JT is moving quietly down the street, his hood pulled up, his eyes straight ahead. A lit cigarette hangs almost unattened from his lips as he plods toward a bus stop, his latest materials acquisition in his jacket pocket. He looks up a second before the Riot and Swat van roar past, heading into the hear of the Projects. JT stops and watches the vans barreling off and furrows his brow.
This is not good.
He hails a cab and dials the number he has for the Seneschal
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