Basic Information:
Character Name:  Matthew Drake
Aliases:  Ian Nator (currently using)

A sarcastic play on the Latin word ianator “gate-keeper”.  The term refers to the Roman god Janus(Ianua) who was thought to be the “doorway” to the gods.





                                      




Characteristics:
Origin:  Mutant
Sex:  Male
Age:  25
Height:  6’0”
Weight:  170 lbs
Hair:  Dark Auburn (long)
Eyes:  Grey
Ethnicity:  Caucasian

Status:
Identity: Secret
Codename: "DaVinci"
Marital Status: Single
Known Relatives: Mother (Emma, dead), Father (Phillip, unknown incarceration location), Foster Father (Steve, Atlanta)
Place of Birth: Athens, GA
Education: Mathematics (PhD), Physics (PhD) and Engineering (BSc), trained in the Occult
Occupation:  Matthew exiled by Monolith hunt for him (scientist by training)
Legal Status:  Legal US citizen (non-registered mutant)
Based in:  Detroit, Rowan and Oak Apothecary (store and residence)
Group Affiliation: None

Other Information
Registered under Mutant Registration Act? Not currently
Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Tinkering, Hiking (Appalachian trail), Guitar
Likes: Good Beer, Vegatarian food, Metal/Punk/Folk music, puzzles of all kinds
Dislikes: Social politics, reality TV, meatheads, military types, authority, bigots, uneasy regarding the extent of his Sight (at times)
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Fade to Black Level (i.e., PG, R) PG

Notable Features:
Ian is a tall somewhat scruffy young man in his twenties.  Thin but fairly well muscled, he has more of a sprinter's build.  Upon first look, hair is shoulder length, auburn and he has piercing blue-grey eyes with an unnerving quality of appearing to see to the heart of all around him.  Attire consists typically of that which can be purchased at your local thrift store or received from various charitable organizations. Fare can be jeans, rugged boots, bajas or t-shirts, over which is worn a slate gray duster.  In turn, Ian routinely sports a wide brimmed leather hat, "Lennon" sun-glasses, a walking stick and leather rucksack across his right shoulder.

Personality:
With a hard early life and the burden of his new gifts, Ian grew guarded and distrustful of relationships and authority.  Subsequently, this environment has caused him to harbor a low tolerance for “social politics”.  He covers this by being a tremendous sarcastic wise-ass.  For him,  there is no trouble commenting on anything or anyone that seeks to manipulate or hide the truth. Most find this crass and rude but there are a few that respect his blunt attitude as they always know where they stand with him.

Ian does not possess a whole lot of the usual heroic bravery or virtue either.  However, the man seems to have an nearly insane predisposition towards leaping headlong into things that by all rights he should not be able to handle. This generally makes a friend or enemy quickly with little room in between.  Folks are either pissed off to no end or he earns their healthy respect.  Mind you though, Ian cares little for what people think.

Character Statistics

Physical
Strength: 3
Endurance: 3
Agility: 3

Mental
Intelligence: 4
Awareness: 4
Charisma: 4
Willpower: 4

Powers and Abilities

[Techno-Magic: Rank 5]
Ian has the unique ability to combine Science and Magic

1.)   The power imparts a Super-stat function to his Intelligence and Awareness when dealing with research, inventions and science skills.

2.)  The power imparts a Super-stat function to his Charisma (strength/projection of will only) and Willpower when dealing with his raw offensive and defensive psychic/magical abilities as manifested through his devices.  The rank of this ability is also added to the Mage's spell power.

Character Notes: RP Flavor
*  Ian is a polymath of enormous potential that goes well beyond the normal spectrum of thought.  As such, he can quickly master new subjects, retain and recall knowledge without effort and generally succeeds in any mental endeavor as if he was an alien technology unto himself.  Ian experiences this keen intellect and insight as an odd disconnect as if he saw the world from outside himself.  It could only be described as light dispersing through a faceted gem.  His mind continually processed and resolved all manner of incongruent data like the individual refracted light beams to form coherent patterns.  The result was an ability to predict even the smallest tactical and strategic outcomes.

*  Ian's amplified intuitive awareness also grants him insight and perception that go beyond the normal limits of his senses.  He is highly attuned to his surroundings granting him strong psychic hunches or leaps in logic when problem solving or assessing a given situation.

*  Ian possesses an indomitable willpower that affords him extremely strong magical/mental defenses and he has gained experience in focusing that raw ability into in the form of "spells".  He discovered the use of pure mathematics to create highly intricate models of "potential" specific space-time events or pieces of matter at the quantum level.  Once this mathematical construct has been created, he then causes the relevant parts to manifest.  These calculations are such that they can only be computed with an exceptionally gifted organic brain because the mathematics alter the very nature of reality.  This would cause a traditional computer to simply malfunction.


Skills:
1.)Scientific disciplines: Mathematics (PhD), Physics (PhD), Engineering (BSc), Electronics and Computers
2.)Artistic: above average drawing and writing, music (guitar, mandolin) talents
3.)Magical and Occult Knowledge: trained by his mentor Sam MacCormick, leader of the Arcanum in Detrroit


Items

[Magic/Psi Control Device]
With this device (wide bracelet), Ian can pattern/weave pure magic in its raw or applied state whether "free" or within a living being.  The result is the ability in combination with his mutant talent to generate strong and well controlled spell effects that is typically only achieved after intensive formal training.  His extensive research has developed the following patterns:

1.)  Molding: Ian is able to shape and assemble existing materials into complex designs  whose functions meet his desired specifications.

2.)  Arcane Sight: Ian is able to use his heightened awareness to "See" the inner nature of things

An arcane awareness that provides insight (6 senses, 360 degree radius) about close, distant or unseen objects, persons, places or events.  This knowledge primarily focuses on the past, present or extra-dimensional viewpoints but at unsolicited times offers some future temporal perspectives.  This precognitive aspect however remains currently untrained.

Information from these extra-sensory impressions can include:

* Environmental - weather, chemical, movement, life etc.
* Mental – emotions, thoughts, information on possible meta-abilities
* Arcane – information regarding the nature of observed psionic or magical phenomena
* Extra-dimensional – can sense across the dimensional barrier to see things that exist beyond the physical plane.

3.  Probability Manipulation: Ian is able to manipulate probability to allow nearly impossible events to occur.

Generates short ranged (line of sight) mathematical constructs capable of altering probability locally.  These constructs though do not always work in his favor.  When exceptionally tired or angry, they have a tendency to create effects against his wishes.  The effects can include but not exclusive to the following:

Effects (to date):
      - Force Field: protects against physical, energy and magical/mental attacks
      - Environmental Independence: field that sustains a livable environment
      - Eldritch Bolt: universal energy bolt
      - Telekinesis
      - Illusions [Mental/Physical based]
      - Contain or remove air from a particular volume
      - Disruption or redirection of energy fields [eg. technological, biological, elemental, magical  etc.]
      - Rapid aging [eg biological, chemical(i.e. rust)...]
      - Disrupt or bolster a person’s/group’s concentration or emotional state
      - Obfuscation [Mental/Technological Invisibility]
      - Wards
      - Poltergeist effect
      - Etc.

Limitations
a. Only through a device has Ian currently been able to manifest his psychic/magical talents.
b. Hard continuous use of the Techno-Magic ability to enhance spell power decreases incrementally by 1 rank for each hour beyond the first until rest is required.
c. Spell duration is several hours unless otherwise specified or desired.  Range is line of sight unless otherwise specified.
d.  Extra-dimensional/Precognitive Sight -
      * Long ranged precognitive impressions are uncontrolled and at times symbolic in nature unless the event is exceptionally strong.
      * Short ranged precognitive impressions are in the form of a “danger sense” that gives advanced warning of impending danger.
e.  Level of knowledge with remote viewing is reduced significantly unless physical model or focus is used to organize and direct his connection to the object, person, place or event (ex: crystals, maps, drawings, photos or other replicas etc).
f.  Personal shield will experience cracking and eventual collapse after taking large direct attacks one after another or repetitive smaller yet non-stop attacks.

[Portable high speed computer/scanner]: Powerful tablet designed to execute complex feats of computational analysis and has the capacity to connect with other devices through hard (multi-head adapters) and soft (satellite phone).  It is also outfitted with sophisticated short range sensors (1 mile) capable of analyzing and identifying a wide array of biological, chemical and energy based sources.

[Harley Motorcycle (Used)]: Fat Boy Lo Softail

[Glock 21 pistol]

[Hunting Knife] strapped to boot

[Lead filled baton] strapped to inside trench coat

[Necklace with anti-scry weave] bronze raven's claw clutching a faceted green crystal


Contacts

[Sam McCormick] on the surface is considered a renowned medical researcher (genetics) and doctor.  He uses these skills to secretly help the Resistance set-up and support several small hospitals around the country.  In addition, this knowledge has also been employed from a more fundamental perspective.  The man has spent many years researching the genetics of mutants and through this expertise gives many a fighting chance at control of their gifts or the ability to live a more normal life.

Of course, these do not even begin to start to describe Sam McCormick.  Underneath the gentlemanly facade lies his true calling as mage, mystic healer and leader the Arcanum.  The Arcanum is a unique organization.  Its members are drawn from a small but specialized community and the very best of their respective Crafts.  Their purpose is to act as self-styled esoteric guardians capable of monitoring and limiting the abuses of The Art and mutant abilities alike.

Over the years, this has brought a lot of good to world.  People slept more comfortably at night because of what the Arcanum did to keep the Dark at bay.  But there has also been difficulties which have arisen from such activities.  They have come to see the organization as operating outside any allegiance to civil authority.  In fact, most of their brethren consider their action as a law unto itself.




History:
Phillip and Emma Drake were once thought of as the perfect couple.  Both were well liked and were very much in love. They married right out of high school and moved into a small farm Phillip’s father left him in Athens, Georgia. With no money for college, or scholarships, Phillip decided to work the farm while Emma took on a waitressing job at a diner in town.  Life was good for the newlyweds and when they'd been married for just over two years they found that they were expecting a child. They hadn't planned on kids just yet, but decided together that since it had happened it was meant to be. Matthew Drake was born in October of that year content with the world around him.

Over time he began to grow, as children always do, walking, talking, much to his parents delight. When Matthew was about three years old, Emma walked into his room one evening after work to find him with the case of a portable radio open with tools and parts scattered on the floor beside his toy airplane and police car.  She quickly caught herself before she scolded him as she noticed how precise he was able to manipulate the screwdriver.  After a few more moments, the radio began to play a “Mamas and Papas” tune.  Stunned, Emma asked Matthew if she could see the radio.  “This old thing has not worked in years” she told herself.  Turning the dial further police and air traffic control chatter resounded. Startled, Emma dropped the radio.  “Coincidence, it had to be coincidence” she thought.  Looking up she saw Matthew’s sad face and realized that she had upset him.  Emma smiled her motherly smile that fixed all wrongs and asked him if he would like a snack.  Radio forgotten, Matthew followed her into the kitchen.

By the time Matthew had started elementary school though, life at home had begun to fall apart. His father had lost the farm and had moved the family to Atlanta looking for work.  Work was scarce and what construction jobs he was able to find there always had rumors involving his temper soon to follow. Over time his father started slipping into a heavy depression that was often accompanied by a bottle of alcohol.  Ashamed of his home life, and too scared to bring anyone home for the fighting, Matthew started pulling away from the few friends that he did have in the neighborhood, retreating more into himself, his books and building models he constructed from scraps.

The fighting between his parents grew worse, and just as Matthew reached 6, it exploded.  He walked into the house after school to find his parents screaming at each other yet again.  Only this time his Dad was angrier than he had ever seen him and he had beaten his mother severely.  Frightened for her safety, he ran between his mother and father with his small fists hammering at his father’s chest.  The man angrily struck Matthew with the back of his hand sending him to the floor.  In response, his mother lashed out at her husband thinking only of protecting Matthew.  A simple push sent his mother into the corner of the coffee table where she eventually lay still.  With her death, the state took custody of Matthew and placed him into foster care where he moved from one neglectful family to another.

At age 8 , he ran away from home because he could no longer tolerate the abuse from this most recent so-called foster father.  It was also at this time while on the streets of Atlanta, his mutation manifested fully.  He had been sleeping behind one of the local businesses near Georgia State University when it came on him in his dreams; an onslaught of wild images, sounds and feelings.  He lay for what he thought was eternity at the center of this storm when just before he thought he would go mad, someone touched his shoulder.  It felt like a cool breeze calming his thoughts and letting him return to sleep.

He awoke late in the afternoon of the following day to discover Steve Fitch, a university machinist (mildly telepathic), found him on his way home from work.  He offered Matthew an opportunity to leave the streets and help over the next 3 years to come to terms with what had happened in his early life.   He is still guarded these days and quite matter of fact, a trait that tends to push folks away.  He has also shown himself to be an intellectual prodigy as well; particularly in science and mathematics.  This has enabled him to not only progress rapidly through high school but finish college at the very young age of 12.

Matthew though realized that his rapid academic rise could not continue or someone may begin to ask questions in the growing anti-mutant environment.  He feared that his abilities would be discovered and either cause trouble for Steve or be a weapon in the wrong hands.  Besides he needed time to gain control of those abilities while having a refuge from the insanity going on in the world.  As such he took his time in finishing his graduate training at Princeton University eventually receiving degrees in physics and mathematics.  He also took advantage of this time to pursue other pursuits (Esoteric Arts) that could help him survive with the likely mutant-human war to come.

Upon graduation, Matthew was forced to retreat.  An unexpected call had alerted him that some of his recent actions had accidentally compromised his mutant anonymity (eg. Monolith Group).  As such, he made his way to Detroit from Princeton where he is now secretly living off the grid as Ian Nator, proprietor of the Rowan and Oak Apothecary.  He guards that privacy fiercely using technology and his connections within the esoteric community to keep tabs on the Monolith Group.  The rest of his time is spent continuing to hone his new skills in the 'Art'.  Ian figures that in time his lack of good judgement at the university will eventually catch up with him and he will have to fight.




Story Scene - Coming to Detroit


Ian sat up in bed with his sketchpad in hand drawing when he should have been sleeping.  The damn dreams had occurred again for yet another night and he was growing tired of trying to determine what they were driving him to understand.  His only thought was that if he could put them on paper maybe he could exorcise them from his head.  The friggin things were vivid and life-like in a way that left little to chance as to their source.  They were the product of his gift.  This meant none were simply the invention of nightly fancy.  No, every event observed was bona-fide and solid down to even the smallest of detail.  Even when they tended towards the symbolic there was no lessening of the fact that they were still grounded in truth.  “Grrrrr! Guess it's time to simply ask Sam.  Maybe he could shed some light on things. ”, Ian thought.  “ Lord knows Ken had given him plenty of opportunity to practice.  Besides, it wasn’t like anyone had an instruction manual for this sort of stuff.”

----------

And answer him he did though not in the way he expected at first.  It came after a pow-wow later that morning with the other Arcanum members.  As the meeting broke, Ian approached his mentor with his sketchpad in hand and smiled sedately.  “Do you have a moment?  I would like to ask your opinion on something” placing the open pad on the table.  As he sat it down, there was any number of detailed sketches that could be seen ranging from the ominous to the more sublime. The most disturbing image though depicted a cityscape and a skeletal face at its center with a green hue emanating from it heart.  People were being rounded up and detained or killed by troops in some cases.

Sam took a look at the sketches, his green eyes staring intently at the pages.

"Interesting", he said quietly.

"What do you think they mean?", Sam asked.  Yeah, he used that old chestnut. Being a teacher was starting to clue him in to ways of bringing people to realizations.

"Well...with these....", Ian stated but hesitated several moments unaware that he furrowed his brow. He was trying to search for the right words but in the end simply uttered how he felt without any filters.  "Ah hell, I just don't get them!", he continued obviously exasperated.  "Humanity has lost its frickin mind!", his index finger tapping the drawing absently as a hint of anger tinged his voice.

Sam nodded. He kept an eye on things. If he couldn't directly be present and take care of business at least he could try and keep certain people informed and help them to keep in touch.

"Unfortunately, this information is all after the fact.  Always too late.   We know about the activities of the Monolith Group.  You better than most know what they are capable of doing.", Sam nodded sadly.

Sam’s revelation and the drawings were definitely eye-opening and immediately sobering.  It forced him to quickly see the realization that his life over the last few years had been simply moving from one refuge to another.  His time had altered to one of existing instead of living.  Ian had let the Monolith Group paralyze him.  The result was a complete lack of concern for events and the people around him.  The folks at the Arcanum had served only to further complicate matters.  It became obvious re-building connections with people he had started to care about had only reinforced this desire for safety and comfort.

It was painful to glimpse this truth because it pressed him to understand what it had cost him.  Ian could no longer afford to remain hidden or use the excuse of further study.  There would always be a need for study and the Monolith Group was not going away any time soon.  What he required now was a means to deal him back into the game.  He couldn't shake the notion that Detroit and the X-men could easily have been directed at his adopted father.  No, it was growing clear.  New York and the Arcanum were ceasing to be places of refuge anymore so much as gilded cages.  And his subconscious mind was, he somehow felt, providing an initial remedy in the remaining sketches.

"Lord! the sheer anger these are going to fuel....", Ian stated and then paused in thought looking down at the drawings.

Ian then spoke again but seemingly to no one in particular this time. "Things are truly getting worse.  I can't help but wonder how the Monolith Group will use this to their own end.  The Arcanum can't afford to ignore this situation any longer.  Humanity seems to be reaching a pivotal point regarding mutants. I have no idea how but I can no longer afford being as foolish as I have been by hiding myself away here and in New York.  I think I could help you most by returning."

"Somehow these are offering the means to act.  Or at least they feel that way.", he said sliding the remaining two sketches around so that they could view them.  The initial illustration was of an estate overlooking Lake Michigan.  The other portrayed a detailed storefront relief but the name was blurred out as if in flux.  "Each feel somehow 'right' yet with a growing sense of foreboding."  His gaze then shifted inward for a moment but after a short time his face formed a perplexed expression.  "No, I can't place my finger on either without more detailed scrying save that they are somewhere in the midwest of the US.  And whatever is brewing there could happen tomorrow or years from now.  Unfortunately that part of my Sight isn't an exact science."

"They are quite the wakeup call", Sam noted looking over the sketches. "And I agree, you are meant for more than simple study."

"I'm pretty sure I have the keys to the old occult shop in Detroit... You could set up there and poke around?", Sam speculated.

The directness of Sam’s assertion broke some of the tension building in Ian.  The Arcanum had deep pockets he suspected but it never ceased to amaze him the extent of that depth.  Ian simply gave him a subtle but wry smile and a slight shake of his head. "Occult shop in Detroit huh?  I guess I shouldn't be surprised you would know where I'm going before I do." Then with another shake of his head and a soft chuckle, he added almost to himself "...own it even."  It brought back the memory of Esoterica.  That shop and subsequent apartment may have been mothballed but it still had a quaint feeling that resonated well with him.  Ian could see himself content living and managing such a place.

There was one small problem though with the idea, funding and support.  Ian may be highly resourceful but was far from being flush with cash.  " So...I like this idea of the occult shop but establishing a front that doesn't raise suspicions is not going to be cheap."  Ian said clearing his throat a little embarrassed with what needed to be said next.  "And...at the moment...my pockets are pretty light."  He hoped this did not come off too needy.  The truth of the matter was Ian didn't see that situation changing anytime soon, at least not without resorting to less than savory means.  "Of course, I'm not looking for charity here but a partnership with a real return on investment.  That is if you are willing?"

Sam flicked her wrist elegantly and reached through a nearby mirror, withdrawing a shoebox.

"This has been sitting in my closet for close to a year gathering dust", he began, passing it over to Ian. "It would probably be a lot more useful in the hands of someone who could actually use some cash.”

"A partnership is fine, just don't make me sign anything. I'm getting wary of that these days."

Inside the shoebox were papers for the shop and ten stacks of hundred dollar bills; twenty thousand dollars.

“Don't worry about signatures.  You are not Faust and Mephistopheles disowned me a while back.", he said playfully.  It was corny he knew but Ian was not used to such generosity.  Being a wise-ass was a usual fall-back position during these awkward situations.  Besides, he understood the man’s trepidation based on what he had read on the subject of Naming.  Such knowledge could give someone a great deal of power over another.

Ian then accepted the opened box with a raised eyebrow.  The amount of cash it held looked as if was sizable.  At a second glance, he surmised that Sam had likely handed him more than he had ever held at any one time.  To boot, the box appeared to also contain legal documents.  If his suspicions were correct, these documents were probably the property deeds for the shop.  And Sam had done so using such a simple gesture.  "Guess something has to try and balance out the constant attempts on his life.", Ian considered.  He wasn't certain he would have chosen the same life for himself.  Yet had he not?  His acceptance of the drawings was driving him to do same.  "Touche" came his next thought unbidden.

"Okay then...somehow I don’t think ‘thank you’ quite covers this.  But thank you.", he reacted with a weak smile and a slight nod of his head.  Again he was taken aback at the magnitude of his generosity and the reality of how final his decision to leave had become.

"Well…I suppose I should let you get back to things.  I have a bit of packing to do anyway.”, Ian said with a slight reluctance.  “Will let know when I’m ready to leave.  We can say our goodbyes then...And again...Thank you.”  With that, he gathered his things and made his way to leave.

----------

Ian was sitting having lunch outside a local Detroit coffee shop.  The neighborhood was not the best he observed but was encouraged by the activity taking place all around him.  A living could be made in such a district and the occult store down the street fit right in to 'artsy' and 'free-spirited' ambiance.  It reminded Ian almost of Greenwich Village but without the harsh New York attitude.

"Yes, thank you Sam.", Ian thought idly toying with the Arcanum necklace at his neck.  It was an expression of gratitude for not only this chance at a new life but the clever weave now laid on the key without his knowledge.  It was potent, intricate and worthy of future study.  The magic was protective in nature inhibiting a person from finding him via magical means.  And given its complexity, it may do more.  He just didn't know.  At least the Monolith would be held at bay for a while.

"God you can be incorrigible Sir with your mother hen ways.  And I hope you never change.", he reflected playfully knowing Sam likely was aware of his thoughts.

"To friendship and a fresh start!", Ian spoke while holding his coffee aloft in the direction of his new residence.

Two young punks walked the short block to the back of the Rowan & Oak Apothecary.  One of them carefully eyed the building and found a window, a very small one high in the back wall of the shop, right above the dumpster.  It was closed but appeared as if it could be pried open. "Give me a boost up there", one of them whispered as he pointed out the small window some twenty feet above the trash container.  "I can probably get in and open the door up front."

With the dumpster and help from his partner, the punk managed to get a good grip on the edge of the ledge and slither through the portal after a little prying with his knife.  His partner listened to him struggle and work his way down a shelf on the other side.  Then silence.

The punk waiting outside grew agitated when the quiet seemed to stretch interminably long.  What if his fellow cohort had been hurt?  What should he do?  It wasn't like he would wait around until the owner or the cops found him.  "Damn!  It should have been a simple job of grab and dash.", he murmured under his breath.  Fortunately, the silence ended after time when he heard the muted noise from the front.  The punk ran towards the entrance, an evil grin starting to form.  "If the rumors have any hint of truth to them then this was going to be a profitable haul for their little cabal."


Ian had just laid down when the wards indicated something sizable had entered the shop.  Wasting no time, he expanded his senses outward letting the kaleidoscope of mathematical constructs build.  As always, instinct took over and he generated the self-sustaining weave that afforded him personal protection.  The field defended against the usual array of assaults he’d encountered over the years but recently it also imparted strong safeguards against magic.  One could never be too careful where Monolith was concerned.

His thoughts then focused in the blink of an eye on the calculations that opened his ability to ‘See’.  Like tiny tendrils of an undetectable otherworldly flora they rapidly permeated throughout the building.  Their touch reacted to all they contacted, its intention to provide Ian with what was occurring within the shop.

What he saw was a glimpse of two armed young men rifling through his goods.  Their actions revealed an intent that went beyond the usual grab for cash.  He could sense surface thoughts which seemed to indicate they were searching for occult paraphernalia.  "Lord really?", Ian thought.  He almost would have laughed had they not come armed.  That one act had shifted this from a simple B&E to something far more dangerous.


From the building across the street, Marksman watched the two burglars break into the newly opened Occult Apothecary (Why do they always spell it like that?) and shook his head.

The owner didn't seem to have installed any sort of alarm system, which in this neighborhood was asking to have your merchandise and cash walk out the back door within an hour of closing.

Taking out a grapnel arrow, he fired it into the building across the way, then swung down to street level before move quietly to the open door the burglars had jimmied.


Ian felt the typical humbling withdrawal as he directed his "Sight" to lapse.  Of course, there was also a sense of relief as well.  As annoying as these hoodlums were. They were preferable to the other possibility.  The punks could have easily been some esoteric goon with less than his best interest at heart.

Sighing, Ian shifted his attention back to the problem at hand.  The louts below may be dangerous but they didn't deserve him to go in with guns blazing.  The level of fire power he could muster was more than this situation required.  Instead, a second weave was intertwined into the first.  The construct provided a powerful "obfuscation" that would completely inhibit their ability to sense his presence.  Less than true invisibility, it acted more akin to a concentrated fogging of the mind.

With both weaves in place, he worked his way quietly and cautiously downstairs.  Ian took up a position in the back hallway.  It was near the doorway leading into the main storefront and it afforded him a solid view of the situation.  Ok...how do I minimize damage to them and my store.


A quick scan told him what he needed.

Guy on the right has a gun in hand.  Guy on the left has it tucked into the back of his pants.  Looks like a straight snatch and grab.  Getaway driver out at the end of the alley.  Not sure what he's got on him.

Put down the first two quiet, then head out to the car and grab him...sorta makes you ask what the hell three guys from one of the Triads are doing in a little tourist trap like this...

Marksman smoothly drew a pair of arrows, nocking them on the bow, pulling and releasing in one motion that sent the pair of taser arrows into the backs of the two guys ahead of him in the hallway.

Electricity arced through their bodies, arching their backs and sending them tumbling to the ground stunned and nearly insensate.

Smiling, he walked towards the downed pair and nodded.

"Hey boys.  I think you'll find that normal business hours are from ten to six, Monday through Friday.  Saturdays by appointment.

You'll have plenty of time to memorize the schedule while the cops have you cooling your heels in a cell."


Calculations played across his thoughts as he began to ready a weave to subdue the assholes ransacking his store.  Construction of the weave though was cut short.  Ian sensed more than saw another person had entered the building and a quick scan revealed the individual was far from ordinary.  His bio-signature was distorted somehow as if modified through some technological means.  He had observed this but one other occasion.  The one from his dreams had a similar signature and had been loosely affiliated with the estate.  The same dreams that had brought him to Detroit. Intrigued, he decided to let the situation unfold.

The costumed individual appeared to be assessing the situation in a clinical fashion but wasted no time coming to a conclusion.  Whatever he saw caused him to act in a swift but calm manner.  Like a yeoman of old, he placed a custom-made projectile into each of the punks.  They in turn experienced an intense electrical discharge and in a blink of an eye resolved Ian's little irritation.  Not only was it resolved but it was quite surgical in nature.  His actions had caused no collateral damage to his store.  "Impressive", he thought with an impish grin starting grow to across his face.  "I believe introductions are in order."

With that, Ian reached out with a small filament of a weave to the rune covered staff behind the counter and drew it to his hand.  In parallel, he also allowed the "obfuscation" weave to diffuse away slowly.  The result was a ghosting effect.  Ian would seem to slowly appear out of thin air as the mental fog lifted from the mind.

"Interesting...it seems Detroit agrees with me.  I was not aware that my store was under such protection, a guardian angel if you will.", Ian said still possessing the impish grin.

The proximity alarm in the cyberware in Marksman's head screamed as Ian shimmered into sight off to one side.  The crimson clad archer did a quick dive-roll to bring himself behind a display case that would offer some slight protection in case Ian were a guy with a gun...

A bit unnecessary, but appropriately cautious.

Invisible?!?!  How the hell'd he manage that?

"Angel's probably a bit of a stretch, but I'm mostly okay." he called over his shoulder towards the other man.  "Wasn't expecting anyone to Casper up on me...didn't catch your name, friend..."

Ian was further impressed with the man before him.  He seemed to have an infinite level of patience and restraint given the circumstances.  He had anticipated the possibility of a violent reaction to his appearance.  In fact, it was one of the reasons he had left his protective field in place. This indicated to Ian that while the man may be a vigilante, he did not appear to be simply in it for just the fight.

"Well, angel or not, I want to thank you.  You just saved me from having to try and figure out a means to eliminate this nuisance without damaging things", he said but then added his name as almost an afterthought, "...Oh and the name's Ian."

The blonde archer's head poked out from behind the display.

"Marksman." he said, his odd eyes taking in Ian before he slid out from his concealment (though Ian noted, he was still up on his toes and looked ready to dodge to a side again).  "That's an...odd energy field you have around you...how are you pulling that off?" he asked, his voice careful.

Ian just chuckled softly at the comment regarding his protective field.  He understood how confusing this might be to any technological based sensors.  While the field would have all of the characteristics of one generated by physical means, there would be nothing obvious as to a source.  It was neither device nor biological as one might observe from an x-gene mutation.  It was a product of the 'Art'.

"Ah, there are more things in heaven and earth, dear Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.", Ian quoted Hamlet knowing full well how unsatisfying its cryptic nature would feel.  Of course, it was a prerogative of all mages to promote an air of mystery was it not.  That is if you followed the notions found in pop-culture.


A small woman wearing a skin-tight, black catsuit with a pair of gun belts criss-crossing her hips walked into the store. She was dragging a man behind her by his collar with seemingly little effort.

"You left one outside," Baby called to Marksman as she pointed to the ground by the guys he'd just dropped and gave the guy she was dragging the eye.

"Sit," she told him.

And he did it, nursing his jaw the whole time.

"...and what about which whore's ratio? I haven't heard this joke before."


The newcomer's attire was a mixture of goth and sensuality.  Her demeanor screamed "street".  At any other time, she would have blended in well with his pool of regular customers.  Her actions though were definitely harder than the "let's pretend" crowd.  She had just commanded the third punk to stay put and shut up, all with a look and a word.  "Sit"

"Oh how adorable, he's brought friends.  And so well-read to boot.", Ian thought facetiously.  Normally given this situation, his wise-ass nature would have had him openly expressing this opinion.  However, he did have some couth.  The two....vigilantes?...had after all assisted in removing a problem from his business and place of residence.

"Not a joke Miss...it's Hamlet.", he said calmly if a bit amused. "And you are?"

"Pffft...he doesn't think Hamlet's a joke." Erik opined quietly to himself (though still out loud).

Louder, he stepped in: "This is Baby...she's...well...I guess she's part of my 'team'." he said.  "We've been trying to make Detroit a bit safer for the average person in a not so average way."

And there it was.  The sensation had been subtle but hard to mistake.  The same feeling of providence Ian had experienced at the Arcanum.  Marksman's statement had once again triggered that sixth sense. Of course, intuition did not always come with certainty.  Most times it was more of a gut instinct rather than anything definitive.  "Was this what the dreams had been driving him to understand?", Ian reflected.  In addition, he remembered connecting the dream to this man when they first met.  However, in that instance, it had not prompted the same reaction.  "Damn, I really wish there was some sort of primer with this prescience shit!", he thought.

Ian, however, did not let the inner dialogue show.  With Marksman, he played it cool with only a casual response to the introduction of his partner or mention of a team.  "Making things safe for folks is commendable.  I know other events have not set well with me either."

Yeah it hadn't sat well with Baby either, especially since she had been a part of the Brotherhood. She should have suspected something was up. No way could she have known though, not really. As much as she wanted to blame herself, it just wasn't realistic.  Blame the government who'd put them in charge.

Still, Baby's expression hardened a little.

Looking around Baby couldn't help but comment. "People still buy books? I thought the market was fulla tablets and Kindles and shit."

The one hundred and eighty degree shift in focus of Molly’s comment gave Ian the excuse he needed to buy himself some time.  A great deal of stuff had surfaced in their brief conversation and it required more than a moment to sort it all out.  Even now he was intrigued by the idea of possibly learning more about this new team but another venue was necessary.  The gravity of the decision he had to likely make following such a discussion meant they all had to take the time to cover things in detail and do so in private.   This was not a conversation that should take place in front of the intruders.

And then there was the other point of consideration.  Who were these intruders?   He suspected there was more to these characters than met the eye.  They had been here searching for what he suspected was the ‘real’ thing.   How did they know about him and who did they work for?     There was no inky feel to their aura that he observed with the Monolith Group but then there was more than just them was there not?  Judd had ever so casually introduced them to that information following the altercation at Esoterica.   In fact, Ian was still reeling a bit over those revelations even now.

“Anyway, not meaning to be rude but it’s late and I’m sure the cops will have any number of asinine questions over these perps.  Here’s my card.“, Ian said as he grabbed a business card from the counter and handed it to Marksman.




“Give me a call.  I’m interested in knowing more.  Might be of some help to what you are trying to do here in Detroit.”

“Now, if you will give me a hand securing and gagging these assholes, I will call the cops and let you be on your way.“

After the dynamic duo left the store, Ian took his time searching the intruders to see if he could find any clue as to their identity.  They had wallets with a bit of cash which he helped himself to but no I.D’s.  That made sense really.  You didn’t want to have such just in case you were caught.  What the punks did have, however, were tattoos many of which were occult in nature.  A large percentage of them were the usual symbolic drivel from sources like Solomon's Goetia,  Abramelin or O.T.O.   Yet there was one that set off a prickle at the back of his neck.  Ian didn’t have a clue as to what it meant but somehow he knew it was relevant to the building miasma sensed in his dreams.  The feeling was nothing strong or likely immediate.  Nevertheless, the symbol required further research as a precaution.

The call came a few days later with an invitation to one of the local pubs in the shopping district.  It was good timing really.  Ian had just heard back from police regarding the incident with the intruders and was infuriated.  It seems the shits had some serious connections.  A high powered lawyer from an ivory tower firm downtown had posted their bail and filed any number of motions pressuring the DA to drop the case.  The latest involved of all things the over-zealous treatment by the vigilantes (eg Marksman) against their clients.  It went on to claim some such rot as emotional and physical trauma sustained and that they were suing the city for not controlling these rogue elements. "Seriously!", Ian swore under his breath.  But he guessed such was not a total loss.  Knowing these punks were being supported as they were spoke volumes.  That symbol tied them to something and it seemed to be far more important than ordinary tat artwork on a gang of petty thieves.

The meeting with Marksman went well enough.  It seemed he was forming a team to handle the grittier underbelly of Detroit.  His thought was to put pressure on the pimps, pushers and general riff-raff slowly consuming the city.  Such appealed to Ian at the moment.  These goals were far more down to earth than he had experienced at the Arcanum.   They had none of elements like reality wars, rogue fey spirits or any other mind blowing nemeses that seemed to bombard Sam’s inner circle.  Ian wasn't naive enough though as to think such actions were not dangerous.  It was just more sedate, a quality which could give him time enough to get his bearings and feet under him again.  He also hadn’t forgotten that the man had also some affiliation with the suburban estate.

To that end, Ian walked away from the meeting in favor of helping the fledgling team at least in minor ways at first.  He had no idea what this role would entail exactly but that made the situation all the more interesting.  The only thing he requested was that he be able to retain his autonomy where his new business was concerned.  Over the last three months he had built a solid list of clientele and had even consulted briefly with the local police on a case that had aspects involving occult themes.  Ian did not wish to give that up for something that may not last.