March 3rd, 2034, the city of Houston, Texas, an independant nation after its withdraw from the United States, is a city of immense activity, no matter what would threaten to stall its progress. A heavy thunderstorm loomed above the city, threatening many with four, five days of continuous rain, thunder, and lightning all across the massive sprawl of a city. The highways were packed, bikers from gangs and otherwise zipping between the gridlocked sections at well over 120 MPH easy, while traffic crawled wherever it needed to go at points, at others, zipped along rather smoothly. Under the highways that towered over the regular streets, cars and bikes continued to move about on their everyday travels, armed convoys moving important Executives through slum areas as they picked out the next plot of land to buy, gang vehicles shooting each other up in running battles before the uncorrupt police or PMC groups caught up with them, peddlers hawked wares from food vans, and all this activity existed solely on the streets alone. Vendors worked from wagons all over, from the elf haven to the Orc Way, and literally hundreds of small business operations in between.

The corporate HQ's at the center provided a hivemind of power for the city, where the biggest, strongest, and wealthiest men in the city met, only challanged by the Yakuza in terms of power and influence. Government officials and big business worked hand in hand to make themselves richer and more powerful, and damn the consequences to the rest of the city's population. But in this day and age, people live and move on. The downtown flea market was a prime example of this, men and women who couldn't afford property sold their goods here, from legal crops from outside the city limits, to illegal cyberware and implant jobs done out of the backs of vans, to avoid the regulations and taxes that were put on such things. Other markets, such as goods of quality out of the Elven markets, weapons and arms out of Orc Way, and just about anything could be bought off the system, if you knew where to look. Houston of the year 2034 was a hive of activity, to the extent that it alone could have qualified as its own country, including the means to defend itself from armed attack.

---

Just next to the Corporate HQ sector, was a mansion of incredible size and prestige. Looking somewhat like the United States White House, this building was the home of Houston's Mayor. Standing three stories tall, white washed with weather proof paint, and covered with ornamentation and fancy decorations, the building was a symbol of wealth and power for the city Elite. Under the clean paint and priceless ornamentation, the building was a bunker. The walls were reinforced titanium, capable of withstanding anything Mother Nature, a mage, or most military forces could muster in firepower, the doors and windows could be sealed with blast resistant shutters, and more than a hundred armed guards, trained PMC's that were veterans of at least two wars, known or unknown, were on site at all times. It was as much a fortress as it was a home of one of the most influential men in the city, and it was under attack by a small army.

This small army was a paramilitary group, no one knew who it was, but there were a lot of guesses from the onlookers, who stood at a safe distance, behind cover, in fear of getting hit by stray fire. This army of men and women were wearing hockey masks, rags across their face, anything to obscure their appearance. Helmets and crude body armor were plentiful, and their weapons ranged from old six shooters to stolen PMC level machine guns and missile launchers. Over half a dozen technicals, armored trucks with machine gunners mounted in the bed, were spraying fire at the building, forcing the mercenary guards into cover, while suicide bombers charged, getting shot down, but not enough of them. The raging firefight in the front lawn of the mayorial manor ended as half a dozen suicide bombers detonated, blowing massive gaps in the first line of defense, forcing the shell shocked mercenaries to retreat into the building, having sustained losses and forcing a lockdown of the building, planning to wait out the paramilitaries until help could arrive. They wouldn't give them a chance.

The technicals kept firing, suppressing whole sections of the building while the mercenaries within returned fire, killing dozens of the paramilitary assault force. They could not, or did not, stop the demolition team moving up to the front door, nor could they stop the stolen APC, filled with the Paramilitary leader and a dozen of their best trained, equipped, and led men, from parking outside the door, waiting. Any time a missile launcher moved up to the window, a sniper nailed them, and soon they kept nailing others, forcing more men to hide within the building, a literal thunderstorm of gunfire and explosives raining against the building, straining its defenses to the extreme. The demo team at the main door placed a massive breaching charge on the door, one of a kind designed for this job, and a mage placed a barrier around the charge, to force every ounce of force into the door. The effort would kill the mage, but it would succeed, the door blown clean across the room, the APC literally wedging itself into the building and parking there, the turret firing all across the second level balcony as men poured out to try and stop the roaring tide of paramilitaries entering the building.

Only six of the twelve men in the APC got out before a missile found its mark, killing the rest, but the tide came on, forcing the mercenaries farther back into the mansion. It was like a miniature street fighting scenario, firefights breaking out from hallway to hallway, room to room, all led by their mysterious leader and his best six, who died one by one until only three of them remained. At this point, mercenary training and emergency plans kicked in, as help started arriving from the PMC Training Grounds and police precincts. The technicals were destroyed near instantly by drone and assault chopper attacks, and areas of the mansion that were taken by rebels were opened up, so the air support could nail the rebels without fear of hitting the mercenaries. The paramilitary force dropped rapidly now, lacking the means to actually take down these new reinforcements, but that wasn't the job, as the leader and his two surviving soldiers kicked in the door of the mayor's room itself, gunning down the guards and leveling their weapons at the mayor, the leader down to his pistol which was trained on the mayor as well.

It was silent in that room, despite the chaos without, and as a drone raised up to the window, weapons trained on the three paramilitary types, centered on their leader, the man smiled as his mask and hood fell away. The pistol fell to the ground next, and his two men followed suit. The mayor sighed a breath of relief, thinking he was safe after all, before the man grabbed his vest and pulled it open, detonating into a massive fireball. The blast took out the drone outside the window, blowing out a huge chunk of the building around where the mayor's room was, the titanium walls not meant to contain that much force, only preventing it from entering, and killed dozens of combatants close to the room, mercenary and paramilitary alike, the massive blast silencing, and ending, the assault that had started so few hours ago, raising many questions, far more than one would have been comfortable with answering at that moment.

---

The attack and following explosion created a nightmare situation in Houston's government. Men were woken up and dragged off to the council chambers to discuss emergency plans, police patrols already stepping up and PMC presence increasing naturally in response to this terror attack. Obviously, the mayor was written off as a loss, and the council took over as a governmental force in the interim, the dozen men and women talking and discussing what they should do, while the city watched and waited, while their lives moved around this massive event. Soon the city council made an announcement that received the blessings of the Texas Governor. The town was being put under martial law, the police and PMC's would now run the town, and had increased power to do far more than they ever had before. The corrupt cops would take full advantage of this, while the good cops tried to keep their corrupt brothers in line and protect people from criminal and terrorist predation.

The streets, once having a handful of PMC's and the occassional police officer, flooded further. PMC patrols roved almost every major street, and were dime a dozen in the richer sectors that could afford their protection. Armored jeeps and APC's also roved, ready to react to another attack in a heartbeat, while armed air escorts flew with the VIPs now instead of waiting for an attack and responding. They would make a fortune off this increased cost, but everyone who could afford it often paid up front for such services, for the sake of their own protection. The police and SWAT team were out in a display of force and protection, rolling around in their armored Vans, while police squad cars were always out, all the time, shifts literally meeting their reliefs at designated points to prevent the cars from not being out and available in a moments notice. The city was appearing to be locked down by such heavy mustering of military and police forces, and one would think this would prevent anyone from acting against anyone again. This was hardly the case, and a laughable idea for those who really knew better. The Houston Library had a band of federal agents, assigned personally by the governor, to reinforce the Libraries protection. Armed men in suits, a well trained sniper on the roof, communication and technology security experts, and armed goons all arrived with orders presented to the head Librarian, to reinforce and protect the vault and library itself, for the good of the Texan people.

---

The regular TV programs people were watching flickered into static, and faded away, and a well lit room, akin to an armory, really. Walls of armored vests, AK series rifles, rocket and missile launchers, armed men standing about preparing their weapons and arming themselves for the oncoming war. But the center of focus was on an older man, wearing a suit with a bullet proof vest resting over it, sitting at a desk, arms folded on top of it, looking at a map of the city, the mayor's home marked with a red flag, while many other, undiscernable targets, had green and yellow flags on them, and the man looked up, grey, well trimmed beard and swept back, cropped hair, smiled with a perfectly white set of teeth, calm green eyes almost drawing the viewer in with a warmth and sense of trust that most folks would consider sorcerous or at least technologically enhanced. He smiled for a moment longer, and began to speak, a soft southern accent increasing the impact of his soft, gentlemanly voice.

"Texans, denizens of this wonderful city, free people within the sound of my voice, hear me now. You are all no doubt aware of the regrettable resolution of grievances with the decadent mayor of this fine city of Houston, as armed men resisted the tide of change that we brought forward. Time and again we attempted to reason with this man, only to be threatened and cast away. But now we laid him low, like a scythe brings low the wheat of a harvest. And it is time to act again, my brothers and sisters of this free, noble people. Corruption and decadence has run rampant for too long in our government, sworn to represent us and what we desire, breaking their vows by coveting with corporations and criminals to gather more power, more wealth, scurrying about like rats in the depths of a wagon, poisoning the food and hearts of the good men relying on that cart to survive. Well, no more. We will bring the torch to these rats, who fear the light that will expose their crimes and their excess, we shall burn away all that is impure, and corrupt, and wrong with this fair city, for the good of all. For the sake, of Our Father's Fathers."

---

Another broadcast would soon come over the airwaves, planned for that day, and another well dressed, clean shaven, younger man sat at a desk, preceeded by a symbol of the Texan Republic, and nodded gravely at the camera, speaking in a broad accent, straight and to the point. "My fellow Texans, we are in grave times. Never since our separation from the States of America have we faced such open violence against our way of life. These terrorists, this new threat of 'Our Father's Fathers', threaten everything this nation stands for. I, for one, will not stand for it. Already, the good police and armed men in Houston have taken up arms, walking their streets to protect those poor citizens who will get caught in the crossfire and for them, I pray for their safety. But I will not be bullied, intimidated, or forced into acting in any way besides in the interest of my people! This is not a threat, it is not an Ultimatum, it is a promise to those that would bear arms against peaceful men and women. I will not abide terrorists in my nation, and any who dare try to practice their trade will be shot dead."

---

On the edge of the Yakuza territory, bordering the Orc-way, was a bar that was long considered a neutral meeting ground for people. It was a small, one floor place, about a dozen tables, one or two bartenders, and usually a few patrons at any one time. Before the lock down, a handful of Underhill Motorcycle Club members, a few halflings, were enjoying a few drinks in a normally safe place, as several of the Yakuza members came in. They were enforcers, meant to take care of problems the Yakuza had, and that organization had started seeing the Underhill Motorcycle Club as one of them. The halflings had no idea trouble was coming, as this was neutral ground, and ignored the three Asian types approaching their table. A baseball bat to the back of the head changed that, and before they could react the four Yakuza members had the halflings knocked down, beating the ever living hell out of them. They stepped back, drawing a couple handguns, and unloaded on the halflings before fleeing the bar. All of this happened as the lock down was being implemented, and word would quickly find its way back to Underhill territory, as both a warning and, possibly, a provocation.

---

Sloan would find herself on the receiving end of a ringing phone shortly after the broadcast by Our Father's Fathers. On the other end was a well to do, rich sounding individual claiming to represent an Algera Corporation. The individual wanted information on Our Father's Fathers, and offered a handsome amount of money, cash and upfront with the information, when the job was said and done. The individual gave no name, only a contact address and a wire address that had the first down payment for her work, a rather suitable amount for the kind of work one was asking of the information broker. They did not say why they wanted the information, what they wanted it for, and gave her little time to really asked questions, clearly used to people just shutting up and taking orders rather than bargaining and negotiating. However, nothing would stop the woman from ringing them back up and doing just that. But either way, she had been offered quite the job, and it was her call whether to take it or not

Lilin had never really needed to do the full extent of her job until today. The library was crawling with people waiting for her orders, ushering out innocent patrons and basically locking the place down for fear of the safety of the vault. She loved being in charge, but the noisy, unsophisticated goons that were in her library were mildly irritating. She paced back and forth, giving orders to the lot and escorting a few to the vault while others secured the perimeter and searched the premises for anyone that wasn't supposed to be there, even after she reassured them that the only people who were in the library were the people who were supposed to be there - the federal agents and security experts.

She had seen the broadcast, the Our Fathers' Fathers, and practically had the man's speech and face memorized. Lilin didn't recall ever seeing him in the library, but she disliked him. She had lived through too many wars, and now this man was starting another one over stupid, distorted perceptions of what was really going on in the city. Yes, it was corrupt, but it wasn't ruined, it was just fine. Lilin would have much prefered peaceful picketing or protesting rather than this outbreak of guns and feds crawling around the city, looking for trouble.

The dragon soon found herself overlooking the entrance to the vault, swarmed by other federal agents than herself looking for something important to do, only to be told by Lilin that their biggest job now was to pace around the library or the hallways of the basement where the vault was located. She watched security experts tap into the firewalls and security systems, fortifying the library like Fort Knox. For all intents and purposes, the Houston Public Library was secured.

Victor Vladov was walking the streets, hands jammed in his pockets when the attack happened. Hell, he had watched it happen, standing off in the shadows, naturally out of sight, taking in the information that he was seeing, and as soon as more of the PMC's friends showed up, he bailed, taking the backstreets back to his office, but not before the explosion rocked the day, causing him to glance back and see the mess that it caused. Well, this was going to make life a lot more miserable. By the time he got back to his office, the small network of bounty hunters, small time informants, and other people who lent the detective a hand had already rung him up or emailed him, a whole mess of information about this crack down the city was undergoing, what it was doing to the various jobs, and where was safe and where wasn't. This was a mess, and as he watched both the terrorist's broadcast and the governor's, he couldn't help but start laughing. And he couldn't stop, just laughing outright at the sheer insanity, and brazeness, of this new terrorist. Corruption WAS how things worked this day and age, you couldn't just torch it out at this point, you'd bring down the fucking economy.

The governor's response wasn't any better, that was going to just start a shooting war, and he didn't give two shits about the mess that it made for folks in between. And men and women like Victor, who worked the shadier side of things more often than not, would be getting set up to have to run around and clean shit up, tidy up loose ends, and keep themselves alive in the process. Well damn, this was going to be one busy time for him, and he sighed, leaning back in his office chair, looking at the mess of cross referenced notes and information. None of it was solid, and he had already ditched some half assed schemes that made absolutely no sense, even to a conspiracy theorist. He had a phone there, and he had been fielding calls from people, a lot of them wanting to know what was going on, and offering good money for it too. Well, guess this was a job now, he had to figure out just what happened, and why? Grabbing his phone, he needed to keep it on him, and throwing a jacket over his shoulder rig, where his two .45's were kept, he stepped out into the world, sticking to the back streets and shadows because of the lock down.

He was expecting more calls still, and put his phone on vibrate, instead of ringer, and skulked along the allies, dodging PMC's that were stopping people on the streets. and the dirty cops he knew of, more than ready to have to fight to actually get clear of someone if he misjudged them right now. He needed to go to the library right now, but he knew that place was going to be locked down tighter than a nun's virginity, so he was going to have to go and be cunning about this. Arriving, he kept naturally to the shadows, looking at the sheer amount of security the place had, and how there was no way those federal goons were letting him in if he flashed his badge, like that orc that normally ran the door. Besides, that orc knew him, he frequented the place as a jumping off point for a lot of his work, digging through older information in there to lead him along to more recent stuff, and to eventually find what he wanted. People didn't use libraries much anymore, not paper ones at any rate, and he noted the amount of security the place had.

Might as well give it a shot, he had other plans if he needed to. Victor took out his phone and dialed up Lilin, the head librarian of the place and he got along admirably with her. He treated her library with all due respect, and she let him access most of it without too much trouble. Granted, that fancy vault was off limits, but he figured that was the real reason this place was swamped with federal goons rather than to protect the books. She was probably pissed as all hell right now, but probably in charge of this. He might be able to get in with her say so, but only maybe, it was worth a shot. If she picked up, he spoke calmly, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Afternoon Lilin, its Victor. Seems your entertaining quite the house party right now, aren't you? Whats your read on this whole mess?"

A sigh erupted once again, she had been doing it every so often. Allie typed furiously at her laptop next to her co-worker Sophia, the two often worker in tandem, and after what had just gone down today, they would be working a lot. The Texas times was a small business, despite being in the hub of everything news worthy, they were pretty understaffed and everyone had to chip in big time. Allie never really minded, she was always busy, which meant she was always paid, but this, this may have been a bit much. Her angry and shaky mutterings strung along together with the before mentioned sighs let everyone know how she felt. She was right pissed. Today was supposed to be a slow day, nothing to heated was supposed to happen, she was supposed to work on whatever bit she had to work on, then go on home and cue up some shows, but nooooooooooooo, people just had to blow shit up even more than usual today. She slammed on the keyboard, making a mess of incoherent words on her screen. "Woah, calm down there sparky, someone might actually want to read that." Sophia jeered to her friend, Allie just stuck her tongue out dismissively, she didn't care about getting this done anymore, she wanted out, and her shift was "almost over", I.E, she was going to be out of here and no one would stop her. She saved the messy document and slapped the laptop closed. "This birds gonna fly" she remarked as she rushed her stuff into her bag. Her friend trying to convince her to stay uselessly bounced away from Allies ears, she nudged her way out of the cramped little building (while avoiding eye contact with superiors) and made her way out the door. "Chiao!" she expressed to one as she began the short hurry home. She stuck to the back-ways, the lockdown could be potentially annoying.

Vick sat on his long black leather cough, watching the news of the big event. His face had a dark grin painted on it, he didn't really seem to disturbed about what was happening. "A shame I suppose..." her said sarcastically, his butler giving him a nervous glance. He turned the TV off and chuckled. What was he going to do today? Just like any other day of the week, his schedule was wide open, and he didn't really plan on making his day "productive." More-so he wanted to make it "interesting" and what better way than strolling about after the government has just been targeted by extremists? He snapped twice, the sign for his butler to follow, and headed for the door. His butler struggling to keep up with the quick pace, sweating from both anxiety, and from physical movement. Through decent effort he reached the door first, opening it for his young master. Vick nodded to him and stepped outside of his suite. They had quite a few floors to go down, and that was just more time for his poor old butler to fret. Today was going to be special, Vick could feel it. His white teeth now noticeable in the form of a slimy smile, as the elevator doors closed before him.

‘This…is utterly humiliating.’ Luci’s hand dunked into the soapy bucket of water next to her soaking the now stained sponge again as she slopped it onto the marble floor. This was her assignment, “Clean the mud tracks from the front entry way and then move to the first floor, east wing basement entrance.” Mistress Margret they called her, the old broad was wrinkled with age and smelled like old powder first time she opened her trap at Luci she wanted to slap water all over her and then let her ass freeze. But being the head… maid Luci had to do whatever she wanted, and being an indentured servant didn’t help, Luci guessed that’s what her title was. She never imagined that THIS would be what the Yakuza wanted her to do. ‘This is beyond humiliating…this is…infuriating.’ Who was she kidding she had no idea what to had expected when she showed up at a Yakuza leader’s palace three days ago. What made the job worse was her uniform.

“Son of a bitch!” she grunted as she tried to reach another mud spot but had to pull back because of the breeze she was getting from her nether regions. A maid costume. Puffy black short sleeve ruffle dress that barely fell past her bottom when she was standing let alone on her hands and knee’s scrubbing a floor, and a frilly apron topped off with matching cuffs topped off with a frilly headband. “How am I supposed to clean in this?” The lacy stockings were no help not to mention the Mary Jane heels were giving her blisters. What was even worse was that every single maid under forty, and they were all under forty and always some sort of Elf or Pixie, wore one and seemed completely fine with it! They cleaned hard and good with their asses in the air showing off their thongs with some sick pride.

Well Luci was not going to. She got up and looked around to see if anyone was around, gladly there wasn’t. She smiled and begun humming a tune as she raised her hand making the bucket shake slightly. With a flick of her wrist the bucket spilled and she rushed to contain it to only the mud stains. Luci then moved her wrist in a circular motion as if moving a sponge watching as a little whirlpool created blending the mud with the water. ‘Hard part.’ When the mud all the mud had separated from the floor,, slowly she raised her arms letting the water run like its own stream, she guided it back into the bucket. With a satisfied sigh she giggled, “No pantie show from this chick today!” whispering to herself as she picked up the bucket.

“….Well you finished faster than I expected.” Luci yelped and spun around to see Mistress Margret standing looking a bit disappointed. “Guess you humans aren’t as useless as I thought.” Relief flooded through Luci. ‘She didn’t see me.’ Behind her was a tall leggy Pixie maid with HUGE breasts that bounced as she walked. She held another bucket of soapy water in her hand…with ammonia? “Ophelia take the bucket.” Ophelia nodded and rushed forward taking the bucket from Luci and giving her the clean strong smelling one. With a smile she bowed and scampered off. Margret made a come here gesture and she spun around walking away toward the back entrance, making Luci practically run to keep up.

They rounded a corner coming to a sudden stop. A rustic smell was in the air, curious Luci moved past Margret only to jump back releasing a small scream from her throat. From the sliding door that lead out to the forest to entrance of what she assumed was the basement all over the floor, on the walls was partially dried blood. And it was everywhere too. There were bloody footprints and handprints, a vase had been knocked down and was covered in blood giving cause that a struggle or beating took place. Complete short brown hair follicles were scattered about as well as some teeth and clothes bits. Luci was frozen shaking in fear and shock. Her mouth was open but only short gasps uttered out. The door to the basement flew open breaking her out of her trance and out stumbled her father in his scrubs and surgical wear with blood drenched all over, he was shaking more than her. He walked forward towards the door when she winced and his masked face turned towards her horror coming over his entire body as he rushed out the door. She started to go after him when a bloody hand clamped on her shoulder. “Oi where you going Miss Maid? You have a big mess to clean up for your Onii-sans!” She spun to see two gruff looking muscular Japanese Ogres glaring down at her raking their eyes up and down her body making her just glare back. “Enough. Both of you. Go back to your jobs so she can complete her’s.” Margret ordered taking a sip of tea from a china glass that Luci didn’t remember her having. “Hai Margret-sama, we’ll come back for the body later. Bye-bye Maid-chan.”

They laughed heartily shuffling off and once again Luci couldn’t take her eyes off the scene, behind her Margret was fussing at them as if they were little boy and had made a mess of their room. “I mean honestly did you have to leave such a huge mess? Hey human girl get to cleaning up!” Robotically Luci took the mop that was left by the door and dumped it into the soap bucket. “Well we had too Marget-sama the little shit got a second wind and started fighting!” Margret sighed “Why would you even bring that little Halfling abomination back here anyway! To dirty up the Master’s home?” At the word Halfling Luci froze. “Master wanted us too! He said to rough him up and then bring him here so the Doc can stitch him up for questioning.” They left then but Margret lingered with a smile on her face so Luci actually had to clean up all the blood and gore herself.

Gyran, or, Ozy, as he liked to refer to himself in more polite company, spends most of his time at the Underhill Motorcycle Club. Half because he enjoyed the rowdy company, and half because being an outsider suits him just fine. He has more under his sleeve than these bikers could know. His phone lays plainly on the bar where he sits, updating a news feed of the crisis in the mayoral palace. He has an empty shot glass in front of himself, a cigarette held loosely between his index and middle finger. Gyran was there before the lockdown, when the Yakuza decided to put down a few club members, but he forgot all about that when news feeds exploded with information about the attack on the mayoral palace.

Hah, the fuck kind'a mayor has a palace? He thought to himself. Looks like we have even more players in this game of ours. Who is this new player? Gyran wondered. He wouldn't have to wait long for an answer. Soon after the end of the mess at the mayor's palace, live audio was opened up on the news feed, Gyran couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. He can understand taking matters into one's own hands, but violence breeds more violence. "Our Father's Fathers..." Gyran couldn't help but mumble aloud, before quickly hushing himself. Gyran found himself standing up immediately, putting his cigarette out on the bar's ashtray, and making his way outside. He grabbed onto his jacket, and tugged on it a bit, before getting down onto his bike, revving up the engine and taking off immediately.

Gyran drove off into the city, and he could already see the smoke from the massive paramilitary attack just hours earlier. He strategically parked his motorcycle in the suburbs, avoiding the lockdown. From there he walked on foot to an alleyway. The way he moved, it seemed very specific. He grabbed a tiny piece of chalk from his pocket, and drew a few marks beside the graffiti mural that remained on the wall. To some it would seem like any ordinary geometric pattern. After that, Gyran dropped the tiny piece of chalk and walked away, that was the extent he could get involved personally for now.

________________________________________________________________________________

Alyssa was watching the event unfold on TV. She was used to violence by the government, but this sort of massive paramilitary attack really shook her. To think, she thought to herself, people called us terrorists. Just then her smart phone began to ring. She answered it without moving a muscle. It was her friend, Arkayem, a dwarf about her age, with whom she had much confidence in. He asked her if she had any idea about what was going on. She had no words for him. It's a helpless feeling, not being able to know the whole situation. Alyssa was just beginning to believe they were making a real difference. But this, could undermine everything they've been fighting for.

Just then, Alyssa's TV switched itself over to a man explaining the motive for the attack. She grimaced at the thought of such normalized violence. Texas wasn't supposed to be a warzone. Not like this. Arkayem, who was still in the call notified her of the large presence of PMCs who were dispatched to the library. OF had information on the vault, but that information was vague and hardly reliable.

"So could that be their real priority, Arky?" Alyssa asked her trustworthy friend.

"Kuh, dun'kno 'Lyssa. I can't get close or anything. What should we do?" He asked her.

"Not much we can do, Ark. Not until we get the word. Hang on, I'll access the cams now, see if we have an update." Alyssa told Arkayem, before turning to her tablet. She opened up a special program, and accessed the city's own surveillance. "Wow- whoever put up the message did it quick." She tells her friend.

"So? What's the plan?" Ark asked her impatiently.

"Lay low. Move to surveillance. No more protests until we figure out what's going on. I guess it makes sense. If we burst into action, we'll just get a few of our people killed, and we'll get grouped in with those "Father's Fathers" assholes. Gotta go, stay safe." She tells him, before ending the call. Alyssa quickly packed the tablet into her satchel and grabbed her extendable stun baton, stuffing it into the back of her waistline. She turned her television off just as the government official appeared on TV. She already knew exactly what the man was going to say, why bother?

The woman made her way down the stairs of her apartment in Elf Haven. She preferred a more diverse scene. At least here she could know what she's fighting for. She makes her way out of the suburb, and once she reaches the heart of the city, moving toward the library. She wanted to see what was going on with her own eyes, and she couldn't have gotten access to the cameras around there without being traced. It wasn't a bad walk, about half an hour of slipping around until she got a good angle on the library, managing to avoid the patrolling PMCs. She found herself very near someone else. She couldn't get a look, but he seemed to be poking her nose in same as her.

Alyssa decided to keep her distance from the man, gently placing her finger on her ear, activating her implants. Still, even with the sound amplified to full, she could barely hear the man from how far away she was. It seemed as if he was talking on a cellphone. "Damn, if only I could get closer." She scolded herself under her breath.

"Afternoon -----its Victor. Seems ----- entertaini ----- house party right now ---- -----your read on this whole mess?" That's all she managed to hear. Still, it was telling. Victor, she thought, I'll keep that name in mind in the future. Seems like he could be useful at the very least. She thought to herself. After that, Alyssa didn't move, watching the man's movements closely, She had to know how the vault and library played into this mess.

Tapping and typing away at her keyboard was Sloan's specialty. Searching databases encrypted and public for information on this man and his message. She started her search on his face, datamaps and scans of the face were compared across United States, and the newly independent Texas databases for facial recognition. No matches. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, it was just her luck that this man's face happened to have zero connections anywhere. Perhaps his words gave a hint. Searching frantically, 'Our Father's Fathers' only gave brief references to a time 3-4 years ago when the nation was far more united.

"I guess that's what he was getting at. Not that it helps." She thought.

The guns were just about all AK-47s, but they're all different. None seem to have the same make or models as one another. Her database inquiry shifts to one more ambiguous. Before long, she finds enough to contact her benefactor, over her 'line', if you could call it that. The security was overbearing and it was untraceable, but the connection bugged her with patchy availability. It wouldn't cut in and out, but when it was available wasn't really up to her. Perhaps it was a bug in the code.

"I'll get Serenity to work on that." She thinks.

After moments of ringing, the man picks up on the other end. "I've found out some of what you'd like to know." She tells him. "But you claimed to be a member of the Algera Corporation. So I've come to three conclusions. The first is that you're trying to gather information on someone with whom you've got a score to settle. The second is that you're testing just how off-the-grid you are. The third is that you don't belong to Algera and are some sort of misinformed agent. I checked your wire, and the money is there, so I doubt that you're trying to set me up, so here is what I know.

Strangely enough, the man's face has no matches on the North American facial recognition network. Unless it's convincing make up or some sort of shapeshifting magic, this guy is as clean as a whistle. Secondly I checked his words. Again, nothing turned up. Next were the firearms. Firstly was weapons trafficking outlets that specialize in the sale of the gun based in North America. No matches. Further examination on the weapons found several of them to be mimics from oversea's manufacturers. No weapons trafficking organizations have any documented or theorized trades for large amounts of AK-47s. Nor were any shipments reported missing or stolen. As far as I can tell the weapons were simply gathered. The interior of the building was all but bland, and didnt give me much to work with. There was however, a box with a typographic logo of an 'L' in the corner of the screen. Cross referencing on regional and global databases while ruling out ridiculous companies, I was able to find a certain company under the name of 'Luminescence'. They specialize, or specialized, in defense and security. Typically they sell automated systems for buildings spanning personal, commercial, and federal use. Public record dictates that prior to their new CEO's promotion the company's licensing was voided. The same records show several PMC's that've purchased systems or services from Luminescence. They are under the names of Red Fire Initiative located in Houston, Ranger Operations which has several global cells, and finally an Algera Corporate. Though, you're not exactly a PMC. Regardless, the name came up.Hence my suspicion from earlier. According to this, there was quite the amount of work done on your Corporate Office building. You may want to get this checked out, by the way. Most of their security details have gone public, which means your offices probably aren't as secure as you'd think.

So, in terms of direction, I'd suggest you find your security contractor and persuade them give up some information on their other clients. Particularly this 'Our Father's Fathers' figure. If you get back to me with a name or other details, I can assist you further. I'll write you in my clientele roster as 'Algera Rep', until otherwise informed."

With that, she wraps up her call with the mysterious stranger. As always, she double checks the security on her line and system to find them fully secure. Before long, she yawns and stretches. Her searching had left here there for some time. Though, she never really notices when she is in the zone. Her office itself is unnoticeable. Sometimes she spends days in it, with the exception of eating. Though, she never really got around to furnishing it. There's a bean bag chair, and all of her computer equipment on her hardwood floor. The room was only the size of a walk-in closet, most of which was occupied by her servers. But who could blame her? She always thought it was cozy. The rest of her loft was, too, but she was much less at home there, then she was in here.

A Knock on the rim her her door draws her attention. Coincidentally, she was still holding the phone, processing what she and her benefactor had just discussed. She looks up. "Serenity?"

Only a few minutes from Corporate's HQ stood a three story palace with Japanese structure and decoration, it looked like a palace straight out of Kyoto. This palace was not only the Yakuza Headquarters of the Houston Branch, but also the home of the Yakuza oyabun, Kaito Takizawa. On the top floor, in a room with a gorgeous view of Houston, seven men sat at a wooden table placed in the center of the room, all lined up and positioned with perfect symmetry. Kaito Takizawa sat at the end of the table as the other six bickered amongst themselves. Mr. Takizawa sat quietly, with his hands folded under his chin, and merely listened. Normally such a meeting would've been spoken in Japanese, but over the years English had unintentionally become the common language among the Houston Yakuza branch.

"They're a bunch of barbarians!" shouted one of the six. "An attack like this will only provoke them, and they'll be an even bigger nuisance than before! Our numbers far outweigh theirs, let's just storm the damn place and get it over with." Another member chuckled at the suggestion. "That sounds like the plan of a child. Do you really expect it to be that easy? A firefight like that will have serious repercussions for both sides. I pray you've never led a platoon of soldiers." The two continued to argue, along with support from the other members, causing a three on three argument, and neither side seemed to be convincing the other. Mr. Takizawa eventually cleared his throat, causing the six members to slowly cease talking. Mr. Takizawa addressed both sides of the argument. "We cannot underestimate their heart. They consider each other family, just as we do, and will surely fight us with a heart of fire. But we cannot overestimate their ability. Compared to us they are small, and dwindling rapidly. We have given them an ultimatum, now it is their time to decide."

"You all sound like you could use a vacation." The voice came from none of the seven men sitting at the table, but instead from a young man, sitting on a chair at the end of the room with his leg propped onto the window overlooking Houston. He eyed a trail of smoke in the distance. "Why do we have to handle the matter so violently? If we just asked politely we could avoid all this bloodshed." The young man spoke in a nonchalant tone. "If we all relaxed a bit, maybe we could think of some more rational decisions." One of the seven men from before that encouraged a full on assault spoke up in an angry tone. "Relaxed? Boy, you do not get anywhere in this line of work by being relaxed. Mr. Takizawa, you need to control your brat, he speaks like a fool! As the words left his mouth, Mr. Takizawa immediately stood up and quickly walked towards the Yakuza member, grabbing his head and slamming it into the wooden table, chipping the surface. "Do not speak of my son in such a way when he is merely voicing his opinion." Mr. Takizawa spoke boldly. The room remained awkwardly quit for a brief moment, Akira Takizawa sat in silence, focused completely on the Mayor's mansion. Two hours later smoke still rose from the site of the attack. Akira was confused and his mind was racing. What good could come from such violent actions? Putting the people of the city in danger in the name of improving the city, it didn't make sense. "Akira, leave." Mr. Takizawa said blankly. Akira casually stood up and walked out of the room as the member that had his head smashed in gave him a dirty look.

"we shall burn away all that is impure, and corrupt, and wrong with this fair city, for the good of all" The words kept ringing inside Akira's head as he walked through the palace. Such an attack, it didn't wasn't right. Fighting corruption with senseless death and violence. It felt like there was no hope for this city, which was really a bummer, standing by and watching a city destroy itself. Akira couldn't fight the urge to want to help, and he knew where to start; Operation Freedom. He knew they couldn't be the ones behind the attack today. Or, maybe he just hoped. But he had no knowledge of the organization, and the Yakuza didn't seem to have any history with terrorist groups, or at least, he didn't think so. This day to day gang violence seemed to be going nowhere. How could everybody sit by and watch a city lose itself? It would be nearly impossible to convince his fellow gang members to take up arms with him, and even so there isn't much they could do. A bunch of criminals with guns are nothing if you don't know who to shoot.

Realizing that there literally wasn't anything he could do, Akira walked among the palace, searching for his fathers private bedroom. He knew that was where he kept his computer, along with loads of USB's filled with information that could tear this branch down in an instant if in the hands of the right person. If there was anything about Operation Freedom anywhere in this palace, it would surely be in his fathers archives, and so Akira decided to finally make a move, and walked casually through the palace, greeting his fellow Yakuza members as he would any other day, but all the while searching for his fathers room.

Serenity was laying on the couch re-reading an old favorite book when the attack went down. She might as well been home alone. Her cat, Wilson, was lounging around on top of her shoes by the door, and her roommate was off doing another odd job. Serenity didn't pay much attention to Sloan's business, but was always available to lend a hand if needed. Today was her self appointed day off of work as she was ahead of schedule and she felt like getting a head start on the weekend. Of course, she didn't have much to do that she cared about. She already read all the interesting sounding books from the last 100 years and was quickly running out of things to do.

The gun fire rang loud and clear from the mansion, which was only down the road from Serenity's apartment. This didn't phase Serenity too much as this was to be expected, or at least to her it was. She knew that Texas would always have problems after succeeding form the US. She could hear the explosions loud and clear, but there she laid; reading. She was on the last chapter of the book The Talos Mistake when the war started, so she saw it only fair to finish it, again. Closing the book, Serenity looked at Wilson, who was just as unfazed as she was.

"Tis the Texas life, huh Wilson?" Serenity says as she plops off the couch and walks over to pet Wilson.

Wilson was rather pleased by this. Serenity knew just where to pet him and how. Blissfully happy, the cat turns over onto his back yearning for his belly to be rubbed. And, following suit, Serenity rubbed his belly as she talked some sort of baby alien language. None of it it was decipherable. This joyful experiance didn't last long for the cat though as the crazy lady made the same mistake she always makes. Serenity had rubbed his belly three times, and those that truly know cats can tell you that a cat only wants it rubbed twice. Obviously this was a declaration of war that could not go unpunished. Using all four paws and even his mouth, Wilson attacked the vile hand with a furry even greater than that of a woman's wrath. Of course he knew he couldn't harm the hand, as treacherous as it was. The number one rule is to never bite the hand that feeds you, and boy did serenity feed him. After attacking the hand with a small feint, the cat ran like the dickens to parts unknown until the time came to be fed. Which should be soon, if his stomach was as on time as it ever has been.

Serenity sighed as her cat ran off. Though it was probably just as well, as she was starting to be ready for a snack or more so, dinner. Serenity decided to check with Sloan first to see if she had any input. She knew better than to just call down the hall for her; as much as it was rude, it also might interfere with her work. So, instead she just walked joyfully while keeping a eye out for her cat. She hesitated as she approached her door. She could hear that she was on the phone and tried not to listen in or make much of a racket as she waited.

"Sloan~" Serenity cooed, her eyes all the flutter once she heard the end click on the phone. She was left unheard as it seemed, however, as she didn't get any response. She wasn't insulted though. She could always tell that Sloan was very focused in her works. She gave it a few more seconds until she decided to knock on the door frame with a gentle rattatap-tap, which seemed to grab her attention as she was replied with a rather surprised "Serenity." Almost like it was a question.

"Hey, beautiful. Working hard I see." Serenity walked behind the workaholic a gave her a nice big huggle. "So I was getting a bit hungry, and I wondered if you wanted to join me for dinner or even just a trip to the cafe. I'm not working today so we could go or do just about anything you wanted. Of course, if you're still busy that's cool too. I just wanted to let you know whats up." Serenity huggled Sloan some more as she waited for her reply.

Sloan set down the phone beside her beanbag chair. She felt her gut sink in hunger and with the tiniest bit of butterflies. "O-Oh." She let out, still surprised Serenity was even there. Whenever she stopped working she always had to try to regain composure of the real world, as it were. Her focus was blurred, but gradually went back to normal as Serenity embraced her. Sitting down, she wasn't really in a position to embrace her back, so she simply placed a hand over Serenity's arm softly. "Yeah, dinner sounds great! I could use sustenance." She agrees. Her words sound almost foreign or out of place. Instead of sitting in a dazed silence like an idiot, she figures she ought to speak up about something other than her need for food. "I just got off the phone with a client." She explains. "Not 15 minutes after that news broadcast, I get contracted." She lets out a sigh. "You'd figure that a political assassination would be some sort of earth-shattering disaster. Let alone a full-on assault like that was. Now, it's just another day at work. Down the road, in earshot of a battlefield, and we're going to go to a cafe." She scoffs. "How far we've fallen, huh?" She looks up at Serenity watching her ramble. Perhaps she's said too much. She always wondered that, if she talked too much about too little. Emotional conversation or small talk was so bizarre to her compared to the vast intellectual properties of information she sold. With those it was so cut and dry. Say this, don't say this, if it's brought up mention this, be sure not to allude to this. It was that easy with documented data. But small talk? She just never says enough, or what she does say is bleak.

She takes off her headset and sets it beside the phone, carefully. That thing was her second favorite possession, next to her computer. Sloan looked back up at Serenity and extended a hand to be helped up. Upon standing, she stretches and fetches her wallet from the tote bag on the wall. She slips on her shoes and motions for the door. Of course she couldn't drive there by herself. She only had her learner's permit, and the only adult that could act as her mentor would be Serenity. "Serry," As she often called her as both a pet name and a term of affection. "For the love of God don't make me drive." Her irrational fear of 10-Vehicle-Pileups has stunted her ability and motivation to learn how to drive.

A pair of dragons could be seen in a clothing store, one minding the register, while the other arranged out of place clothing. In the background, a television played both broadcasts, "Aussir, what do you think of those two men?" the dragon asked, staring at the television beside the register. The dragon was no more than nineteen, her human appearance resembled that of a typical teenager, with long purple hair. Her golden eyes entranced many other male dragons, aside from Aussir, "I mean, they're making promises to keep out the terrorists, yet neither of them seem to be lifting a finger to do anything. Hell, you've done more for the neighborhood than they've done for the city in just this past week." she added, shifting her eyes to Aussir. The male sighed before turning to look at her, "Miyu, it's not wise to say such things about our government, even if it is us two in here. Sure, there's no doubt that I've helped this neighborhood out more times than I can remember, everyone around here knows that much. Despite all that, the world of politics isn't a world I want to be part of, it's much too dangerous. I'd much prefer this life, and sure, I deal with criminals on a daily basis, but that's nothing compared to what else this city has." he replied. Miyu turned her body to face him completely, "Then why not expa-" "No!" he interrupted her sharply. He turned back to what he was doing, speaking after several more minutes, "No, Miyu. Expanding the company will only draw trouble, the kind of trouble someone like you should never bear witness to." he said, not looking away from the clothes.

"But why?" she asked, leaning forward, now curious. Aussir sighed and shook his head, "You've heard the reports, right? The Yakuza, along with the Underhill Motorcycle Gang? How they fight for control of this city? The criminals I deal with are no more than petty thugs, however, those two gangs, they're far different. They're not some petty thugs, they're professionals. If they want something, they get it, no matter what. That's why I can't, no, I won't expand the company. On top of the gangs, there are also terrorists. They say they're helping to 'free the city from corruption', but in reality, they're no better than the Yakuza, or that motorcycle gang. They kill innocents, and they don't care." he answered, finishing up the arranging. He returned to his place behind the counter, flipping the television off, "I've had enough of the news for today." he said. The door chime went off as several people walked in, Aussir's cybernetic eye immediately darting in their direction, scanning each individual. Pushing Miyu to the ground, he took out the shotgun from behind the counter, "Stay down." he hissed at her. His focus returned to the men approaching the counter, "May I help you gentlemen?" he asked, maintaining a serious face. His eye revealed to him that these men were armed, whether or not they were here to attack him, was a different story. The man closest to the counter looked at him, "You can, actually. I came in here looking for a present for my girl, got anything with jewels in it?" he asked. Still unsure of their intentions, he nodded, "Yes. Miyu, would you please pull out the jewellery from the counter and show them to this man." he instructed her.

Miyu silently nodded, taking her key and unlocking the compartment that held the jewellery, pulling the small box out of it and standing. "Here you are." she said, opening the box so the man could have a look. Aussir remained tense, if these guys started shooting in his store, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to react fast enough to save the girl. "These ones." the man said, placing a pair of ruby earrings on the counter. "An excellent choice, sir, they were just recently made." Aussir replied. Miyu carefully picked them up and wrapped them before placing them in a small bag, waiting for Aussir to ring up the price. The male punched the price into the register, gripping the shotgun tightly as the man's hand reached behind him. Aussir placed a hand on Miyu's shoulder, preparing to push her the moment he saw a gun, though it never came. The man's hand came back into view with his wallet in it, a feeling of relief washing over him, "Are you alright?" he asked. Aussir nodded, "Yes." he said, taking the man's money and giving him back his change. Miyu handed the bag to the man, both of them watching as the men left the store without incident, "Aussir...are you really alright?" she asked, still staring straight ahead. It took a few moments before he gathered himself again, slowly removing his hand from Miyu's shoulder and replacing the shotgun, "No...I thought they were going to attack us." he admitted. Miyu turned her head to look at him, "You scanned them, didn't you?" she asked. He nodded slowly, "I've never trusted people, Miyu, anyone armed can possibly attack another person. It's the way things are in this city." he told her, slowly making his way to the back room, "I'm going to lie down for a bit, mind the store, would you?" he added. Miyu nodded slowly, watching him disappear through the door, Aussir... she thought, turning her attention back to the store.

Inside the small room, Aussir slid down the door until he was seated on the floor, his heart racing as he went through what just happened again. The room was small, one bed, one nightstand with a lamp on it, and a large warsword which Aussir kept for some odd reason. After having calmed himself, he slowly stood and made his way over to the sword, placing a hand on the blade's smooth surface. His mind showed him what his adoptive father had said to him years ago, "Aussir, I am not your real father. It was many years ago I found you wandering the streets alone, so I took you in once I realized you weren't the child of any dragons in the city. There was nothing to identify who you were, except for a tiny dagger in your hand, and even then that wasn't enough to confirm where you came from. That dagger you had, it seems to grow with you, as if it's part of you. You must never show that weapon to anyone, and you must never, ever reveal your dragon self to anyone in this city. If someone were to see you like that, I'm sure there would be others who knew where you came from. I know you want answers to who you are, but the route of showing your dragon self...I feel as if it will cause you nothing but trouble. So promise me, you must never reveal your dragon self." his words echoed in Aussir's mind. He stared at the blade before standing, I made a promise to him, and I have honored that promise, but I can't help feeling the need to change at times. The more I remain like this...the more intense the feeling becomes. What if I lose it and turn into a dragon? What will happen then? he thought, lying down on his bed. It wasn't long before he finally passed out, the stress of dealing with those men must've taken it's toll on him.

Lilin Ifriel was enjoying a brief moment of peace when her phone vibrated in all it's glory, revealing the caller to be the one and only Victor Vladov - her most frequent patron besides college students needing to look up some old books or looking for a quiet place to study. She was surprised that he hadn't yet been shot through this entire ordeal today, and deftly picked up her phone answered him.

"It's even better on the inside. Want to know what it smells like when there are fifteen orcs crowding around in a single hallway?" A few turned around and glared at her, only to be matched by her own, with golden, reptilian eyes staring into their own ugly orc faces. They quickly turned around. Not that there were actually 15 orcs in a single place - they were mostly spread around the perimeter. Yet, even without asking, Lilin knew what Victor was digging around for - he wanted in the library for information on Our Father's Fathers, not that she herself knew much about the group herself, despite living for 314 years. This group must be new, or at least, new to her - a rarity for someone her age.

"So I'm assuming you want in? I can do that. Meet me by the front of the library." She hung up her phone strode over to the front of the library.

"We're letting someone in, and if you have anything to say about it, feel free to meet me in my office with your name as I write you up." She pushed past the rest of the federal goons as they grumbled and protested and held the door open, waiting for Victor and watching for anyone else who might try to sneak in.

In the center of the city, as rain hits the roof of the Aegius PMC Houston branch, a man walks into the main lobby. He stands 5'11" wearing pitch black cargo pants, a tank top, and a Balaclava. As he walks in, he is dripping wet from the rain, and goes up to the secretary. He looks around the room and sees armed guards on either side. With the recent attack security has been doubled because they are in a state of emergency. He approaches the secretary and flashes his I.D to her and she nods allowing him to move forward. He heads straight then makes a left turn into a hallway and he enters one of 4 elevators and presses for the bunker below. As he heads down he listens to the elevator music, not really caring for it.

He gets down to the bunker and he exits the elevator seeing his own personal Bunker. It is only four rooms including a: Bathroom, Living/bedroom, a small Briefing room, and a Armory. He sits down on his bed and takes his Balaclava off chucking it aside. He looks around his very plain bunker and sighs. He isn't allowed to have pictures up or paint the walls because these bunkers need to be able to be reused with ease. He runs his hand through his height and tight hair feeling the scars from being given implants. He gets ready to undo his boots when the computer in the briefing room begins to beep. He sighs knowing there will be a mission for him to do. He knew with the recent attack he would have something to do.

He gets up heads into the briefing room and watches as the huge 62" screen lights up with the picture of a man appears. text begins to appear below it "Target may know who was responsible for the attack. Track. Observe. Interrogate. Eliminate." He sighs and decides he will begin tomorrow after he goes to his usual lunch.

OOC: Music to Post

Although forbidden from actually retaliating, Johan could still prepare. Modding and enchanting any armors, bikes, and weapons of Underhill members he could find time for, and even improving the doors to make what happened the day before end very badly for the Yakuza, in case they ever planned to follow-up their little Hiroshima with a bit of Nagasaki. His focus was more on deterrence and defense than outfitting them with the biggest guns on the block, but he would often make exceptions for the older heads of the club. Largest was in handloading enchanted ammunitions and giving out about a single magazine's worth to each member. Amongst the most premium loads offered was a pistol-cartridge buffed to have the hitting-power of a rifle, and would cast several magic-bullets upon firing... while remaining completely silent without a flash from the shooter's perspective, but a flashbang from the target's perspective. Making the primer cast an enchanted-mirror upon firing was the hardest part.

The armors were a bit more unique to individuals, and so took longer. The simplest ones were to eliminate the armor from rustling underneath clothing, and to make it lighter and more comfortable to wear constantly; more advanced enchantments melded the armors into their hides. Currently the bikes were often made alternately quieter or louder than normal, it was found simpler to enchant things if one followed Newtonian laws of equal and opposite reactions on other similar items. As such, there was a vast quantity of 'training ammo' that actually seemed to heal people; not that he'd recommend it, one misfiled cartridge could ruin a man's day.

The night before was also Mr Smith's turn to lock-down the bar, which made sense because of all the new lockdown-runes he carved into the walls. Over time the symbols would age and weather out of existence, but for now, they were fresh, clean, and crisp; strong. He made sure to seal all but one door in the back, which instead relied on normal locks and a thick reinforced-door in case he had to let someone in without dropping the lockdown. He sat opposite this door, shotgun pointing at it.

Victor grinned idly as Lilin decided to let him in, damn the consequences that the feds might want to throw at them, as well as the yelling he heard as he exited the shadows and cross the street, hands in his pockets as he smiled warmly at the dragoness librarian, walking up the stairs and nodding towards the guards and offering his hand to shake to Lilin. "A pleasure to see you again, ravishing as always. I wish I could say I was here for pleasantries, but I've gotten quite the number of calls demanding I figure out what is going on. The nets are a mess, and while I plan on getting an old contact on that end of things, I think these bastards got some history, under another name most likely. So I need to do some digging, cross reference the patterns of their actions, the way they present themselves, and see if I can't draw up any conclusions."

While he let Lilin respond as she saw fit, and was more than welcome to follow along, he whipped out his phone, hitting a speed dial number and holding it up to his ear. It rung a few times, and when the other person picked up, Vic smirked. "Sloan, long time no talk! Its Vic, how's it been? Yea, you been keeping up with this whole mess with these 'Our Father's Fathers' goons? What can you tell me about them, I'm doing some digging, seeing who they really are." He had pulled, carefully of course, several books down that covered the history of this kind of indirect warfare, listening to both what Lilin would have to say, as well as what Sloan would have to say. After all, the more information on his side, the more powerful he would be. After all, knowledge was power, but he would have to guard it well.

Serenity was excited. As the driver, it befalls to her to choose the destination and she knew exactly where she wanted to go. She quickly hurried Sloan out the door and locked the place up, leaving Wilson in charge of keeping the peace while they were gone. Serenity entered the driver's side of her car and buckled up as Sloan entered the front passenger. It was a standard model, maybe a bit behind the times. It didn't have self-driving capabilities like she heard some models had, but she personally preferred to be in control of the car herself. It was probably also a bit short on space, but that wasn't a concern as it was cute in her opinion.

Serenity just kept quiet for most of the ride. Not really trying to ignore Sloan, but was rather just really excited and didn't want to divert focus off the road and their destination. Though, she was sure that the call she was on was about business and probably best to not interrupt her. Serenity.Serenity planned to make a night of being out on the town, as bad it has been broken down, but was willing to cut it short should Sloan need to get back to work. It was a rather quick ride, Serenity took roads she knew would be less backed up for the direction they were going even though it ended up taking a bit longer. They eventually made it to the edge of Elf Haven and into Lotuswich Shoppe, the best sandwich place in town. Serenity even brought her own small glass of wine in case she couldn't order any here. She doesn't normally drink, nor can she do much without becoming incapacitated, but today felt like a good day to relax.

She felt a bit childish for not making any progress in learning how to drive, but mostly she felt she couldn't be bothered by it. She strapped herself into the passenger seat, grinned over at Serenity who was waiting to take her wherever. Before long, they were rolling. The traffic was out and about, due to the assault on the mayoral estate, no doubt. Sloan sighed. Just another day at work. As their car rolled along, she felt a vibration in her pocket. She let out a bit of a weary sigh, she had just left home. After it rang a few times she picked it up. "Vic, you know better than to address me directly over the phone. And yeah, I've been keepin' up with 'em. Just more clowns trying to set things right the wrong way, so far. I've got more for you, but I need to know if your account is still good." She pauses, waiting for a reply. "A'Course I'm gonna wire the money to myself. Like always. Yeah. Alright, here's what I've got so far. Facial recognition came up with nothin', vocal phrasing produced no significant matches, the weapons are from just about everywhere, but the box in the corner'a th'room is from a security corporation under the name of 'Luminescence'. I think they changed their name, I can't find anything new on them since their Security Licensing fell through. Say, Vic, I'm out right now, but when I get back I've got a trace on a number I'd like you to run. Some goon from an 'Algera Corporation' called fishin' for info on this guy as well. Could be bad news. I know they're connected somehow. I'll send you the details later. Ciao." She hangs up, rather abruptly, giving the impression of someone who tends to be a tad occupied. She looks over to Serenity with a weary look, which she quickly turns into a smile.

"I just want a day to relax." She tells Serenity, who seems to be focused more on the road than on her passenger. She catches the top of Serry's wine bottle and smirks just a little. "Serry~, Where are we going?" She asks, trying to get her attention. If her phone rang again she'd toss it out the window. It was all she could do to keep from boiling over from the stress. Had all this really bothered her that much? She kept comparing the incident at the mayoral estate to dinner theater. It must be normal, now anyways, to disregard the violence and murder and the harshness of the world around her and others. How else would they just go out to dinner in the wake of something like that? It was just dinner, and a show.

Her Yakuza informant filled her in on their conflict with the Underhill halflings. Sloan never liked the Yakuza's methods, but their money was just as good as cash, with reliable payments. Their leads were typically good, and their lines were almost as secure as her own. They were, besides Vic, her best clients. It really is a shame that they've picked a fight that was going to be short lived. The biker gangs' numbers were allegedly dwindling. Which is a shame because Sloan typically thought their stature to be cute. Still, you don't bite the hand that feeds you.

Akira Takizawa / Lucina Cobbs

Akira was practically raised in this palace, so he found Mr. Takizawa's private room in no time. The only time the door wasn't locked was when Takizawa himself was in the room, not that anybody would try to sneak into the oyabun's room. Until now. Using his Telekineses Akira manuevered the lock mechanism and unlocked the door. He cautiously entered what seemed to be a standard office, with a desk in the middle of the room, a few bookshelves and a window with an even better view of Houston than the other room, as well as decorative statues and plants from Japan. Sitting next to the desk was a filing cabinet. Akira quickly made his way towards it, and each drawer seemed to be bolted shut. "Bingo" He whispered to himself, and again unlocked all of the cabinets using Telekineses. The thought of his father, or rather anybody walking in right now almost made Akira sick, but it's not like he was attempting to sabotage the family, although in the eyes of the Yakuza, the punishment for such an offense would be severe. Akira began frantically looking through each drawer in search of anything that could have anything to do with Operation Freedom.

This was the third time that Luci had stumbled on the cold hard wooden staircase. She panted as she lowered her swimming head trying to catch her breath, this would be the third time she climbed the fifteen steps to reach a new floor, one more and she would finally be on the top floor.She couldn't feel anything or think about anything except IT and the task she was given. She had to scrub all the floors and walls. Every last bit of blood, teeth, spit, and other fluids had gone into her mop, but only after barley scratching the surface the mop was so saturated that she had to throw it out. So she was given a few sponges and buckets of ammonia-soap water buckets. Luci got on her knees and scrubbed. Picked up everything that didn't belong and put it into a bag. The worst part was she couldn't use her powers, Margret was staring her down the entire time so she kept having to 'play human'.She finished in a little over an hour and was a mess in more ways than one. Her apron had blood splatters ranging from sizes, even in her black dress you could see the blood in it.her skin was covered in dried blood and flesh to the point where it got in her hair. When she turned around to Margret her eyes widened and she tried, and failed to hold back a snicker as she handed Luci a long green cape, "Put this on. We don't want you startling the residents and visitors. Go to the top floor and change then report back to me for more chores. I guess you can't do the basement without getting dirty again, so someone else will do it. Don't use the elevator." So here was Luci walking up the stairs with a blank expression upon her face as she finally reached the top floor. It was even more pretty than the other floors but Luci couldn't admire it let alone remember what room she was going to. So she turned the knob on the first door she saw, not having the energy to rack her brain to remember.With unmoving eyes she reached out and pushed open the door slowly.

Akira now sat at his fathers desk, shifting through files of places/people/events, some that dated as far back as post WWII. As interesting as it all was it was useless to Akira. The file cabinet seemed to merely be an archive but also contained information about other companies. Akira placed all of the files back in their drawers and turned his attention to the computer, which to his luck seemed to have been used earlier, because Mr. Takizawa was already logged in. Akira dove right into the seemingly endless amount of info in the computer, which held even more critical information about other companies and criminal organiziations, but of course, nothing about Operation Freedom. Akira was about to just give up, when he spotted a folder in the computer titled: clients. He opened it up, and the folder seemed to obtain various individuals among Houston that were in association with the Yakuza, pretty much everything from shop owners and politicians to assassins for hire. He noticed a specific client, an Information Broker. The folder only contained a phone number and the name "Sloan" Akira recognized the name, and had heard it a few times among the Yakuza members. "Information Broker huh?" Akira sighed, and leaned back in the computer chair. "Some info would be really nice." He then reached for a pen and paper, and began to write down the information of the client. Akira began writing down several clients along with their information, one including what seemed to be a private detective, and another name, "Ozy" There was no profession or title in the folder, which was labeled as unknown. Strange. The odd name seemed to have distracted Akira, because he was completely oblivious to the door opening and a maid covered in blood and other, substances, walk through the door. As she walked in Akira looked up and immediatley jumped in his seat. More out of confusion than from surprise. "Wow." Akira blurted out, "You look like you just walked out of a slaughterhouse."

Luci was not expecting to see that man sitting there when she opened the door. For a moment she just stared blankly at him, trying to register exactly what he said. His eyes traveling all over her body, not in a sexual way, at least that’s now what she thought but then she looked down and remembered. “Oh…I-I guess I do look like that…hehe.” She laughed at it. And she kept laughing too. Soon she was bending over in laughing hysterias laughing so much that she had to gasp for breath, “AHAHAHA a slaughterhouse! That’s really good! It…It was a slaughterhouse…” She stopped laughing abruptly remembering. All the blood…all the flesh…unknown fluids. She began to shake even harder than she had before as tears welled in her eyes, “B-Blood and fl-flesh all over the place. Floors w-walls. She made me clean! I had to clean it all up! S-She watched! Te-Teeth an-and the clothes looked like a school uniform…They attacked him just because he…he…” She sank to her feet then, “Because he was a Halfling…” Her hands dropped to the floor next to her and she let them ice up and begin to cover the floor with ice. She didn’t care. She couldn’t even care. She was next after all.

Akira chuckled as the girl laughed. "Um, did you want a-" He was interrupted as the girl began to laugh somewhat hysterically, and watched her curiously as she stopped. It looked like she was remembering some kind of nightmare the way she began shaking. "Whoa.." He whispered as the girl sank to the floor in tears. As her hands fell to the floor ice seemed to start covering the surface. Akira quickly grabbed the sheet of paper with all the client names and information, turned off the computer and stood up, making sure everything looked the same as it did when he came in. He then walked up to the girl carefully. "Geez. I didn't know that stuff was so messy to clean up." Akira crouched next to the sobbing maid. "You don't really seem like you should be working in a place like this, why are you here?"

Why? She laughed bitterly and looked up at the man. "I am here practically against my will. My father used to be their top surgeon, but he left and made the mistake of borrowing money so it was either he and I came to work till the debt was paid, or one of his hands would be cut off. So I’m now a maid and he still preforms surgery here."

Akira remained quiet. He knew who her father is, David Cobbs. One of his friends was actually sent to grab him last week, but he kept quiet. "That's awful." He said ironically, considering the fact Akira himself had to deal with quite a few debt situations. "Hmmm" Akira checked his watch, he needed to get to his house and start investigating leads on Operation Freedom, but he didn't want to leave this girl here. Especially considering her situation. "Hey, i've got to go research some stuff. What's say we tell Madame Margaret I have to take you on an assignment or something huh?"

She looked at the boy with confusion. "What authority do you have here? Margaret answers to the master of this house not some random...um person." He wanted to take her out of this place. This was her chance of escape before she went mad...but her father what would become of him? If she could just come up with the money they could go! 'Maybe if I pawned something of real value it would be enough!' She looked Akira up and down. He was dressed very nicely and had the pose of some sort of wealth. 'I can't steal from him..hes the first person to show me any mercy here. Though he could have acess to some other places with expensive stuff.' She then smiled at him. "I would love to accomany you on your investigation if it were possible."

"Well, I wouldn't say if authority is the right word." Akira scratched his head with one finger, trying to find the words. "I guess you could say people respect me here, because if they didn't my father would cut their finger off." Akira said blankly. "It's kinda dumb." He looked out the door and into the hallway as the girl pondered her answer. Every second he spent in this room he was nervous, but he was also burning with anticipation. He wanted to start looking into the list of clients he had written down and see what they had to offer. "I would love to accompany you on your investigation if it were possible." the girl said. Akira looked to her and gave a big, dumb smile. "It's settled than, let's get out of here."