The journal of Tanja Friedmann.

[Widow]

I'm not a doctor, a lawyer, or a fighter.
I'm not a saint, and I'm definitely not perfect.
But I guess I don't belong here as a Rogue either.

I'm Tanja Friedmann.

I was born and raised in Rheinland, ended up being trained on New Berlin as a pharmacist. Passed almost top of the class, not that that really surprised anyone. I was always a smart girl. Smart, but it turns out street smarts was somewhere I failed worse then I would ever imagine. Thankfully I had contacts, as different as they may be, they saved my life.

After getting into a bit of trouble dealing drugs on Manhattan I contacted Moka, it was a last resort, but I needed help. Some low life crime group was more interested in getting more of my 'trips' then they had money, things escalated and I found myself in hiding. My apartment got burnt down so all I was left with was the backpack of clothing I had with me, and three of my ID cards. Many were lost, and two of the ones I had left were alias' anyway.... Living a life of crime is complicated when trying to live a straight life on the side.

Anyway, after I managed to get off Manhattan, I headed to Rochester. That was lovely, the Junkers know how to look after a guest. I spent a few days there and was then brought to the Badlands, and Buffalo base. Most of the Rogues have so far been... less then welcoming, I need to do some research to find out who this 'Ruby' was. Buster, one of the Rogues here, seems to think I am out to cause mayhem and drama. His little talk to me on Alcatraz that morning made it clear he wasn't too impressed. But I did what I had to.

For the moment, there hasn't been anything too exciting happening, I've been keeping quiet and as out of the way as I can here, hoping things will settle and become more comfortable.... Well, ordering in a new supply of medication probably isn't too quiet, but they can't expect to get by on nothing.

For the moment, I will stay here until I see Moka again. I don't know what I will do after that, but I want to thank him personally for saving my sorry butt from those guys back... Back on Manhattan.

Keeping a journal will take some time to get use to, and maybe one day I'll fill in the blanks about my past, but for the moment.... I think I need to try and sleep.

I think... If I am welcome here... Maybe, just maybe, I might end up with a new home and a family after all.... Dreams are free, right?

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