2130 Jan 4 2063, Key to the Future

With a sigh, Avalanche put down the cyberdeck. "Fraggin' finally," he grumbled. It had taken a lot longer than he had anticipated to mod the deck, but he had finally done it without any screwups that he could see.

He called the LTG number left by the customer, and got an answering machine. "This is Mr. Key. I've...repaired your deck. Please come by sometime tommorow during business hours to pick it up. Thanks."

Hanging up, Avalanche glanced at his wristphone watch. Looks like I got an hour before the meet with Mr. Fan. I'll just set the alarm on the telecom and have myself a quick nap...

1520 January 5 2063 - Open Arms Shelter

Virgil stepped out of the car and approached the front door of the shelter with Dragon following closely behind. If this part of the barrens was a war zone, then the Open Arms Shelter was a refugee camp. The shelter inhabited a building that was once a middle-class apartment complex, of course, that was back when Redmond was still a successful suburb. The building was four stories tall with the top three floors used for sleeping space, and the bottom floor housing a kitchen, rudimentary clinic, and a dining hall that also housed mass on Sundays.

As he climbed the short steps to the front door Virgil, without even thinking about it, reached inside of his shirt and positioned his rosary so that it hung in plain view. The dilapidated foyer inside the shelter contained a reception desk so that a volunteer at least try and keep track of all the SIN-less people who came to the shelter seeking aid. The desk was currently being staffed by a middle-aged orc women. Approaching the desk Virgil made sure to hold his hands away from his body to show that he was not armed . . .

"Can I help you?" she spoke in a gruff voice.

"Yes mam, I am a friend of Father O'Grady and an aquaintence of Sister Perkins, I came here hoping to speak to her," Virgil responded in a soft tone.

The stern look on the women's face seemed to soften upon hearing the name of the familiar priest. "She's in the infirmary right now tending to patients, why don't you go back and give her a hand."

Nodding his thanks to the women Virgil and Dragon walked down a small hallway and down to the infirmary. Virgil imagined that it had been built by knocking down the interior walls a first floor apartment. The shelter's infirmary housed a dozen beds donated from hospital surplus and was run with volunteers as well as two other younger nuns. Through donations and money from Saint margaret Mary's outreach program they were able to afford some supplies and medications, but it could never be enough to see to all the sick that the barrens produced.

Sister Perkins stood at one of the beds applying surgical glue to the leg of a young boy sporting a nasty gash. As she was finishing Virgil approached the foot of the bed and waited for her to look up . . .

"Why hello Virgil. I have not seen you since Christmas, what brings you to my presence today."

"Greetings Holy Sister, my friend and I," Virgil gestured to Dragon have come to offer you our aid in a matter of grave importance. Word of the signs that the child Julia shows is beginning to spread. I fear that parties of malevolent intentions will come looking for her. I came to you with hopes that I could speak with her and try to ascertain what phenomena has befallen her." Virgil tried to make sure that the severity of the situation was expressed in his voice.

"Sister, if the child does posses some new magical gift, she will be hunted to no end. I am also here to offer my services in protecting her from those that would exploit her. Please Sister, judge my intenions to be pure, and allow me to see Julia . . .

0800 January 7, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

Andie continues working at his desk; scribbling formulas and equations down onto paper, looking in reference manuals, and checking the circulation batch every 15 minutes.

This just might work....

2330 January 4 2063 - A side street, almost an alley, somewhere in Auburn

The young dwarf starts jogging more quickly, uneasily aware of the rumours floating around and the amount of money she is carrying. Just one more stop, a small gaming operation which had only recently opened up, and then she gets to relieve herself of the bag and gets paid. As so often, the irony crosses her mind: she carries tens of thousands of nuyen, but will earn barely five hundred herself. Yet it never seriously occurs to her to just take off with the funds and lose herself somewhere. Oh, of course she sometimes plays with the idea: how she would go about it, what she could do with all that money.

But it is only playing. She knows they would find her. No matter how fast and how far she runs, they would find her.

2340 January 4 2063 - Running quickly out of the side street and straight into ... traffic?

For a moment she stood frozen, staring into the headlights -- and then it was too late.

It screeched to a halt. She could feel its bumper brushing lightly against her outstretched hands. She stared at it and stared at it, unable to do anything else.

The car wasn't supposed to be there, not now, not hours after she'd picked up that percentage and the tables had been pulled inside and shuttered and locked for the night. Traffic wasn't supposed to be there. Later in the spring it would be very different, students and young working couples drifting by in twos and threes until well past midnight; but this time of night, this time of year, only the most hardcore hadn't yet found themselves an indoor place, and this one, topside, had long closed.

After an eternity the door opened and she thought maybe someone big had stepped out and she was staring at something hollow and wide and cold that drowned out all the rest.

"Let her be," said a smooth, cultured voice from inside the car. "She is not harmed, is she? Here, my girl," and something cold and plastic-metallic landed at her feet, "Try to be more careful next time. You might run into something that won't stop."

The cylinder moved away from her eyes and she could see again, big and gray trenchcoat and cold mirrored shades, folding himself almost double to slide behind the wheel of the car.

When she could move again, she stooped to pick up the coins that had fallen against the corrigated steel of the shuttered storefront.

1525 January 5 2063 - Open Arms Shelter

"Truly, He works in mysterious ways, bringing you here that Christmas," said Sister Perkins quietly, considering her unexpected visitors. "We had been hoping ... but it's clear now. Martha," she said to one of the other nuns, "take over here, please?"

As she led them to the back of the infirmary and to another set of stairs, their steps creaking on the floorboards, she added, "But I am afraid you cannot speak with Julia now, for she is no longer here. No --" she preempted Virgil's involuntary exclamation -- "nothing has happened to her. But after the events of two nights ago, we thought it best to move her."

"Ah," said Dragon. "That's why there isn't a whole tent city outside."

Sister Perkins nodded. "The word's been getting around slowly, much more slowly than the word originally got out after that story, I'm afraid -- but there's still a few faithful camped outside, waiting. I'm afraid I -- that is -- I haven't been really forceful about getting them to leave."

"They seek hope," said Virgil suddenly.

She spread her hands. "What right have I to take from them what little they can find, here? But you will want to be talking to Father Bremen, and hear the whole story from him and the sisters who were there at the time."

She raised her hand to knock at the diamonded yellowed window of the beaten plastic door, and the hulking shadow vaguely visible through it paused; and then bent and vanished from the narrow square of transluscency.

"He'll see you now," Sister Perkins said, and opened the door for them.

It swung inward into a small, dingy, windowless office lit only by a pair of overhead flourescent tubes. Even if they did leach the colour from the place, their flickering was minimal ... but their buzzing was not. The office was almost entirely filled by a pair of tables serving as an extended L-shaped desk, their surfaces overflowing with ledgers and loose papers and a computer terminal, and by the troll who was standing to meet them, slightly hunched to keep from banging his head on the lights.

"I am Father Bremen," he said, holding out a very large and calloused hand. "May I help you?"

1530 January 5 - Open Arms Shelter


"Greetings Father," chimed Virgil as his hand was engulfed inside of Father Bremen's powerful handshake. Just behind Father Bremen's eyes Virgil could see a quite wisdom and a strength of will that the people whom Father Bremen ministers to must depend on.

"My name is Virgil. I am a friend of Father O'Grady and a servant of the people of these streets. Virgil paused and gestured towards Dragon, "This is Dragon, he is a friend of mine and my duty is his own."

The small size of the office was excaberated by the presence of three men. Standing in such close proximity only made Virgil feel even smaller as he stood in the presence of the large priest.

With nary a pause Virgil spoke up again. "I come before you now because the child Julia may be in danger, I fear that the same gifts that have brought the pious to your door step have also attracted the attention of those who would seek Julia with malevolent intentions. I would like to offer my aid in protecting the child. I would also like the chance to examine Julia so that the nature of this strange occurence can be elucidated, thus providing knowledge on how best to help her."

Virgil paused a moment to allow his words to absorb, not once did he break eye contact with Father Bremen. In an unwavering yet humble tone, Virgil continued.

"Sister Perkins tells me that you are the most knowledgeable person of the situation thus far. I humbly request to share in your observations and thoughts and if you judge my intentions to be true, I request to see Julia."

Bowing his head slightly Virgil finished, "I come before you representing only the interests of Julia and my solemn duties."

Father Bremen stepped over the wall behind the make-shift desk, where a metal crucifix ran the height of the wall. Bowing his head in thought for a few moments, Father Bremen began a silent prayer. The moments seemed to stretch into hours for Virgil, but he did not move or let his resolve waver.

Turning back towards Virgil and Dragon Father Bremen fixed his firm gaze onto Virgil's unwavering stare. In a low rumbling voice he began to speak,

"It is true that you come here in a time where darkness may be gathering in the ever-present shadows . . .

1533 January 5 - Open Arms Shelter

"Indeed," Father Bremen continued, "scarcely a night passes when there is not some person who has attempted to break into this place, for we are a place of healing, and many understand from this as well that there must be street-marketable drugs on the premises. And they would be right. Misguided," and as his eyes crinkled Dragon found himself almost instinctively evaluating those muscular arms, "but factually right nevertheless. Facts ..."

His voice trailed off. There was a powerful odour of sweat to the priest. In this enclosed room tight against what must be the attic, the lack of ventilation was quickly becoming apparent.

Just as Virgil thought that the priest had said his piece, that he would have to say more in order to convince him -- ; when he suddenly started speaking again: "Has it occurred to either of you that she might not need the kind of help you truly seek to give? No, I see that it has not." He paused again. Virgil made to speak again, something respectful and realistic. Something in the priest's eyes stopped him.

"It might even be not so much a question of whether I am to let you examine Julia," mused Father Bremen in a low-toned rumble, "as to whether Julia herself will allow it. The Church has learned many things, these past few decades; and we at the edges of civilisation stand at the edges of the learning curve. 'There are more creatures in heaven and earth ...' But you did not come for a lecture on theology." He seemed almost to shake himself then, although he did not move a muscle and the high collar still looked far too tight for the wide neck. "I will have to take you to her first, of course. No one else here knows where she is. I hope."

The two smaller men had to back away through the door to let him reach it, the tiny office was so completely filled by the three of them. The floor creaked alarmingly as he moved. At their reactions to the sound Father Bremen gave a quick smile: "Oh, don't worry, I haven't fallen through the floor in nearly a month" -- slight pause, seeing the expressions on their faces -- "joke!

"Oh by the way: did either of you bring a car?"

1535 January 5 2063 - Open Arms Shelter

Virgil found himself handing on the last of Father Bremen's words, even as he felt a small feeling of elation at hearing his approval. As Virgil followed Father Bremen through the door, thankful to be out of the cramped and increasingly hot office, he glanced at Dragon,

"We're parked out in front of the shelter Father. Your car has room for three, doesn't it Dragon . . ."

1536 January 5 2063 - Open Arms Shelter

"I think we'll fit just fine, although Father Bremen takes your place at shotgun Virgil, I think he's gonna need a bit more leg room than you, " Dragon joked as he follwed the two men out through the shelter's main doors.

"Well, I am the first one outside anway," joked Father Bremen, "So I'll just call shotgun anway." He let out a deep chuckle.

As Virgil slid himself into the back seat of the Ford Americar he couldn't help but notice the sharp contrast between the laughter they'd just shared, and the desolate feeling of hopelessness that seemed to throw itself in waves up against the front door to the Open Arms Shelter.

It's like the shelter is a fortress under seige by a relentess enemy.

Virgil was snapped out of his brief reverie by the sagging of the Americar as it protested against the sudden addition of a form as heavy as Father Bremen.

Dragon was the last one to get into the car as he paused and looked around, almost as if he were already worried about being followed. Turning the key Dragon fired up the engine into a smooth idle and then turned to Father Bremen

"Where to Father ." . . .

1536 January 5 2063 - Open Arms Shelter

The big priest gae him an address, and Dragon smoothly drove the car out, cruising towards the location of the woman Virgil insisted on trying to help.

Not to be mercenary or anything...although I am...but there better be some nuyen in it for us. I can't afford to be working freebes here. That last job was a disaster, and I got some serious payments to be made, both to support the family, work on building up a workable network, and to search for...her...I wonder what happened?

Argh! I haven't even had the chance to start looking...worthless unprofessional bastards. Of all the crews to work with, I had to get stuck with that lot. And to think that one trog fragger gave me drek about joining? He shoould be so lucky. I was the only one who didn't make a complete ass out of himself on that job, other than Apoc. Wonder what happened to him?

Oh well, hopefully there'll be some nuyen in this. And even if there isn't, Virgil will owe me for this one. Never hurts to have a combat mage in your debt. Course, considering where we been, after that Aztlan run, I'd say he owes me plenty already.

With a thin smile, Dragon refocus on driving and listening, setting aside other worries to focus on the task at hand.

1540 January 5 2063 - leaving the Open Arms Shelter

"Look around," said Father Bremen as they drove, punctuating with a hand gesture far too expansive for the small vehicle, which swayed distinctly with his movement. Dragon compensated almost automatically before the sway could drift them into another lane, trying not to think of the stress this vehicle was incurring. Then again, they really should build them better to begin with. Trogs are a fact of life in the 60's. I wonder how I will pay for this? I just seem to be digging myself deeper and deeper, but it's not my fault! What was I going to do, tell the two of them to go take a hike? At this point Virgil's almost the closest thing I have to a reliable contact in town, but the nuyen had better be forthcoming soon ...

It had been far too easy for Dragon to let his thoughts spin into the familiar cycle against the talking of the priest. With an effort he forced himself to re-focus ... and the address he had been given finally connected. "Auburn?"

"We'll need to warn them that we're coming," said Father Bremen reasonably.

"Couldn't you have just called them?" Virgil said, at the same moment as Dragon said: "You mean she's not where we're going."

The troll shrugged, almost sending the little car into the other lane again. "Kiki said that there'd likely been tracers planted in and around the clinic, and that it'd be child's play for a decker to intercept any calls. I don't know, maybe I'm way off base, but I didn't want to lead anyone straight to Julia, not after that night ..."

Virgil leaned forward with his hands on the headrest in front of him, ignoring the growing pins-and-needles feeling in his legs. "What happened, Father?"

"You understand, there's many people around here who are desperate, who'd do almost anything to get their next fix. And we had the people who were camped out in front of the shelter already, you know how cold it was, last week, all the beds were already full ..." He sighed. "There was some pushing and shoving. It didn't really look like anything unusual. It got into a bit of a fight. I wish I could say that's unusual, but it isn't, not really, I went out to try to talk to them ..."

"Julia?" prompted Virgil gently.

"I heard her screaming. I didn't realise there was anything more to it until that. Kiki said maybe the whole "faith thing" had been set up to overload us, or to get the people who need us angry against us so we'd be forced to leave, I didn't really get which. Maybe there's something in that too." He shook his head. "They won't win, you know. We're needed here, and we're staying."

"Julia?" repeated Virgil.

"Yes, Julia. So she was screaming and by the time I got back up the stairs the two of them had gotten a pillowcase tied over her head and were trying to haul her out. She was still struggling. I -- ah -- decked him." The big troll hung his head. "The other one dropped her, hard, and when she went limp like that I just tore the the pillowcase off her to make sure she was all right. She was dazed, and she had a bit of a lump on her head, but she was fine. She wasn't even upset, or crying. He--ck, I'd be upset. I'd be hysterical. But she wasn't crying at all, she was angry and very, very scared. Oh," he smacked his palm on the glove compartment, leaving a dent, "the two sisters were fine after they woke up. I forgot to say, it was their watch. I found them asleep in their chairs."

"Drugged," murmured Dragon. And then, more normally: "Did you see their faces?"

"Not so as I would recognise them. It was dark, and I was making sure Julia was all right, and next thing I knew they were gone."

"So you got her out of there," said Virgil.

"I knew I had to. She wasn't safe with us. Dear God, I hate saying that!" A second dent joined the first. "I bundled together all her clothing and called in the Jedi, but he doesn't like leaving his own area unguarded. Still, he agreed to take her and guard her until we could find out what was what. And we set up a way of reaching them that had nothing to do with the clinic."

1550 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

Processing Father Bremen's story of Julia's kidnapping attempt threatened to bring a smile to Virgil's face, despite the severity of the situation.
When I punch a guy, they've been decked. When you've been hit by a guy with hands the size of pumpkins, that's being anihilated. That would make most people think twice.

Switching his mind back to the task at hand Virgil considered the somewhat dower look on Dragon's face. He never was particulary good at hiding his thoughts. After I asses the situation I'll better be able to present some options to him. Dragon's not going to be able to deviate from his other goals too far without there being a bottom line in all of this, and I may very well need his help. He trusts my judgement though, afterall, I did find hook us up with the contacts proving that substantial bonus in Aztlan.

Virgil shifted his legs to try and keep blood flowing through them. Frag is it gonna hurt when I stand up again.

"Father Bremen, exactly where are we going? And who is this Jedi character?"

1555 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

"I needed to get her away quickly, you understand? She was obviously in danger, so I couldn't let anyone find out. I didn't know where to turn." Automatically Father Bremen tried to turn in the small car to face Virgil to explain: and Dragon made another urgent steering adjustment to compensate.

"That's when Quixote turned up. He has a knack of that, turning up where he is needed. He took Julia with him and left an address in Auburn where I'd be able to contact him when help arrived. He has an arrangement there, he said. He said that if he told me directly, the people who wanted her would be able to tear it out of my mind. Normally they would trade off, him and his partner, but she's studying somewhere out east so it's just him right now. That's another reason he wants to get back."

1508 Jan 5 2063, Key to the Future

Avalanche's phone rings. On the other end of the line is his customer. "Hey, it's me. Can I come by to pick up my stuff in say, an hour?"

1557 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

Auburn, Auburn...didn't something big happen there today? Better check it out.

Silently he switched on his radio in his head, and began scanning through the channels for news reports.

Let's see what we can pick up... Glancing over at the two new dents in the dashboard, he gritted his teeth. Damn it Virgil! This better be another one of them million nuyen paydays, to make all this worthwhile. Or at the least, enough to pay for the repairs to my fragging car!

Forcing himself to sound civil (it wasn't the priest's fault, at least, not entirely) he asked, "Are we almost there yet?"

1559 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

Static ... talk radio ... static ... golden oldie ... static ... is that even music? ... static ... talking heads,and there isn't even any visual ... static ... oh hell, more talking heads, is there an election this year? ... static ... "And now the weather" ... static ... country music ... static ... "Aunt May's real Aztlan chili" ... static ... oh, that one's got to be Darwin's bastards ... static ... "This is KWNR, the real voice of the spirit, bringing you all the news that the other networks won't touch!"

K? No way they can be local, I thought that was a call sign for east of the Mississippi, or is it west? Right, invert it, "W" for "not-west". Too many countries. So many stations, and still nothing on.

"... so remember to set your calendars, chummers ..." fizzle into static, but he hadn't changed the channel? Wait, there it was again ...

"... and in other news, there's still no definitive word on what's behind that restaurant fire in Auburn, although speculation is running rampant:

1559 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

"Wait a sec Father, I have a couple more questions to clarify your story."

Maybe he's really anxious, but he keeps pulling names out of who knows where

Virgil began again, "Exactly who is Quixote? Is the the same idividual whom you referred to as 'The Jedi' before? Second, you mentioned that Kiki told you that the phones at the shelter were bugged, who is Kiki."

Virgil paused for a second not wanting to overload Father Bremen if he was already mentaly stressed. "Your information will prove the be invaluable if it can help me to assess exactlay whom we might be dealing with in our efforts to protect Julia. My last question is a bit more complicated. Quixote said that if you did not know where Julia was, then it couldn't be pulled from your mind. Kiki also said that your phones were tapped. Did either of them have an idea of who might be after Julia?"

At this last question Virgil leaned foward towards Father Bremen hoping that he would not feel inclined to turn around and thus send the car carrenning across the road again.

1600 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

"Er -- yes, it's the same person. Didn't I say that?" Father Bremen considered. "No, I suppose I didn't. Some people call him Quixote, and he answers to it. I suppose I thought you'd already know him. Then again, no reason you should.

"Kiki is someone I met on the Matrix. I don't really know a whole lot about her or what she might know. She said she was willing to meet with me about it. That's looking a bit more urgent now.

"As to what the Jedi knows, you'll have to ask him. He's not what you might call talkative."

1601 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

Looks like we may have some allies already, or at least individuals who appear to be allies at the moment.

"Perhaps you would allow me to accompany you Father Bremen, when and if you meet with Kiki" Inquired Virgil. I wonder how she knew the shelter was bugged, seems to reason she probably knows who arranged the tap.

1602 January 5 2063 - Driving in Auburn

"All right, take this turn and just down the off-ramp, then right at the lights ..."

The priest began to lean forward, then changed his mind (or else the cramped quarters changed it for him) and sat heavily back instead. The bucket seat inched back a little further. "I know her from Matrix only, as I said. She said she had some stuff I needed to see, we didn't really set a time or anything. " He shrugged. "I'm not Matrix savvy. I don't think she'd mind if you came along. Oh, and she didn't actually say that we were tapped for sure, just that she figured it likely. After what happened and what the Jedi said, I didn't want to take the chance."

He hesitated, and after a moment pointed a finger. "Is that smoke?"

A thin, dark wisp had come into brief visibility between two buildings as the car rounded the corner, curling and dissipating into the afternoon air.

1603 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Dragon was forced to stop the car as the Seattle Fire Department had the block ahead of them barricaded off. Several fire trucks as well as a several Lone Star patrol cars and Doc Wagon ambulances were parked in a strewn fashion across the street, all activity was focused on the burnt hulk of some type of store front.

"Lord have mercy," gasped Father Bremen hurriedly crossing himself and muttering a prayer for the dead. Virgil was confused for a moment, until his gaze fell upon the solem form of body bag resting on one of the Doc Wagon stretchers.
Virgil found his hand drift to clasp around his rosary.

The scence was not nearly chaotic as one would expect for such a fire. The SFD probably put this one out a while ago. Yet still so many fire fighters combing the wreckage. Still trying to process the sudden change from monotonous street side to hazard zone, Virgil's eyes fell upon the utility truck with the fire marshal ensignia. Hmmm . . . arson perhaps?

"Hey Dragon, can you hit the radio and tune to the news?"

Dragon began fumbling with the dials, still watching the workers scurrying aboud the corpse of the building.

"Father Bremen please tell me that was not the building that we were headed too . . ."

1604 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Father Bremen's slumped posture told Virgil more than he had really wanted to know.

Now what do we do?

1604 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Fraggin great. This is one of those times when I wish I was imagining the danger. Looking over at Father Bremen it was obvious to Virgil that he was pretty shaken.

Virgil leaned in towards Dragon, "Can you sit with Father Bremen for a few minutes, maybe park the car around the block before we get asked to move. I want to talk to a few bystanders."

"Right, see you in a few. I'll keep monitoring the radio broadcasts why your at it," responded Dragon while tapping the side of his head. "The only friend I have in town, and already your getting me into trouble . . . just like old times man."

Virgil turned towards Father Bremen and placed a firm hand on broad shoulder. "Father, when you feel ready, I need you to recall all that you can about this Quixote character. How you met him, who he is, why you let him take Julia. Every bit you remember will help us track her down if it comes to that."

After seeing a look of understanding in Father Bremen's eyes Virgil stepped out of the Americar and headed towards the sidewalk across from the fire site.
Who was it that said even the longest journey begins with a single step?

There was a small crowd of people formed on the sidewalk, a mix of pedestrians and shop owners, all gossiping to each other. Seems as good of a place as any.

Virgil approached a girl wearing an apron from the Seattle Beanery soykaf bar that was located a couple stores down. Putting on a smile and adopting the stunned look that was characteristic of everyone in the crowd, Virgil addressed her. "Terrible tradegy. What place was this . . .?"

1606 January 6, 2063- A street in Auburn

Parking the car a bit down the block, Dragon turns to Father Bremen . “Wait here please. I’m going to go and have a look around. And while you’re thinking about this Quixote character, think about what you can tell us about Kiki as well.”

Getting out of the car, he casually rearranges his coat to conceal the Savalette Guardian under his arm. Heading towards the scene of the crime, he focuses on finding the Lone Star police band. I’m very curious what the Star has to say about this. Who knows, maybe it’ll turn up some clues, or even better, a lead.

While he lets the cyber in his head do its thing and scan the airwaves, he locates himself a good vantage point and carefully examines the entire scene, crowd, cops, firemen, geography, everything. If I find something useful, maybe I can get to it before the Star, witness or otherwise. Virgil will cover the people angle, so I guess it’s up to me to cover the terrain. All righty then, let’s see what we can see…

1608 January 6, 2063- A street in Auburn

Dragon hadn't quite gotten the entire phrase out before it became very apparent that Father Bremen wasn't in fact thinking about that Quixote character at that instant in time. The small car almost seemed to sigh in relief as the priest's weight suddenly left it. Even in modern Seattle one might think that the sight of a large troll coming directly at you might tend to evoke feelings of alarm (priest's collar notwithstanding), but Father Bremen immediately seemed to belong among those standing beside the Doc Wagon stretchers, talking gently with medical workers who could do nothing, with friends and relatives who could only try to accept the unacceptable ... belonging in a way Dragon, standing slightly to one side with the unseen Savalette under his arm, suddenly wondered would ever be the case for him.

The first decrypt sequence failed, and he re-focused on his task. Surely Christina couldn't have been inside that building. That would be stretching the laws of coincidence. Whatever else, life had taught Dragon to be a realist. And yet the thought refused to leave entirely. It wasn't that he hadn't encountered these kinds of scenes again and again and too many times before. It wasn't that he didn't know death up close and personal, and had learned to place whatever happened into its own small compartment to be dealt with later, and then later never ended up coming. Not quite two weeks since he was off the boat, and for the first time the small distractions of everyday life that he had come to rely upon, the small irritations and responsibilities of everyday life that allowed him not to have to think, just weren't there.

It was the not-knowing that was worst, the sudden certain knowledge that until he knew for sure, that he would always, automatically and instinctively, leap to a totally irrational, almost physically painful conclusion: was it her? And would he be just as helpless as those family members to help her?

The second decrypt cycle failed. He set the cyber to the third with a kind of relief: at least he was doing something. His whole life seemed to have been a drive toward finding the knowledge, the skill, the ability to do something, and to do it well. Somewhere over there he could just make out Virgil doing something:

"Terrible tragedy. What place was this ...?"

The girl from the Seattle Beanery soykaf bar blinks at him, but her eyes aren't on him at all. "I was just getting him his frappé," she says, but there is nothing solid in her words. "I was just getting him his extra foam. I guess I dropped it. It's all over the floor now. Unless Marie cleaned it up."

She's far too distracted just to have been a bystander, there's something else here, but she's not going to respond to anything that's not a direct question, so Virgil asks, "What happened?"

"I heard a noise, and I saw the reflection of the fire in the machine. So I turned, and the whole building was in flames. It looked like ..."

She's not the only distracted one either, Dragon happens to notice, although it doesn't look like Virgil's picked up on it yet. The geekers aren't local. The ones who look like they're local, people working there, living there -- there aren't as many of them there as Dragon might have expected, and the ones who are there, the ones who aren't dazed, are starting to look a little scared.

"You mean, the flames just came on suddenly?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh. Like it was raining fire."

The Lone Star band comes in with a sudden squawk that almost makes Dragon wince before he can cover it:

1508 Jan 5 2063, Key to the Future

"Sure thing, omae. It's all ready for you."

Ah, easy cred. At least, cred I didn't have to risk getting my hoop shot off for...

1612 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

1615 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

The air felt clammy, nasty against Virgil's astral skin, oddly thick and hard to penetrate.

The emotions came first and the net effect was overwhelming; but Virgil had expected it and been braced for it, and after the first hard blow and the reflexive "step back" he caught his breath -- Is there breath in astral space? but I'm just trying to distract myself, amazing what the mind comes up with to avoid things -- and anchored himself against the focused concentration of the fire and law enforcement people. Only one other Awakened in the group that he could identify: one of the Doc Wagon personnel, who was arguing with one of the Lone Star officers trying to establish a perimeter against what looked like a homing signal coming from somewhere inside.

The residue of the magic came next ... and was not what anyone would call subtle. At first glance there were at least two separate parts to it, and one of them was certainly elemental ... er ... that fire elemental which is coming right at me??!

1615 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Leaning slightly on the car, one eye on Virgil's body and the other scanning the crime scene, Dragon thought to himself. Hmm...no gasoline or explosives beyond cooking stuff. Not possible. Couldn't be this bad. So unless there's something I haven't heard or they haven't found, well have to dig deeper.

Casually, Dragon whipped out a notepad and began jotting down names, details, and his observations. Meticulously, he recorded every detail he could. Unbidden, an image of Christina sprang to his mind. With great difficulty, he pushed it aside. It was harder than he'd expected.

Forcing himself to regain focus, he tapped the pencil against his hand. Let's see...if conventional means are ruled out for the moment, what about...bingo. Magic. OK, assume it was magic for a second. What could it be?

Looking over at Virgil, he shrugs. Offhand, maybe a fireball spell or something? Or maybe, an elemental? I wonder if Virgil knows anything about fire elementals? I'll have to ask him when comes back.

Jotting a quick note to himself about fire elementals, he shakes his head. Nah...a fire elemental? What are the odds they'd use something like that?

1615 Jan 5 2063, Key to the Future

About an hour later, the man walks into the store. Glancing around nervously, he leans over the counter and whispers to Avalanche, "So, um...you got my stuff, right? How much do I owe you?"

1200 Jan 5 2063, Blaze's doss

This job may be a little out of town but the pay is good, now to start working on how to find a team for Melissa. Start with the Fixer, and think as Mr. Johnson.

"Hey Max, I got a question for you. How long would it take you to round up a team for a locate and extraction, and how much would a team usually demand, total, for that kind of run? Yeah, as you can tell, just for the next few monthes, hopefully less, you can call me Mr. Johnson. I'm going to set up a run to find my cousin. I have to wait for the end of the current run, but that should net me almost 40K, maybe more. I also need the same sort of contact info that a Johnson would want, plus I'll need that info not now but I'd like to set up this run and prep for it as soon as I finish up this run. I'll call you about that as soon as I know when I'll be done."

1615 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Tick, tick, ... tick ...

Time seemed to slow down. As the elemental swept toward him, out of the corner of his eye Virgil caught the quick movement of a watcher hightailing it out of there.

That tactic seemed vaguely familiar.

Then it was almost upon him and there was no more time to think.

0700 January 5 2063, the Last Drop

Business as usual. Morning rush, a little busier, if anything. Nothing whatsoever seemed to have changed -- and yet everything had.

She'd retrieved the Scoot from its parking spot an hour earlier -- turned out the place was locked after midnight -- and paid far too much for overnight parking fees. Then she'd gotten snarled in a transit mess so thick, she'd had to travel two stops past hers before she could work her way off the bus. Somewhere in there, she'd remembered to change her clothes.

She'd even gotten a couple of hours of sleep.

No sign of Hobbes this morning, for which she was both surprised and a bit grateful: for sure the woman would have wanted to know how the meet last night went, and Anne didn't really want to face that, not before a working day.

So why had she come in at all? Force of habit, she supposed: which made a hell of a lot of sense for Anne and quite a bit less for Alleycat. At its most pragmatic, stack up the working hours now, so she'd be free to take off later, when the team was ready to head south. There'd probably be a day or two in between, judging by how that discussion had gone: and she'd have to talk to Hobbes soon enough about some of the things that had been brought up, items she would be expected to have acquired with the advance she'd been given. Half of what she'd received, she couldn't even consider "hers".

Finally, she'd begun to repay that debt. She hated being in debt. Between the advance and the promised base payment, she'd make a dent in it for sure, but that still wouldn't really begin to clear her -- and who knew if the rest ever would materialise?

Well, the meet seemed to have gone well enough, at least: and she'd mention to Hobbes later, just to be certain, that she'd have the day or two "free" if something could be found to bring in a few extra nuyen in the meantime.

She smiled, and the customer for whom she was pouring soykaf smiled back warmly, thinking it was for him. Hobbes should be pleased at the jump-start.

1615 January 5 2063 - Astral Space - Street in Aurbun

Turning with lighting precision that only the liquidity of astral space could provide him, Virgil braced himself and met the elemental's charge.

Enough death has been wrought on your behalf.

Making a brief movment to the side Virgil dropped below the burning form and sent a heavy kick blazing towards its stomach. If it was possible, the elemental seemed suprised to see it's ambush foiled. It moved to intercept Virgil's kick, but a thought too slowly . . .

Only the willfull survice here.

1615 January 5 2063 - Astral Space - A street in Auburn

Dancing around in a deverish a blows occuring at the speed of thought, the two glowing forms exchange fierce blocks and parrys. Following a quick feint Virgil seizes the oppurtunity and sends the full force of his will crashing down on the elemental. His battle elation quickly is reserved as he feels the equally stong will of his opponent come crashing into his.

Virgil's strike still lands true, but the elemental's will was such a force to push against, that Virgil saw his opponent shrug off the blow with barely any harm.

This must be a rather powerful elemental. Virgil's tactical mind could always find time to study his opponent. I might've to retreat to the physical world where I can safely throw spells if it follows . . .although in the astral, it can't use any of it's destructive powers against me . . .

Wheeling around to face the elemental, Virgil braced himself and prepared to counter the attack that he knew was soon to follow . . .

It's probably not foolish enough to manifest now, not with all those fire hoses out there. Perhaps I only have to battle long enough for that Doc Wagon mage to realize what's happening, maybe lend a hand . . .

Even a quick mind can only think so much in the heat of battle, and Virgil instantaneously found himself countering a furious series of elemental strikes . . .

1615 January 5 2063 - Astral Space - A street in Auburn

Wreathed in ghostly astral flames, it silently screams its frustration in a corona of fire which envelopes Virgil ...

It can still use one of its destructive powers against me, realises Virgil. Its flames may not have substance, but it can still hurt me. And here, I have no backup whatsoever, if that Doc Wagon mage doesn't notice what's happening. But we're moving at astral speeds, and he's focused on that trace of his. At this rate, by the time he glances up, this might be over.

1615 January 5 2063 - Astral Space - A street in Auburn

Marshaling his will Virgil braces himself as the fire of the elemental's will envelopes him. Retreating to the deep recesses of thought in his mind, Virgil draws strength from his conviction . . .strength from duty.

Snapping back to face the elemental Virgil manages to absorb most of it's deluge of wrath and force it back a bit.

I do not know if I'll be able to keep this up. Now that its been wounded, I wonder if I can start to gain an advantage.

Using the distance created by his counter attack, Virgil lowers himself in space and sends a follow up stike screaming at the bottom of the elemental . . .

Come on Doc. . . look up . . .

1615 January 5 2063 - Astral Space - A street in Auburn

Looking over at Virgil, Dragon shrugs, lost in his own thoughts about what might have happened here, jotting them down as they come. It's business as usual, guarding Virgil's body like this when he goes astral, but it always makes him a bit uneasy too: if Virgil were to run into something he couldn't handle, how would Dragon know anything until it was already too late? There's a look of concentration on Virgil's face, for sure -- but given what he's trying to track down, what else could be expected?

The faint smell of scorching was still permeating everything it touched.

* * *

It's definitely looking a bit frayed now, the strike tearing at it and leaving a long trailing comet-tail of fire ... which gathers itself suddenly and lashes out to come at Virgil from behind.

1615 January 5 2063 - Astral Space - A street in Auburn

Smell of scorching?

Dragon frowns, then takes a closer look at Virgil's body. Blisters are forming on his hands.

1615 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Burning? No stranger to astral combat, having done watchovers more than once, Dragon knew he should just sit tight and wait. Virgil could handle himself...couldn't he?

1508 Jan 5 2063, Key to the Future

"3k, chummer. Certified cred, of course."

Avalanche puts the deck on the slightly-lower-than-normal counter, waiting for his payment.

1509 Jan 5 2063, Key to the Future

The man nods, reaches slowly into his pocket, and slides over a certified credstick. Avalanche checks it, finds out it is for the amount specified, nods, and slides over the deck. The man nods back, taking the deck under his arm. "Thanks chummer. See you later," he calls over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

0900 January 7, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

Andie sets the formula he is working on aside and goes to check the circulation to make sure everything is still perkulating.

After do this he walks back to his workbench; grabbing a reference manual off the shelf; returning to his Ally formula. Well, I made a start. Let's see where this will take me.....

1615 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

As the blisters continue to swell and break on Virgil's body, Dragon can see another reddened line forming at the edge of his neck. It looks like it's curling around Virgil's back ...

* * *

Virgil almost screams as the whiptail of fire catches him across his back. Even as he blinks and tries to force down the pain a part of him knows it's only a very minor wound. Doesn't make a difference to how he feels it at that moment.

But he's got the experience, he's been through this kind of thing before. He gathers the pain and his anger at the thing, and with the full force of his emotion he catches the whiptail with one hand -- the burning's only in your mind -- and pulls it into the strike of the other.

The world explodes in flames ... and when he can see again, the creature's dissipated into tiny, drifting shreds of flame.

Virgil takes a deep breath -- or what passes for a deep breath, in this plane of existence -- and tries to ignore the stinging across his hands and back. No more death will be wrought on your behalf. The Doc Wagon employee still hadn't looked up -- flickering in and out of astral space as his attention wavered between some kind of astral trace Virgil hadn't really been paying attention to and the monitor in his hand -- but then the whole thing was over almost before he would have had a chance to. It was very easy to forget that in astral space, events moved at the speed of thought.

Now what?

The watcher he had caught a glimpse of was long gone. At this point, there was no way he could even realistically guess the direction ... quite apart from a watcher's idea of what constituted "linear" and "direct" often being quite different from a sentient being's. Still, something about that one-two tactic teased at the back of his mind ... where had he seen it before?

And then he had it. The blood mage. It hadn't connected before because usually the tactic involved two watchers, not just one: the second remained in place to mark his location while the first one went for help.

Er, help? -- and the other half of his mind finally caught up with the direction of his thoughts: this was not sounding good.

1615 January 5 2063 - Astral Space - A street in Auburn

Probably a wise to time to vacate the astral space. Virgil thought to himself as he tried to ignore the numbing sensation that was coursing through his astral form. Re-enforcements from who ever sent the elemental aren't my only worries . . .the last thing I need is for someone to think I was involved in this.

With those thoughts in mind Virgil drifted back towards his physical form, where the feeling of very real burns quickly snapped him back to reality . . .
Damn elemental!

"Drek man, what the frag happened out there," Dragon asked with mounting concern in his voice, "Should we be going?"

"There was a fire elemental, probably responsible for the blaze. I took care of it, but I was jumped before I could finish my examination of the scene." Virgil paused and rubbed out the back of his neck . . .I took more of a beating than I thought. "See if you can round up Father Bremen, I need to assense a few things quickly, but then I'd feel better if we could relocate someplace else"

Dragon nodded his head and responded with the cool efficeny that only a merc can display. He knew that Virgil needed some recovery time, but he also knew when things needed done.

Getting up out of the car and trying not to wince too badly, Virgil took a deep breath and shifted his vision to the astral plane. I need to see what that other magical signiture was, the one I felt before the ambush . . .and what is the Doc Wagon mage following?

1618 Januray 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Straining to pierce the astral backround count created by the destruction Virgil pauses out of exasperation. There's no way I'll be able to find a spell signiture here. Seems sick that if your magic causes enough death, the backround count your malevolence causes makes you untraceable.

Just a Virgil was about to head back to the Americar, a small murmur touches his astral senses. A lifeform is straining against impending death . .

Is someone still in that mess, is that what he's looking for?

The astral signiture was so weak that the backround count near swallowed it, and it could only be an animal trapped. There was no way Virgil could refuse to lend his help, it was a solem duty. Gathering all his concentration Virgil again focues his will upon the rubble . . .

Come on, cry out, just one more time.

1619 January 5 2063 - A street in Auburn

Not for the first time, Virgil wished he had Dragon's hearing. It was a wish that passed quickly as always, though: just that least bit of aural shift within him, and he'd have no chance at all of piercing this.

He was almost certain now. Straining his senses to the utmost, he reaches out and touches -- not one sentient thread, but two. Faint. Flickering. So close to almost gone that it was all he could do to hold to the sense of them, to indicate Dragon over with an urgent gesture: "Somewhere in there. Can you make out anything?" Maybe he'd know more surely when he was closer ... and maybe by then it would already be too late, but he still had to try.

The argument drifted over to him and slowly it came to him: the Lone Star was not about to give up the perimeter even to the Doc Wagon medic. And there wasn't enough cover between here and there to hide a devil rat. Once in there, no problem, not if what was left of the walls continued to hold, but he'd have to breach that perimeter first, and to his astral senses the stubbornness of the Lone Star cop was all too apparent. Nor was there any real chance of just slipping between the cops, they'd set up their perimeter too well for it to be breached peacefully without some significant magic: and that could well alert the Doc Wagon medic unless they took the time to slip around to the other side.

Somehow Virgil didn't think whoever was in there had that kind of time.

Then again ... why had that elemental attacked when it had? Would someone else entering the area physically have triggered the same reaction?

1620 January 5 2063 - A street in Aurburn

"Dragon, here is the situation," Virgil began to lay his recon out to Dragon in the organized fashion his friend favored, "I'm sensing that there are two individuals trapped in the rubble, there's a chance that they one of them could be who Father Bremen came here to see. The Doc Wagon mage over there knows this too, and is arguing with Lone Star to try and rescue those people. I have a plan for getting past the perimeter, but first I need you to scope this perimeter and find a good entry point . . . I think I can provide us good magical cover, but less cops is always easier . . "

Nodding an affirmative Dragon turned to take in the viewable perimeter with his expert eyes.

Turning his attention to the flustered Doc Wagon mage, Virgil approaced in a calm pace, stopping a few meters behind him . . .

"Excuse me sir, can I speak with you for a moment," Virgil voiced in a polite tone.

Turning from the pudgy Lone Star sargent, the mage faced Virgil any irritation at being interuppted balanced out by his desire not to speak with the stubborn officer anymore. "Who are you? And what do you want? This is an emergency situation right now." snapped the mage as he closed the few pace distance towards Virgil.

Seeing the general concern in the eyes of the mage, who was not much older than himself, Virgil thought that what he was about to propose might actually work.

"My own astral assesning tells me that there are two people still trapped in that rubble, and I believe you know that too. I want to help you save them, but I see that apparently the Star finds a tight perimeter to be more important than two lives."

Rasing an eyebrow in interest, the expression of the mage told Virgil that he had an auidence. "I believe that I can slip past the Lone Star perimeter using a spirit for cover, then I should be able to pinpoint the victims . . .once they know for a fact that people are still trapped, the Star will have to break perimeter. To do this though I need you to keep that boorish sargent occupied, and not throw up any alarms when I call a spirit." Virgil paused for a moment. Please Tyr, guide this man's heart.

"I only wish the safety of any who can still be saved, and I do not see another way of this happening in the short amount of time that we have to find them . . .please sir . . ."

1621 January 5 2063 - A street in Aurburn

Turning quickly from Virgil, Dragon scans the building with his senses tuned to the max.

Great...it never ends, does it? Let's see if we can find this person, or failing that, let's see if we can get a good point of infiltration.

His mind racing, taking notes rapidly, Dragon marked off the number of cops, possible points of entry, and any other relevant data he could think of. Distances, approximates times to cover said distances, the works.

Waiting for Virgil to finish talking to the DocWagon medico, Dragon motions him over after he's done and relays the information he's spotted. "It'll be tough, without magic. If you need a distraction though, I got a few grenades in the trunk, we can use them to maybe blow up a dumpster or something on time delay, maybe even somewhere within the perimeter, opposite side? That might buy you a few seconds. That's what I've got off the top of my head so far, what do you think?"