Fragile Things IC, Who hunts the Hunter? Options

[Ophis]

October 30, 2070
Boston, UCAS
Beacon Hill

Frank Johnson sits in his cruiser eating a donut and sipping on a nice Soykaf. It's proving a quiet night so far, Beacon hill has been a bad beat ever since The Crash. Frank still has nightmares about that day, the wolf head eating the sun and the blast that blinded his wife. thank God that being a Knight Errant officer came with good insurance, you couldn't tell the cyber ones from the real ones, and the night vision really helped her spot the crap their son left all over the place when she went to the can in the night.

A sudden alert flashed across his AR HUD. He signalled control that he would move to investigate. His cruiser released his drone eye in the sky and it sped off towards the disturbance. Frank prodded alice his partner awake.

"Someone's called in a firefight down nearer the old hub. Control's sending us in to check it out."
"Cool hopefully some action will warm me up a bit. Fucking weather hasn't been right since the damn Crash."
"Round here what has been?"

A pair of dry chuckles are drowned by the engine of the police cruiser kicking into life.

Everyone but XXX

[ Spoiler ]

This is it, the real resistance probably lies beyond that door. Your small scale urban war seems to have been one sided in your favor. This was not what mary briefed you on so the shit will hit the fan as you go though that door.

XXX

[ Spoiler ]

You start to come round, your hands are cover in blood and you left arm is adding more to it at a steady rate. A flash of light catches your eye from the floor and you look towards still woozy from whatever hit you. A face looks back at you from the mirror. You have no idea who's it is.

[Vegas]

Some Day
Some Location
Hell on Earth

Eyes crack open to disorientation and blurred vision. Even before the surroundings come into focus the pain breaks through, sharp and clear, pinpointed to a few select locations. A wave of nausea washes over as blinking seems to take almost all the energy there is in this world.

Looking around the large room, candles line the walls and have long since been extinguished, some upended on the floor where rivers of wax are now hardened spills. Flashes of metal glint off most of the walls where archaic looking restraints jut from secured points. In the middle of the floor is etched a large pentagram ensconced in an equally large circle. Ritualistic icons, items and various paraphernalia are strewn around the room like someone had come in and tossed the place, or a fight had taken place.

A chill runs through and it’s not from entirely bare skin against the cold stone floor but from the macabre scene that surrounds, it definitely had a dark feel to it - bad juju. The only warmth in the room is radiating from the left. The thick scent of iron and traces of incense smoke and sweat linger in the room. A spasm of pain draws a gaze to the left where an arm is covered in blood, still oozing in a steady rivulet from a wound just below an intricate bicep tattoo. Another wave of nausea and this time minimal stomach contents splash across a line of the pentagram leaving a lingering taste and smell of bile.

A flash of light draws attention. On the floor lays a half broken mirror, covered in ash, grime and blood. Crawling over achingly slowly, a simple action of looking down into the mirror reflects back an enigma. Hair the colour of fire is matted and knotted with blood in various stages of drying, tanned skin barely shows signs of life as it’s vibrancy is replaced with a sickened pallor. Unfamiliar brown eyes look back at the unfamiliar face in the glass and a panic takes over as everything is suddenly unknown.

Who are you?

[pragma]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex

JW crouched down the hall and to the left of the door scanning the flight of stairs he had just descended with the rest of his team members. The cultists had dropped like flies but they were scattering rather effectively throughout the decrepit apartment complex. He worried that the leader, and therefore his paycheck, was one of the commcodes that was shuffling rapidly out of the facility.

That concern, however, was irrelevant to the task at hand. He had to watch the team's collective back while Wing and Dark Horse prepared to breach the ritual room where their meal ticket was likely hiding. The Chinese mercerenary and inhumanly black fighter were taking their sweet time blowing the thing open though.

He breathed out slowly and cradled the shotgun. Nothing to do but wait for the heavy hitters to do thier thing. Except maybe get his agent to start sorting through those damn commcodes.

[adamu]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex

Flat leaned against the wall opposite and off to the right of the door, both shoulders pressed against the cool concrete. He was glad for the momentary breather, his heartrate slowing - most of their runs hadn't involved protracted close quarters fighting, and his clothes were sticky with blood spatter.

He held his Sengoku Period katana in a two-handed grip, his arms resting for now against his body. His eyes were closed as he watched the stairway opposite the one they'd descended - he saw the hallway in dull grays and blacks, illuminated from behind him by the auras of his four teammates.

Extending his senses even beyond what his Astral Sight could perceive, he felt the ward that protected the big storage room, and he probed beyond it for their quarry...

[Ophis]

As Flat lets his astral senses touch the ward he feels a feeling like being covered in oil starts to spread over him.

[Metatron]

Wing examines the door carefully, then gets everyone to stand back a short distance. Once everyone has shifted, she places one round into each of the hinges, then applies foot to the door.

[Ophis]

The door crashes into the room, which seems to be some sort of horror film take on a Black Magicain's work room. Rusted manacles on the wall a penatgram and circle in dried blood on the floor and a vast selection of extinguished and part melted candles. Ritual paraphenalia is is scattered across the room looks like there was a fight here. A single figure lies on the floor. Female and seemingly naked, conscious but clearly hurt.

[Vegas]

Three sharp cracks and then her world, macabre as it was, imploded. The door came crashing in behind a heavily booted foot and instinctively she curled up in a defensive but quite fetal position on the floor. She moved slowly more to her knees, every inch of movement sending excruciating pain through her body and making her head spin with dizziness.

The hispanic elven woman had seen better days. She looked pale, the blood leaking from her arm might be the culprit as much as the horrors she could have seen or experienced within these walls. Her long hair, matted and bloodied showed some signs of just how long she might have been in this room. Her wrists bore the markings of the iron manacles and you could only begin to wonder what had gone on inside this room. Her brown eyes were wide as she tried to focus on the now open doorway and each of you who stormed in.

She wasn’t a threat, she was hurt. She was confused, she was scared.

[MisterDoormat]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex


Dark Horse thought he'd seen it all. This whole night has been crazy. But in this room, he met crazy's ugly cousin. This room stinks of evil and fear. With scribbles on the wall and floor that look to be made out of blood. Manacles that could only be for one thing. Dear God...

He was one of the first into the room so he could neutralize any physical opposition. There didn't appear to be anybody except the naked elf curled up in a ball on the floor. Looks like she is in pain. She doesn't appear to be an immediate threat, so Dark Horse leaves her be for the moment.

...What the fuck went down in here?!

Dark Horse walks towards the left of the room looking for any signs of trouble. He takes care not to touch anything or walk on any lines. He knows this is a black place. Best to let those damned wizards deal with it.

Not taking any chances, he keeps his M202 ready.

He hears the others coming in behind him.

He looks to the elf woman and says, "Who are you?"

[amra28]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex


Toobit is hanging in the back making sure nothing comes up from the group's rear. He is still breathing heavy from the fighting but also has a pleased look on his face because of how well the team performed.

Satisfied that their rear is secure he takes a look back at the others just in time to see the door forced open. The dwarf then follows the others up to the doorway and takes a look inside. As he does so his eyes open wide and he shakes his head in surprise as the strange sights meet his eyes.

[pragma]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex

JW sliced the pie to the left as he went through the door, just like his mother had taught him. Once he realized that his quadrant was clear he reflected that it was kind of odd to thank his mother for that particular skill.

He was violently snapped back to the present by the smell of blood, sweat and vomit. He choked down some bile and thought:

Sweet Jesus in heaven ...

As Dark Horse interrogated the woman lying on the floor JW noticed that the machine-gun toting death factory might not be the best person to be talking to her. In fact, no one in the group was really well equipped to comfort a torture (and rape?) victim. Well, Wing was also a girl, she'd probably be the best. He composed a message at the speed of thought, the computer lodged next to his brain responding to even the slightest suggestions.

<<@Team: A few suggestions -- Wing, put the gun away and talk to her, or something. Dark Horse, I think she needs a blanket more than she needs cover fire right now, point that beast somewhere else.>>

[Metatron]

<What makes you think that I'm good at talking to frightened girls?>

Wing walks into the room, and scans around, seemingly looking for something. She finds what she was looking for, and pulls the large wall hanging down. She walks over to the girl one the floor and helps her to stand, and wraps the material round her whilst she is standing.

"My name is Wing, what's yours?"

[adamu]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex

Whatever lay beyond the door was not setting well with his teammates, but even with the doors open Flat couldn't see crap through the ward while on the Astral. Time to get in there.

First things first - he shifted his senses to the physical world and mentally reversed the magical polarity on his sword - it was that or fight his way through the ward, and since the room hadn't erupted into gunfire yet, he figured easier was better.

Preparing to enter the room, he recited his mantra mentally - the one he always said before entering a potentially distressing situation. Your heart is yours...and naught shall touch it. Basic survival for someone with his condition.

He stepped through, not letting what his physical eyes saw touch him in the least - he had to keep his head clear to see the things he would need to see. Without wasting time he reawakened his blade and then closed his eyes - only to have his soul assaulted to the core by whatever had happened here!

Oh my fucking...he couldn't even complete the blasphemy as his head reeled with an unspeakable cocktail of alien violence and otherworldly anger. Desperately he clung to his mantra - naught shall touch it...naught shall touch it - and within a few moments he had himself back under control, but he felt as though he'd been gut-punched.

And with the terror came the pain. He tried to sublimate the feelings that tore at his unseen scars, but knew it was no use, knew he'd be in agony as long as he stayed in here.

So best get this done with as soon as possible - he refocused himself on the tasks of looking for their quarry and checking out the girl. Maybe if they could help her this nightmare would at least turn out to be one of the "good" runs....

[Ophis]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex Southern Exterior

The snow was getting worse as Frank pulled the cruiser to a halt behind the building where the firefight seemed to be coming from. A few ragtag groups of squatters seemed to be fleeing the place. The eye in the sky confirmed that they weren't packing any heat. Alice slid her Predator from it's holster as she opened the door. A window showing it's cam feed opened in Frank's HUD as he followed suite. As he cleared the car Frank thought her saw something moving near the building and a trapdoor swung open near the wall, dislodging the snow that had built up on it in a spray of white that got whipped into the growing blizzard. Alice raised her gun as three people emerged, "Freeze, this is the police!" she shouted. Frank raised his gun to make it clear they where serious. The women at the front of the little group cocked her head on the side and looked at the Policemen. She pulled her arm back and let fly a spinning baseball of razorblades that tore a whole through Alice's chest. Frank let off a pair of shots center target on the woman. Fucking mage. [color=yellow]<Officer down, backup now, we have a rouge ma...>. The shots missed as with supernatural speed the woman stepped to one side then launched a ball of flame at Frank cutting off his thoughts permanently and causing the Knight Errant vehicle to explode. The woman turned and signalled to her companions and they ran from the building, the snow covering their tracks and hiding then from view within moments.

[pragma]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex

No sooner than Wing's text had been broadcast JW responded.

<<@Team: I don't know, she's a girl, you're a girl, seemed about right. Feel free to delegate, I'm just throwing out suggestions.>>

There was motion on one of the camera feeds that were lined up in a column on the far left of his field of vision. He expanded just in time to see a pair of lone star officers blown away by a fleeing mage.

<<@Team: Got activity on the South end of the complex. Two Star types were just blown away by a mage who is probably one of our cultists. The cultist was with a pair of people who looked like our missing persons. I'll do what I can to track them, but I think we ought to make a hasty exit to pursue the cult folks and shake the Star.>>

Thinking for a bit about the layout of the maze-like apartment complex they'd just shot their way through, JW added:

<<@Team: There's probably a hidden exit from this room. The cultists couldn't have gotten to that camera so quickly otherwise.>>

[Vegas]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex

She cowered slightly, tightening in on herself as the blacker-than-night man holding a big-fucking-gun approached her and asked who she was. Fear stole any words from her lips even though the answers were slow to come to her mind. When Wing wrapped what felt like a rough blanket around her and helped her to her feet she struggled to hold herself up, pain and dizziness made it hard to stay on her feet. She leaned hard and shifted a lot of her weight, what little was left on Wing’s arm. Her lips cracked and dry tried to tell them answers but inside she had none. Her voice was weak, but loud enough Wing could hear.

“I’m… I… I don’t know who I am.�

[Metatron]

Easily taking the weight on her arm, Wing shifts to put her arm around the elf's back, and then puts the elf's arm around the back of her shoulder, in an attempt to make it easier for the elf to stand.

"There, is that better?"

<She doesn't know who she is guys...>

"Let's call you Jun for now, so we don't keep having to say 'oi, you' OK?"

[Vegas]

"Better, yes. Jun...ok"

She sounded lost and weak. She winced slightly as the pain in her left arm flared up again and another trickle of blood escaped.

"I think I need to have this looked at, there's a lot of blood."

She wobbled slightly, still quite woozy and her fingers clenched tighter on Wing's shoulder.

[Metatron]

"Anybody here use a medkit better than I can?" Wing says, pulling a medkit out.

[amra28]

After getting an eye full of the room, Toobit steps to the side but keeps his head in the doorway so that he can stay abreast of the actions inside of the room. It is almost as if he is reluctant to enter.

"I am not good with a medkit but if no else is I have some magic that will help. Although I would not want to wield any mana in there", Toobit responds when Wing asks for help in healing the victim.

[pragma]

October 30, 2070
Boston UCAS
Beacon Hill Cult Complex

"I'll take care of the patching up. Y'all see if you can find the way out of here and ... " He paused, trying to think of something that wouldn't distress their new companion "... cut to the chase."

JW walked to the newly christened Jun as he unlimbered his own medkit and said iwth a characteristic Southern twang:

"My name's JW, can I take a look at your arm?"

[Metatron]

"OK, feel free to take her to my landy, there should be plenty of space on the bench seats in back."

Wing puts her medkit away, and starts looking for the best way out to get to the rest of the cultists.

[Ophis]

As JW works on Jun, the rest of you scan the room. Several of you notice a set of scruff marks in the paint as if a door had smeared the "paint" on the floor. However there isn't a door there just wall.

[MisterDoormat]

Seeing that "Jun" was being taken care of, Dark Horse starts looking around the room.

This is when he noticed some scruff marks on the floor.

It looks like a door smeared the paint.. paint? I don't want to know what they used to "paint" this floor. Dark Horse glances back at Jun. sigh

<@Team: I think I found something over here. Looks like a door left marks on the floor. This might be how they escaped. I'll check it out.>

Dark Horse walks over to the spot with the scruff marks.

I know there is some type of door here. Now I just need to find how to open it.

[Ophis]

A quick examination of the wall shows up a well hidden catch near the top of the probable doorway.