The Soldier Of Fortune Job

Bad Press

Amy Amanda Allen was up to her neck in stress. She had worked hard as a reporter, that hard work never ceased even as she moved her way up to Editor-In-Chief. But hard work will only get you so far, and when you're 64 years old in one of the many businesses being taken over by the internet, it can seem impossible to keep working. Especially when everyone around you just wants to leave you behind. It wasn't for lack of trying, either. She had a whole team to manage their website, email newsletter, even some social media pages. Amy believed the news is supposed to get information out to as many people as possible, and in the perfect world, the internet would've only helped with that. But keeping up with the changing times is one thing; it's quite another to be threatened to be put under by a major L.A. news broadcasting station suing for libel.

Drake Paolillo, a young journalist and son of her friend Zachary, reported he gathered proof of the bigger station breaking laws to get their information. They seemed guilty of breaking into people's homes, even planting false evidence to make for more interesting stories. Drake had a box of what he found, things like recordings, documents, and printed emails that could prove the station guilty in court. But soon after, both he and the proof disappeared. Amy tried going to the police, yet although they said they would investigate on it, weeks had passed and they did nothing to help. Even a hired P.I. quit without pay soon after he started looking into it. There was something serious going on here, and she needed someone she could trust. What she needed was the A-Team.

But that just wasn't possible. Amy had kept in touch with Face and Murdock, and knew how they were doing after she parted ways with the team. The team was running strong for a couple of years, even working for a General in hopes of receiving pardon. This didn't work out and they eventually went on their own again as fugitives, but after Hannibal was fatally injured on a mission, the group split up. Murdock got married, Bosco got the certifications to teach engineering to inner city kids, and Templeton... well, she didn't know what happened to Faceman after the split. B.A. thinks he might've gone off and become a priest, but no one knows for sure. Still, with them out of the picture, Amy had nowhere to turn. Within a few weeks, her business and her reputation would be run into the ground. That was until her prayers for help were answered. One early morning, she got a knock on the front door of her Venice home and, after checking through the peephole, Amy opened the door to a middle aged woman with a short mop of curly blonde hair and a dapper blue suit, minus the blazer. The woman immediately perked up as door opened.

"Amy Allen?" She asked.

"Yes?" Amy first took the visitor as some sort of Mormon or door to door saleswoman, but that fact that she knew her name caught her off guard.

"My name is Lisa Addison," the lady said as she stuck out a hand. "I've heard about the troubles you've been having with RBC and their lawsuit."

"I see..." Amy raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going. "Are you here to help me?" She didn't shake Lisa's hand.

"Not exactly," Lisa smiles as she clasped her hands together, "but I know some people who can."

꧁•꧂

Lisa gazed around Amy's living room as her host brought her a glass of water. The architecture and decorations were quite contemporary; light, clean colors like lavender and lemon punctuated with simple raised furniture. Contrastingly the personal items, like knickknacks, photographs, and awards, were clearly vintage. Many of them were probably from Amy's earlier, more wild days. Lisa sat down on the plush sofa, turning her attention out the window to the water that glimmered in the sunrise. It nearly blinded her but she kept looking, lost in her own thoughts. A house by the Linnie Canals wasn't a bad choice by any means, but it wasn't the most inconspicuous choice of living either. Of course, not everyone chose their home based off of how easy it was to hide out in.

When Amy entered the room with two glasses in her hands, Lisa smiled and stood to take one. She took a long sip to avoid saying anything while she got a better look at her host. It wasn't surprising Amy didn't recognize her, but looking at the woman now, it didn't go over her head that if she didn't know who she was already, Lisa wouldn't have recognized her either. Ms. Allen had short brown hair with streaks of grey interspersed. She dressed simply, in a white linen short sleeve shirt and army green slacks. Between her outfit and her decor, it seemed Amy had taken on a bit of a minimalist attitude. From what Lisa knew of her, this seemed out of character, but considering they'd only once met in person, she couldn't be certain. Either way, people change.

"Ms. Addison." Amy abruptly broke the silence, which made Lisa pause for a moment, trying to register what was said.

"Yes?"

"You said you were going to tell me who could help the paper." Amy seemed more than a little suspicious. Lisa nodded and settled back into her seat as she prepared to speak.

"Yes, yes, and I will," she explained, "but first I need to tell you a bit about why I'm doing this." Lisa grabbed her cup with both hands and took another sip. She had to be ready for the tirade she was about to launch into. Really, she had to make sure she said everything correctly.

"Alright. Go ahead." Amy sat down across from Lisa, crossing her arms but not seeming closed off.

"So, like I said, my name is Lisa Addison. What I haven't said is that when I was... young, maybe around 11 or 12, I began living in the psychiatric wing of a hospital for full-time care. The place was supposed to be just for veterans, but that year they'd rolled out a clause allowing civilians in certain cases, and seeing as my folks were veterans themselves, there was some loophole they worked out. I couldn't tell you specifics, but I was the only person there my age. It was there I befriended a man who became like an uncle to me. Since my parents seemed to want nothing to do with me while I was living there, he practically raised me for a period of time. You may know him as Murdock." Lisa paused here to gauge Amy's reaction. It wasn't as shocked as she anticipated, Amy mostly seemed confused as to where this was going. This was good. So she continued.

"Yeah, so... So eventually I was released, but my parents decided to move me out to Indiana with some family friends, I guess in hopes the countryside would be calming for me. But I, uh... Well, I got into a lot of illegal activities, and I've pretty much been a felon for most of my young adult life. But I'm not a criminal now!" Lisa tried to explain herself, but Amy's face was unreadable. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she didn't need to say these things after all, but some impulse compelled her to finish her story.

"Murdock shared with me, when I was a kid, some things about his excursions outside of the facility, I think because he didn't expect me to believe him. I always had a feeling, though... I only knew it was possible when a man I was working for in Indiana was busted by a small vigilante group out east. Ever since I've tried to dedicate myself to forming a network a sorts, finding the alternative resources to help those who can't help themselves. Although I keep in touch with Murdock, I haven't told him about this, I didn't want him realizing I knew his truth. But I realized that if I didn't tell you now, in your hour of need, it would defeat the point of organizing all of this." As she finished, she took a pause and a long sip of her water, trying to gauge the reaction. Ms. Allen raised an eyebrow, nodding to herself.

"So," Amy started, "you're saying you know of an active organization like the A-Team that may be able to help me." Amy shifted back into her seat. "At this point I'm desperate. What do you got?"

"Wonderful." Lisa grinned. "Up north in Oregon, there's a small team known as Leverage Consulting."