Old York - Lower city streets

Jack walked alone, sunset touching the sky. He was still trying to process all he had been told. Obviosly he hadn’t known fuckall about project dragon, because it was beyond top secret. Only the king, duke, and the team working on the project knew of its existence. Hell, he’d never even heard of Lionsgate, the secret lab on the west coast. Now, him and his team were to fly out and retrieve some mysterious package and bring it safely back to the king. This was bullshit. He opened his mouth to relax his jaw and stop grinding his teeth. A deep sigh and a moment later he was slightly more relaxed. He didn’t know what frustrated him more, the fact that he was leaving prince Aiden’s protection to Beta Team, or the fact that he felt like he was a glorified errand boy. Top Secret project or not, this was a carrier mission, and his team was being punished because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. As he was coming out of his anger cloud, he realized he was no longer close to the city center. He was on the outskirts closest to the wall. The slums. “Fuck” he mumbled. He hated it here, but now that he was here he had better go see him. As he started toward his destination he saw several undesirables looking his way, but one look at his armor and weapons and they turned away. People like this wanted easy targets, like kids and the elderly. Jack spit in disgust, his anger showing on his face. But it wasn’t his place to get involved. The inner city was a golden paradise, but the further you got toward the wall, the more you realized it was all a facade. He hoped Aiden might one day become the king his father never was. As he walked up a run down building, he stopped and stared. The only thing separating it from any others that looked the exact same, was the number 337 on the door. The slums didn’t have addresses so much as designations. This was building 337 on block T. The tiny apartments inside would be A-J, ten tiny apartments, in one tiny shithole. What a way to live. He walked up to the building and checked the door. The lock was broken so he stepped in. As he walked down the hall toward the stairs. Apartment J would be top floor. He could see in the apartment to his left. The door was wide open and he could see someone moving around in the small kitchenette. On the sofa was a man passed out with a needle sticking out of his arm. Maybe he was dead. Jack took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the filth in the stairwell. The stench was making him regret forgetting his helmet. The built in air purifier would be great right now. He stepped up to the top floor and walked to the back, found the door he was looking for, solid metal unlike most others. After a few moments someone shouted from inside “whatever it is, scram, before I make your shitty life worse” at that moment a panel in the door opened and he could see a crossbow pointed at him. “You’ve got three seconds” the man shouted “One!” Jack sighed. “Dad it’s me, open the fucking door.” There was a pause, then the panel slammed shut and he heard locks being opened. A whole lot of locks. What seemed like several minutes later, the door opened. An old man stood there with his crossbow at ready. He looked haggard, had dark skin beneath his eyes and stains on his shirt. “Jack?” the old man mumbled. Jack sighed, his dad didn’t look good. He hadn’t been to seem him in nearly four years and the guilt was seeping in. “Pops” Jack said nodding his head. “Gonna let me in or should we talk out here”. The old man looked him over then lowered his gun and let him in. “God damn vagrants everywhere. This city is going to shit jack”. Jack walked over the the dirty sofa and sat down. You don't have to tell me pops”. I've seen it too. One day when prince Aiden takes the crown he..” “Poppycock, my nephew is just like his father.” They sat in silence. While it was true that Aiden rarely challenged his father, he also didn’t agree with many things he did. Jack was a staunch supporter, and it irked him when people talked about him negatively. His father knew all this, but frequently pushed. “I came here to talk and not about politics.” Jack sighed and got up, walking over to a small wet bar, he opened a decanter of bourbon and poured it into a glass. “What do you know of The Dragon?” His father looked up at him skeptically. “ What do you know of the Dragon?” “Really? That’s how this is gonna go?” His father stood and stepped up to him, his faces inches away. “You haven’t visited in years, and you come here asking about god knows what. And now you want to talk down to me?” The anger in his father's eyes faded. He sat down on the couch and deflated. “Get out”. Jack took a sip of his bourbon ‘Pops, I’m sorry, I know I wasn't’ here for you when mom passed.’ He walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know I wasn't here when you needed me but I couldn’t watch you fall apart”. His dad put his hand over his. “I miss you son, I miss her. I’m not the same man without her by my side.” “I know pops, I know”. Jack walked over and sat back on the couch. “I need to know what's going on, something big is going down and the King isn’t giving me the information I need to do my duty.” His father looked down at his hands, they were shaking. He took an almost empty whiskey bottle from the table and to a long drink from the bottle. His eyes closed for a moment and he let out a sigh of relief. “I tried son, I tried not to have a drink while you were here.” He looked at his son's face, but Jack kept his emotions from his face, his father didn’t need to see the disappointment or pity there. He was a man fallen far, the only one who could help him was himself. He still blamed the King partly, that he knew. They had been away in San Fran when his mother had been attacked. He knew his duty, and he stayed with his king. When they came back she was gone, and he never forgave himself or his king. They told his half brother to take the time he needed, and he never came back. “I don’t know much son. When I was still captain of his guard, he and his cousins the duke were starting something new. “ he took another chug from the bottle ”Something big, they said it could change the nature of war. No rebellion, no worries about those barbarians in the south. I told Dom, war never changes, but Eiger”. He took another big drink from the bottle and his eyes slowly closed. Jack got up and set his glass on the table. He took an empty bottle from his father's hands and pushed him to lay down. He pulled a ratty blanket over him and sighed. This is why he hadn’t been back, this is what he couldn’t see. As he left he worried about the locks, but a couple of them clicked in behind him. They weren’t deadbolts, but there wasn’t much he could do. The slums were what they were, his father deserved better, but the man moved there to be alone. And alone he truly was. Jack left the building heading back toward the city center. He had come here to find answers, but now he only had more questions. Lost in thought though he was, he still heard the tell tale click of a crossbow. He dove to the side as a bolt cracked into the pavement where he’d been standing. He turned to look for the sniper, but saw three men walking from the alley behind him, turning forward he saw another three exit the alley ahead. “Shit” he muttered. He knew better than to be distracted in the slums. He hadn’t even brought his side arms because he hadn’t intended to come here. He pulled his belt knife, but saw that the men all had weapons of their own. ‘Well, Well, Well, looks like we got a lost lamb boy. I think we should teach him not to walk alone at night.`` The man who spoke was built like a bricklayer, he had a nose that clearly had been broken a few times, and a jagged scar from his forehead to his jaw. “What the hell, you a storybook villain or something? The man scowled and pulled his sword from his hip. Fortunately most had truncheons, one had a staff, and another had a wicked looking dagger. “You’ll regret that’. Jack knew he couldn’t let himself be closed in on, so he turned and sprinted toward the three behind him. “Get him, their cliche leader screamed. Jack knew the staff was the most dangerous, due to reach, so as he closed he fainted right toward the truncheon user, and ducked left under the staff swing bringing his dagger in under the sternum. Who knows, the guy might have been good with it, but every asshole takes a free swing at someone's back. The middle man brought his truncheon careening toward his head, so Jack twisted bringing up his forearm to divert the force to the side. It still hurt like hell, and he knew it would bruise later. Fortunately middle had stepped in front of the one on the right, so when his left hook landed his jaw, he stumbled back into the other man. He had to finish this before the other three sprinted over, five on one was not good odds. He heard another click and again dove to the side, crossbow bold barely missing him. Double shit, he had assumed one of these idiots had been the sniper as well. Now he saw the man on top of a first floor roof across the way. The first two had gotten to their feet, and now the other three had arrived. Time was up. Don’t let them surround you. He flew at the dagger user on the far right, flicking his dagger into the chest of the man next to him. The truncheon user looked at the dagger in his chest in disbelief, who throws away their only weapon? Stupid last thought before you died. The dagger user was good,but Jack was better. The man sliced at him, but Jack grabbed his arm as he dodged back, the man was pulled forward off balance, and ended up with his own dagger in his chest. Jack grabbed the dagger and rolled to his right, the blow coming for his skull smashing his shoulder. The dive took some of the force from the blow, but now his arm was numb. Could have been the sword, he had gotten lucky. He backed up more and the three remaining tuffs spread out. Though they were looking a little more nervous now. The leader glared daggers. “We were just paid to rough you up some, but now we gonna carve you into pieces.” That surprised Jack a little, while he thought this was just a local gang of street toughs. They were starting to circle and Jack stepped toward the one on the left. He moved in fast to leave no room to attack his unprotected flank. Lefty swung his club with the finesse of a brick and Jack ducked under his arm striking upwards with his stolen dagger. The man looked confused for a moment, the wound in his armpit pumping blood. Then he dropped his club and fell to his knees. Jack had been counting down and knew now was the time so he jumped forward toward the final truncheon, then dodged to the side. The tell tale click of the crossbow, then the bolt sticking from the bandits chest. During the fight Jack had been moving closer, so now he threw the dagger at the sniper who was now standing slack jawed at having hit his teammate. It was a sloppy throw but luck was with Jack and it sank into the snipers neck. He quickly fell from view. Now it was just him and his loud mouth here, who was looking much more nervous. “Who are you?” “You came looking for me, shouldn’t you know?” Said Jack. Jack eyed one of the truncheons on the ground, but Scarface stepped forward swinging at him, forcing him to jump back. He didn’t like being weaponless, but it didn’t look like Scarface wanted him to have one. “Tell me who sent you, and I'll let you walk away.” The bandit looked at him in disbelief then anger. “You killed my friends, and you think I’m gonna walk away? I’m gonna gut you bastard”. He screamed as he charged Jack, bringing his sword down in a diagonal slash. Jack stepped under the slash, grabbing the man's chin and head, with a snap it was over. He looked around at all the bodies, and scoured the street for anymore. Empty, Silent. He squatted down and checked the man's pockets. The man had three .45 cal shells on him. Well at least the man had been paid well. He gathered the weapons and threw them in the dumpster, none of the other bodies had anything of note on them, he would have to leave them for the watch. If they even came down here. With one last look he headed back toward the barracks. He had just taken seven lives, some part of him wondered if he should feel something,but the thought was fleeting.

Old York - Barracks

Xyla was standing at the barracks door, meal plate in hand, poking at whatever rations the cooks had sent over. As he walked up, she looked up to say hello when her mouth stopped and she dropped her plate and came running. Jack realized he had walked into the flood light and he was covered in splattered blood. “Are you ok?” Xyla asked, concern stretched across her face. She put her hand up towards his face, but Jack intercepted her, his hand grabbing her wrist. “It's ok, it's not mine” She glanced at his hand on her wrist and Jack quickly let go. “I just need to shower, get the team ready, we leave in zero two hundred. Rally at the Zephyr” Jack briskly walked past her toward the latrines. Xyla looked sadly after him.