00:18:14 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Just north of intersection of 128th and Vineyard, to the intersection of an alley off Vineyard near 142 Ln.
Bockscar

Feeling pain under the Kamikaze is a wierd sensation; like you know it's there, but you have to remind yourself what it is. As I get round the corner and hide for a second, I can feel it in my lungs; my breaths are shallow and when I think about it I can feel the tightness in my chest. The condom duct-taped to the knife hole isn't rising and falling much, so I peel up a corner of the tape, scratch the scabs open, and dig around the hole a bit till I feel the hot gust of air and frothy blood from the hole. Tack it back down.

Get up, move down vineyard and across an alley toward 142nd lane, heading west towards 124th. Move about 100 yards, fast, but not sprinting. Occasionally check behind me for pursuit.

Near the 142nd lane opening of the alley, huddle myself in behind a trashcan and point my rifle back towards the last intersection. Queue up a couple tasks on my commlink - a simple freq-scan through the RF signal scanner in my pocket and a bunch of effort analyzing Leon's commlink.

In the name of god, the compassionate, the merciful, let this mother-f****r still be logged in.

00:25:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Roaming up 132rd Ave. in Splintered Crash turf
Aziz

Aziz sucked in a ragged breath, and let it out with a near audible groan, and rises back up to his feet, using Kalila as a crutch.

"Only place I can think of is Lossky Destry... Northwest of here... on the edge of Raider Nation's turf.", he says quietly, before his injuries bring him down to his knees again with a wince. He holds himself still there for a few moments, breathing hard.

"I can make the jog though, don't worry 'bout me.", he says finally, his voice tense. "I just don't... think we... uh... we can move Halo in her condition."

You should lie down right now That would be best for you., a voice in Aziz's head pipes up. He shakes his head slowly, staring down at the ground between his hands, currently busy preventing his top half from slumping down onto the pavement.

Yeah, wouldn't a nap feel great?, another chimes in. Aziz coughs and looks back up at his two mates.

Sorry brain... tempting idea, but I can't go soft right now..., he thinks, and uses Kalila to bring himself shakily to his feet again.

"Don't worry Felix, Halo's not gonna die on my watch. We'll get her patched up, we'll find who tried to grease her, and we'll kill him nice and slow. But we need to get gone first.", he says, nodding at Shade.

"Unless Felix knows a better place, we've got a stroll ahead of us. You think you can carry Halo out of here?"

00:15:50 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Behind ruined building off of 124th Place NE
Grack

"When I saw the UV fuckers with bite marks that you weren't still stuck to, I thought you were a fucking goner," said the aptly named Thumper.

"Magic can't fight hez," was the noble Grack's laconic reply. He was of course overjoyed to see the other ork, easily his most dear friend in the world, indeed almost a soulmate, but his mind was suddenly troubled by what the apparent survival of this troll might mean to plans he had long harbored for another member of the 8-Balls. The thought of his tender schemes being thwarted filled his impetuous young mind with the desire to blind the troll with acid and then see how many blocks his intestines would stretch. But now was not the most propitious timing.

So he gave a polite nod and said, "Cerri of my cerri..." to the 8-Ball, and then said, "Come, victory party at Plastic Sushi. A glory night. A night of conquest and legends." And he headed back south. Within a few meters, Broken Tusk had resumed it soothing choruses in Our Hero's rawhide eardrums.

00:16:07 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Headed South down 126th Ave NE approaching NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

With every step away from Badmarsh the panic subsided and the anger returned, echoing in each step with her boots. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure the girls were in line behind her, catching Frankie's eyes for an instant before she sent a nasty glare in Badmarsh’s direction. She cursed and muttered softly to herself as she forced her head back in the game. Actions that were once routine in her past now conflicted with the newfound “ganger mentality� and lifestyle she’d been living for the last two plus years.

She forced herself to put any friction that she was feeling behind her as she “led� them South and West with Badmarsh hissing out changes in their choice of path along the way. There would be time later to have words with the group, to hash the shit out, but that would only come assuming they stayed alive and made it to their destination. Wherever the fuck that was.

00:16:11 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Behind ruined building off of 124th Place NE
Doc

Doc nodded sarcastically at the disgusting newcomer. He trailed half a step behind the two orks as they headed south out of the alleyway. He had a thought, a premonition almost. Tonight was going to be an important night, more important even than the two that had preceeded it. If you want to survive in the streets you need to have two things: skills, and friends. It's not enough to just be strong. Doc still had the skills, but he was short on friends at this very moment. So far, it looked like it was going to be a night of meeting people. Doc hated meeting people. It was always so awkward and it was always easier to just tell someone to frag off than to try and make nice. Unfortunately, Doc realised that he could use these people. Thumper seemed like a decent sort, too. Grack was fucking repulsive, but a lot of people would say the same about Doc's face. I guess it's time to attempt to make nice, buddy. Not too nice, though.

"Hey Thumper, your buddy stinks. Does he bathe in sewage or something?"

Doc's grin was intended to show that it was just a joke. Somehow, he doubted that it was getting across. Fuck, just give me someone to punch in face.

00:18:14 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Hidden behind a trashcan, alley off Vineyard near 142 Ln.
Bockscar

Bingo!!!!!!!! The light flashes in my vision that Leon's link is open. Immediately slave it to the big commlink and dump every f*****g trace of data that the sucker has on there to a holding directory. I'll sort out the good stuff versus the porno later.

As I'm dumping the data, another feed pops up showing me a signal hit nearby - really close, within 100m, and not on the Raiders side. This is like Christmas... Pull up Leon's directory and scan the node - some Hammerpack dude named Badmarsh.

Compose a brief text to Bamarsh in my brain and then route it through Leon's commlink - <<@Badmarsh [Leon] - This is Leon's cousin. Moving back from the flank at 128th and Vineyard. 2 Friendly KIA - Leon and some kid. I am WIA. 3 Raider KIA, at least 3 Raider WIA/Probably KIA. Probably being pursued. Moving to your position. Acknowledge.>>

Keep the sniffer listening for signal traffic while I wait for some sort of response. Pain in the rear that I gotta keep leon's worthless 'link on; hope these kids know how to communicate.

00:02:40 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – heading north on NE 124th St between Ne 137th Pl & NE 138th Pl Kingsgate, Seattle, UCAS
Trojan

Trojan takes a hard right onto 124th St, too hard of a turn, he should have slowed down a bit more but the hope for clear streets overrides his common sense as he goes up the slight incline that obscures whatever is over the crest. Not one block later he hears a sharp noise that forces itself over the sound of the motorcycle's exhaust and through his helmet. BANG.

00:26:09 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Roaming up 132rd Ave. in Splintered Crash turf
Felix

Fresh tears barely dry on his cheeks. Felix sniffed hard. Even with the breathing mask on, the air kept getting stuck somewhere in his throat. His body kept shaking up from his toes to his ears, running up his spin in a cold shiver. He was relieved that both Halo and Aziz were still alive... but he still dreaded what might be coming for them. Halo was barely hanging on. She was stable, but far from being out of the woods. Aziz was on his two feet... which was a god damn miracle concerning what Felix could see. But that also didn't mean a whole lot. Infection could very well kill him in the next few days... not to say that if they got caught out in the open by any hostiles... they wouldn't stand a chance.

Still crouched next to Halo, who's helmet he had removed, Felix kept gently brushing her hair, biting his lower lip under his mask.

There was just no way they could stay here. She need a real place to rest. Somewhere she would be safe... and there was no way the could carry her on one of the bikes.

Felix's clouded green eyes went from the girl he loved toward his two friends. Lossky's place was the only real medical care facility in Kingsgate. Sure, the young mage knew his way around a medkit, and could take care of a lot of bumps and bruises... but there was no way in hell he could do anything more for Halo.

"Aziz's right... we need to get her to the clinic. It's further than I would wish, but I can't think of any other place..."

00:16:25 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Ruined building off of 124th Pl. NE
Thumper

It was a bit of an awkward joke, but Grack wasn't listening and Thumper wasn't offended. Time to retaliate.

"Actually, I think he does. But you don't smell to good either big guy -- stink of kerosene and body odor."

He was just warming up. Doc's mildly aggravated stare only egged him on.

"Word on the street is that you need sticks of deodorant this big around," he said holding up his table leg. "Good thing you know how to cook, otherwise you'd be one high, dry and stinky motherfucker."

He jokingly punched Grack on the shoulder. "I mean what good's a drug lab if you can't use it to make fucking corp R&D anti-stink sticks.. Be calling you 'Doctor Aztech-Folgers-Colgate-Armandhammer' in no time fucking flat."

Grack eyed the situation and barked a polite, well as polite as he got, laugh in response as the trio of bruisers rounded the corner of the apartment and spied Plastic Sushi.

00:16:32 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 124th Pl. NE - Near Plastic Sushi
Doc

If Doc's social intuition was correct, which it seldom was, then Thumper was actually reacting well to the taunting of his friend. Despite being pretty piss poor at making friends, Doc was actually decent at insulting people.

"Hey asshole, what you're smelling is just my fragging troll man musk. Besides, your mother seems to like it fine."

Unfortunately, Doc had forgotten, or more likely was never taught the number one rule of good-natured ribbing involving an ork: never mention their mothers.

Up ahead, Doc's cybereyes spotted a skinny human he didn't remember seeing before standing outside of Plastic Sushi. The man carried himself like a solider, but at the same time with an air of command that was unmistakable. Doc was relatively sure that the man they were heading towards was none other than Legion himself.

00:18:34 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place, Kingsgate, Seattle, UCAS
Legion

Legion blew a stream of smoke into the night sky, grimacing as the act of exhaling sucked at the lips of his wound. Grack and Thumper were headed his way across the street with the 8-Baller in tow. Legion didn't recognize the troll, but that meant little. It remained to be seen how useful he could be, balanced against the greater resources that trolls consumed. As the trio approached, he stepped off the curb, offering the last cigarette in his stolen pack to the troll.

"Smoke?"

00:18:35 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Ruined building off of 124th Pl. NE
Thumper

The mother comment shut him up. She was a bitch, he guessed. Thumper had a confusing relationship with the woman. But he liked this game to much to be kept off balance by the statement.

"Yeah, sure. All I'm saying is that your 'man musk' is a lethal fucking weapon. You could kill a seagull at 20 yards just by airing out your pits."

As the group pulled even with Legion and a smoke was proffered to Doc, Thumper assumed the silent, almost deferential pose he invariably found himself taking around Legion. It wasn't intentional, it just felt right to shut up and listen to what the man had to say.

He eyed Doc expectantly.

00:18:41 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Doc

Doc was caught off guard by the offer of the cigarette. He had heard many things said about Legion, but had never heard his name and the word generous mentioned in the same breath. In the past, the offer of a cigarette would have given Doc pause to think about the situation, but since the first explosion that resulted in the loss of his hand and his facial scarring, he couldn't get smoke and fire that close to his face without feeling very uneasy. Of course, he doubted the gangers around him would think too fondly of that explanation. He looked down at the pack Legion was still holding in his direction.

"Nah man. Had to give those things up. Can't be smoking in the lab, you know?"

00:18:41 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place

Grack

Mildly surprised that Master Legion was still alone when the brave trio arrived back at the sushi shop, Grack faded into a nearby alley to watch what his leader would do with the prisoner he and Thumper had captured. Torture was, of course, the best way to deal with rivals, but he was not surprised to see the invitation to a social smoke - Legion would surely toy with the interfering troll before the coup de grace.

From his vantage point lurking deep in the shadows, he could see the others talking but it could not possibly be as interesting as the spirited requiem now filling his ears. Of course, young Grack was enough at ease with his masculinity that he would never hesitate to openly express his feelings for his cerri once they all gathered for the victory festivities, but the polite thing to do would be to await more arrivals before formally commencing the celebratories, and for now he was most content simply to wait and watch.

Oh yes, dear reader, make no mistake - our Grack did so love to wait and watch.

00:19:02 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Headed to the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142 Ln
Badmarsh

Badmarsh squints and moves ahead, taking cover and scanning the area ahead before waving the girls ahead. The new girl stalks forward glaring at him as she passes, shotgun held easily. He grins wolfishly at her as she passes. A promise of rewards for her continued good behavior. The 'fuck off' in her eyes need not be vocalized. His face blanks as she looks away and down the street. Gonna need to play it lightly with this one. Even more willful than Frankie.

Badmarsh calls a halt as Leon's comm blinks on with a message. looks into the distance with a 'what-the-fuck?' expression. The voice isn't Leon's. It's that cousin of his. What the fuck's he... The crisp transmission ends. Leon... dead? ...fucking Nation. A growl resonates in the young man's chest.

<<@Leon [Badmarsh] Hold up, Soldier Boy. Try that in English. >>

00:03:25 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – heading north on NE 124th St between Ne 137th Pl & NE 138th Pl Kingsgate, Seattle, UCAS
Trojan

Just after hearing what he thought was his bike backfiring, the dwarven rider heard something skip off the top of his helmet, like he had scraped a tree twig on it. Considering the situation at hand, he easily figured out that it was no backfire but true gunfire. Someone was shooting at him and wasn’t that bad of a shot to skip a round of his brain bucket! Ducking his small frame down on his bike just a little more, Trojan revved the 4-stroke as open as it would go, hoping to leave behind whoever it was that wanted him dead.
A tuff of asphalt kicked up to his right around five meters ahead of him a second later. The sound of the round got to him just in enough time for his enhanced reflexes to react. The ganger’s face a mix between a sneer, a grin and a frown, he only thanked whatever it was up there that kept him alive so far. Then a third shot rang out…

Pain washed over his face as he struggled to keep his eyes open, failure wasn’t an option. Water pored from his tear ducts as muscles strained to balance his off-centered bike, the pain wrecking havoc with his mind. Barely registering the error in the course his bike was taking, Trojan wrenched his handlebars over to the left, a last ditch effort to avoid ramming straight on into a parked Chevy 4x4.

Luck may favor the bold and the reckless, but it is also a double edged sword. The tumbling dwarf now knew this all too well as his body rolled along the street; an after effect of clipping the trucks oversized left mirror. From inside his helmet, he knew enough to try and tuck his arms close to himself as Trojan saw flashes of the city lights reflected off the thick clouds above and then flashes of darkness before he finally rolled to a stop next to his skittering bike.
Lying on his back, he opened his eyes to look up at the clouds which were rolling and tumbling themselves, as if mocking the lone rider…

00:16:53 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 124th St between 132nd St and 133rd Pl
Fool

Eyeing the ravaged carcass that lay before him, Fool could only think about how much he wanted to get out of this area before something did the same thing to him. Sparing a glance at his commlink to read the location his brother in arms was at, if he could call him that, the human ganger made his way north; making sure to continue looking into any dark hiding place for things that go bump in the night.
Speaking lightly and less nervous as he moved away from the gruesome scene, he spoke into his comm with a slight grin in his voice, though it didn’t exactly show on his face, “Roger, roger. I’ll make my way towards your position. Keep your comm on. If you don’t see or hear from me in roughly 10 minutes forget about me and just look after yourself.�

Scanning the long stretch of the NE 132nd St, the male saw little to no movement, and the movement he did see were random scraps of paper or cloth rolling around in the wind as it blew down the empty war torn road. Taking a deep breath, he bolted across as fast as his leg could carry him, reaching the other side and continuing to run until his lungs gave in and he slowed to a slight trot down an alleyway that ran between 133rd Pl and the 132nd.
Things were quiet, at least near him, he thought as Fool could hear the sounds of gunfire in different directions in far off places. They sounded like someone taking small firecrackers and lighting them off at different intervals to explode randomly, but he knew them for what they really were and wasn’t fooled one bit. It just was one more thing to keep the poor guy on his toes tonight and keep sleep from him.

Up ahead the sight of the 124th was clear in his eyes, easily recognized by the ganger though it looked just like the 132nd. As he made his way to the end of the alleyway, Fool poked his head around the corner to view the area with his blue cyber eyes. Southbound, the street was clear of anything suspicious. As he scanned north though, he barely saw a pair of women sneaking up the street, their colors giving themselves away as the ‘ones who break hearts’.
Sliding farther into the shadows, the wandering ganger wondered where they were headed and scanned farther north. Not seeing anything, he looked back to the red and pink wearing vixens to see them fade into the blackness of an alley on the east side of the 124th.

00:19:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Moving west on NE 142nd Lane towards 126th.
Bockscar

Well, that sure counts as acknowledgment, at least; if Leon's commlink has the range to scan him I know he's close, too.

<<@Badmarsh [Leon]: Raiders killed Leon and some kid who was with him. I'm shot in the lung. I'm at 142nd and Vineyard, movin' down 142nd to the drag. Raiders ain't far behind, and they probably want a word with me.>>

Ain't seen nothin' down the alley, so it's time to scoot. Lever myself up and scoot down the alley to where it opens on to 142nd lane. Peek around the corner towards the north, then scoot around it real quick so my ass ain't pointin' at the Raiders. Move west down 142nd, hangin' low and to the right.

Now we gotta find this mofo... hope I can remember which one he is...

00:19:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of NE 124th Ave and NE 132nd St
Fool

Fool let out a long sigh. He would have loved to have followed those two heartbreakers. They might have been heading into that alley on business in which case he wouldnt have had any problem watching and if the were alone he might have been able to take advantage of the situation, if he could have seperated them..

But the little green blob in his AR vision that showed the location of Child was to the south a ways. Somewhere along the hapazard path he was following he had veered off course. His lungs had stopped gasping for air now just in time to hopefully make the short trip to the south.

Flipping to thermo he scanned the surrouning area for any signs of people hiding out in the windows, he saw none and switched back to lowlight. It was now or never. Scampering out of the alley he had been hiding is he was about to begin his run to the south when the roar of motorcycle engines and headlight beams could be seen coming from the east of NE 132nd St. Fool quickly returned to the alley and watched as four hellhounds rumbled through the very intersection he was planning on heading towards.. As the last bike passed sparks were flying from the chains it was dragging. Chains that were attached to what looked like a person. Fool shivered and then headed out again.

The trek to the intersection was quick, finding Child wasnt that much harder. As he approached an alley he could see a bike parked in an alleymatching the description Child had given him. Bathed in shadows it probably wouldnt be very visable from the streets unless you knew what you were looking for. Further down was Child hunkered down by the corner of a house. Minus his Rollers jacket he was still in those dirty black flats and flannel shirt and combat boots. Child looked up at Fool with one of those glazed over looks like he was busy doing something in AR. Fool just nodded and slunk down next to him against the wall.

"Whatcha doing?"

00:30:14Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Shade

Shade doesn't say anything during the discussion. If Aziz was less fragged up or Felix wasn't so distraught, it would be pretty obvious to them his mind was elsewhere.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Shade's mind was wandering, his focus detached from the problem at hand. Not from a lack of concern though. Far from it. The main thing on his mind right now was saving Halo and making sure Aziz would pull through too.

No, his dilemma lay not in the problem, but the solution. He had one neither of the others could possibly know about, but what it would cost them, cost him, was what weighed heaviest on his mind.

He sighed. In the end, it really was a no-brainer. Halo's life came first. All other issues could wait until that was taken care of. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled it as Felix admitted he couldn't think of anywhere better than the Lossky clinic.

"I can."

"Say what?" Aziz over up at him, pain clouding his eyes.

"I said, I can think of a better place to take Halo."

"Really? Where?" The excitement in Felix's voice was obvious. As far as he was concerned, anything to help Halo was a good thing. It was obvious the young mage was clinging to a sliver of hope that Halo would be ok, and Shade couldn't bear to let his little buddy down.

"Overlake Medical Research Center, over on 116th Ave NE."

"116th Ave...Shade you get whacked in the head too hard when you escaped from the 162s? That's over in Bellevue! How the hell are supposed to get her in there?" Aziz demanded.

Shade looked at him and calmly answered, "I know someone who works there. She can get us in, get Halo treated, and between the two of us we can cover up what I assume is Halo's lack of a SIN."

He gestures to the unconscious biker. "Look at her. She's practically gone already. For her to even have a chance of pulling through, we'll be living on a wing and a prayer. You want to trust Lossky-Destry to deliver on that prayer?"

No one says anything. Even if Lossky-Destry was the best clinic in Kingsgate, that still wasn't saying a whole lot. After all, there was more than one reason it was nicknamed the 'Losers Destination Clinic.'

Pressing on, Shade continues, "Even after she regains consciousness, there's a real chance she'll need replacement limbs, cloned if at all possible, cybered if not. Will they have those treatment options available? What about rehab? From what I see, there's possible spinal or nerve damage, extensive tissue damage, maybe brain damage, and who knows what else? Any of those issues and more could easily require rehabilitation, especially if we want her to have any chance of regaining her previous motor coordination. No fragging way she'll get that anywhere but a real hospital."

He pauses, then adds, "And come on. Even crippled, you think Destry would think twice about taking some of his payment in trade off of Halo? Is that the kind of guy we want to entrust her to? She needs a real hospital, with real doctors, real facilities, real equipment, the whole nine yards. The only place I can think of she'll get all that is Overlake. All we need to do is steal a car to transport us and get her over there in one piece. Unless you guys have any better ideas? But me, I say this is no time to screw around. Forget Lossky-Destry and let's take her to a hospital actually worth the name."

Of course, in his presentation there was one big problem he left unmentioned. Obvious too. Yeah, he had an answer for that problem as well, but he wanted someone else to bring it up first. As much as family meant to him, he wanted to see how much it meant to everyone else. Sometimes, you had to know where everyone stood with each other. This was one of those times.

00:19:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place

Legion's unexpected generosity may have surprised Doc, but the troll would have to wait to find out the human's response to his refusal of the cigarette.

Before anyone could say anything else, a loud laugh drew their attention. Swaggering up 124th Ave NE was a group of five that could have been the poster children for diversity. At least, the poster children for a gangbanging group of metahumans whose claim to diversity was accepting any race willing to pound the drek out of a human.

An elf, dwarf, two orks, and a troll, all wearing Black Plague colors, were strutting up into Hammerpack territory as if it were nothing, like they were out for a relaxing stroll.

It was intentional, of course. With the war's climactic battles drawing to a close, it was time for the survivors to start grasping for the spoils of war. Making one's presence known, claiming new turf and redrawing the lines of demarcation were standard practice for any gang after a war, and with the apparent destruction of the Hammerpack, it looked like the Black Plague was finally deciding to move north of 140th St.

Spotting the group of four about thirty meters away, it was obvious from the Plaguers; comments they didn't actually identify who they were talking to. They simply wanted to make their presence felt.

"Hey, you fraggers better clear the streets! Ain't too safe in these parts right now!"

"Yeah, this is Black Plague turf, jus so's ya knows!"

"Hammerpack's fraggin' finished!"

"Long live the Plague!"

So far it seemed they hadn't made Legion as a human yet, or else they probably wouldn't be so friendly. Then again, who said they were walking over to be friendly?

00:19:47 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

Bockscar didn’t have to wait long to see if he could remember just who Badmarsh was.

As Nevada cautiously approached the corner where 142nd Ln met up with where 126th ended, she paused behind the corner of one of the buildings and focused her attention around the corner where she couldn’t get a good visual. She heard footsteps, and as soon as everyone behind her came to a stop and the steps continued, her shotgun leveled out at her waist and she glanced over her shoulder and caught Badmarsh’s eyes as she subvocalized.

<<@Badmarsh [Nevada]: Footsteps. Around the corner. One possibly more.>>

She held herself still as could be, putting herself between the girls and the corner of the building, pushing each of them back flat against the wall. Her finger rested feather-light on the trigger of the shotgun.

Breathe.

00:32:23 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Aziz

Aziz blinked a few times, sorting out the myriad information and thoughts generated in response in his head. Shade was right, Halo was injured critically. Hell, so was he. And he knew without a doubt Shade had nothing but the best intentions. But the road to hell, and all that.

"So... your plan is to steal a car, stick Halo in it, drive all four of us south... through Touristville, into Bellevue, and get us into a hospital.", he says, laughing. He steadies himself on Felix's shoulder as a fit of wet coughs overtake him, then transition into more laughter.

"Heh... you show me the car, and then we'll talk."

00:19:48 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

This is nice and quiet; not like the chip stars say when the monster's about to jump out, but safe quiet. The echoes of gunshots blocks away are a bad case of somebody else's problem. Might change in 5 seconds, but I'm cool with it for now.

Huff and puff down 142nd. Pause in a doorway and check back behind me. Collect my breath a little. Pain in the ass having to stop every 30 yards, but it reminds me to check behind.

Get up to the intersection at 126th... He should be close..., crouch down at the corner. Pop the predator into my hand and a quick peek round the corner with it -

And now the barrel of my pistol and the barrel of a shotgun are pointing at each other, not 5 cm away. I'm sure I shoulda looked at who's carrying the gun, but I've already ducked my body as far back as I can. Thank god for smartlink cameras.

"Whad'up... Badmarsh here?"

Double post.

00:01:00 Saturday November 1, 2070- Abandoned Building

Jaya's shoulder screamed at him but he ignored it in the interest of continued existence and scrambled into the darkened doorway and the deepest shadows he could find. A quick glance showed him his options were limited to a couple of ways out and one way up, none of which headed in the direction he wanted to go so he stopped for a tick to consider his options. The shouting from the meta's out front got louder and he could tell they'd seen the bodies across the street, his cue to exit stage left.

Without further hesitation he hopped through a broken wall into the alley leading northeast and began jogging along, trying to put distance between himself and anyone intent on further damage.

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Alleys behind Plastic Sushi
Grack

Perhaps the foremost reason our Grack so relished watching and waiting was that it unfailingly produced such splendid results. To use the current occasion as one of myriad possible illustrations, our hero's patience now afforded him the invaluable opportunity of gaining an advantageous position over his foes.

Of course, from his location at the northeast corner of Plastic Sushi he did not know exactly who those foes were, but such knowledge was altogether irrelevant. He had seen his boon companions prepare their weapons - Legion unsheathing his Japanese blade, Thumper picking up a brick and shouting something - and then they moved south with the unmistakable bearing of men going into battle. The prisoner, too, had followed, doubtless in a pathetic attempt to avoid torture by currying favor with his captors.

His fellows southbound on 124th Avenue, young Grack launched himself on a parellel course down the alley he was in, his herculean thighs hurtling him along the narrow space at at a breathtaking rate. His new axe in one hand, he used his other to modulate the VirtualSurround system of his chip player - another hard-won spoil of war in itself - bringing Broken Tusk's proud ethnic battle hymn even closer to his ears and, by extension, his noble warrior's heart.

Barreling around the southeast end of the building at a breakneck rate, he covered the south side of the structure in a half-dozen steps. The final bend loomed ahead, promising a deadly avenue of attack upon his enemies' flank, victory and glory beckoning just around the corner.

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Street in front of Plastic Sushi
Thumper

After hearing the challenge and Legion's kill order, Thumper squared off against the opposing gang ready to do two of the three things he did best.

The first of those was talk shit. As he closed with the rival gangers he grabbed a rock and shouted "Last I checked I was pack," as soon as the projectile (thrown wide) left his fingers he was scooping up another "And where I'm standing is my fucking turf."

The second was fighting. His grip tightened around the table leg in his right hand and the projectile in his equally dangerous left. He breathed out at what felt like a measured rate as his legs tensed and he prepared to sprint into his foes swinging, but before he'd gathered his wits his body had already sprinted away from the firearm the dwarf wielded. He wheeled around ready to attack the waiting from his new position.

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Street in front of Plastic Sushi

Doc

Doc reacted quickly, and in what seemed like a split second before even the two battlehardened veterans moved, Doc sized up the situation.

Looks like a gun on the Dwarf. He'll probably go after Legion. I've got no choice but to fight, now. I can handle that troll.

Doc grabbed betsy from the loop at his belt, walking down the street alertly, legs taught with potential energy, ready to charge. His hat was now thrown in the ring with what remained of the Hammerpack, whether he wanted it to be or not. Even if the Black Plague had nothing to do with the 8-Ball factory bombing, and it was likely that they were not involved, Doc was gonna take it out of these Plaguers like he'd done with the UV.

00:19:50 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

Adrenaline surged through her entire body once again, the rush better than any drug. A quick glimpse at the barrel of a pistol an instant before it disappeared and the voice came around the corner.

“Wrong fucking question pendejo, the right response is the answer to who the fuck are you?� She hissed around the chipped and broken brick façade.

Heavier pressure on the trigger, as her eyes darted to her right and the rest of the open intersection for an instant before snapping forward and to the left as if she were willing herself to be able to see around the corner.

Keep breathing. In. Out.

00:19:53 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Rock back on my heels a bit to get some distance from the corner and level the pistol at the corner. Try to scoot backwards a little. Make like a brick and stick to the wall, low. One finger drops to the last grenade mag and thumbs a pepper punch grenade into my palm.

This is weird. Voice on the commlink was male, but I should've heard a scuffle if someone took them. Make room. Keep 'em talking. Drop the nade and move...

"Leon's cousin. Are you Badmarsh? Raiders? Hammerpack?"

Can't watch my back... Bad position. Gotta move.

00:20:13 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Badmarsh

Badmarsh subvocs at the guy he presumes is Leon's cousin. <<@Leon [Badmarsh]: Flash your comm twice, Soldier Boy, before the chickadee here fills you with shot.>>

The young man's eyes slide up and down Nevada's tense body. Dayum. He opens an AR window to watch for the flare of Leon's comm. The signal blinks on and off. On and off. Just around the corner.

He give the girls a hard look with a finger to his lips. 'Quiet.' <<@Nevada[Badmarsh]: Okay... listen close... on TWO. >>

He whispers low to Nevada, maybe just loud enough for a trigger happy soldierboy sitting paranoid and antsy around the corner to hear "On three."

"One..." he taps her shoulder.

<<@Leon [Badmarsh]: Snap us a pic of what you can see of the corner. And another of yourself - with plenty of background.>>

"Two..." He taps her shoulder hard and his belly tightens as she leaps, shotgun at the ready...!

00:20:16 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Flash him a picture of shit? Boy must be out his damn mind. At least it's them. Time to make nice.

I hear the shit going on around the corner. Drop the pistol to the low ready, relax it over my knee. Sit there, palm up, with the grenade hanging in my palm, for when the - *blink twice* - hottie with a shotgun jumps around the corner.

"Howdy. Yall wanna stop pointin' them things at me, please?"

This must be a fucking hilarious scene. I'm sittin here, crouched down, left side pointing at 'em. Tryin' to look hard-ass while I got a ripped up jacket and a blood-caked condom hanging off my armpit, grenade up in my hand, and so much blood on my chin I look like I went down on a raggin' chick. Rifle hanging off my right shoulder and tryin' to look casual like with a pistol in my hand. Little lady pointin' a big ass shotgun at me. I tell you, the barrel of a gun never looks bigger than when you're lookin' right at it.

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Legion

Legion knew that his peers viewed him as a vicious machine of mayhem, a dervish of barely restrained violence. While this was true for the most part, he did not deny the fact that often times it was more productive to reason with an individual rather than curb stomping them. This was not one of those times. The combat computer of his mind, street honed and trained, factored in his wounds and those of his soldiers, the numerical superiority facing them, the weapons on both sides, and the overall terrain of the encounter. The deciding factor was nothing that it produced, though, but rather the animal snarl of a wounded predator.

"Grack, Thumper, take 'em."

Legion ordered his troops into battle with a flat tone of authority, his eyes scanning the shallow wedge of Black Plague scum that sauntered down the street.

If I am to die today, let me die in battle. If I am to die today, let my death remind all who follow that I was Legion and that I bent this world to my will.

Moving parallel to the sidewalk, he flicked the remains of his cigarette away, hefting his katana in his right hand. Adrenaline blazed through his body, erasing the pain of his wounds and the aching muscles in his thighs and back. The kill to come shimmered in his mind, but, as always, he saw beyond it as well.

"Leave one alive!" he called to his soldiers. This time his voice reached the Black Plaguers, and the ork on the far left recognized him, calling out a warning to his friends.

Now!

Legion surged forward in three quick steps, his sword describing a glittering swift arc from low ready. The ork closing the right end of the formation of gangers tried to block with his forearm snap blades, but wasn't quite quick enough. The meter long curve of razor sharp steel slid past his guard, slicing down across his chest with brutal effect. Blood splashed onto the street, its hot coppery scent filling the air around Legion.

00:19:46 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Alleyway on the South-East corner of 132nd Ave NE and NE 142nd Pl
Nova

The sounds of heavy boots rumbled down the alley; their owners yelling in frustration and anger. Chains tinkled and clanked from the hands of a few and on the belts of others with each lurching gait. The breathing from the group was hot and heavy from the hard run they made towards the south, well out of their own zone.
Louder and louder it came, until the rumble quickly died down from the commanding voice of one within, “Black Twenty-four Delta! Black Twenty-four Delta! Ready… Break!� The chorus of different voices could be heard immediately after with a resounding reply, “BREAK!� Then, as they once rumbled southbound, they quickly faded off into the distance as they turned west, deeper into the lands they drooled over for such a long time.

A minute passed as the sounds of the nighttime creped in around the alley; broken by the sporadic shots of gunfire from odd directions off in the distance. Slowly, a figure eased his way out of a darkened corner, the night thick in that spot had covered him well, to lean against one of the walls close by.
Breathing deeply from his own run, the blond elf grinned slightly at his escape only to wrench his face into a disgusting contortion before keeling over to lose his stomach across the ground. The elven man forced himself not to retch again at the putrid smell and made a determined few steps out of his hiding area, moving towards the south again. His feet and legs seemed like noodles that were processed way too long, weak and wobbly, but Nova was determined to continue on…

00:20:30 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

She edged the shotgun ever so slightly to the left, still at the ready as she eyed both the various weapons the Ork was carrying along with the copious amounts of blood he was wearing. From the wounds and the crude attempt at first aid, she gathered it was more his than someone else's.

"I've had one too many run-ins with one of those today," she nodded towards the blood-covered grenade in his hand, "And until I know for certain you're not gonna go and do something stupid enough like try to use that little pea-shooter on me, this little baby here in my hands isn’t going anywhere."

Behind her she could hear the girls and Badmarsh shuffle along the wall to her left. Her gaze didn’t leave Bockscar's face as she raised her brow and waited for him to play nice first.

00:07:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070, Little Loop, west side of 124th
Tootles

He'd been barely keeping up with Tink as she kept surging ahead, leading him on. He so wanted to just run down the street, but the Raiders were just over there, and he was alone. Without Peter to taunt them and lead them away he knew better then to be seen by them alone. He kept tripping over his bow as he ran is short awkward spurts along the far side of the street from the Raiders. He hadn't seen any though.

<Tink, keep down!>

Once into the Little Loop he'd straightened up a bit and jogged continually for at least twenty steps before pausing and starting his next batch. His blanket flapped behind him.

<<Peter's and the Boy's are this way!>> exclaimed the fairy.

Tootles groaned at the pain in his side from running so much. Off in the loop the welcoming illumination of the Lossky Destry Clinic beckoned, and he longed for a rest. But despite all the kindness the inhabitants of that strange place showed to everyone else, the young man just knew it was all a trick to trap Mortal like him. He just knew if he took any of their food, or slept there, or accepted any of the kindness, then next thing he'd be waking 7 years later all grown up and everything. He might even have a beard.

Ignoring the clinics welcoming buzz and illuminated warmth, and the changelings inside, he gathered his tattered blanket around his shoulders and forced himself into a trot after Tink and continued on into the darkness.

Peter and the Lost Boys were going to need him.

Tootles to the Rescue!

00:20:36 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Pop the Predator onto the slide and back into my sleeve. Relax my other arm let it drop towards my lap. Cup my hand round the nade and turn the back of my hand towards the lady, like I'm back in the klink and the bomb is a cigarette.

"Feel better now? Lets make like we're civilized. I'm looking for Badmarsh. Some Raiders are probably following behind me. They have a sniper. You Badmarsh? If not, who are you, and is he gonna get his ass from behind there?"

Fuck this shit. Done told 'em my story three times. They can un-fuck themselves on their time, and if the process gets me shot in the back, oh well. Done that today. Lean back into the wall and cough a bit. Look back down the alley I came from. Fudge the assault rifle a little with my knee, to make it easier to grab if I need to cover our asses.

00:24:51 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - 132nd Ave NE
Nova

Staggering toward south checking his back every few meters, Nova didn’t quit walking to put more distance between him and Raiders. After about 100 meters of walking, he thought of Ghost, tried to call him up on the commlink.

"Frag, Frag, Frag!"

Nova stopped and muttered to himself as he tries to call Ghost. He just realized his commlink is shattered and the remains of his commlink are dangling from his wrist.

Must been during the fight, I guess, he thought, how the frag am I gonna link up with others?

As Nova throw away his commlink on the street, he checked himself for additional missing/broken gears as well as himself.

Nothing seems broke or missing. Fragging tired from all the running I did tonight, but it's not that bad. Drek, what the hell should I do? Go find Ghost? Link with others? I don't know where others are and I don't have commlink to contact them. Frag!

Leaning on the wall darkened by the shadow, Nova tries to clear his mind and see the options he has.

First, commlink is broke and I can't contact anyone right now. Second, I saw Raiders went west. Either to sweep up the survivors or to regroup so they can organize search and kill. And there is always possibility of them coming back this way too. Third, Ghost's location, I’m not sure but it was somewhere in the Raider’s turf. He probably ran from them toward south but I don't know which way he went after we split and most likely have to face some of Raiders if I try to look around for Ghost, and my condition isn't fit for the fight yet. Which reminds me...

Nova cut himself from the thought, and looked around for some hiding spot.

I should patch up my self, before moving.

Near the wall where he was leaning, he spotted an abandoned looking building he could hide while he patches himself. He readied his gun for any possible threat and checked inside through the open gap on the door to see if this building is actually abandoned.

Well, few squatters but they are not much of threat. It looks like I can stay here for a bit. Maybe I can ask one of them to let me use their commlink too.

Nova holsters his gun and enters the building. Trying not to seem hostile as best as he can, he walks to the nearest squatter who's just chilling with other squatters.

"Hoi, chummers, having a good night?"

00:33:14 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Shade

Shade smiles and nods. "Fair enough. Then I'm going to go look for one, I should be back soon. With all the violence and killing around here the last few days, there's got to be a car whose owner won't be needing it anymore around here somewhere. Think you can look out for these two until I get back?"

00:35:24 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Aziz

Aziz laughs.

"Alright man... don't worry about us, I got it covered. And try'n get something that's got leather seats... I like to travel in style."

00:20:48 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Badmarsh

"I'm Badmarsh." The young man walks carefully around the corner. His steps short, awkward. A dim red glow shifts behind dark glasses, casting faint sliding shadows on his cheeks and brows. He's scanning the street. He talks, not looking directly at Bockscar, "You look like shit, Soldier Boy." The young man's mouth curves. Something like a smile. Without seeing his eyes, the effect is uncertain. Blood covers his abdomen and is generously spread in smears and spatters on his face and clothes and hands.

A shotgun hangs over his shoulder, shells crisscrossing his chest in bandoliers. He holds a pistol in his right hand. An assortment of gear clipped to his belt, including an RF scanner. He moves a bit past where Bockscar crouches, still looking off down the street. "Come on, let's move. Legion's not far." He backs up a step putting a hand under Bockscar's unperforated armpit and hauling him up and around the cover of the corner, brushing past Nevada. Around the corner are three women. His girls presumably. One's pupils are blown, she's twitching and shifting, a large bloodstain on her abdomen. Another is weeping silently. And a third is chewing gum like a nun works the rosary.

"Get up," he says. They clamber to their feet, two of them helping the wounded-stoned one. The shotgun-toting one looks on with some concern.

00:16:33 Saturday November 1, 2070- 139th Place and 124th NE
Jaya

Jaya's breath rasped in his throat and his shoulder was on fire, so he slowed his ragged jog to a stumbling walk. He'd scrambled away from the Black Plague rats and was back on Corsair turf, or what used to be Corsair turf, where he knew the territory. He was only a couple of minutes from his doss and a time to rest and heal.

He stuck to the shadows and headed north for 140th and his place.

00:21:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Ah, here's the mystery man. "Thanks," as Badmarsh gives me hand up. "I'm straight right now. Took a hit of 'kazi a few minutes ago, to keep up. When I crash, though, I'm gonna crash hard."

Look over this crew, then pull my rifle up and crouch round the corner, pointing back in the direction I came from. Lay the pepper grenade in front of me. "Raiders are behind me. I got more firepower than yall, and yall got more wounded. Bound across the street, through that alley down to 141st (points to the right). Flash your comms when you got me covered, and I'll follow. If you hear me start shooting - don't worry, you'll know it's me - bring your guns back and cover me. "

Cough up another small, scabbed hunk of blood. "And you look like shit, too, brother."

Lie down prone, with the rifle down on the bipod. Only my right arm, assault rifle, and head are sticking out. Pull the hand off the pistol grip and wave in the direction of the alley. "Gotcha covered. Move." See how this works. This kinda movement's hard to do if you've never drilled together.

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Legion, Grack, Thumper, Doc

As the two sides closed the gap to hand-to-hand combat range, they immediately threw themselves into combat. In the midst of the fight, it was oddly silent, with only grunts of exertion and gasps for air rising over the shuffling of feet as they jockeyed and maneuvered for position. Out of the silence, a creepy laugh rose out of Doc as he screamed, "This one's for Memphis!" and swung his axe right at the opposing troll's head, aiming to split it like a melon.

However, the troll was less vulnerable to Doc's usually vastly superior reach than most foes were, and used his spiked baseball bat to swat the axe safely out to the side, then used the back swing to slam his bat right into Doc's now exposed side. Grunting in pain, the former 8-Baller struggled to maintain his composure through the stinging pain in his side, courtesy of the nails in the bat that pierced his armor.

As he staggered to maintain his balance, a pair of gunshots rang out and he was hit by two bullets that smashed into his armor. Although they didn't penetrate his massively armored hide, the extra momentum, in addition to the Plaguer's bat smashing into his side, was almost enough to knock him off his feet and to the ground. Almost.

What Doc had no way of knowing at the moment was he had Grack to thank for the shots failure to do any damage to him. As the dwarf was lining up his sights, our young stalwart hero burst from the alley to the south of Plastic Sushi and swung his mighty axe at the little halfer from behind. Although the dwarf managed to avoid the worst of the blow (translation: was merely badly wounded instead of flat out decapitated), he still was able to get the now poorly aimed shots off in time to hit Doc, albeit to minimal effect.

Off to Doc's right, Thumper was systematically bashing the Ork Plaguer he was fighting into the ground. Literally. Gripping the chair leg tightly, he kept swinging methodically at his enemy's head, smashing right through the other ork's attempt to block with the tire iron. With a grunt of exertion, he broke through the ork's defenses and knocked his foe to the ground, causing him to land flat on his back.

The Plaguer rolled and swung wildly with the tire iron, gaining enough time to stagger to his feet, only to be smashed right in the face with the table leg for his troubles. Sinking to a knee and bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose, it was obvious the ork was on his last legs. Blood pouring from his mouth, he weakly coughed out, "Stop! I give up!"

Maybe Thumper would still show mercy to his foe, but it was a certainty that mercy was not on Legion's agenda today. Smoothly swinging his katana despite his injuries, he feinted and weaved before snaking the blade through the elf's defenses and stabbing him in the leg with enough force to knock him to the ground. As the elf tried to stagger to his feet, failing miserably, his ork companion had enough time to stand and throw himself at Legion, snap blades flailing wildly, in a desperate attempt to protect his comrade.

Coolly, the leader of the Hammerpack sidestepped the feeble assault from the already wounded ork and almost casually impaled him on his blade. The ork's eyes met Legion's for a moment and he tried to say something. Then he spit up blood over the instrument of his death and the light went out in his eyes. As death claimed the Plaguer, Legion calmly lowered his sword and kicked the body of the ork off it. He then turned his full attention back to the elf, blood dripping from the katana in a steady staccato, splashing silently on the pavement below.

00:21:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar, Badmarsh, Nevada

No sooner had Bockscar told his new companions to move out when he spotted several Raiders closing in on their position. Somehow he knew, he fragging knew that they knew he was there.

He wasn't sure how, but they were moving too carefully and too well spaced out for them not to. They were moving in a standard sweep pattern, too far apart from one another for either autofire or a grenade to get more than a couple of them. They knew what they were doing, and after his little surprise back on 128th, they were obviously taking no chances.

His instincts were confirmed a moment later when bullets whizzed towards his position, chewing up the ground in front of him and smashing into the wall he was hiding behind. Cries of:

"Over here!"

"We got 'em!"

"Take the bastard out!"

accompanied the hailstorm of bullets suddenly flying at his position. Yep. They know I'm here, Bockscar thought to himself. Sometimes being right really sucked.

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place

Grack

Young Grack's shiny axe was already swinging in a circle above his head before he tore around the last corner. Breaking neither stride nor fell resolve, he approached what he found to his delight was one of the filthy Black Plaguers that he was chivalry-bound to purge from the face of the good green earth.

And then time slowed in a way only seasoned warriors can describe - for as his pounding feet ate away the scant few meters between himself and the putrid little half-man, he saw that the bearded cretin was drawing a bead on the very object of his recent concerns, the troll prisoner! Oh, how in that moment his clever mind filled with visions of the Plaguer's bullets piercing Doc's brainpan just before the dwarf himself lost his head! But then the thought of the meddling drug cooker avoiding hours of torture so easily once again determined our hero's course, and on he charged with his unstoppable Grackbackattack!!!

But though weak and morally inferior, dwarves could indeed be wily and slippery opponents, and this one jerked to the side at the last moment, so that the axe bit deeply into his shoulder instead of taking his head clean off as had so nobly been intended. Blood sprayed as a chunk of flesh flew downrange, and a now righteously enraged Grack arrested his charge, turning on his heel to face the furry beast and finish what he'd started.

00:19:17 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of NE 124th Ave and NE 132nd St
Child

Child sat in the alleyway checking the world of Miracle Shooter for signs of activity.
Someone a few blocks away, but shes not moving either. Funny how people turn to the strangest ways to try and get a feeling for peoples actions. Child sent the other girl a typical MS message "Shoot Straight, Conserve Ammo, and Stay Safe. Especially tonight.", and logged off.

Fool flopped down next to him. "Whatcha doing?"
Child took a second to shut down his comm, not knowing when the next time he might get time to charge it. "Making reservations at the Grand Hilton with the happy ending." he answered as deadpan as he could. Child stood up and brushed the dirt off. "Damm glad to see someone else. I was convinced that everyone else was dead. We where kinda minding our own dreck and the Steel Demons just rolled over the entire crew. I just got damm lucky thats all. I'm not sure what happened because I found a Hellhounds bike and what was left of its rider in the ally next door. I think they where gonna roll on us too, but Christy beat them all to it."
Child walked across the ally and leaned against the wall. "What the fuck are we gonna do man..."

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Thumper

Coming out of the dive for cover, Thumper bore down on the ork in front of him, combat boots grinding down on the debris scattered across the street. The wires were screaming that the opponent was winding up for a swing with his tire iron; the muscles in the other orks shoulder and arm were tensing agonizingly slowly. Thumper could see where the swing would come from, how it would slice wide across the empty air that his unnaturally amplified reflexes jerked him out of the instant before. Tunnel vision set in as he ran to make his vision a reality.

In a split instant there was a collision of bone flesh and wood as Thumpers predictions came true. The other ork collapsed under the force of the blow as Thumper wound up for another shot at the Plaguer's head. As the ork staggered to his feet the now bloody table leg fell against his skull again. The tunnel visiion was narrow, his vision constricted the the bleeding head which would split like a melon after one more swing. He raised his arm and ...

"Stop! I give up"

Thumper held his arm ready to crush his opponent as he breathed heavily

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Legion

The elf was a spindly and agile creature, throwing himself back out of the way with only a superficial scratch to his thigh. Legion snarled, preparing to step forward and end his suffering, only to be preempted by the ork he slashed initially climbing to his feet. The burly Black Plaguer swung crazily with his forearm snap blades, a frenzy which only opened vulnerabilities within his defenses. Legion sidestepped, dropping his blade to low ready. Oddly, the ork took it as an invitation to lunge at the slim human, impaling himself on the sword. Dimly, through the thunder of blood in his veins, he heard the 'stop, I give up!' That took care of the live one. Smiling, he kicked the ork free of his blade and moved after the elf. Time to finish composing the message.