On a peaceful evening in the late 18th century a judge's wife was murdered. Her baby girl was kidnapped and disposed of later on. The judge mourns their loss but strides on with unwavering devotion. At least, that is what the newspapers say...
Gen...
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06/04/1872 US, Ohio, Dayton Jackson
Atiq was a special case that I made sure to meet alone. I couldn't risk Telip's rudeness, nor Murry's momentary blandness. Both wouldn't come across the way I wanted to present this opportunity. Murry was the one that had introduced me to Atiq three years before. They had been colleagues for a while, back in Europe. But I didn't want him to join because he felt like he owned it to Murry. Atiq was most likely the one I wanted the most on the team, when only thinking of the plan. Some people I really only wanted along for personal reasons. Anyway, he had an ability that was crucial to the success of my plan. Forging. And also the ability to see. To see everything here and beyond. The future, the present and the past. And the next room past the wall you were standing infront. A useful ability for every criminal to have, but Atiq didn't stray from his very narrow path. Also Murry told me one time, that Atiq's believes didn't allow him to steal, or harm someone else. But that wasn't the reason that I wanted him on this team. Because lukily for his former owner and me, his believes hadn't stopped him from painting, repainting and forging either legally or illegally aquiered art. Atiq had spent many years making that man very rich. And when he had been released, he had continued drawing. Little had he known that people like him were not supposed to be talented artist and people started saying he was forging those paintings. Tired of everyone looking at him like he was a criminal, he left Spain and came to America. The spanish people had seen him off by putting a bounty on his head. Ever since he's has a burning hate against everything criminal, which could potentially make recruting him more difficult but not impossible. So Atiq wasn't really someone you would have expected to join me in my plan. But I thought he would agree and I knew I had to try, or I would always regret not having done it. And most likely fail. After all I really needed a forger. Like, really badly. But I did everything to ensure he would say yes. I even took the risk of leaving Telip and Murry behind alone. In a house, that I really hoped would still be standing when I retourned. Not that I didn't trust them. I just knew very well how annoying Telip could be. Not that that was all negativ. Murry hasn't shown many emotions since we freed him, so I was kinda hoping that Telip would be able to break that calm. I desperately wanted the Murry I remembered back, and not only for the job. I just had to hope, that if Telip managed to crack his facade they would not kill each other.
Atiq
I knew that he was coming to visit. I was barely able to remember when I had met him before, only remembering the guy from Murry's relentless storytelling. But I knew that he would come today to talk to me. I had seen it. Or I had seen his shadow stand in my doorway, even though there was nobody there. I haven't needed to use Allah's gift to me in a long time, haven't felt the need to. But something encouraged me to look. So I guess that whatever he was coming to tell me, it would be very important. The last time this thing touched me, had been a year before, minutes before I gained my freedom. Minutes before my owner had decided to free me, after I served him for 35 years. 35 years in which I was forced to abandon my family's faith, my mothers faith, and convert to the christian God. One of the things I had resented my master for. I had known I was lucky. I had known there were thousands of my peoples that were suffering and enduring worse than I could ever imagine. And the knowledge that the whole world condemed me and mine, just for our religion and color of our skin, had slowly been breaking me. For that did not work with my vision of this world. The world I had come to see in so many ways. Through so many eyes. I had always thought the world was just the way Allah had created it. But why are there such cruelties if Allah could have made safety? Why are there wars if Allah could have made peace? Why are there such differences if Allah could have made equality? I had started asking myself these questions after my father first told me about the reality. That my people and my brothers in faith were servants to the white. I always refused to use the word they gave us. The word that marked us as property. Father had used it. I had hated him for it. That thing had always stood between us. The way he had just accepted their names, the different names they gave us. I still remember the day he stopped calling me Atiq, the name my mother had given me, as if it was worth nothing. I also remember the day he was slaughtered by my first owner who then sold my mother and me. To different owners, that gave us new names, less food and barely any shelter. To this day, I still have not learned where they brought my mother. Wether she still lives, remembers me or has long since died and the memory of my existence with her.
06/02/1872 US, Pennsylvania, Philly Murry
Jackson was planning on leaving to recruit the next member of his little crew. And he was leaving me and the other guy in this giant house. He didn't say that we had to stay inside, but it sure felt like it. I was doing nothing, not feeling like using my newly found freedom, spend most of my time just sitting in the house's study. A large, comfortable room, with a grand window that showed the small garden and the lake beyond. It helped. A bit. I didn't expect to just return to normal, go back to before and Jackson didn't seem to either. I still haven't agreed to help him. But both of us had long since realised, that I would. Eventually. I tried not to pay attention to the guy sitting next to me, but his constant staring was actually starting to grant on my nerves. I don't really think Jackson told him to watch me, but with the hunter you could never know. He knew me in the time I had enjoyed my freedom. We had been special. I can't say I still feel something for him and I don't think he does. But it was not unthinkable, that he was still protective of me. It felt too much to say we had loved each other, since we really had only spent a few months... enjoying each others company after he had stopped wanting to kill me. It had been harmless fun. At least that's what I had told myself back then. In the years after we had parted I had started to realize how lucky I had been. I had a home, someone who accepted me and a stable, if illegal income. The heists had given me a certain thrill, that I was not sure to ever feel again. I had lived of the excitement, the freedom and the constant shadow of death looming over me. It had been fun. And it had been mine. My choice, my life, my destiny. And I had been good at it. I wasn't so sure whether or not I would still be any good. When Jack and the other guy came for me, I hadn't even helped. I just sat there, listened to them talk and wondered if my brain was fooling me, if it was showing me what I wanted to see. After all, I had left. I had run without looking back, as soon as it seemed like I was endangering Jack. And still, he came. Came for me. And I wasn't even able to give him what he wanted. Wasn't able to be who he wanted me to be. I knew he didn't expect me to just go back to normal. I know. But I still hate myself for it.
