"I don't mind stealin' bread from the mouths of decadence
But I can't feed on the powerless when my cup's already overfilled." 

I had come to Chi-Town on the trail of the Palmer Gang. They were wanted in connection with grave robbing back in Perseverance. The no good bushwhackers led me into an ambush and I found myself fighting a squad of ISS agents and their dog pack. I took no joy in killing the men or the dog boys, they were just doing their jobs. Sure, I got away, but it wasn't without taking some lumps myself.

Warning: This episode ends dealing with a really tough topic. If you have a hard time with anything involving mental illness and/or death, you should be prepared or perhaps skip this episode.

Please remember: You matter. If you or someone you know is in immediate danger because of thoughts of suicide, call 911.

If you are not in immediate danger, but are struggling with thoughts of suicide and need someone to talk with about your suicidal feelings, please do not hesitate to call one of the following national suicide prevention lines:

1-800-SUICIDE
1-800-273-TALK

Peace and game on, everyone.

Let's just say our actions in the Warehouse District did not go unnoticed, though you could probably have told that from the drones buzzing around the truck. We needed to find somewhere to stash the truck, and then get the hell out of Firetown.

Vic analyzed the data he'd downloaded and discovered that we may have been played for patsies by the Deadheads. He turned up some information that seemed to suggest that our employer and that vicious bastard Colonel Lyboc were one and the same. Magpie buzzed in our comlinks wondering what the hell we did, because the Deadheads were talking about a purge. Now we really needed to get the hell out of dodge. Ol' Jack passed Magpie off to Vic as he scouted for a place to stash the truck. Vic told her what he'd found, and then the two of them worked on finding a way out of Firetown.

Like I said in my last entry, we barely made it back to the hotel before curfew. Charlotte was in a bad way. Doc told us in no uncertain terms that if we didn't find out what was causing people to get sick, she would die, and this time no scavenged cybernetic parts would bring her back. Being it was after curfew, there wasn't a lot we could do at the moment.

Vic busied himself with hacking into the drones that were spraying that nasty crap down on people. He sends most of them to various locations, but lands one on top of the parking structure next door. Ol' Jack should have his head examined for volunteering to go with him to check it out. Meanwhile, Doc did his best to stabilize Charlotte. All Fer could do was watch.

It's been a "ruff" three weeks. Just a little dog boy humor from ol' Jack. Lemme tell ya, there ain't much to laugh at these days, except maybe Vic's antics, but ol' Jack is gettin' ahead of himself.

As I said, it's been three weeks since the walls came down around Firetown. Firetown... meh, might as well call it Firetown Prison. Things are starting to get bad. People are getting sick, and there isn't a damn thing Doc or any other sawbones can do. 

Once the initial shock of what happened wore off, we set to work gathering resources we'd need and fortifying our position in the hotel. Doc and I scrounged for food, water, plastic sheeting, and duct tape. We didn't know what that crap the drones were spraying was, but we didn't want to find out the hard way either. Fer busied herself with sealing off the windows, while Vic locked down the floor we were on using his hacking mumbo jumbo. Once all that was done, ol' Jack went for a drive.

Wanted Level: 10

Lemme tell ya, Vic’s buddies have a knack for getting the Prophets into more trouble than we can get into on our own.  Naturally when one of them wanted to meet with Vic about “something big” the rest of us tagged along. Like usual it was a goddamn set-up.

Fer's sister was not happy about having a crate of Naruni weapons in the basement, and probably even less so about having a crate full of Pre-Rifts contraband. Ol' Jack knows from personal experience the latter would get the Coalition's dander up more than a crate of weapons. Needless to say she wanted it out of the Top Hat ASAP.

Last night the Coalition was obviously in a snit. Rumors were flyin' all over the place this "morning" of a huge CS strike in the East Side of the market. Just goes to show you that even when we try to fly under the radar there's other whackjobs out there workin' to make life just a bit more difficult for the rest of us. Thanks a lot jackasses.

Ol' Jack really needs to beef up the security on his electronic logbook. I opened it to make a journal entry and the damn thing was infested with squirrel porn. I tell ya, Vic is screwed in the head. He laughed his ass off when ol' Jack confronted him about it. The other prophets thought it was funny too. Hilarious. Her's a tip from ol' Jack when you got a buddy with a screw loose who's a bit to handy with a computer, you just do what ol' Jack did and threaten to bite the offender in some very uncomfortable places unless he fixes the shit.

Still working to acquire the shipment from the Brain Eaters, the Mad Hatters that comprise the Prophets of Payne crew split up and worked their own angles.

Ol' Jack hung around the park hopin' to catch the Brain Eaters in the act of grabbin' people. It turns out that Ol' Jack's nose for trouble was spot on because a few of those wastes of space from the Brain Eaters showed up a short while later. Ol' Jack being the good boy that he is, shadowed those maggots all the way to Jake's Farm. I wasn't about to go in there so I set up shop on the roof of an empty warehouse within viewing distance of the farm and watched.

Lemme tell ya somethin' ol' Jack Russell works some late nights runnin' pizzas and other stuff for the Top Hat, so when it comes time for some shut eye, once ol' Jack has turned around three times and laid down on his bed, ol' Jack doesn't want to be woken up until the damn alarm clock goes off.