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Found Arcana – chapter 3 IC
Found Arcana – chapter 3 IC
October had so far brought nine days of heavy clouds, with the drizzle occasionally switching to a falling mist. What it hadn’t brought was any clients, unless you counted Jawsey buggering off to Everett to pay off part of his debts. Certainly the rest of the team couldn’t call that a contract, and judging by his expression it wasn’t one that Jawsey was taking any pleasure in. Meanwhile everything felt damp, even inside the house, while the attitude of the neighbours seemed as gloomy as the weather, perhaps especially around the team, but people seemed generally in a foul mood as the damp weather settled in again.
The weather finally changed late on the ninth, as the wind began to pick up. The matrix was full of weather warnings of a severe wind storm, and sure enough by dusk the wind was howling through Redmond. ‘They’ said that while Seattle had always had the occasional wind storm they never used to be this strong. Some blamed magic, some blamed the environmental destruction wrought by the corps. Old anglos blamed the Great Ghost Dance. Humanis couldn’t seem to make up its mind if it was the fault of the orcs and trolls or was sent by nature to scour them from the streets.
At the very least the growing wind chased away the persistent drizzle and much of the ambient smell of Redmond. To Bobby the wind smelled wild, blasting into the city from less settled places. A little after dark their wall was bombarded with a flurry of blows, but when Mato checked it out it just turned out to be part of someone else’s roof; it looked like the weather was continuing the slow destruction of Redmond. The howling only grew louder as the dying hours of the day slipped away. Debris strikes grew more common, and AM heard a disturbing vibration from the window in her room.
The storm blew all night, but morning dawned brighter than it had in days, and the wind seemed to finally be easing off. So far as the team could tell their house had come through the blast intact. There was still little sign of life on the streets; the wind still being strong enough to push around weaker metahumans or smaller vehicles. Downtown the wage slaves might be struggling through the weather to prove their dedication, but in Touristville there were few who had early morning business that couldn’t wait – or at least not early morning business that they wanted to be seen doing.
It seemed like it might be a pleasant, relaxing, morning. Then AM received a call from Jhonney Morad, arms dealer and rumoured former Mossad agent. <<You are part of some detective agency in Touristville now, right? You available to make some quick money?>>
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