Cass Havelock, still dressed in jean shorts, a tank top, and a spikey leather vest from her night at the Grindhouse show, crouches low on a rooftop, frowning intensely and looking through her SCAR’s scopes at the alleyways below. Faith Arbuthnot has somehow ended up in one of the rougher parts of New York City.
“Stay still,” Cass hisses into a comm unit, and then pauses. “Shit. Any landmarks?” Another pause. “Shit.”
Jericho Blake appears next to her, conveniently in full combat gear, left hand on sword hilt. “What do you have?” He whispers.
`Not e-fucking-nough, that’s what I have.” Cass growls. “We got at least one pursuer, armed with a tranq gun. Faith has a pistol. She’s been instructed by whoever’s mentoring her not to fire it unless it’s life or death, so she’s holding onto it. I have to get her some fucking lessons with that thing.” She sighs. “I can’t see shit from up here.”
Blake takes off the shades and peers into the darkness, looking for the pursuer. “She’s still in contact with you?” He reaches into his coat pocket.
“Faith? You still with me?” Cass touches her ear. “Faith? Faith, come on, this isn’t funny -”
To your opposite side is a ghost, who’s legs are hanging over the sides of the building. “Hi!” he says. He’s a teenage boy, embodying the spirit of frustration. “Are you looking for the girl? She’s not in a good place right now. I was kind of hoping she’d join me, you know? She’s cute.”
“What happened to you?” Blake hopes this delay will pay off.
“I was waiting for a date with this girl - the girl, you know? And then... collateral damage in a drive by shooting.” He sighs dramatically. “I was so close. It’s bullshit. And you don’t meet ghost girls that often, you know? I’m hoping this pays off though.”
“Sorry that happened. Where is the blonde girl now?”
Cass is staring at you, unable to see the ghost, but by now she’s figured out what’s going on. Her eyes are wild.
“They took her to the Anvil. The bar, y’know? I wish I could go in the Anvil, but they warded it to keep ghosts out.”
“Thanks, son. Mrs. Havelock, they have her. Took her to a bar called the Anvil.”
“Faith, no!” Cass stands and you can tell she’s about to leap off the roof and sprint to the Anvil with absolutely no tact, strategy, or forethought.
“You want to get her killed?” He asks tersely. “Then go right ahead.”
Cass hesitates. “She’s my sister.” She growls. “I want to save her.”
“Then let’s not give any warning. C’mon.” He drops off the edge of the building, and lands lightly at the base, coat flaring. He then picks a route towards the back of the bar, looking out for cameras.
Cass follows after you, not as silently, but making a good effort. She’s still in canvas sneakers and shorts, after all, not tactical gear.
The Anvil is a bar on a street corner. As you get closer, you notice that cameras noticeably thin out around this part of town. Either disabled, or the Illuminati have cracked a deal with someone.
“Stay still,” Cass hisses into a comm unit, and then pauses. “Shit. Any landmarks?” Another pause. “Shit.”
Jericho Blake appears next to her, conveniently in full combat gear, left hand on sword hilt. “What do you have?” He whispers.
`Not e-fucking-nough, that’s what I have.” Cass growls. “We got at least one pursuer, armed with a tranq gun. Faith has a pistol. She’s been instructed by whoever’s mentoring her not to fire it unless it’s life or death, so she’s holding onto it. I have to get her some fucking lessons with that thing.” She sighs. “I can’t see shit from up here.”
Blake takes off the shades and peers into the darkness, looking for the pursuer. “She’s still in contact with you?” He reaches into his coat pocket.
“Faith? You still with me?” Cass touches her ear. “Faith? Faith, come on, this isn’t funny -”
To your opposite side is a ghost, who’s legs are hanging over the sides of the building. “Hi!” he says. He’s a teenage boy, embodying the spirit of frustration. “Are you looking for the girl? She’s not in a good place right now. I was kind of hoping she’d join me, you know? She’s cute.”
“What happened to you?” Blake hopes this delay will pay off.
“I was waiting for a date with this girl - the girl, you know? And then... collateral damage in a drive by shooting.” He sighs dramatically. “I was so close. It’s bullshit. And you don’t meet ghost girls that often, you know? I’m hoping this pays off though.”
“Sorry that happened. Where is the blonde girl now?”
Cass is staring at you, unable to see the ghost, but by now she’s figured out what’s going on. Her eyes are wild.
“They took her to the Anvil. The bar, y’know? I wish I could go in the Anvil, but they warded it to keep ghosts out.”
“Thanks, son. Mrs. Havelock, they have her. Took her to a bar called the Anvil.”
“Faith, no!” Cass stands and you can tell she’s about to leap off the roof and sprint to the Anvil with absolutely no tact, strategy, or forethought.
“You want to get her killed?” He asks tersely. “Then go right ahead.”
Cass hesitates. “She’s my sister.” She growls. “I want to save her.”
“Then let’s not give any warning. C’mon.” He drops off the edge of the building, and lands lightly at the base, coat flaring. He then picks a route towards the back of the bar, looking out for cameras.
Cass follows after you, not as silently, but making a good effort. She’s still in canvas sneakers and shorts, after all, not tactical gear.
The Anvil is a bar on a street corner. As you get closer, you notice that cameras noticeably thin out around this part of town. Either disabled, or the Illuminati have cracked a deal with someone.
Illuminati sigils are noticeably nearby, and inside the window, under the OPEN sign, is a green circle that reads “DRAGON - OK”. There is no mention of Templars. A Secret World bar of some kind.
Cass is shaking next to you. “Ready?” She asks, tersely.
Blake nods. “This means all bets are off.” He leads the way towards the door.
Cass unslings her Chaos Focus and straps it to her arm, and heads in.
The Anvil is nearly empty this time of night at the front, but in the back, you can see a group of goons discussing something. The front has a young woman with a mane of orange hair mopping something, not even taking note of you. The bartender, a man with an undercut and dyed teal hair, storms up to you, prodding a finger into Cass’s chest.
“Okay, look, I know you’re a Templar - I’ve seen you in stuff online - you need to get out of here, this is a Blue friendly establishment.”
Blake’s hand closes on the man’s finger and twists, bending it back just short of dislocation. “Lady’s with me. We’re looking for an underage girl brought here against her will.”
He yelps. “I don’t - I don’t know anything about that, man! Look, we got some guys in the back - they’re new? Talk to them! Talk to them, I don’t know them!”
The orange haired girl looks at the situation. “You uh... want some privacy? Walter, I just realized, it’s both of our breaks. Let’s grab a coffee.”
He releases the man, then walks purposefully towards the group in the back. “Where’s the girl?”
The group in the back, about fifteen guys altogether, start laughing.
“What girl?”
One of them nudges another of them in the side. “Guys. Guys, shut up. Look at her.”
You notice Dawnbreak rings, with an engraved sunrise, on all of their hands. And when they look at Cass, they drop the jovial act. It seems they have seen the video.
“Where. Is. My. Sister?” Cass asks, teeth gritted, hands shaking.
One of them stands up. “Alright, look, there’s been a miscommunication, clearly. We’re the kinder, gentler Dawnbreak. Haven’t you seen our Twitter?”
Blake nods, then suddenly, his sword is in his hand in a iaijutsu speed-draw. The man nearest him opens his eyes wide, a red line appears at his neck, and his head rolls to the floor with a thunk, and twin sprays of arterial blood . “The girl. Now.” The voice is a low, emotionless one.
There’s a pause, and then the group surges forward towards Blake, clearly in an attempt to zerg him down. There’s a noise like a thunder crack, and Chaos chains are pinning them all to the walls. Cass, eyes glowing green, bares her teeth in a snarl.
Underneath a nearby table, you can see some blankets shift and move.
Jericho flips the table over and draws the blankets back.
There lies Faith Arbuthnot, pale and twitching, eyes glazed, a line of drool going from the corner of her mouth to her chin. Cass is on her in seconds, pulling her into an embrace.
“Baby girl, no, no no, I’ve got you, it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay-”
The Dawnbreakers struggle against their chains, begging the question of what exactly to do with the fourteen survivors.
The man in the black coat wipes the sword clean and returns it to the scabbard at his left hip. “Mrs. Havelock. Get her out of here and release the chains before you go.”
Cass nods, gathering Faith up into a position to be carried and standing. “Can I - Can I take her to Toolbox? It’s closest, and I’m - I’m scared for her. She doesn’t look good.”
Blake nods. “You don’t even have to ask. Go.” He follows her to the door, then locks it behind her as she leaves. He then slides the Aviators back on as he looks at the Dawnbreakers. “The only thing between you and this door is me.” His voice is cold as winter in Buffalo.
The survivors look at each other, look at their lack of weapons, look at the man on the floor, and back at each other. There’s a crowd, but they’re uncertain, confused. As Cass gains distance from the Anvil, the chains vanish, leaving them free.
One man steps forward - their leader, you think, from the way he stands and the way the others seem to just accept him speaking. “Look, we can talk about this. You aren’t going to murder fourteen unarmed civilians.”
“Where were you taking her?” His voice remains arctic.
“...To Mother Ruth Fleming. She wanted to -” He stops talking there.
“You’re telling me your idea of turning a new leaf is kidnapping underage girls instead of fully trained agents?”
“See, see, this is what I’m talking about. Misunderstanding.” He raises his hand in a pacifying manner. “Look, the girl was going through one of our -” He pauses, thinking for the word. “Churches. She stole from us. Valuable information. You’re Illuminati, you can understand protecting your intel and property, yeah? So we were going to just - dispose of her, and then someone checked her ID. And we saw the last name Arbuthnot. Look, buddy, I don’t know if you know? But your girlfriend there has caused us a lot of trouble. Within the confines of Venetian societies, everything we’ve done has been on the up and up.”
Blake shakes his head. “A civilian church calls the police when they have intruders. So you’ve confirmed what we basically knew, that nothing’s changed. Ok, then.” He approaches the man, making no move for his weapons.
He suddenly backhands the guy across the face, knocking him down. He then bends, grabbing him by the shirt, and pulls him to his feet. “Get the hell out of here.” His deep voice is almost a whisper. “The next time I see any of you, you’re dead.” He basically drags the man to the door, opens it, and throws him out like a sack of potatoes. He then looks at the others. “Well?”
The Dawnbreakers follow your instructions. You notice, with a small bit of satisfaction, that a couple of them shed their rings and break off from the group, heading in the opposite direction. One of them gives you a middle finger once they’re well out of distance.
There’s a knock on the door. It’s the orange haired girl. “Can we - come back in?”
As the last one who doesn’t doff jewelry walks past him, Blake gives him a powerful shove, sending him sprawling into the street. He ignores the flipper and nods to the redhead. He then taps his headset. “Ms. Cassini. This is code name Iwo Jima.”
“This is Cassini, and we just fuckin’ downed the latest Heroic. Hell yes. What’s up, Blake?”
“I just tagged a couple of Dawnbreak scumbags with tracking devices. Please have the Eye in the Sky keep tags on them, in case they have countermeasures at their base. It’s time to mop these scumbags up.”
“10-4, Blake, I am tracking Turdmuffin and Shitdick as we speak. 10-4’s military speak, right? I really think we’re bonding.”
“You’re the best, ma’am. Let me know coordinates when you have them. I’m heading to Toolbox HQ right now, then home.”
“Cool beans. Looks like they’re trying to evade us by splitting up and taking snakey routes home. Heh. Will keep you updated when they finally make their way into the toilet.”
“Thanks. Iwo Jima out.” He turns to the other two. “I’ll send some cleaners here to take care of that. And give HQ a call if any of them returns. Those crazies are our enemies.”
The redhead nods. “My boss wants to talk to you when you have a chance. No rush. Just... business. Affirmation stuff. If that’s cool. If I can just... get your number?”
He nods as he hands over a business card. “Who’s your boss?”
“Andrew York. Totally Illuminati allied and compliant. We promise.”
Jericho nods again, then walks out into the darkness.
Cass is shaking next to you. “Ready?” She asks, tersely.
Blake nods. “This means all bets are off.” He leads the way towards the door.
Cass unslings her Chaos Focus and straps it to her arm, and heads in.
The Anvil is nearly empty this time of night at the front, but in the back, you can see a group of goons discussing something. The front has a young woman with a mane of orange hair mopping something, not even taking note of you. The bartender, a man with an undercut and dyed teal hair, storms up to you, prodding a finger into Cass’s chest.
“Okay, look, I know you’re a Templar - I’ve seen you in stuff online - you need to get out of here, this is a Blue friendly establishment.”
Blake’s hand closes on the man’s finger and twists, bending it back just short of dislocation. “Lady’s with me. We’re looking for an underage girl brought here against her will.”
He yelps. “I don’t - I don’t know anything about that, man! Look, we got some guys in the back - they’re new? Talk to them! Talk to them, I don’t know them!”
The orange haired girl looks at the situation. “You uh... want some privacy? Walter, I just realized, it’s both of our breaks. Let’s grab a coffee.”
He releases the man, then walks purposefully towards the group in the back. “Where’s the girl?”
The group in the back, about fifteen guys altogether, start laughing.
“What girl?”
One of them nudges another of them in the side. “Guys. Guys, shut up. Look at her.”
You notice Dawnbreak rings, with an engraved sunrise, on all of their hands. And when they look at Cass, they drop the jovial act. It seems they have seen the video.
“Where. Is. My. Sister?” Cass asks, teeth gritted, hands shaking.
One of them stands up. “Alright, look, there’s been a miscommunication, clearly. We’re the kinder, gentler Dawnbreak. Haven’t you seen our Twitter?”
Blake nods, then suddenly, his sword is in his hand in a iaijutsu speed-draw. The man nearest him opens his eyes wide, a red line appears at his neck, and his head rolls to the floor with a thunk, and twin sprays of arterial blood . “The girl. Now.” The voice is a low, emotionless one.
There’s a pause, and then the group surges forward towards Blake, clearly in an attempt to zerg him down. There’s a noise like a thunder crack, and Chaos chains are pinning them all to the walls. Cass, eyes glowing green, bares her teeth in a snarl.
Underneath a nearby table, you can see some blankets shift and move.
Jericho flips the table over and draws the blankets back.
There lies Faith Arbuthnot, pale and twitching, eyes glazed, a line of drool going from the corner of her mouth to her chin. Cass is on her in seconds, pulling her into an embrace.
“Baby girl, no, no no, I’ve got you, it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay-”
The Dawnbreakers struggle against their chains, begging the question of what exactly to do with the fourteen survivors.
The man in the black coat wipes the sword clean and returns it to the scabbard at his left hip. “Mrs. Havelock. Get her out of here and release the chains before you go.”
Cass nods, gathering Faith up into a position to be carried and standing. “Can I - Can I take her to Toolbox? It’s closest, and I’m - I’m scared for her. She doesn’t look good.”
Blake nods. “You don’t even have to ask. Go.” He follows her to the door, then locks it behind her as she leaves. He then slides the Aviators back on as he looks at the Dawnbreakers. “The only thing between you and this door is me.” His voice is cold as winter in Buffalo.
The survivors look at each other, look at their lack of weapons, look at the man on the floor, and back at each other. There’s a crowd, but they’re uncertain, confused. As Cass gains distance from the Anvil, the chains vanish, leaving them free.
One man steps forward - their leader, you think, from the way he stands and the way the others seem to just accept him speaking. “Look, we can talk about this. You aren’t going to murder fourteen unarmed civilians.”
“Where were you taking her?” His voice remains arctic.
“...To Mother Ruth Fleming. She wanted to -” He stops talking there.
“You’re telling me your idea of turning a new leaf is kidnapping underage girls instead of fully trained agents?”
“See, see, this is what I’m talking about. Misunderstanding.” He raises his hand in a pacifying manner. “Look, the girl was going through one of our -” He pauses, thinking for the word. “Churches. She stole from us. Valuable information. You’re Illuminati, you can understand protecting your intel and property, yeah? So we were going to just - dispose of her, and then someone checked her ID. And we saw the last name Arbuthnot. Look, buddy, I don’t know if you know? But your girlfriend there has caused us a lot of trouble. Within the confines of Venetian societies, everything we’ve done has been on the up and up.”
Blake shakes his head. “A civilian church calls the police when they have intruders. So you’ve confirmed what we basically knew, that nothing’s changed. Ok, then.” He approaches the man, making no move for his weapons.
He suddenly backhands the guy across the face, knocking him down. He then bends, grabbing him by the shirt, and pulls him to his feet. “Get the hell out of here.” His deep voice is almost a whisper. “The next time I see any of you, you’re dead.” He basically drags the man to the door, opens it, and throws him out like a sack of potatoes. He then looks at the others. “Well?”
The Dawnbreakers follow your instructions. You notice, with a small bit of satisfaction, that a couple of them shed their rings and break off from the group, heading in the opposite direction. One of them gives you a middle finger once they’re well out of distance.
There’s a knock on the door. It’s the orange haired girl. “Can we - come back in?”
As the last one who doesn’t doff jewelry walks past him, Blake gives him a powerful shove, sending him sprawling into the street. He ignores the flipper and nods to the redhead. He then taps his headset. “Ms. Cassini. This is code name Iwo Jima.”
“This is Cassini, and we just fuckin’ downed the latest Heroic. Hell yes. What’s up, Blake?”
“I just tagged a couple of Dawnbreak scumbags with tracking devices. Please have the Eye in the Sky keep tags on them, in case they have countermeasures at their base. It’s time to mop these scumbags up.”
“10-4, Blake, I am tracking Turdmuffin and Shitdick as we speak. 10-4’s military speak, right? I really think we’re bonding.”
“You’re the best, ma’am. Let me know coordinates when you have them. I’m heading to Toolbox HQ right now, then home.”
“Cool beans. Looks like they’re trying to evade us by splitting up and taking snakey routes home. Heh. Will keep you updated when they finally make their way into the toilet.”
“Thanks. Iwo Jima out.” He turns to the other two. “I’ll send some cleaners here to take care of that. And give HQ a call if any of them returns. Those crazies are our enemies.”
The redhead nods. “My boss wants to talk to you when you have a chance. No rush. Just... business. Affirmation stuff. If that’s cool. If I can just... get your number?”
He nods as he hands over a business card. “Who’s your boss?”
“Andrew York. Totally Illuminati allied and compliant. We promise.”
Jericho nods again, then walks out into the darkness.