April 22, 2097 – Edmonton
Spring in Edmonton is on ice, quite literally. The subzero temps and unexpected snowfall made for a fitting backdrop as we drove out to meet the Cree Nation reps at this once-luxurious hunting lodge. The air was thick with tension before we even stepped inside, the kind of tension that gets your instincts firing. Halo, as usual, was the center of attention, but it was clear not everyone was thrilled by her presence. I guess being a megastar doesn’t shield you from skepticism, especially from people in tune with the old ways and magic.
Aaron Greywolf, their leader, welcomed us warmly enough, though I couldn’t help but notice the side glances and quiet mutterings among the gathered. Most were mages, adepts, or shamans—powerful in their own right—and clearly divided on how they felt about our little visit. Then there was Natasha Whitefeather, the UCAS liaison. Not the friendliest face, but she didn’t have to be. Respect is earned, and I respect her. That said, she pulled no punches when she warned us about the spirits’ message—impending doom and death.
Greywolf hadn’t mentioned that bit, claiming there was no point in trying to alter the vision of the spirits. Real comforting.
But it’s not like we were going to tuck tail and run, not with Halo around. True to form, she demanded to hit the local casino, probably figuring that if she could sway the hearts and minds of the Cree leadership, she’d do it in her own way. And she did. The impromptu performance she threw together there was something else. I can’t say I felt the same emotional wave the others did, but the atmosphere changed. It always does when Halo’s in her element.
Wizkid and I tried our luck with the casino games while Halo worked her magic. I walked away with 15k nuyen—not a bad haul for a night’s work, but nothing spectacular. We didn’t break the bank, but hey, we made a little something on the side while securing the scene.
And then the spirits’ prophecy came to life.
Fuzzy, ever the diligent shooter, was out in the woods on recon when all hell broke loose. Shamans and hulking snow yeti ambushed him—no small feat. The team scrambled. Tag, Vanya, and I raced to his aid, but our ride hit a mine or some other explosive. Boom. Vehicle’s wrecked, and Tag’s knocked out cold, bleeding and unconscious. Vanya’s still mobile, though, and between her magic and my… persistence, we pressed on.
It was chaos in the snow. Stars overhead, the biting cold, and blood in the air. The yeti were massive, brutal. I took down six of those beasts myself, along with a couple of shamans who had their hands full with Vanya’s relentless spellwork. There were spirits in the mix, too—spirits always complicate things. Fuzzy? He got tossed around like a chew toy, his cyberware keeping him in the game, but barely. That dwarf can take a beating, though. He’ll walk it off… eventually.
Vanya and I took our share of hits, but nothing serious—just cuts and bruises to add to the collection. We fought like hell under those stars, and when it was over, we were bloodied but alive.
With Tag needing medical attention and the rest of us spent, I made the call to Captain Sinclair. Calling in a favor with the Mounties was our best bet for a quick exit, and they pulled through. UCAS military swooped in and airlifted us out, back to the safety of Edmonton.
The spirits were right. Doom and death were in the cards today, but not ours. Not yet.
I’m tired. We’re all tired. But the job’s far from done.
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