[b][h2]Christopher Hurk[/h2][/b]

[indent][i]"Hello?"[/I]

[color=pink][i]"Andy. It's Chris."[/i][/color]

[i]"Eyy, how's things, Hurk my man? Me 'n Benji are on a job right now, but I got some time."[/i]

[color=pink][i]"Yeah, same here. Listen, I could use your help."[/i][/color]

[i]"No problem, Hurky. What'cha got?"[/i]

[color=pink][i]"I've got a lead on the Rats that offed Dagmar Hahn three years ago. They were operating just shy of Little Lupine. Their group was led by an assassin, name of George Chin. Ring any bells?"[/i][/color]

[i]"Hahn? Jesus Christ you've really been on a vendetta for him. Alright, Chin...Chin, yeah I remember him. He got offed last year."[/i]

Shit.

There was one dead end. 

Hopefully the Rats led me somewhere. 

[color=pink][i]"What about the Rats, Andy? Remember anything about 'em?"[/i][/color]

[i]"Yeah, um, I think it was around the same time. There was this group of 'em down in the slums, they were showing off about how they offed a werewolf. With or without help, I dunno. Worth checking out?"[/i]

I thought for a sec.

Not many street gangs were as low as the Rats. They were literally everywhere. Spread their filth like a disease. Most of 'em were young ones though, fresh faces that weren't worth killing unless they gave you a reason. Which they did, more often than not. The dust or other drugs that shot through their systems like wildfire did that. Made upstanding, honest individuals more dirty and dishonest than a goblin in a bank. 

I made up my mind. This was my only lead. 

[color=pink][i]"Yeah, worth it. Got an address?"[/i][/color]
[hr]
The Undercity. Slums, slums everywhere. Sure, in places you had the occasional whitewashed, gleaming star of a hotel or restaurant, but not many places lasted where booze was cheap and drugs flowed like water. Unfortunately for us werewolves, Little Lupine sat right at the edge of the place, and as a result the shit bled over. Nothing like a wolf hopped up on Dust to ruin someone's day. 

I hopped off my bike. Little thing was a second hand sports motor I got from a junkyard. Did the restoration over a few years. Thing ran like silk. 

The address Andy had fed me was a rundown factory complex next to an apartment block. Handy and convenient for the splinter of Rats that were here. 

The Chemical Fiends. Handled production of most of the drugs that circulated in the area. Headed by a guy called the Alchemist. That was everything Andy had given me. I didn't have any numbers, tech or whatever. No intel. The last time I'd flown blind was in Afghanistan, years ago. Bad idea all around. I had gear though. All inside a duffel bag on my shoulder.

But first I had to get off the street. Gearing up here was a big red flag. 

I hurried out of sight into an alleyway and dropped the duffel. Inside I had my combat vest, loaded with more magazines than a dime store and two grenades. Underneath that was an assault rifle, a pistol and a knife. I strapped everything on and double checked my rifle. Once done, I took one long, hard gaze at the apartment building next to me.

[i][color=pink]Hahn, this one's for you, pal.[/color][/i][/indent]