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


XXX

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?

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.

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...

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

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.

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.

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.

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?"

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.

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.>>

<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?"

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....

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.

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.>>

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.�

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?"

"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.

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

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.

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?"

"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.

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.

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.

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

As JW approached she tensed up, a little on the defensive as she could feel a change in the mood of the room. She could feel stress levels rising a bit which started to raise her own hackles a little. She kept her eyes locked on the dark one with the large gun the entire time JW worked on her arm.

“Why did you come here, none of you look like cops”

As soon as her arm was patched up she withdrew it quickly from JW’s grasp, pulling the tapestry around her tighter and her world backlashed around her. Flashes of images, waves of emotions, all of it overwhelming. It left her clutching at her head and groaning in between sharp intakes of breath.

Her fight or flight response was kicking in, natural instinct was telling her to take the opportunity that came in the form of the open doorway and to run. Fear was beginning to blossom into anger as no matter how hard she tried to concentrate and try to remember anything all she was left with was a bloody arm, a naked body and a splitting headache.

"We're looking for folk who were dissappeared in these parts." JW replied as he wound gauze around the bleeding bicep wound. Noting her worried glances he added "Don't worry about Dark Horse over there. He's mean looking, but he won't hurt you."

She snatched her hand back and resumed groaning on the floor, causing JW to worry that he'd somehow made things worse with his first aid.

"The rest of these guys are going to keep working. If you'd like, I can take you outside. We've got a van you can crash in or you can go your own way."

He composed a message as he talked.

<<@Team: Flat, I assume you've done approprate astral sniffing. Is she a threat? Or just scared and hurt?>>

"I can’t remember my name, where I live or how I got here and you think I’d want to go on my own? Are you glitched!?"

Her frustrations bubbled out in terse comments to those who were trying to help her. She bit down on her tongue hard to keep from biting off JW’s head. She forced herself to take deep breaths, it took a few moments before she calmed herself enough to apologize.

"I’m sorry. Getting out of here, finding something to wear and a place to take a shower and get some sleep would probably be best for me right now, assuming that thing says I’m not about to die on you." She nodded to the medkit near JW’s feet.

"Nope, you're not dying and none of us are all that glitched. Like I say, your welcome to our backseat for the time being. I just wanted to make sure you didn't think we were cooping you up. You're free to go when you like."

She certainly seemed friendly ennough, in a imprisoned, tortured, amnesiac kind of way, but JW was starting to have sneaking worries.

What if she's an adept or a double agent or a walking cyberbomb or ...

He curtailed the train of thought and grinned a little before saying, "As to the clothing and the shower, I can't help you much there. I'm afraid I don't own that much in the way of ladies clothing and we don't keep a shower in the van. We'll see what we can do once we get topside.

While JW talked to the vic, Flat responded to his query over the team network, subvocalizing without dropping his awareness of the astral. <<She's probably dangerous, but can't say yet to whom. She's not faking the pain and confusion, though, so in my book we've gotta help her. But if the targets are hoofing it outta here, you guys had better get after them. JW and I can finish up here, get the girl to the vehicle, and then do a mounted coordination with your foot pursuit.>>

Without waiting for a reply, Flat muted his earbud and concentrated more deeply on the aura of the room - something very very bad had happened here, and painful as it was, he wanted the impression while it was fresh. He'd read the girl once they were out of this hell hole...

A quiet prayer spilled from her lips in perfectly accented Spanish as she nodded.

"Getting out of here makes the most sense to me right now." She stopped her sentence as if she was remembering something, however her mind was only a blank void.

"Maybe getting to a hospital would be a good idea as well, if there's something really wrong with me beyond the immediately visible. I mean I can't remember my name.. I can't remember anything." Anger crept back into her voice as her grip on the tapestry tightened.

Who am I? How did I get here? None of this is familiar or makes sense.

Flat feels an overwhelming feeling of pain and betrayal, added with desperation and fear. He sees a series of images of torure and sacrifices in the room, no clear image comes through of the who is doing it to who overlayed across all of this is a shadowy figure with seven motes of baleful red light roughly where eyes should be. The shadowy figure looks at you and starts to speak it's voice is like fignernails of a chalkboard "Hello, Matthew, I'll see you soon." With that the images and feelings are gone.

Dark Horse takes in the scene. The woman now called Jun, is being taken care of by JW. Flat is helping her too, but he isn't looking too good all of a sudden.

The cultists are escaping and we need to get moving. To get out of this room actually.

I hope this door leads to them. I want to ask them… Dark Horse looks at his M202 and sneers …a few questions about what they did in here.


<@ Team: I found what looks to be a door. I'm going to open it.

<@ Wing: Can I get some cover in case there is a surprise waiting on the other side?>


Dark Horse waits for an OK from Wing before pressing the catch.

Drowning in sweat, Flat severed his connection to the Other World and dropped to his knees, shivering. And naught shall touch it...and naught shall touch it.

It had been all he could do just to bear being in this place, but that...that...what he had seen...it had been too much.

Shaking it off, he got back on his feet, feeling a lot better now that he was in the real world. Approaching the girl, he said out loud to the team, "All right, I'm done here...good and done. I'll take the lady topside. JW, can you get us pix of these insriptions before we exit?"

Turning to the woman now called Jun, the astral sensitive forced a smile. "Looks like they got you patched up pretty well. You can call me Flat. Let's get you some fresh air." And with that he led her toward the door they had entered through.

"On it."

JW slowly walked his eyes and a pocket flashlight around the room, carefully instructing the machinery housed therein to capture images of the depravity on the floor and walls.

"We're good to go, I'll lead and you follow." He said to Flat as he walked toward the exit and the team vehicle.

He added over the matrix <<@Flat: And keep a sharp eye on her while we're walking. Say the word and I'll get out of the way.>>

All at once the young woman was led and followed out of hell. As she ascended the stairs she gulped large breaths of "fresh" air. The cold air pierced her lungs and caused them to burn and she coughed, but she was alive. For now that was all the solace she was allowed.

Eyes darted between JW and Flat as they moved her towards their vehicles. She pulled the tapestry around her tighter as now that she was out of the basement room she was all too aware of her lack of clothing and her vulnerability. She looked around at her surroundings for anywhere or anything that looked familiar. Still there was nothing. She tried to defuse the wave of panic building in her again with some wry sense of humor and bad jokes.

"So you don't have any ladies clothing, but any chance someone's got an extra pair of jeans and shirt even? Wouldn't want the cops to roll by and get the wrong impression. You fine gentlemen don't need a charge of soliciting on your spotless records now do you?"

She smiled and it was almost charming, if there wasn't a lost and almost vacant look in her eyes behind it.

"I'm afraid that soliciting is the least of our worries given the bloody katana and clothing Flat's got on right now..." He drawled in response. "... but we'll grab you some flats as soon as our work's done and we can hit a stuffer."

While JW had Jun's attention, Flat subvocalized, [COLOR=yellow]<<In the car, you take the back seat, even if she gripes - you're right, we can help her, but that doesn't mean we want her behind us.>>

"Actually," he added out loud, "I've got some clothes you can borrow in my car. And the sooner we get to it, the happier I'll be."

Toobit watches as Flat and JW lead the battered women out of the basement. He then moves in at Dark Horse's request and positions himself to the side of the secret door. The dwarf gives the big man a nod and then gets ready for the door to open.

@Darkhorse <"Nah, Thought I'd stand around like an idiot">

Comes over your comm, you think you can hear a little hint of sacasm in it...

Wing moves over to give Darkhorse cover should it be needed.

Flat took a deep breath as he followed JW and Jun out of the building - he was glad to get out of that death-house. As the ork led the way toward their vehicles, he looked down at Jun's bare feet in the moonlit snow and assured her they wouldn't have to go far.

They had staged just a block away from the target, having detected no perimeter security and wanting to hit fast and hard. Turning a corner they saw a street with several parked cars - Wing's Landy was at the end of the block, but Flat's own Comet was closer. He sheathed his katana and unlocked the doors with a flick of one AR glove. Stepping forward, he opened the front passenger door of the sedan for Jun, and said "Sorry about the mess" to JW as the ork braved the fast-food-container-filled back seat.

Flat went around and got into the driver's seat. Turning to the elf woman, he pointed to a big black Hefty bag that was keeping her feet from touching the floor - "Just did laundry - you'll find clean khakis and shirts you should be able to get into - sorry, no women's underwear." Glancing in the rearview mirror as his commlink started the car, he said, "Okay, Jay-dub, where are they at?"

Sliding into the passengers seat, she was grateful for the perceived warmth the car provided from the wind and the snow on her bare feet. When Flat informed her that clothes were in the plastic bag at her feet she dove into it the best she could with one hand as the other tried mostly in vain to keep the tapestry wrapped around her. She glanced over towards him and smiled.

"Thank you, and I never figured you for the wearing women's clothes type anyway."

She noticed JW sliding into the back seat and smiled softly to him as well before pulling out a pair of khakis and a dark blue long-sleeved shirt from the bag. One more reach in procured a pair of thick socks that she quickly pulled onto her damp and cold feet.

"Now if you would be so kind to turn your heads away gentlemen, I can get dressed in a flash."

When she was satisfied neither of them were going to sneak a peek she let go of the tapestry and shimmied her way into the khakis and then leaned forward, exposing the large flame tattoo at the small of her back to JW's cautious gaze as she pulled on the shirt. The pants were a little short, the shirt a little too big but at least she was clothed and starting to warm up a little bit.

As talk started to turn back to their task at hand she couldn't help but pipe up a little as conversations replayed in her head from within the basement.

"You said you came looking for people who disappeared, I guess I'm not one of the ones you came looking for?" Disappointment crept into her voice after a moment of hope. If she was one they had come for, perhaps they would know something, anything about her that could cut through the fog that filled her mind.

The door swings open scrapping slightly on the floor.

Beyond lies a passageway a cold breeze and the sound of snow sizzling as i t hits flames. Darkhorse and Wing take the lead moving carefully scanning the tunnel for any threats.

As soon as Toobit passes through the door he feels a pressure begin to lift after a few paces the "static" he felt in the ritiual room has lifted completely.

The passage leads straight on towards an open trapdoor, snow and light fall through it illuminating the end of the passage. Looks like the passage is clear.

Darkhorse and Wing

Easing the car into the slippery street, Flat made a mental note that her short-term memory seemed to be working just fine. He was itching to get a proper read on her, but that would have to wait, and in any case it might not tell the whole story. He would need to get at whatever was locked in her subconscious - "No, you weren't who we went in looking for, but I'm glad we found you - no one deserves to be put through what was done to you," he said, hoping to trigger a memory.

JW's eyes had a faraway expression fixed on them as the elf changed next to him. The streams of data pouring from cameras, comms, GPS units and his own programs flitted in front of his eyes and told him the location of his team, the progress of his agent, the load on the team network, number of firewall catches and enough other technical information to keep teams of lesser hackers busy for hours.

His modified brain basked in the stream of pure data, pure power, and came up with answers to Flat's questions.

"Goddamn agent hasn't turned anything up. Should of been a thirty second tracking job. The lovely lady we're chasing probably turned her comm. off. The rest of the team is still holed up near the ritual room, moving slowly for some reason."

He marked a spot on the team map overlay and added "We ought to drive where they were seen last and see if we can pick up a trail from there. All else fails, we can grab the rest of our team."

It was only after reciting the answer's to Flat's questions that he got around to Jun. He gingerly moved the shotgun to his lap, barrel pointing toward the window, and awkwardly shuffled his feet between some half-eating containers of cheap mongolian beef as he said:

"No, you're not quite what we expected to find. But we're philanthropic types anyway."

He unbuckled the pistol strapped across his camoulaged chest as he joked with Jun. Best to be able to get a gun pointing either direction quickly.

Dark Horse didn't like following darkened passageways. Specialy after what he'd seen in that room. Only real light seems to be coming from an opened trapdoor. He is about to head for the open trapdoor when a glint catches his eye. He looks down to see a wire crossing the passageway. One end connecting to a box.

A trap?

Dark Horse whispers to Wing.

"Wing, there is a...

Dark Horse turned to stop Wing from setting off the trap. Thats when he saw that she was staring at the same thing. Wing looks at Dark Horse as to say, "do you think I wouldn't see that?"

..nevermind"

Still whispering, this time to Toobit and Wing.

"Toobit, be sure to watch out for this trap here." Dark Horse points to the wire. "Wing, I don't think we have enough time to disarm it, so I say lets just step over it and get topside."

Dark Horse steps over the wire and starts for the open trapdoor.

Following JW's suggestion, Flat nosed the Comet around toward the south side of the building where the hacker had last sighted their quarry, and where hopefully the rest of their team would soon be emerging.

Toobit nods when Dark Horse points out the trap and makes sure he steps over it as he follows the other two down the hallway.

Dark Horse reaches the top of the ladder, the weight of the machine gun hampering his movement when slung. Giving him a chance to reach the top, Wing follows him up. Dark Horse emerges into a street like any of the ones that surround the building decorated by a funeral pyre made from the shell of a Knight Errant patrol car. Snow swirls around clinging to clothes and hair. A corpse lies a few feet from the car charring slightly down one side. A neat hole in the officer's chest gathers snow. As Wing's head emerges from the hole a shape coalesces from the smoke a parody of a human form with darker pits for eyes. It looks at Dark Horse. It seems pleased to see him...

A moment passes as the spirit and Dark Horse size each other up. Dark Horse breaks the standoff with a bark, "Spirit!". The shout energises Wing and she scrambles up the last few feet of the ladder bringing her Mossberg round and up ready to shoot in the same motion. As the spirit hestitates Dark Horse makes his move, ducking behind the nearby remains of a litter bin as he readies his massive gun.

The spirits 'eyes' merely lighter patches of shadow seem to narrow and it reaches out towards it's foes. Tendrils of shadow extend towards each of them trying to ensnare them. Wing excutes a neat drop and roll and what purchase the spirit had is lost. Dark Horse weighed down by the Machine gun isn't so lucky. Shadows wrap round his some seemingly the fleeting imprints of faces.

Dark Horse


All this action is however lost on Toobit as he does his best to scramble up the ladder. Somehow he gets further than he thought possible. He calls mana to himself as he hears the shout, magic course through his body accelerating him. Another run and the fight will be in sight, and sight is all he'll need.