@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:22:15 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

The plumber looked shocked and two other employees sidled away, as if scared to become tainted by associating with a known terrorist. Jake looked quite fearful and said, "Hey man, I think it's garbage too but you've got to have done SOMETHING.... I mean... it sounds like there are some pretty heavy guys there... one guy talked about calling the Dawkins Group.... whatever that group is... but... he had loads of power you could just tell man. I'd steer clear if I were you man. There are 4 of them in your apartment right now... be careful man."

Deciding further contact with an undesirable was not worth his job, Jake sidled away muttering under his breath about fixing the toilet in apartment 346.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:24:17 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

"You know anything about a Dawkins Group Jackal?" Instead of taking the elevator up to his floor Jack decided to take the stairs to see what he could preferably without drawing too much attention to himself. Jack made his way up the flights of stairs. Opening up the door to his hall quietly, he took a quick glance. Jack turned to Jackal while waiting in the stairwell. "I'll head inside but if you hear any gunshots or loud noises come save me quickly. I don't want to cause a disturbance if it's just some guys that the manager let into my apartment because the stupid AI in my house hates me and is causing life to be a living hell." Jack took a deep breath before heading to his place.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:24:20 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

Jackal half-growled at Jack, "Look kid... there are some things you don't use, specially on corper property like this.... and that's names... don't use it here. You see that cam there?" He motioned covertly over his shoulder to a camera that Jack really had never paid attention to before. "See.... what I know about that group is that you don't want them to know about you. So let's get out of here and we'll figure it out later."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:00 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

The way Jackal made it sound Jack didn't know if he'd ever be going back to his house. He had never considered cameras to be really threatening before. If you can move so the camera can't catch what you are doing or have something properly distracting it's easy enough to pick a mark and leave wallet in hand. Maybe this is why he was given a fake ID by his mom years ago, all those vids he'd watched over the years, complete fantasy really, but maybe an element of it was real. Maybe his mom had known he'd need people outside of Horizon that didn't really know who he was.

He doesn't strike me to be the fearful type. I wonder if he's had a prior bad experience?

Thinking about his own history, it was simple enough for Jack to create a fake profile, Jackal however, seemed downright threatened by the use of his obvious nickname. It occurred to Jack that there was a huge difference between the amount of information needed to create a fake ID and setting up a couple of illegal gambling profiles as a minor. He started reviewing the information on the fake ID that he had been given by his mom years ago, he felt as though he would need to know it better soon enough.

"Ok, I guess." Besides some cheap clothing there wasn't anything other than the ammo in the room that was at all important. The ammo wasn't even his. What does any of this have to do with me? Terrorism? Some bizarre group that Jackal really wants to avoid?

Jack followed Jackal out in silence more in a contemplative mood trying to understand why he would matter to anyone, specifically this Dawkins Group. The inability to answer was more unnerving than calming. Once again, he felt truly alone.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:23 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Another short wait at the bottom of the stairs manages to drive Mark almost crazy.

Damn all this creeping around, why don't I just run up and shoot anything that moves? Cause her stupid cook isn't in need of killing; cause you're not here to get yourself killed; cause your target might get away if you stomp around like crazy.

He lets the timer run out and slowly proceeds up the stairs, keeping to the wall, hoping that this wooden construction doesn't creak.

Just because the work order's for the next set, doesn't mean these are OK.

Climbing up the stairs, he has enough time to get a good look at the inner courtyard, not his style but still a nice addition to a house - if you got the cred.

Second floor, Triad whore's living room, circa 2070. Damn it, focus!

Starting the timer yet again, Mark sweeps the room with his eyes, looking for the next set of stairs.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:23 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Fortunately the stairs were as silent as the dead as the saying went. The second floor seemed a bit less well kept than he had expected but he could hear faint whispers down the corridor, away from the stairs, but still close enough to make his hair rise. A light below a door about ten feet down the hallway showed faintly in the darkness.

"裝運...它是當失去了？大約4天前...貨呢？大多保存完好...船上的船員之前已經發現了炸彈...它只是外面的環礁海灘，船長可以...雖然船是不可恢復的。良好的工作讓我知道如果有什麼變化。那些黑手黨的私生子要得到他們來...包準備嗎？是先生......它預計今晚將交付。"

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:15 Lobby, Bottom Floor, on the way to the Pad

Jack followed Jackal out the door into the night and it had never seemed so desolate. He kept thinking he'd hit bottom but every time he had an upset in life it always seemed to get worse. Jackal got in the wrecker and Jack mutely grabbed shotgun, no longer caring so much where he'd go, too numb to really think of anything.

What if it was just a mixup... I mean they could've just gotten something wrong. That's not my ammo after all... Somehow though, Jack didn't think the authorities would accept that as a reasonable defense. Thinking of all the recent crime prevention posters he had seen scattered around the docks area featuring that imposing troll prisoner named Bubba, Jack decided anything was better than getting locked up.

Jackal pulled over about after about fifteen minutes of driving into a dimly lit parking lot next to a stuffer shack. He killed the engine and sat for a few seconds before looking at Jack. "Now listen here kid. I don't owe you no favors and I don't know if I like you that much but I remember being out by myself a ways back and I figure you need to know somethin about life as it really is... You're bout as green as it comes kid. The Dawkins Group, I don't know what you did to get them after you but it ain't gonna be fun for you and it ain't gon be happy for me either, now I've been seen with you. They are heavy people... All I've heard is rumors but they are supposed to be some sort of elite intelligence group that works with Horizon. Like the dirty end of the Knight in shining armor mentality you think of right? Horizon isn't all nice and well, they are the not so nice end."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:15, Outside a stuffer shack 15 minutes from the pad

Jack grabbed a bag of chips from the store and a drink. Jackal's insight had been enlightening, but a question emerged.
Now that I know my enemy what do I do? This is the group that likely murdered my father and forced my mother into hiding. They have been no doubt watching me since I was moved to this new apartment. So what do I focus on? What hurts Horizon the most? Hitting their bottom line, no doubts. So, this is why I needed the fake ID. Let's hope mom gets me something good for my birthday this year too.

He thought about his upcoming birthday, and then his plans with Becky. The anger that had been raging for so long pent up was coming to a boiling point and then just as quickly as it had started it was suppressed.

"So then, I get where you're coming from. I doubt you want someone like me, just tagging along. What would you recommend I do, since as you say I am so green? At least, until the card game, then I'm no longer your problem."

Ultimately Jack knew that the systematic destruction of Horizon was more than a one man job. Horizon hand given him a lot of things while growing up. Then they had taken away his family, and his best friend's family. He still didn't know where Becky stood on that subject. Not that she had any love for her own dad, it's still difficult to lose family. Jack tried to figure out, other than his connection with his mom, what could this Dawkins Group possibly want with him. He made a mental note before going to bed tonight to activate his new ID. Tomorrow his name would be Quincy Matthews.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:27 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

What the? OK, just record it, might turn out to be interesting.

Fumbling a bit while trying to get the right combo of keys on his comm using his left hand - he won't put away his gun just to start a recording studio on the side -, Mark tries to capture as much of the conversation as possible, then proceeds towards the stairs leading to the third floor.

Two male voices. Damn it's so hard to recognise people's voices speaking another language. Gotta go with the info that he's on the third with his mistress. Of course if things go south, I got two potential hostiles on my six. And noone to watch it.

Reaching the next set of stairs, the one supposed to be problematic, he peeks up, decides to skip his planned wait period - this time he knows there's someone behind him who might choose to talk a walk at any moment - and heads up, again trying to avoid the usually more noise middle of the steps.

Too bad the work order wasn't more specific; yeah, why not wish for a cocktail while you're at it?

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

"Monsieur le professeur, that sounds like a lovely place. The last thing I would ask is if it is possible to request licenses to carry the tools of my trade. Other than that, all I can ask is for wine cellar stocked with something French, and a soft bed upon which to rest my head."

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:55:59 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

...we wait for that amateur to activate the traps on the stairs and... . Again, focus. Keep to the wall.

Slowly walking up the stairs, Mark tries to ignore the voices behind him and what they might mean. Hugging the wall as well as possible, the stairs - genuine wood it seems - nevertheless make some noise.

Are they really this loud or is it just my imagination? I wonder nobody's heard my heart beating, feels like it's trying to jump out and run off.

Hoping for the best, he proceeds up the stairs...

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:6:20 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Mark slowly half-crawled, half-walked up the side of the stairs and slid his eyes just above the last stair so that he was just barely peering over the floor itself. No lights, except for the smallest glow from a recently blown out incense lantern probably some fifteen feet down the passageway towards the front of the house betrayed any sign of recent human inhabitation. The waxed hardwood floors shown faintly in the gloom and Mark slowed his breathing as much as he could. He had no formal training for this and no matter what he told Silvio he wasn't sure why Johnny had sent him after all.

Some sick test of loyalty this... assassinating a triad man at his whores house... the fuck kind of a job is this?

The goal lay straight up and around to the left, currently out of sight but, whether it was nerves or some other sense he couldn't feel the need to move, to burst into action.... to kill.

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

Tonight was turning into a real cluster frag. Everything seemed to be whirling and Scratch could feel her control over her emotions slipping, and that wouldn’t do anyone any favours…least of all Col who had lost so much more than she had…yet…

“Col, don’t beat yourself up about not being there. Ma could take care of herself and one more body would probably have been just that! I don’t want to lose you too you hear me?”

Glow City? Frag!

“Redmond is waay off my turf, if we’re going in there then we’ll need a guide…we are going in right? Just to check it out, I’m not talking guns blazing or anything. If we blend in maybe we won’t be noticed, especially if there are loads of kids there?” she hated the pleading note in her voice but she needed something right now…

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

Whilst Requiem guards your six, Stitch and the others join you at the door. Just as you are about to pound on it again a small viewing hatch slides open and bright light momentarily spills out across you.

“Frag me, I don’t know what’s happening today but you weren’t expected until tomorrow. We had another incoming group ambushed in the tunnels this morning and people are a little jumpy. Look, just let me see everyone’s face and then I can let you in, I just want to be sure ya scan?”

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

Monsieur Collot clearly appreciates your efforts, even if they are a little stilted given your respective language differences. “Bien, it will be good to be somewhere safe! Thank you once again for sticking with us, I am sure others would not have done so…”

Despite the time difference and the fact that Nicholas was probably teaching you get a speedy response to your query <<Don’t know anything specific about a Clearwater in the UK, a quick search didn’t bring up much that looked relevant but I can have someone do some more digging if you need me to? Argent is a bit trickier, there are a number of people or organisations who use that handle, it’s silver, or cash in French so fairly widely used. There was a prime runner who used the name but he dropped off the scene a while ago. There’s a fixer here in Seattle who goes by that name too, how about giving me some more details and I’ll narrow that down for you?>>

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

The professor nods sagely to you “I am sure that, should you enquire, a place can be found for your privacy. The special rooms in the cellars will be more than adequate I suspect as a haven…Now I am afraid that I must leave you, I have other business to conduct and although this conversation has been congenial time waits for no man and all that…”

Turning to your bodyguard come assassin he smiles one last time "I assure you that they deal in the best discrete service and I am sure that the wine will be of equal quality..."

@E:PL UK / Mordred
[May 19th, 2072, 12:42; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

The adept's only response is a noncommittal nod. Mordred was a little distracted putting together his next message. Plus, there wasn't much else he could say. It was clear that it would take more than reassurances to change Mr. Collot's pessimistic views. Before he begins his next message, Mordred takes a quick look at his commlinks, double checking that the one displaying his SIN was on Active, while the one in his hand was Hidden. The information he was sharing was of a sensitive nature. Though the adept would trust Nick with his life, his firewall was another matter.

We're probably talking about the fixer. She was the one who hired me for this job. I'm to make sure a VIP makes it safely to Clearwater. By the way. From what I can tell, this Argent is a mage. She appeared to us in astral form earlier. I'd appreciate anything you can come up with, but what I really need to know is how far I can trust her. No hurry. I have a couple hours to kill. And thank you.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:6:22 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Some sick test of loyalty this... assassinating a triad man at his whore's house... the fuck kind of a job is this?

Mark gets ready to take the last few steps that will put him on the thrird floor, hesitates, checks the AR readouts for his gun, takes a deep breath and tries to will himself into motion.

The kind of job that's gonna get you killed if you don't do it. Think you can just walk out, tell 'em you didn't feel like it and they're like "Sure mate, why don't you go into accounting instead?" So, stop stalling, geek the guy and get the fuck outta here.

Slowly he finally sets foot onto the third floor, turns and heads for the room his target is supposed to lie.

Better hope he's poured enough drinks into this whore of his to knock her out cold.

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

Copperhead lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. It hisses passed her tusks and through the respirator. She pushes her goggles up onto her forehead where they are held in place by her horns and unhooks her large, bulky respirator letting it hang to one side.

Blinking against the bright light coming from the viewing hatch, she bends down to bring it to eye-level and gives a mostly friendly smile.

"I is Copperhead, team tusker and magical support. We is early cos none of us wants ta be in dis hellhole longer dan necessary. I guess dat goes fer youse too, neh?"

She holds the pose for a moment, trying to get a glimpse at the people beyond the door, then steps back to let the others introduce themselves. She then returns to the door.

"Okay, so me, Jess and Ælias are here fer da two kids, Jack an Jill. No wait, dat's not right."

She snaps metal fingers at Jess and Ælias.

"Hey, what's da kids' names again? ... Yeah, yeah dat's em."

She returns her attention to the door.

"Not sure who da boys is here for, but don't worry none, cos we'll take all a youse dat wants ta come. Maybe even squeeze a bonus outta Mrs J fer rescuing your hacker asses."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:27:35, Outside a stuffer shack 15 minutes from the pad

Jackal seemed tense, uncertain and at least half-reluctant to even be next to Jack, but he didn't tell Jack to get out of the wrecker or edge away so that counted for something. "Finish the job you got from 'lexi.... and maybe this life is going to be more your style than I thought. Maybe not style, its a drek life man but you probably dont have a choice. One thing though, you get yourself a new ID, never talk about your past and you disappear k? Like nothing from your past life 'sides lexi and the crew and even then mebbe they'll ship you somewhere new for a bit, till the heat dies down. You aren't yourself anymore, no friends, new handle, nothing to get yourself caught again. Kid if you get me killed at Casino Corner, my ever-fragging spirit is gonna come and haunt your ass wherever you are scan me?"

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:35:49, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Col's eyes seemed to bug out of his head, "Da frag you say?! Drek no I'm not taking my sorry hoop in there scan me? Sure some of my little ones are missing too, but damn if I'm going in there looking for frag knows what. That shit is WORSE than the SCIRE; you remember that dontcha?"Look, I toldja what I know and that's all scan me? Lissen Scratch, your a good friend, but I can't put my hoop on the line no more, I've got the rest of the gang to feed now...

@E:PL/Chi Town / Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:12 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Once you’ve been visually interrogated the door is opened with a scraping of hinges and protesting of hydraulics – the thing is bloody massive, good job you didn’t try bashing it down. The air that washes over you smells vaguely of CO2 scrubbers and dust but is infinitely better than the cloying damp of the tunnels you’ve been in. You hadn’t realised how fetid the air was out here until you felt the contrast.

The lights are bright and as your eyes rapidly adjust you get a look at your welcoming committee. They don’t quite look like the image of cave dwellers that had been lurking in the back of your mind after your descent into the depths…in fact most of them you wouldn’t have glanced at twice passing them above ground (well maybe above ground in Chi town but…), they look like slightly dishevelled wageslaves. They are a mix of metatypes and sexes, although no trolls that you can see, the ceilings are uncomfortably low for someone of your stature. The bearded human that opened the door to you gestures expansively

"Cummon in, we don’t know what else is outside at the moment. Our surveillance network has been falling apart at the seams and, well, you don’t want to hear about all that right? So you’re the evac party, well one of ‘em, good. Erm, name’s Franks, Katie and Jon’ll be pleased to see you, they’ll be the third group to depart and they’re eager to get back with their friends…now listen to me blather on…this way…”

You are led away from the door. The bulkhead lights overhead flicker sporadically, they look temporary at best, shot fired into the concrete walls. Everything looks scrubbed clean and you can see that Requiem is visibly relaxing as the signs of the dreaded bugs recedes. You suspect this was a storm water system originally, the rounded tunnels and open chambers would no doubt have appealed to the former residents. You also begin to see that the assertion that you would save more of their hacker arses might be a bit extravagant…multiple pairs of apprehensive eyes follow you, kids, old folks and everything in between, you’ve perhaps seen fifty people by the time you make it to your destination…

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

The response when it comes a little later is both reassuring but also potentially raises more questions…

<<Ok, here goes, the scan on Argent the fixer…she’s based here in Seattle but has European roots, guess that’s why you are over the pond right now. She’s fairly well respected as far as I can tell, middle of the road fixer, not exactly big leagues but she has ties to the Euro toffs and that’s as murky waters as it gets! Rumour is that she’s some sort of witch so that also ties with your intel. As for trusting her, her rep says she is trustworthy but, remember what I told you…you need to form your own opinion on that one…I haven’t found a reason not to trust her but that by no means says that you should. Judge by her actions and be cautious until you know in your own mind. We have to trust sometime or nothing gets done… Stay safe out there, and watch you back!>>

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 09:16:21; Snohomish; inside a Buddhist temple]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

His uncle merely shrugged, or at least seamed to; the old monk never telegraphed his physical movements but even the slightest lift of the shoulders allowed him to convey meaning. "A man seeking wisdom must know when to sit and gain serenity, but a man seeking to what is right needs wisdom for balance, will to act and a conscience to consider his fellow man. Adrian, you are my nephew and so I care for you but only you will be able to find your aum in this; it is just and worthy to want to help the lady and save more from dying, but make sure you are quite ready to begin your next cycle on the wheel should you pass from this world. You are hasty but also wise boy.... do what your soul says you must, but strive to keep from that man, he is strong and wrongly guided and it will not be well for you to run into him before you are ready."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:46,The family node]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

Morgan shield her eyes as she probed, taking extra precautions to look deeply before accessing the crannies in the locket that would hold the necessary connections but she could see no traces that would offer harm to herself. Each grove she placed her key fit perfectly as if made for the other. Why this should have concerned her she wasn't sure but she was, it was as if she had been added to security or something, though how they could've managed that was beyond her ability to fathom. There lay the node at the center of the locket in the shape of a beating heart, her fathers commlink.

@Foretune's Forecast/James
April 18th, 2072, 01:05:02 Sight of the Cranial Bombing

The great private detective MAX LUCAS, renowned for his collaring of the despicable tempo dealer La Reina, the female voodoo practitioner who had evaded Knight Errants noble and feeble efforts to capture the last of the tempo dealers, was on the case. The source had said that the best place to look for the suspect, well what was left of the suspect was over down by that old vory gambling den, bout a block down and Max figured he just might do that...

James moved from the shadows where he had been scanning the traffic as the security contractors and other personnel had cleaned up the scene of the crime, to resolve business as usual. He of course, was not allowed access to the feed the security drones had taped of the incident, not being officially assigned to the case nor being on duty but he had his methods from old experience skirting the gray areas between his job and committing treason to pursue material for his book. The lady on the kitty corner had been most impressed to hear that he was a crime journalist interested in her old fashioned closed circuit camera system. Noone had given a damn or really recognized her odd collection of memorabilia in the front window of her antique shop for what it was but there was enough of the sleuth, and well to be honest luck, that he had seen something similar to them in a few flat screen vids way back in the day. Five hundred nuyen had given him the only copy of the tape and he was for damned certain not about to let it out of his sight, though he had watched the replay in the back through the old fashioned 2-d viewer on the premises.

The criminal had had help, that was for sure... probably the two suspects that had been seen alternatively driving up in the combat cab and dropping her off as well as the lady that had been pursuing the terrorist moments beforehand. That the lady hadn't been caught on security tapes by the drones or any other surveillance made James all the more suspicious, and thankful, that there had been a different and unexpected level or recording present at the antique-cum-pawnshop. The two had driven away, who knew where but Max was a good man once he had a hunting clue and that cab was pretty badly demolished by the blast, only having been saved by the normative and prodigious amounts of personal protection that came standard on the things.

He had a plate, though of course it would probably be faked, but that meant he had a lead. All he had to do was get in contact with a few select friends over at HQ and make it seem as if it was another of his random requests....

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:07:39 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

OK, come on, this is it. You better pull yourself together now!

It had taken Mark long enough to walk - well, more like waddle - the few steps to the room indicated on his map. Even longer to actually open the door to it, for all of his failings - not too short a list -, he had never just murdered someone. OK, he had set that bomb, but he had never had to face someone as he killed them. This job - he definately felt it - ment him passing some kind of point of no return, whether for the better or the worse, he couldn't tell.
So, when he finally opened the door to that room, he was prepared for everything, prepared for nothing; certainly not prepared for what he saw.

What the fuck!? This guy's still at it?

Looking at he couple - what little he can see in the darkness -, Mark decides that if he doesn't act now, he probably will never. Hoping that the person sounding like a man actually is his target - Well, noone on Johnny's security detail would dare fuck around while on duty -, he takes a second to get accustomed to the rythmic motions of the couple, aims for the man's head, squeezes the trigger, aims for centre mass and fires off another shot.

Now what? Kill her and confirm I got the right guy? Try and silence her without killing her? Just turn and run out, hoping that nobody with a weapon gets in my way?

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:30:47, Outside a stuffer shack 15 minutes from the pad

Jack thought long and hard about his life's event until this point. Is this what it comes down to? The word of some guy I barely know telling me to run from what I know because Horizon's goons are looking for me? Jack knew what the corp was capable of. He had witnessed the murder of friends and family all in the interest of Horizon protecting their assets. What Jackal had told him wasn't just plausible, it was probable. As a card player, there are times to go against the odds, and there are times when it's best to know when to fold. Jack thought about his other link, the new ID, and cutting off all ties. He thought about Becky. He knew he couldn't stay away from her. He also knew that Horizon probably knew that too. Horizon had suddenly become much more interested in him, and the attention was not wanted. It was time to fold.

In those moments Jack tried to figure out any way he could stack the deck in his favor. The right thing, at the wrong time is still the wrong thing. Timing would be everything. Disappearing wouldn't be the end of the world...but only if Becky knows I am doing it to protect her. He needed to see her at the card game. Unable to wait, he sent her a follow up message asking if she was interested in a job.

Jack looked at the troll, "Ok, I finish the job but then I need a new ID. Who do I need to go see and how much is it going to cost me?" Jack knew he had another ID on him, but he also knew the value of having an ace up your sleeve.

Jack began to run numbers in his head, searching for odds of success and looking for tricky variables. He was looking for opportunities to win big betting against the House.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:31:00, Outside a stuffer shack 15 minutes from the pad


Jackal looked mutely surprised that the greenie had taken the advice so coolly and seemed to give Jack another more searching glance, "Kid you know what this means right? You die after the tournament and its a fate that has to be so complete noone ever will know or see you... scan me? If you are down to do this I think we can find a shoemaker who'll do the deed for you but you need a good one... so that's going to run you... probably about 8k nu... you got that kinda change kid?"


Jack nodded reluctantly, both not wanting to tip his hand to show that he was pretty well set after the games of the night but still struggling with the after-effects of alcohol and stress, "Yeah... I can chip that pretty well, got a bit of goods holed up for my ace. Things ain't exactly been going my way lately, so best hand is the deck you have in your sleeve right?"

Jackal laughed, "Ok kid, you at least think right. But I mean it, no more friends that you used to know, you will have your name put in the obi... and well find a dead addict that looks like you and get him gussied up..." Jackal paused and a shadow passed over his eyes, "Kid, I'm going to tell it to you straight k... this life, well, you're gonna do alot of things you ain't proud of boy, just you remember that it's necessary to see another day. Guess we have to go see lexi about finding a doss for you that can't be tied..."


Jackal started the wrecker and headed back towards The Crimean by a circuitous route, "Now kid, you musta done somefin to get Horizon pissed at you and if you are going to be my wingman for the cards I need to know what that is... tell it to me straight and be warned... I find that you lie to me at all in order to hide your past or save your skin... and well... I know some ghouls who like whiteboy..."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:47:01, The Crimean

Jack thought about what Jackal had said on the ride back. Though he didn't necessarily like the idea, he figured it'd be best to make sure Jackal's associate would need to expect. "I'll need two IDs then. I'll need to smuggle one to...a VIP, who should be present at the card game. I'll pay you for your trouble, though it should be a simple task. I'm sure that doubles the price as far as the IDs, but it'll be necessary if I'm going to pull this off.

Jack thought about an passing a message to Becky, but that would only endanger her potentially. "I'll also need you to pass on a small message upon delivery. A quick 500 extra for you and if all goes as planned you won't even have to leave my side. When this is over the first round is on me." Becky likes trolls, hell, Becky likes everyone. Hmm, I wonder if Jackal will recognize her? I think he may actually thank me when this is over."

Jack hoped Becky would understand. Deep down, he knew she would, but it's impossibly difficult to say goodbye to the one's we love. Horizon would suffer for making him go through with this. He would have time to figure out how to make it happen.

@Foretune's Forecast/ Aeron
April 18th, 2072, 02:30:00 Somewhere in Tarislar, Seattle, UCAS


"Welcome Mr. Radanov, Mr. Johnson is pleased you could arrive so soon. He is especially inclined, I think, to listen to your more... esoteric requests given the serious nature of the situation..." The lithe elf moved quietly through the door held open by a demure piece of eye candy who's eyes promised a sordid adventure if Sean had been into that sort of thing. However, he was a man efficiently molded from the worst that nature could produce, smelted in some of the worst situations man or metahuman could imagine and ultimately forged into cold black steel. It was a wonder, at least to the select few who had the opportunity to see his handiwork, that such a lifeless and cold man could create and engender so much passion and life into his projects. Many whispered that perhaps it was because, much as a scalpel would have keen insights into which arteries to sever but also know where to cut to save, so too could a man so hellishly bent from a living point of view, know where to find the raison d'etre in his subjects.

Following the assistant into the depths of the old manor-style house that look so inconspicuously trashy from the street, one of the requirements of his client, Sean's footsteps were softly caressed into silence by the old genuine rugs that stretched luxuriously over every hard surface. This house spoke of timeless wealth in a cesspool of poverty. A correct metaphor could be drawn from the design and richness of the estate and applied aptly to their owner right down to the deliberately mystical trappings and ornamentation that spiraled across the walls.

The great hallway opened through twin mahogany double doors that stretched up into the darkness at least fifteen meters above his head and for one slight instant, this unflappable being, knowledgeable of his own power, felt that he very much was in the den of something that had outlived his entire comprehension of time.

"Mr. Radanov, thank you for rushing here. I am in a position to be more... generous this time. Your services are always well worth the trouble and I'm sure that you would not overcharge so apply with my valet after you have completed our objectives."

The semi-gaunt older man in the deep leather and ebony tall chair by the fire place handed a slim leather packet. "The mistake needs to be fixed, you'll find all the materials you need within. Full deniability, no blowback, but send a message."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:46,The family node]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

This was far too easy. The witch must have looked for all the world like she was signing back into Dusk for more gaming. Had she been found out somehow? No. This was her first attempt at cracking either of her parents' commlinks. Besides, they of all people wouldn't want her to leave home. Still, it didn't pay to assume. With a wave of her hand, she conjured up what resembled a plague mask from the Middle Ages. Morgan put it on, rendering herself transparent.

The witch's eyes roved about as she proceeded further in. What she needed to find was a list of contacts. Specifically, runners Richard had hired before. Morgan could then send a sprite to one of them with her very carefully worded proposal. She smiled bitterly. Hopefully, her plan wouldn't sound as insane to whoever she hired as it did to her now.

There is also the matter of someone putting themselves at risk on your account, the idoru whispered. Morgan whirled around to find the speaker before she remembered her paragon. "Don't do that." The feminine voice continued. Obviously, they're not all like your brother. But the fact remains, the danger is not yours alone to brave. Morgan stared at the ground. "Are you trying to discourage me?"

I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't inform you of the consequences of your actions. The witch found it hard to respond. Her paragon was right. The fact that she was trying to rescue someone couldn't change that. "This...this won't be the last time I make this kind of choice, will it?"

So long as you count yourself among the technoshamans? So long as you ally yourself with the Resonance? And seek to emulate she whom you have named yourself for? No. This will be the first of many.

"There's still time to turn back. Isn't there?" Morgan heard her voice crack a little.

Of course.

The next few minutes passed in silence, save for the steady rhythm of the beating heart. Morgan simply remained where she was, feeling the weight of this new responsibility. There was simply no way she could justify what she was doing. She raised a hand, infusing the surrounding data with her will and watched it begin to take form. Then Morgan released it. She closed her eyes as it flowed away, affirming some secret to herself. Then, she began walking toward the node. "I can't explain right now, but if I get out of this alive, I will. All I'll say is that I must see this through to the end."

@Fortune's Forecast
Adrian Anderson
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 09:18:07; Snohomish; inside a Buddhist temple]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Shifting nervously in his seat, Adrian is about to make a snappy remark, then reconsiders.

Yup, just as always. Never expect straightforward, practical advice. Now take a moment to think about it. He'd never answer without actually answering. Yes, I might die continuing on this path. Am I ready for that? What's more important, am I ready to abandon this path, not honour my promise to Saint, run away from the trouble, run away from myself in a way? No.

A simple answer, a short one and the one the young man feels his Yidam would approve of.

Now, what to do then? Keep from that man. How do you fight someone who's stronger? Don't be where he hits, don't try and put force against force. "Be like a cloud, intangible to the touch, yet able to erode a mountain with its downpour." Guess he was right when he said that hand-to-hand training is a mirror of life. Now, to apply it, that's something else.

Nodding at his uncle, he drinks the last of his tea.

Thank you for the advice. As always I have more questions now than I came with. But I have the feeling they'll guide me better than most answers.

I didn't even knew how much I miss thinking like that, pain in the behind it sometimes can be. When this is over - and I'm still alive - I'll have to ask him whether I can return here for a few months.

If you'll excuse me, I think my next steps on this path involve gathering more information about this man and what exactly he is doing, from afar of course.

Well, rather figuring out how to go about it first. Maybe Saint has some ideas how to that.

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

I'm sure you believe that, but I'll see for myself. Gemeaux leaves the thought unsaid, and instead bows politely to the Professor. He glances over at the others.

"I believe that is our cue to leave. Are we ready to depart?"

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:48:09, The Crimean

Jackal looked keenly at Jack, "You wouldn't happen to be inviting a lady friend would you kid? Listen, I know love can be fun but unless you are ready to ruin that persons life by making them disappear or killing them as well... let it go kid. That's the thing bout this life... you gotta lose things to win and you sometimes lose pretty hard. I'll take the 500 but if it makes trouble better be worth my while extra. Who's the VIP?"

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:50:03, The Crimean

Jack looked at Jackal as a dog would look toward something making a high-pitch sound. I suppose I haven't mentioned who it is, as much fun as the idea could be Becky would be able to keep about as low a profile as a streaker running down the middle of 405 during rush hour. In fact she might actually enjoy the attention.

Jack shook his head, "Nothing like that, but there will come a time when I will need to make contact. The VIP's name is Jewel. If you have heard of the name, then the answer is yes, one in the same person. If I give you the message now can you remember or would you like me to tell you after we have what we need?"

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:51:03, The Crimean

Jackal still looked dubious but nodded agreement, "Alright, give me the nu kid and I'll get it there after we sort out your sleeping area." He motioned to Hawke, who was coming through the gambling den, "Hey 'lexi, small problem... can us three go to the storeroom really quick?" Hawke nodded and motioned to the back stairs and followed the pair as they passed the wide bar area, at this time of night only sparsely populated.


Once inside the room Hawke turned to the pair and nodded before saying, "Ok, what is it?" Jackal turned and pointed to Jack, "Ok kid, tell him what happened."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:52:03, The Crimean

Jack felt like he'd been sent to the principal's office having to explain his misdeeds. There were few times his parents actually caught him doing what they felt he shouldn't; this moment was equally as awkward. He paused for a moment to recalculate the day's events.

"First off, I need to know anything you know about the Dawkins Group. I need all the info I can get because right now...right now everything that is happening is surreal. I'm not sure what to think anymore"

Jack reached for his pills. It was about time for him to take one. He couldn't afford to be off his game right now.

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:46,The family node]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

Suddenly, things got a bit more difficult. There was, of course, one other possible explanation for her ease in getting into this commlink. No sensitive information was on it. Morgan scowled. No reason not to make sure, however. Kneeling, she traced another shape on the ground. This one, a square with curling trails connected to it, looked something like a stylized kite. "Orobas. He who tells of the past, present, and future. Come forth."

The symbol grew, sprouting new lines until it looked roughly like a skeleton. Its body was not far behind. A coating of tin covered the bones, forming a torso and four legs that ended in hooves. The result was a creature who resembled what the people of the Sixth World knew as a centaur. Smiling an oddly human grin, the sprite nodded a greeting.

Morgan tugged on a glove. "Two, this time. Very well. I need you to sort through the data on this commlink. Bring me anything that refers to shadowrunning, or assets. Do so every twenty minutes. This service will be complete when I say so."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:54:11, The Crimean

Hawke arched an eyebrow at Jack's to-the-point business demand. Something about how the message was delivered left Hawke very obviously nonplussed, "The Dawkins Group? What did you do? Jack, you leave my parlor with new-found friends, drunk as a skunk and you come back here telling me you are in trouble I presume, but without any please or thank you? I appreciate you must be feeling stressed but remember, my family is always willing to help and we love our younger members, you are almost a good nephew in my eyes but..." The rest went unsaid but Jack had never seen Hawke the friendly gambling owner as anything but, and now he was seeing Hawke, the rumored mob boss in a stronger sense. "Now, begin again and mind how you say things."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:46,The family node]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

Morgan watched the sprite fade away. If there was anything to be found here, it was likely beyond her abilities to do so. She removed the witch's hat from her head and ran her fingers through her hair. So now what? If she could come up with a convincing excuse to go downtown...

The pointed hat dropped from a nerveless hand as it dawned on her. "I-I was let in. I didn't need to get past a firewall or anything because the node recognizes me."

But what kind of account did she have? Morgan called forth the IC. She needed to examine them.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 18th, 2072, 23:54:47, The Crimean

"I'm sorry Hawke." Jack swallowed again, helping coax the uncooperative pill down. "I just need for my meds to kick in." Jack took a deep breath and smiled, Jack always remembered to smile, even when the cards were against him. "It's been an interesting day." Truth be told it's the kind of day I thought would happen long ago if Horizon thought I had an solid leads in finding my mom.

"Back at my apartment one of the staff asked if I was a terrorist or something because some guys from the Dawkins Group were trashing my place. I asked Jackal what he knew, and it sounds like they are a group that works with or for Horizon. I would rather like nothing to do with Horizon ever again, truthfully. I was asking you what you knew because the picture that has been painted is a grim one. I apologize about my earlier behavior again, and I would still like to go to this card game, but I don't know if you want me to bring unwanted attention if this group is indeed interested in finding me."

Jack knew Jackal would be filling in the details, so he sat down on some sturdy looking crates. Complete the job. That is what Jackal had told him. Jack thought that doing the job was more just to build his friendship with Hawke, from his point of view anyway. Money comes and goes, and he would need a lot of it to buy into the bigger tournaments that he wanted to try his hand at. But, in order to make it to those games, he would to be alive and free.

Hawke knew where a lot of the underground tournaments would be, he had access to much of information that Jack needed. The last thing Jack wanted to do as sound disrespectful to the one person he knew could further his life's dream of playing in high stakes games.

Jackal and Hawke had started conversing. Jack was trying to pay attention, but the thought of Horizon in his apartment kept tugging away at his attention. What set this off? Why now? I haven't done anything to tip my hand...

The pills would kick in soon. He waited.

@E:PL UK / Mordred
[May 19th, 2072, 12:42; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

"Sure..." The adept glances out the window. "But what exactly should we do until it's time to check in? Act like tourists?" He stands, pushing in his chair.

Mordred's reply to his mentor is simple. Got it. And thanks again. He then deletes the messages from their conversation.

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:47,The family node]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

First came the nightwraith, an active attack and tracking IC that shared many things in comon with a grim reaper but with more of an ethereal and blood drenched ghostly nature, next the slouching old man who disguised a psychotropic entrapment program accompanied by an old asian woman who was certainly a lethal form of biofeedback IC if she knew anything of defenses. The chains to their necks trailed from Morgan's fingers, denoting admin access which she had both not expected and, seeing how deadly they were, quite relieved to possess.

This could have killed me easily had I not been allowed... Morgan realized that her family's CHN was not as quite unguarded as she had presumed.

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 19th, 2072, 00:09:47, The Crimean

The muted conversation that excluded Jack finally stopped after what seemed to the young man an interminable time as Hawke turned to give him a stern and searching look. "Jack, you're a great customer but there are certain boundaries that I cannot cross nor would an honest parlor owner such as myself know much about your current problems." Jack started to feel as if the ground was coming up to swallow him but it was interrupted as Hawke continued, "However Jackal here has arranged to go about looking for some friends who might help you. You are able to suitable make accommodations for any aid or expenses as I well know from watching your luck with the cards of late. If my uncles and friends were to help find suitably like-minded individuals you would need to understand that you owe them loyalty is that clear?"

Jack nodded, hoping beyond hope that whatever business he had brought to Hawke's establishment would at least get him into a new life, if not a protected one. Hawke continued after a few seconds, "He tells me you're ready to die... is that true?"

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:07:40 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

His indecision changed in short order and as the diminutive woman stared calmly from under the still copiously bleeding corpse. The idea of killing her or inflicting any harm rapidly was soothed from his mind as his inner conscience invaded and made him feel incredibly guilty for interrupting what should have been a joyous occasion. "I... I'm sorry ma'am, I just, see... Johny said I had to do it... he cheated us see and we can't have that happen... uh... I.. I'm sorry lady, really I am, I had no choice!" He lowered his gun as his conscience got the better of him and was about to leave when an old and ancient looking Chinese man in flowing cotton garments materialized between him and the naked woman. The swirls of blue actnic light around that flowed like flame around his body and in his eyes betrayed his true nature as no trid-flick ever could; Mark felt despair as he realized he had just interrupted a magician during one of the most private parts of her life...

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 19th, 2072, 00:011:12, The Crimean

Jack looked at the clock on his link. He then realized that Hawke was talking to him and turned to face him mildly awoken from his pensive mood.
"I realize this is a lot to ask. You've always been very kind to me Hawke. I don't want you to believe I am not grateful, because I am immensely grateful. I want to level with you. I grew up in a Horizon compound. If these guys that are looking for me are Horizon. I've seen first hand what they can do. I don't want to wish that kind of trouble on anyone who has helped me as you have. Is the Dawkins Group part of Horizon, from what you know? If this is the case, in order to protect you, the card game, and those that mean anything to me. I will need to disappear. I will pay what is required. I asked Jackal to get a message to one individual, that is my only caveat before I go."

Jack paused.

"That being said, if this is going to endanger you or bring Horizon's eye on you, then I will find another way. Your friendship means more to me than that."
Jack realized that Hawke had called him a great customer. He looked away for just a moment...in a game that would have given away too much alone. Jack scolded himself for not playing things closer to the chest. He was upset with himself for not reading the situation better. Hawke was a friendly to him, but he was a businessman.

Family and friends... Jack remembered loss. Jack appreciated the loyalty to family Hawke had.

"I understand what you are saying. At this point, I trust you know better than anyone else in my life. What would you recommend?"

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:47,The family node]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

How does it feel, my protege? Knowing that you hold your death in your hands? The paragon was plainly fascinated by the current situation.

"I'll tell you when my brain finally registers that fact." Morgan swore she felt the blood in her veins run cold. Why? Did her parents know how she was spending her nights? Or was it just a precaution? No. Even a security account would have been excessive for the purpose of keeping the IC from harming her, let alone admin rights. If only it was morning, or the weekend. She could shut down parts of the house's security system, sneak out and call for a taxi. The witch smirked. Her parents would probably call for a manhunt.

Back to work. With no available source of shadow contacts, she decided to pursue this new lead. Morgan searched for references to herself. Or rather, LeFey. How was the system recognizing her?

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 19th, 2072, 00:011:32, The Crimean

Hawke smiled a disturbingly cheerful smile, "Why my young friend, we'll need your biometrics and the lady's I presume and after we ascertain those key pieces. You will go fishing with one of my uncles..." Jackal looked askance at him as he moved behind the desk and added in, "An kid... if I was you, I'd be very certain to leave anything valuable with Uncle Lexi here... when you do go fishing, you'll be very glad you do. I don't think you need to be at the card game right lexi?" Hawke shook his head, "Unfortunately this may be unavoidable... you don't have to go to the game and well want the walking money I gave you if you decide not to go. Reason you might not want to go is the only thing that death can't change is your aura. If you've known anything about magical nonsense, then you know from the trids no doubt that the fingerprint we all have is an aura and it would do you no good for someone as highly... observant to see it. For now you can bunk over across the street with my nephew Andrei. He too is interested in gambling so you'll have something in common..."

@Fortune's Forecast/ Jack
April 19th, 2072, 00:014:32, The Crimean

Whoa. Wait a second here. Not go to the game?

"Hawke I would really, really like to go to this game. I would like it even more if I didn't have to throw the game, but this is the kind of thing I dream about doing. Besides, I know a little about magic, or at least I've met a couple of mages before. They didn't seem particularly threatening. Everyone leaves fingerprints and I won't get too many awkward stares at a place like this. Magic is rare right? There's no way anyone would be sending spell-slingers looking for me. As far as fishing goes, can it wait until after the game? I appreciate the offer to go see your nephew, but I seriously doubt he'd be able to offer the same stakes game tournament that I've been looking forward too."

Jack wasn't about to miss this game for anything. Jack hoped that his love of the game wouldn't bite him later, but some things are just worth the risk. Seeing Becky one last time made the deal even sweeter.

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:15 PM; CZ, Chicago]

"Frag! How many of youse is down here? I gotta admit I don't know if we can gets alla youse out. I only gots gear for da kids an' only a couple of extra light pistols. But I is willin ta take a couple extra along. An not just fer da extra reward, ya scan?"

Copperhead looks around taking in the desperation and blocking out the emotions that come with it as best she can.

Sometimes being a shaman wasn't as much fun as they made out on the trids.

At least their arrival had given these people some hope and she made out two auras, young, nervous and eager. She gives the kids a matronly smile, cybered hands moving to rest on armored hips.

"Guess you two is Katie and Jon. I'm Copperhead. Da knife-ears is Jess and da other trog is Ælias. You stick wid us and we'll get youse outta dis hellhole sharpish, scan?"

She unhitches her backpack and starts pulling out gear, handing the kids the armored jumpsuits and low light goggles.

"Put dese on. Either of you know how ta handle a piece? Take dem anyways, just in case."

She pulls out the pair of light pistols and hands one to each of the two wide-eyed teenagers.

"What? You never seen a troll before? Or had yer own gun? Maybe you is hungry?"

She pulls out some of the rations and hands one to each kid then turns to Franks.

"Hey Franks. Got a couple extra ratpacs here and some extra water. You wants em?"

She hands out most of her food and water and then swings the backpack back on her shoulders, mindful of the low roof.

"We none of us wants ta be here, so we gonna head out soon as da kids and da other team is ready. Offer is still open fer anyone else dat wants ta tag along. Also, you gots any messages we needs to relay to anyone, best let me know now."