughter to see the world. Something, perhaps her loyalty to her parents, perhaps something ingrained in her since birth, stopped her before she could open the locket. Did she really want to go outside the walls that kept life safe?

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:33:51, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Col stood there, uncharacteristically unresponsive, at least until Scratch moved towards him in her anger, at which point he threw up his brawny arms and exclaimed, "Lissen Scratch! I had to be sure and this is the safest place I know, old cranky here can pull up some of the best hoop busting mojo I's ever seen and I needed a place to lay low scan me?! Someones been taking the little chummers and they aren't returning them in useful shape... Ma's dead you self-focused slitch! You got enough hez for that orphan?! Dead k?!"

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 09:15:00; Snohomish; inside a Buddhist temple]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6


His uncle reacted as expected, namely, he didn't react outwardly. The monk merely swayed back and forth slightly on his mat as if still listening to the last tones of Adrian's fading voice trickle through the small sandstone waterfall that tinkled slowly in the background.

"Adrian, have you meditated lately?" A simple question, but one loaded by Adrian's guilt. Before he could answer, his uncle continued, "No, not like that but have you really sought aum in the world? It is easy for a clear-sighted person to see what you refuse to see; that man is unpure in his pursuit. He may be like us but he is not us, he has perverted his journey and you should stay well clear of him."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:45, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

Answering that question wasn't difficult. All Morgan really had to do was consider what would happen if she chose the alternative. Whatever peril the girl was in, she would have to face it alone, or hope for another savior. That in itself was reason for the technomancer to proceed. Furthermore, whatever insights she had to offer Morgan would be lost. Who was to say she would ever get another chance like this? Or that she would ever understand her powers, waiting for enlightenment in a bed?

Put simply, the other option was no option at all. She loved her Mother and Father. But they couldn't help her. In fact, they preferred to believe there was nothing wrong with her. Nothing would ever change if she chose to remain in the artificially peaceful world of her home.

Still, Morgan hesitated to open the locket. Doubtless she was not the only one interested in the information within. Most likely, there were defenses in place to ward off other hackers. The witch's eyes took on a red tinge as she peered past the outward appearance of the locket and at the data it was made of.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:37:19 The Crimean

Jack dozed on the short ride back to the Crimean but even through sleep-filled eyes he thought there were distinctly more bullet holes and even a couple new craters than had been in residence the night before. "Wha happened?" Jack attempted to focus on one particularly large crater to the south of the gambling den which looked to have been created by a rather decent explosion from all the shattered glass and missing brickwork of the nearby buildings.

Jackal grunted as he turned the big wrecker into a side parking space by the laundry mat of the previous day, "Seems the yaks don't like legitimate business opportunities and are trying to make life hard for Uncle Lexi. Don't worry, security is tighter today and Knight Errant and other concerned citizens will make sure nothing happens today." He pointed over to several KE units further down the street that seem suspiciously disinterested in a group of similarly, though discreetly armed men of European descent sitting outside the Crimean, "That group there is here to make sure that our neighborhood watch," and Jackal pointed at the men Jack had noticed, "don't need to get their hands as dirty as they had to last night. We have alot of individuals that love our Uncle Lexi, he's a good man to have at your back."


Jackal walked into the Crimean, Jack in tail and Jack noticed that whatever the case was on the outside, the Crimean was sporting full repairs and no visible signs of damage from last night's festivities. Hawke walked over to the pair as they made their way to the shooting range, "Ah my boys, so good to see you. We've had a busy and profitable night as you can see. Jackal a word with you please?" Hawke motioned to Jack, "Oh Jack my delivery man took care of your little errand as promised, grandma is waiting for you in the range."

Just then Jack realized that he had lost track of the old lady the moment the wrecker had come to a halt. Wow she really must be good, I had totally forgotten about her...

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]

"Hey you stoopid kids, we is here ta saves yer asses.", barks Copperhead but the door is already closing.

She looks around at the startled or questioning stares of her companions and shrugs her armored shoulders.

"It was worth a try. Dey knows we is here anyways. Now eyes front. Find dat bug and shoots it!"

She brings up the big gun as she scans the gloom for the skittering bug, whether drone or spirit.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 05:42:42 The Crimean

Jack gave Hawke a nod and headed over to the building that had recently got some remodeling done both constructive and otherwise. He was more than just a little excited to finally be able to defend himself, theoretically.The bullet holes really just made the place feel more authentic. One thing Jack had noticed about this building that seemed peculiar to him was the amount of liquor and liquor cabinets that filled the room. Even one would have been different from the few ranges that his mom had taken him to while she was 'alive'. Jack scoffed. Life had dealt him one heck of a hand. He felt glad to be alive but the memories of the events that had lead him to this place were still fresh scars. Jack looked around for the elderly woman ready and eager to start shooting things. Seeing her looking at a pistol intently was a disconcerting sight. Jack chose not to make any sudden movements . Clearing his throat just enough to be heard. "So, here I am. Hope you enjoyed the gourmet breakfast. One thing before we begin...what do I call you?"

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:06 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

As she peers into the gloom, her goggles highlight movement out of the corner of her eye. The smartlink targ swings up and she fires a single shot. A buglike squeal is followed by the smell of burning electronics.

"I tink ye got it", grins Stitch as he scoops up the twitching remains of the microdrone by one of its remaining legs.

"Frag!", sighs Copperhead.

She stomps down the corridor to the closed door and raps on it with steel knuckles.

"Okay, listen up in dere. We is sent by Clearwater to gets you out of here. So if youse don't want to get eaten by bugs or have some corp scientist cuts youse up and stick wires in your head den you better open da fraggin door RIGHT NOW!"

She slings the shotgun and stands, metal hands on hips, with one combat booted foot tapping impatiently.

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:33:51, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Scratch stood there in stunned silence for a moment torn between responding with anger or despair. In the end anger was easier to deal with...

"Self focused? You shit! You know damn well that ain't true! I'm here for Summer so you'd better tell me what the frag is going on! Fuck...!"

and it drained away as fast as it had come...

"...I'm sorry about Ma, I really am, she looked after me too. Without you two I'd be meat a long time ago but that's not my priority right now. Please, if you know something, anything that might help...I'll do anything I can to help, whateveryou need..."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 18:15:20 The Crimean, shooting range adjacent

As the last few reports echoed off the walls Jack slumped wearily to lean against the stall firing rest, thirteen straight hours and thousands of rounds later it seemed as if Anya had drilled the firing procedures straight into his soul. He had not expected to feel so worn out but of course it had not been simply pointing a gun downrange, oh no, that would've been too easy for the old soul who, he now realized was only old as years went and was still in fact very much in prime shape. She could easily beat me like a child....

The exercises had started with the old lady rattling off the names of different guns and weaponry, sometimes forgetting Jack didnt speak Russian, and expecting him to remember them right off the bat. Once she had seemed to deem him at least not totally brain dead in that area it had been on to learning to take apart a select few weapons and then reassemble them, first slowly then at speed. Last but not least, and perhaps deliberately placed to tire him had been the actual shooting drills, not simply picking up and loading a gun but first running ten laps down the hundred and fifty yard shooting range and then being told to shoot 5 groups at various targets moving from stall to stall without missing.... It had not gone Jack's way for quite some time but it seemed, at least to him, that in the last 4 hours of practice she had actually stopped openly sneering at him. He had to admit to himself that he could see where this would have practical use but the unexpected physical component left him very much high and dry and in need of stronger refreshment.

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 09:15:53; Snohomish; inside a Buddhist temple]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Hit by the accusation, accusations, of his uncle, it takes the young man some time to grasp the following words.

So, he, he once walked the path to enlightenment and got lost? Maybe even chose to get lost?

But how can I stay away from him? I promised Saint to help her find out what happened to the woman whose head...

For a moment, the serene atmosphere of the temple is forgotten, the grisly memory clawing its way into Adrian's consciousness. As if he hadn't noticed the young man's distress, the priest refills his cup of tea - doing so in one smooth, slow yet somehow quick, perfect motion. This simple act, it looks absolutely effortless but has undoubtely been practised a thousand times, breaks the spell over Adrian, who manages to continue.

whose head exploded. It felt the right thing to do when I offered it and it still feels right now. And this man is connected to the events, so I probably will encounter him again. He's dangerous, that much I could tell myself, is there anything else you can tell me about his kind?

And what will I do when I find out more? Stop him from harming more people? KE won't care about some prostitutes and I don't think I'll be able to talk him into stopping.
And other options... well, next thing, I'm straying. Even more than I already have, he'd probably say.

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:35:42, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Col sat dejectedly on an old oil drum, totally out of the norm for his normal strutting self but somehow fitting the wierd reality that was now Scratch's world... Ma dead? It couldn't be... she was the toughest lady that Scratch knew and if she could get snuffed out... Scratch was used to a precarious world but right now it seemed to have quickly gone awry, first Summer, then Ma and now who else knew how many others.

Wait wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, calm down miranda... "How'd she die?" Col looked up and mutely responded, "The kids, some of the newer ones anyways... they went out as usual looking for stuff to bring back and fence, to keep the family running. Only, a couple of them didn't come back, not unusual right? Thing is, we haven't seen em in about 2 weeks, so Ma took a few of the older guys, and went looking, even went to the underground, parts of your old home, all that stuff with all its bad juju and everything and she came back fine. Said something about having to call in a few markers, that there was something that needed dealing with... Then she up and takes off with a few heavy looking guys night before last and they came back yesterday morning... with Ma's body. She didn't look right, all kinda... bent in odd shapes I guess." Col recoiled from Scratch as if expecting to be hit, "I didn't go with her cause I had to watch the place see... and James wasn't well enough to keep the others in line so... well I had to stay see?"

When she didn't lash out Col continued, "The guys she was with said they tried to get her taken care of but she got hit by some big mojo. They just barely made it out. Anyways they said they saw lots of kids, kinda reminded them of an orphanage... but no orphanage I know of that size... well they said something like over two hundred kids, some our age. Apparently it's in the barrens, deep barrens over by glow city or something. I dunno. Look, I know it's not a direct link but my people have gone missing and well it's all the lead I got... I know Summer was a cool kid and you care about her but I think she's in over her head this time... Some of the dealers down the street who ride the metro trans.... they said they saw some kid that reminded me of your girl. Short, kinda spacey but looked strangely at peace and unafraid... blonde all that... Anyways, its supposed to be over by glow city or somewhere there anyways... I asked around apparently there are a couple new organizations that have moved in for charity work and the homeless couple months back, someone said they've been known to run a few orphanages that size. That's all I got Scratch... Sorry."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 18:20:14 The Crimean, shooting range adjacent

Water...water sounds good. Figures, I just want something simple clean and refreshing and I'm surrounded by all the hard stuff. Jack looked around for something to quench his sudden thirst. Grabbing the sleeve of his shirt he wiped off his sweaty brow and took a deep breath. The woman had started barking orders running him ragged for the better part of the day and still he had no idea what to call her. Well, whoever she is she's in better shape then I am. Jack made a mental note to go lift some weights or something. It was a step in the right direction. Jack felt as though he was ready to die of exhaustion, so maybe the next step would be towards a bed.

"If we're going to be training together, would you mind teaching me some Russian while we're at it?" He knew it was a long shot, but better to know when to duck in this neighborhood. That meant knowing the word for duck in Russian as far as Jack was concerned.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:52:34 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Frag! Next time, Johnny has a brilliant idea for an off-the-cuff action, I'm gonna tell him to slot it!

Taking another look at the wound, Mark decides that moving Sil is out of the question for the moment.

Wonder whether that's what I looked like when my arm; no time for that shit!

You're not gonna lose your arm, Sil.

Mark opens his own medkit and starts working on his friend, two goals in mind: stop the bleeding and tie the arm firmly to the shoulder so that nothing else rips.

See, ain't all that bad, all it takes is some tape, maybe a few staples. Hey, stay awake, need you to apply pressure here for a few more secs.

His hands moving faster than that of any normal human, to him they still seem to crawl.

Damn, too much talking, too much time. Who cares? I'll get Sil to Carm and the boss can go and kill the drekhead inside himself if he wants him dead so much. Frag, with this much blood around, we're gonna have to torch the garden anyway. DNA and something about wizworms, fragging mess!

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 18:20:22 The Crimean, shooting range adjacent

"Niet! You just slaughter pure language with your filthy pindo accent! Speak English, it will make you sound less stupid. Besides, Alina thinks you would be good exercise and she doesn't like good solid Russian men, only stupid pindos...." Even though the old lady came off as being hyper-critical Jack was starting to understand that that was just how she operated and the less she criticized you the more she thought you were doing alright according to her insane ledger.

"I help with weapons and weapons only.... I will not have you shooting any of my sons or grandsons so you must shoot well for lexi."

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:53:00 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Far from being a trained doctor, Mark manages to at least cause no further harm while mostly stopping the bleeding and tying the arm firmly to Sil's side.

Shit Marcello, you're the worst nurse I ever had. Not the best looking, either. Now, let's kill this sucker and get me a real doc.

Must be something in the meds, he's hallucinating.

Are you crazy? Anyone looks at you funny, that arm's gonna fall off. Nope, I'm gonna drag your sorry ass back to the car and do this myself.

For a moment, the two young men are caught in a staring contest; maybe it's the blood loss or the drugs, but headstrong Silvio looks away first.

Fine, but I can walk on my own. And don't you dare mess it up or I'm gonna kick your butt, no matter how many arms I lose.

Helping Sil up, Mark has a few parting orders Ask Tony whether he's got some bleach or something. Your DNA's all over the scenery.

Fucking job. Hope the sucker's smart enough to run to Carm if his arm starts bleeding. Nah, better pray Tony remembers to call for another driver if he does.

Turning away from his injured friend who heads slowly back, Mark proceeds to walk just as slowly onwards, past the monowire and towards the back door.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 18:24:01 The Crimean, shooting range adjacent

Did she just say exercise? Why am I suddenly reminded of Becky? Jack remembered to check his commlink after the odd remark regard Alina. Was that the waitress? "Well thanks for teaching me to shoot straight.. Becky had sent him just now what he had requested previously. Which was fine until that moment Jack had completely forgotten about it. Well, that explains why Becky hasn't gotten back to me recently. The file contained a photo album, he opened revealing a nude Becky and some of her new friends that she made on her current or more recent trip. The highlight of the album had a tag line "When is our next playtime?" The photo was of four girls in their birthday suits Becky second from the left being the only one I actually knew of course. Well, I have bribery material when next I need it I suppose. Damn, that girl is insatiable. Jack quickly scanned over the shots that Becky had sent when he realized his jaw had literally dropped. He quickly began to compose himself. "So, um...who is Alina?"

I wonder if Becky needs a new playmate?

Jack made a mental note to work out more. When Becky went long periods without seeing him she was always more...energetic. Even more so if she brought friends. Jack sat down and sent Becky a quick response letting her know about the card game coming up and that she was more than welcome to come with him there if she wanted to, or they could meet up at any other time and get together. He had missed her and she had missed him, at least one thing in life was going well.

@Fortune's forecast/James
April 18th, 2072, 00:28:00

"Ok boys listen up, this is priority one from this moment onward; we just got the details on the explosion over by the University. It's a busy night tonight so we're going to need ace ability on this one. Specs: Female, mid twenties, ex-street walker and crime journalist; some of you will recognize J.Sanders pen name. Turns out preliminary reports are telling us she decided to up her career a bit... literally explosive ending guys, cranial bomb, area. High amount of collateral damage include a few of our brothers on the line. This is a manhunt for the person that implanted the goods. Profiling suggests she had to have help or was forced into this, she doesn't have the drive or motivation for this kind of thing, long list of priors, nothing serious beyond minor vice connections. Jason, Walter, Bill this one goes to you three due to your expertise in the meat market, get out and pound the pavement, talk the talk, you know your kit."

James couldn't help but try to eavesdrop on the briefing for the more senior officers in the precinct as he dropped off the multiple copies of the debriefing, a stylistic touch on the lieutenant's part that was only tolerated by the bean counters because of his exceptional results oriented methods.

"Other items for this shift, we've got to get more results on the kidnapping lately, media is starting to ask lots of questions, Horizon particularly... I think Mira Otavien over at their HQ smells blood in the water and is just waiting for a PR bonanza. Don't let them get one... Fortunately its only been a few reports but personally I think it's bigger, some 700 kids missing, ages 10 through 17. Find them for me, Rachel, Jesus, Charlie that's your job. Fortunately, tempo is still around but we've got most of it, good job by the way James, you show real promise but don't you have something to do than eavesdrop on us?"

James was jerked out of his fidgeting as he tried to think of an excuse to remain, half flushed with pride at being recognized for the critical role he had played... well the fortuitous ending that frankly had gone a whole lot better than he had expected if all truth were told, and with embarrassment at being so obvious about the spying. "Err... um, yes sir, just had to drop these off."

He quickly scuttled out of the office, dreaming of being assigned to the hunt for the bomber and reliving his pursuit of the tempo dealer, for which he had been lucky enough to be granted access to the Knight Errant Initiatory Society.

The hero quickly paced down the hall, an aging monument to those villains of every dark and mysterious young man, paperwork and bureaucracy....

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 18:27:01 The Crimean, shooting range adjacent

Unfortunately, as delicious as the pics were, opening that particular file accidentally updated his public profile and it took several minutes to delete the rapid influx of AR requests for personal meets, erotic services and memberships. Distracted as Jack was he barely realized that Anya had snorted with derision and replied, "Oh, my worthless great grandaughter.... the waitress skank who you tried to attract with your non-existant skills here the other night, before the shooting..."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 18:29:54 The Crimean, shooting range adjacent

Jack finished taking care of the last of the spam bomb that had been triggered. Usually it was the bane of his existence, this time it enabled him to sit down take a breath and figure out if he should do something special with Becky. His birthday was coming up in a matter of weeks. This usually meant he and Becky would go on a trip, spend time together, or if they were too busy there was a present of some sort to acknowledge the passing of time. Jack nodded to Anya and started walking.

Jack decided to head over to the gambling tables next door and practice his craft. He had an upcoming game to lose but until that time continuing his winning streak seemed like a good idea. After his last losing streak it was good to be doing something other than breaking even and barely being able to get some food and drink. A game was going and as was the custom he checked in with Hawke to make sure he was able to buy in. If it was a closed game, then he still needed to pick up some dressier clothing for his upcoming game. Especially if he had eye candy like Becky beside him. Besides looking great when she dressed down, she was even more stunning when she dressed up.

"Hawke, are those open games?" Jack looked at Hawke, who was already chuckling lightly seeing the fatigue that Jack wore on his face. Apparently having a 70 year old running me ragged is funny. Equally powerful lungs and backhands are punishing.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:54:17 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Well, at least Tony's got his shit down. Lucky guy's sitting in a nice car, too.

Opening the back door, Mark half expects alarms to go off - or bombs. When nothing the like happens, he lets out a sigh, steps through the door, closes it behind him, crouches down, starts an AR timer and slowly scans room, the gun in his hand tracking his eye movements.

Thirty seconds - hours to the inexperienced intruder - later, still nothing has jumped him.

Guess it's time to move on.

Trying to walk over to the flight of stairs in a half crouch isn't something he's used to, but he tries it anyway.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:14:32 The Crimean

After buying in it was clear to Jack that he'd won the lottery as far people to play with. It looked to be a couples' double date night. They were having fun slumming. Their very large troll chauffeur or bodyguard looked menacing enough, but kept rather quiet. When Jack had first joined the game the evening was still early and the couples were already tipsy. As the evening progressed the alcohol flowed freely, and their ability to hold their cards dwindled. It was the same difficulty that one might experience when walking up to an ATM full of cred and having it spit money out non-stop. Though it wasn't much of a challenge as far as poker was concerned it did help to get money for rent and expenses. One of the couples had recently won the lottery or auction or something and were out celebrating. Jack wasn't paying to much attention to either of them. He had never seen people so happy to throw money at him. It was a joyous occasion for all. Jack bought rounds of drinks and when one might have expected to see the bottom of a glass or bottle it was 'magically' refilled quickly by Alina.

She and Hawke had both been watching the game occasionally between serving the other patrons. Jack was doing a marvelous job of entertaining. Other patrons in the establishment couldn't help but overhear and watch the boisterous group. It was quiet the spectacle for everyone, and yet the couples were laughing every few minutes with such force that one would think they were going to choke to death. Hawke seemed pleased that a crowd was being entertained throughout the night, it was good for business.

At the end of the game only one of the men on the double date was still conscious and their hired help just shook his head and started carrying people out to the limo parked outside, which looked very odd in this neighborhood. Jack helped the troll load his new acquaintances to the car. After the hangover perhaps they will have some memories of today. Hopefully they will be pleasant too.

Jack tipped Alina a substantial amount for her timely assistance with the waterfalls of alcohol poured out. Jack also thanked her for watering down his drinks just enough to keep him happy but not under the table. Hawke graciously wired the funds to Jack's account after his usual fee once Jack was ready to cash out. Quickly gulping down the last of his drink Jack turned to Hawke, "Thank you Hawke, once again you make your place feel more like home than my home ever will. Your family is wonderful, though Anya refuses to teach me any Russian. It seems I am not fit to learn such an interesting language. Now I will head home, before I let the alcohol do any more of the talking." Jack hailed a cab on his link and waited, calculating his recent winnings in his head.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:42; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]


Anselm pondered the question for a few seconds before replying, "Would there be any place to meditate in relative privacy around or at this guest house? I have not had the time for solitude in this week and it would be prudent to seek it now, before the last leg of our trip."


I have not spoken with the Lord lately and it seems I must, especially to soul search this breach of trust that has us depending on the kindness of a stranger...

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:20:32 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

Jackal having been gracious enough to give him a ride, there was fortunately no walk involved and no cab fee either; though whether Jackal had ulterior motives in terms of sleeping accommodations Jack was too far gone to care. The ride had been mostly quiet, only having to take a detour once to avoid a roving biker gang out to cause some angst for the local passerby, and everything seemed as usual for a Monday night until they got into the building proper. The receptionist, cum resident night crew personnel all seemed on edge for some reason and one of the guys, Jake from plumbing motioned Jack over.

"Hey man, just a heads up... I like you right... but don't shoot the messenger.... somethings up with guys in your apartment tonight... said something about a terrorism case. You wouldn't kill anyone would you?" The look he gave Jack was something between an abused puppy and hopelessly naive fan-boy.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:22:11 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

"Do what? Do I look like I could kill someone, seriously? And what the heck do you mean terrorism case? I just got back from playing an amazing game of cards, do not be such a buzz kill." Jack sobered up quickly from his light buzz, the thought of more corporate goons in his living space caused him to see red. Jack motioned Jackal to come to a whispering distance. Hope I don't have to put to use what I learned today already...

"Listen Jackal...I have no idea why anyone is in my apartment. Use your best judgement when we get up there. I don't know why those ammo crates are up in my place. I thought that Hawke had left them for me to deliver somewhere else and I forgot to ask him. Can you give him a call and find out. I want to see what these people know before we head up."