Leaving

The Immortals- or at least the ones you know- have known it was coming for a long time. No matter how quiet most of you keep on the subject, there are always those who are willing to talk, even if it isn't in their best interests. You know it's coming, and coming soon.

The portents, both those mystical and those more mundane, have increasingly been pointing to Canada being a poor environment for Immortals after the Great Reveal. Already many of your fellows have left for other countries or for the North, where there are few enough people that official repercussions can be easily avoided, so long as one lives and lets live.

You've almost decided to quit your job and move to someplace more remote (it's a difficult decision; you've loved Canada for longer than it's been Canada, and have scarcely stepped foot outside of her in centuries, but on the other hand, although you didn't start life that way it's now difficult to imagine not being an officer of the law, and it will almost certainly be impossible to continue being one in Canada) when you're told of Robert Fraser's death.

Robert Fraser, who allowed you to graft yourself onto his family tree, to be the son he never had. You're told at his funeral that he was the last of a dying breed, and maybe it's true. He took you as his son with scarcely a question, fewer than you would have asked if you had been in his position. You will not allow his murder to go unsolved, even if you must delay your plans and leave Canada to deal with it.