Fools rush in

Lukas was tired. He had barely slept in--what was it? 48 hours? 60? It felt like days, but another hour should see the job done.

He knew his edge was slipping. Jumping Vulpei may have been a fatal miscalculation. Sending him to help Todd may have been. Double-crossing Dawn may have been.

Self-doubt? Lukas mentally chided himself. Self-indulgence.

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Koreshi Chronicles - Chapter VI: There but for the grace of the Prophet

Everything had gone wrong.

Sand was still swirling in small vortexes around the barren land south of the abandoned homestead but she had a clear view of the approaching antelope jeep bearing Quinn and Vulpei.

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Wordslingin'

A traitor in our midst! When Our Heroes (tm) were forced to wipe out the remaining Northerners holed up in the abandoned homestead, one of our own turned tail and ran, and then proceeded to take Torgath hostage and gun down Lukas. Things... are not going so well for Our Heroes (tm). It may be time for drastic action.

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Wordslingin'

Pop quiz: you're dealing with an enemy that has more guns, more men, and a superior entrenched position. What do you do? (What. do. you. do?)

Well, if you're Our Heroes (tm), you storm the front gate. They'll never see it coming!

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Koreshi Chronicles - Chapter IV: Rolling Towards Trouble

34 Spring, 1926

The Neil Motor Works Wagoneer bus bounced about on the old road, steadily putting distance between the passengers and their last stop. After the confines of the van in Port Arthur, the seven passengers had naturally spread out amongst the ten rows of old burgundy, barnaby-hide benches. Lyta was in the back, ostensibly watching for pursuers, though they had not seen another vehicle in an hour and the plume of dust kicked up by the oversized people carrier meant she was staring into an amorphous cloud of iron-rich sienna dust.

Vulpei crept up to her and picked up the conversation that had been dropped earlier, about Lyta's childhood aspirations. "Do you find it interesting that of all the things you chose to tell me in full honesty earlier today, you chose to tell me your dreams? I could hardly imagine a more personal piece of your soul to share."

Lyta shrugged. "It was a long time ago. And most of the stuff we've done recently, I can't tell you. Well, I could, but I'd have to lie. And I suck at lying."

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Wordslingin'

Things just keep getting stranger and stranger for Our Heroes (tm). The latest development: working on a team with people who hate us and would not be adverse to killing us, for a man whom SecBuro suspects (probably rightfully) of being an assassin, while paying for at least part of it out of our own pockets.

Strange times, people. Very strange times.

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Koreshi Chronicles - Chapter VI: With friends like these...

They might have made an eye-catching couple to a casual observer, the way they sat across from each other at the small table, leaning in conspiratorially. Their faces illuminated by a single candle, he was handsome and she was beautiful.

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Koreshi Chronicles - Chapter VI: A Rough Day

33 Spring, 1926
13:15, Barnaby Gym

"I'm sorry, love, but we can't help you."

Lyta scowled. "Nothing? Martial arts, boxing, wrestling... nothing?"

"We're a gym, dear, not a dojo." The woman behind the desk gave a perfunctory apologetic smile, as though she had a thousand more important things to do, and at the top of the list was filing her nails.

In fact, Lyta had discovered that there were no dojos on the Strip. The Strip was for tourists, and tourists, for the most part, did not come to Port Arthur for the fighting. So while there were gyms aplenty, Lyta had yet to find anywhere she could punch someone and not get put in lockdown. Which was a shame, because she very, very much wanted to punch someone.

She took a deep breath and tried again. "Really nothing? Nothing at all?"

The woman behind the desk was wearing too much makeup. She pursed her crimson lips and let her nails tap over the schedule. Lyta wondered how she'd managed to find a job at a gym in the first place – she looked like a light breeze could snap her in half.

"Well," she said at last, drawing out the word for a full three seconds, "we do have a self-defense course starting in forty-five minutes. There's still a few slots open." She looked up from her papers, clearly uninterested in whether Lyta chose to sign up or not.

Lyta ground her teeth and pulled out her credit chit. "Fine," she grumbled. "How much?"

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