Safehouse near the middle of town, seattle. 7:43 AM July 4, 2073

Everything was so normal three days ago. The sun rose, the corps sang their advertisements, wageslaves went to work. Everything was as it should be. It wasn't raining, which was unusual, but not unheard of. Then people started getting sick. No one thought much of it at first, a few wageslaves coughing and sneezing a bit. They would eventually start to feel a bit nauseous, but they weren't going to let that interrupt a day of work. Once entire buildings where full of coughing people, and the original coughers were vomiting all over the place, people started to think some sort of plague had broken out, maybe bioterrorism from one of those anarchy groups.

If only they'd been right. With the compact, close lifestyle of the sprawl, it was nearly impossible to not catch this new sickness, especially since it could spread from just a few drops of coughed or sneezed mucus, or worse of all, by simply touching an infected person. More and more people rushed into overcrowded hospitals, the floors flowing with vomit of all the sick trying desperately to get something to fix this new wave of illness that was sweeping the population.

It didn't take long for the news to pick up on it, especially because it wasn't just sunny Seattle that had this sudden outbreak. Reports are coming in from Tokyo, Hong Kong, Munic, Paris, London, and virtually every major and even many minor cities that they too are experiencing a sudden surge in reported illnesses. Medical professionals have so far refused comment on what it is that is going around, but for now it has earned the nickname of 'The Plague' though there are not yet any reported deaths. Officials are urging all people who believe they have 'The Plague' to report to their nearest hospital for treatment. Rumors are flying around that the government is considering a quarantine for what seems to be an exceptionally infection strain. Despite official urgings, the Hospitals are already far beyond capacity, as doctors race to figure out what it is that they are even fighting.

Just as those lucky enough to have not yet caught 'The Plauge' were considering how to spend their evening, or maybe go to bed, breaking news spilled onto the Matrix It seems that 'The Plague' is in fact a new strain of the dreaded HMHVV virus, and has been tentatively classified as HMHVV IV. It seems to be a direct mutation of HMHVV I, more commonly known for being responsible for Ghouls. Doctors report that it is possible to fight this new strain with the sort of medicine that might be found in your ordinary medkit, but that large doses are likely to be needed to have any chance of being effective. Don't be afraid to empty out any sort of anti-infection medicine you might have stored at home. People are still being urged to report to hospitals to obtain medicine to help fight this infection.

And so it seemed that the world might have this situation under control. They would just pass out medicine as quickly as they could, they had days to get more, and to quarantine those people that couldn't get any. Eventually a call for bounty hunters would go out to round up those new infected that had never bothered to go in. Everything would be back to normal soon. The world breathed a collective sigh of relief, and those who had been spared an infected touch found what diversions they could from the thought of what might have been something dangerous.

Too bad those poor infected didn't have ten days like the old ghouls, plenty of time to get some meds or get somewhere safe. No, they had ten hours. Before the doctors in their fancy white coats had even begun administering treatments, the first of the infected fell unconscious, their pours oozing out a sickly puss like substance that encased their bodies, and smelled sickly sweet, with an underlying tang of rot that couldn't be covered. The scent seemed to trigger the other sick people, and within a few minutes the entire hospital was nothing but doctors, nurses, and hundreds or even thousands of cocooned metahumans.

This wasn't like the old ghoul transformations, and so doctors were unsure what to make of it. Still, they brought in people with weapons, Knight Errant and Lone Star mostly, as they feared the worse. Both companies had trouble responding to all the calls that were coming in, especially as they had already lost a large number of their people to illness. Thus, an hour later, the virtual fields of cocoons where watched over by only a handful of people. That was when the cocoons broke open, clawed hands pushing up through the puss, like something strait out of a Trid, especially with the media there to cover it all.

Why exactly they didn't start firing right away, why they didn't burn all the cocoons from the start, no one may every know, but it may have been the last great mistake of humanity. The newly risen ghouls, the IV Ghouls, looked distinctly different from the old ones. They lacked the white cataracts, so might not be blind. They weren't as thin and sickly looking, instead having more obviously grown in strength. They kept their hair, and over all didn't look so different than the people they had transformed from, except that they looked distinctly dead, their skin pale, patches of it missing. It was a terrifying image to watch in High-Res media Trid.

For maybe a minute or so, nothing seemed to happen... perhaps these new ghouls weren't a threat, perhaps they didn't feed on flesh like the old ghouls did. The media, the police, Lone Star, Knight Errant... none of them had a chance as the Hoard of IV Ghouls moved as one, surging like a wave out of the hospitals and towards the people around them. News helicopters and camera drones began falling out of the sky, why exactly was impossible to tell over the feeds. Some seemed to suddenly blow out and start falling, some seemed to have their rotor blades bent up as though by massive invisible hands, some seemed to hit invisible walls. Within moments there was only a single drone, still dutifully taking Trideo, of a scene of carnage bathed in the added red of the setting sun, and then that image cut off.

Panic ensued, people fighting their way out of whereever they were, some trying to get home, some trying to get to where loved ones were, some just trying to get into the open. It was as people were rushing home, pushing their cars to the max that their Grid Guide systems would allow that entire grid went down. Cars careered off the road as their startled occupants grasped for the wheel. Those that managed to gain control were generally hit by those who hadn't. Chaos had truly fallen on the city now, as the Ghouls spread out into the city, attacking anyone that fell across their path. They would eat great chunks of flesh, but the person would somehow survive, left to lay there in horrible pain as the sickness overcame them, and they eventually transformed into IV Ghouls themselves, those chunks of flesh still missing, making them look all the more grotesque, but no weaker for it.

Sometime during that fear filled night, power went out, plunging the city into darkness as the rain began to move in again, stopping the sun rising on the ghoul infected city. To think all this started only three days ago. Things have 'settled' now. The Hoard now wanders the city in a near mindless state, looking for any remaining survivors, picking at the corpses of the fallen, ghouls and metahumans alike. Survivors are few and far between. Those strong enough or well equipped enough to fend of the IV Ghouls, as well as with the gear, natural resistance, or sheer luck to have fought off the infection or not caught it yet.

Four survivors have managed to stumble together, their odds of making it much greater if they work as a team, than if they stake it out on their own. So far this safehouse has worked as a good hideout, but supplies are low. There is barely a meal's worth of food left, the water went out some time ago, not too long after the power, and medical supplies are low. Options are limited. Stick around in the safehouse till they starve to death, or risk venturing out into the city with the Ghouls to find supplies. At least it has stopped raining. But then again, it was on a clear day that this all started, so maybe the lack of rain just means more bad Drek is on the way.

Jacob sat staring out the second story window of their safehouse. His thermographic vision picking out the heat signatures of the fires that had broken out from the devastation of the last 72hrs. He had only been in in Seattle for 50 hrs and he already hated this city. Of course, he disliked most large sprawls, but this one had just gotten under his skin. He smirked as the thought occured to him that maybe the zombie hoards had something to do with it.

He turned to watch the 3-D map of the safehouse and surroundings floating above his holoprojector. He had slaved it into all the sensors in his helmet and had it scanning the area for any movement. What had caught his attention was that his agent had popped up and ARO flag indicating the amount of time it had spent on the search he had it currently performing. He had asked the agent to search the area for any armed drones or armored cars. He was not well versed in computers so he had to rely on the agent to do his work. He was hoping the agent could find some extra firepower or something big and heavily armored enough to get them out of the city.

He had experience with outbreaks and biological/chemical attacks and knew that staying in Seattle would be a death sentence. It was simply too hot. He knew they needed to get out. Get out to anywhere with a low population density. Somplace that was remote and hard enough to get to that the zombies would be unlucky to find them.

He turned hia attention back out the window. Keeping his vigil over his new charges. He hadn't been able to keep his team safe but he was determined to get the survivirs he found to safety.

Richard sat with his back to a wall, wondering what to make of what he'd seen the past few hours. Monsters clawing, biting, eating metahumans, other monsters, pretty much anything they could find... It was almost surreal, honestly, but he was sure this wasn't a dream.

It wasn't that it worried him, per se; he'd been pretty lucky his whole life, he didn't see why it wouldn't hold through this as well. He just wasn't sure what exactly was going on. The official story, of course, was that it was a mutated strain of the old HMHVV strain, but he didn't believe that for a second. And who would, with all those corps out there experimenting on people, who's to say this wasn't their doing? "Yeah, that had to 've been what happened," he thought darkly, "What WON'T the corps do for money, after all."

He shook the thought from his head. No one responsible now, anyway, not anyone who'd still be able to make a coherent thought. No, now was the time to look to getting out of this hellhole. He wasn't too clear on the how, but he was sure they'd be as good as dead if they stayed here... For one thing, the food was basically gone. Maybe enough for one more meal...maybe.

A quick grin stole across his face before quickly disappearing as he remembered yesterday and the bathroom door downstairs. That was another reason to move on, of course; the places for pranks here were running low.

Safehouse near the middle of town, Seattle. 7:46 AM July 4, 2073

Brox

He hated the name. His name. She gave it to him, after the first time they met all those years ago. It killed him everytime they called him, though that was thankfully rare. He ached for her, his heart in rhythm to the beeps of his helmet's commlink scanning for her signal, a helmet not unlike his own.

Wally, his "team's" drone, stood hunched nearby, standing down to preserve power. Brox slowly set his Ares Alpha down, having obsessively cleaned it for the last few hours. Down to ten clips of ammo and a few clips of HE grenades. His backup piece was just as clean, if a bit more anemic with ammo. It seemed excessive just a few days ago, but now Brox felt like a caveman armed with half a stick.

Everything he had was powered down. They had to move, and soon. They all knew it.

Breaking the forlorn silence, "So. It's come to this. We can't stay here much longer." Brox glances at his helmet's searching, and flicks open his civilian 'link, loading the mapsoft of Seattle. "We gotta move. So where to?"

His breath was slightly laboured, these Zombies were tougher going than the Ghouls they resembled and faster too. A good decapitation slowed them right down though.

He trudged up the street, scanning his surroundings for any signs of survivors and occasionally pausing to dispatch a pack of the wretched victims of the outbreak.

This had started out as the most fun he'd had in months but the novelty had soon worn off. After the first half dozen kids he'd lost the taste for it, he only kept killing them out of mercy now. Some of the more aware ones almost seemed to welcome the relief his blades brought them.

Slayer had appeared to him in his dreams the first night and warned him that something was badly wrong. His role was to change, no longer would he be tasked with keeping the Undead threat under control, that task was beyond him now.

Now he must protect those that had escaped. Find them, help organize them and protect them from the horde until the fire had burned itself out.

He had decided he needed to find somebody that was more of a people person than himself. He knew his own strengths and social situations wasn't one of them. He reckoned he could best achieve his goal by finding a group of survivors that already had good leadership and make certain it continued to survive and flourish in the difficult years to come.

His preternaturally acute senses had led him to follow a pattern of looting, spent shell cases and Zombie bodies to a small safehouse occupied by two or three individuals that were clearly capable of handling themselves.

Perhaps here was the nucleus of a group that stood a chance of pulling meta-humanity's nuts out of the vice.

Safe House, middle of town, Seattle 7:47 am, 4th july 2073

Jacob turns from from the window when he hears Brox break the silence of the last couple of hours. He still keeps his eye onteh map floating in the middle of the room.

"I am not sure how we want to get there but I think we need to head out of town. We need to find a small rural community that's hard to get to. The low population means if there are any of these creatures then the numbers should be low enough to clear them out with relative ease. A small community like that also means we won't have to build our own shelters. But thats long run, right now I think we need to get more food, medical supplies, and ammo. Also we need transportation, preferably airborne to get us out of here. I don't want to spend days on foot just getting out of the sprawl.

Safehouse near the middle of town, Seattle. 7:48 AM July 4, 2073

Brox looks up sharply when he hears the words "out of town", a deep-throated snarl almost forming in his throat before he thought better of it. He nods his agreement as Jacob keeps speaking, his eyes focused at the mapsoft he loaded on his 'link.

"Whatever else, we need to get food, water, and meds. Anyone not rested, I can juice you right up." Brox offers sincerely, though they had nothing else to do for the last few hours, as he stands up. "Rural communities... do they still make those? Anyway, let me see if there's a Stuffer Shack nearby we can ransack."

He blocked the slavering creature's wild blow with his left arm. The ceramic blade that he gripped so that it ran backwards along his forearm allowed the stupid thing to neatly sever it's own hand with the power of it's blow. It fell to the ground screeching and writhing, meanwhile Brute flicked his right arm out and let the Vibrosword's blade neatly decapitate another Zombie like passing a hot knife through butter.

He did not even pause before reversing the blade, rotating slightly on his back foot to expose his back and then driving the blade back and up beneath his right armpit. It pierced the third Zombie's chest below the sternum, angled slightly to pierce both ventricles, before emerging between the creature's shoulder blades.

The unnecessarily brutal downward force he applied to withdrawing the weapon sliced the creature completely asunder from breast to groin. The stench as it's entrails splashed on the pavement would have overpowered most people. Brute started to feel a little peckish, he hoped there was a Stuffer Shack nearby.

These three had rushed him from behind a dumpster, hoping to injure or delay him long enough for their dozens of allies to emerge from the alleyways and block his escape. They shambled out now, warily watching the Ogre clean his weapons as he ambled away. Brute couldn't be bothered to deal with them all, the group he was tracking were close and these would all be dead of starvation in a matter of weeks anyway.

The Zombies set about devouring their fallen comrades, the shrieks and screams of the injured one echoing off the surrounding buildings long after a normal creature would have died.


Safehouse near the middle of town, Seattle. 7:48 AM July 4, 2073

Finally he had reached the building his looters were sheltering in. His keen senses would have been more than enough to find and avoid any boobie-traps they might have set but he didn't want to be rude or get shot in the face.

Instead he stood out in the street in full view of the whole building and yelled to the heavens.

I am the Brute, the strong arm of The Slayer, none can stand before me.

I seek a flock in need of shelter from the wolves that some little of our world might be saved and preserved from the coming darkness.

Will you accept me as your humble servant?

His words attracted the Foe from the very first syllable, he could hear them scratching and skittering as they drew nearer. A dozen, two perhaps? The more the merrier. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, gently humming an old blues riff under his breath.

It took a few moments for their hunger to overcome the remnants of caution in their hearts but after an interminable 30 seconds fully three dozen of the new Type IV Ghouls charged the oddly dressed Ogre standing in the middle of the rain-soaked Seattle street.

He did not so much as flinch or twitch a finger until the first of them was swinging for his jugular.

The Vibrosword seemed to materialize in his hand and he slipped to one side as that first Ghoul stumbled past him into one of it's colleagues, it's arm hanging useless at it's side. He almost seemed to dance through them, the Vibrosword flicking out like an Adder's tongue to leave it's victims falling in pieces to the ground while the blade in his off-hand maimed any that dared reach for him.

His Dance let him at an angle towards the edge of the crowd of Ghouls but rather than break out and escape he veered off and started to circle, herding the unfortunate creatures into a tight pack and preventing them escaping when the group mind suddenly started to realize that they were the prey and not the hunters.

It took no more than 20 seconds for the clumsy looking Dervish to finish the last of his victims and strike an unnecessary Bruce Campbell pose atop the pile of bodies.

Richard jumped a little at the sudden outburst from outside. He stood up an peered out a window through the blinds.

"We're leavin' right now? I think we might wanna wait for the crazy guy to leave, he's gonna pull all the zeds in the city down on him screachin' like that."

He turned his head from what he deemed a soon-to-be scene of carnage, looking towards his comrades.

"But yeah, I'm all for for some food. Stuffer Shack first? Maybe we should hit some ammo shops after we're outta here though, save us some trouble."

As the noise died down from outside, Richard glanced out again. What he saw gave him a bit of a shock, but he only paused for a second or two before a small grin formed on his face.

"Actually, I think we may want to consider the crazy guy on his offer. Looks like he just took down a couple dozen zeds..."

Jacob watches the as the lunatic goes into melee with the hoarde he had called down on himself but even as he watches the scene his tail grabs his assault rifle and brings it intop his hands. Before the battle is even finished though he begins grabbing up his gear, shoving what he needs where it is most useful.

"That idiot just rang the dinner bell. I don't know about you guys but I am bugging out. It lookks like he can handle himself, but I am not stupid enough to risk my neck like that. It's better to avoid the fight than risk contamination. "

Jacob slides his helmet into place and finds his agent has reported back with a big zero on the search. He mentally commands his sensor software to mark known friendlies and sets them to alert him to anyone else approaching.

He's already heading out the door when he turns his head to the others inside.

"You coming or not?

Once outside he points at the one who called himself the Brute.

You can come along. But if you ever do something like that again, I'll personally shove a grenade up your A*&. comprende?"

"Wally, power up, and go active. Watch our backs." Brox grumbles as Jacob heads for the door. Quickly setting his gear in their right places, glancing mournfully at the beep of a scan, Brox readies his Ares Alpha.

"Now stay close. I mean like we like each other close. There's no point in running if they can track us or hear us. I'll create an illusion that'll show... nothing. No smell, sound, or sight. A spirit will hide us in astral." Brox shifts the weight of the assault rifle. "Standard procedure up till now. That's just a refresher, and for the new guy's benefit."

"Hey there not-dead-guy. Let's move it."

"...I guess we're heading out, then. Stuffer Shack, ahoy!"

Richard swipes up his pack and gear, quickly setting them into place as he moves downstairs after Jacob and Brox. He finds it difficult to suppress the grin on his face. Even so, he finds himself a bit on edge once he crosses the threshold of the once-safehouse. Looking at Brute, he nods and says

"Hey crazy guy, you can come with us. But try not to be so crazy again, we don't need that kinda excitement in our lives."

Somewhat nonplussed to be threatened by an armoured monkey Brute sheathed his Vibrosword.

I shall endeavour not to make it necessary for you to attempt any such action.

I'd hate to have to dismember such a cute little guy.

They were a motley crew. One lightly armoured human, a monkey-man in what looked like Military Scout's armour and a massively armoured Ork Mage followed by some sort of battle drone.

The Mage in particular he was happy to see. Nobody was likely to survive long in this sort of environment without magical backup and all three men were well armed. Their caution also gave him cause for cheer, he could blunder about with little fear but the survivors he had been charged with protecting would not be so lucky.

Where do you plan on heading for supplies? I'm good apart from food but I can live of the land no problem. I could use some sort of solar battery charger and camping gear depending on where you plan on heading.

By the time everyone arrives outside, the dinner gong has started to draw attention. Large numbers of ghouls begin to appear from around buildings and out of alleyways. Some even seem to have managed to get on top of buildings, and peer down at all the food gathered into one place.

The ghouls don't even seem to notice the group suddenly vanishing as they begin to approach, likely following the scent. Drool is easy to spot spilling down some of their mouths, the scent of a good dinner so strong. While most of them walk hunched, or even on all fours, two among those approaching stand properly upright. They are obviously different from the others, their skin less ragged, their mouths not leaking saliva, and their heads casting around, seemingly properly wary of danger, not entirely fixed on the meal that is so close.

You can't be sure if the spell is really working properly or not. They haven't attacked, but they do still seem to be getting closer. If you wait too long to move, you'll become encircled and have to fight your way out, invisible or not.

Brox motions to the others, hunching down as he begins to slowly move away. His 'link flicks open, seeking everyone's signal.

<Move slowly away, we gotta leave our body scent here.>

He looks around for a side alleyway not currently occupied by ghouls, hoping to cast another Trid Phantasm of very smelly metahumans running away. The two upright ghouls worry him, enough to dip into the Astral and see what they really look like.



(EDIT: With rolls)

As the larger horde starts to arrive from surrounding blocks Brute took advantage of the Spirit concealment to fade into the Astral shallows.

He mentally keyed his micro-transceiver and directed a sub-vocal communication at the other three.

I'll take point, which way ya headed?

Richard whispers into his sub-vocal microphone after quickly connecting to Brute and the others.

"Awwwww, man. This ain't good. I second the vote we bug outta here. Last I heard, we were headed towards a Stuffer Shack for food."

Richard moves slowly, staying close to stay in Brox's spell, constantly looking around at the horde for anything out of the ordinary, paying special attention to the two uprights.

Jacob mentally kicks on his ruthenium polymers on his armor. He knew magic was hiding him but he wanted to be sure.

"I agree lets get moving, which way is the best out of here? If things get ugly, I'm aiming for the Upright on the right.

Jacob follows along taking the rear in whatever way everyone else heads.

The ghouls approach closer, and as they do so, you can begin to notice the way they lift their heads, their nostrils flaring slightly as they catch the whiff of prey that they cannot see. The upright ghouls also seem to be finding their way closer via smell and not sight of any kind, or perhaps they are simply complimenting sight with smell.

Slowly the group creeps towards the edge of the closing circle. Breath held with anticipation, it seems that no one is being spotted on the astral, and that everyone is remaining silent enough that the traditionally keen ears of the ghouls don't notice anything. Just after breaking the ring of ghouls though, Brox manages to stub his toe on a brick that had been scattered when a nearby car had crashed into a building. While it isn't enough to really hurt through the armor he wears, the sound of the brick sliding catches the attention of the ghouls, all of which begin to growl. The two closest to the group both jump towards the sound, their arms flailing in an attempt to catch their target while the other three or four dozen ghouls 'look' on in anticipation.

Brox (All):

All:

Brox:

Jacob:

Brute:

Richard winces a little as the brick scuttles across the floor; he quickly makes a tiny step back as the ghouls lurch towards the group, swearing under his breath. As quietly as possible, he draws one of his swords and readies it while still slowly creeping backwards.

Brox

Cursing inwardly for his stubbed toe, Brox brought up his rifle instinctively. Two of the zombies leap at him, swinging away. The first one's clumsy attack had Brox feeling good, till the other's attack slammed into him. It wasn't much, but the Ghoul knew it hit something.

Jacob reads the indicator on the HUD in his helmet.

He subvocalizes, "43 Hostiles, let's move people."

The brick sliding across the pavement sets of his noise spotter software and a ARO arrow points towards Brox's feet. Before Jacob can do anything, Brox is hit. Jacob keeps his aim on one of the two attacking Brox.

Brute looked around at the noise behind him and grinned with anticipation as the two Zombies swung for the big Orc.

Without hesitation he charged back to his new companion, sword raised high ready to decapitate both the Z's that had attacked.

All:


With one of the ghouls' arms impacting something solid, the entire hoard lets out a ravenous howl and begin to charge towards the group, mouths open and salivating, obviously eager for the meal they hope they are about to receive.. Not all run directly towards the point of impact either, some begin to move in the direction of the sound heard from hasty movement by everyone else. The uprights meanwhile hang back from the rest of the pack, their eyes seemingly now focused right on the group.

Jacob(all):


All:

Brox abandons all pretenses of stealth and walks backwards from his two attackers, hoping to gain some space.

He tries to calm his breathing, almost whistling, preparing for some sort of spell. The Spirit of Man, shaping itself to be some winged reaper, manifests at his side.

Seeing his comrades making preparations for a fight, Richard quickly draws one of his pistols with his free hand and fires twice at the ghoul that just attacked Brox.

The ghoul seems too distracted by its intimidate prey to dodge the bullets that slam into it. Each one easily finds its mark, the Ghoul's body jerking with each hit as the explosive charges go off. With large chunks missing from its side and clothing, it gives a final cry of pain before falling to the ground, apparently dead. One down... 42 to go... then an entire city.

As the bullets started to fly the big Ogre lumbered into motion. With lead zipping through the air he veered away from the two Zombies that had begun this fracas towards a small knot of four of the vile creatures.

He ran strangely, not like an athlete in big strides but in many rapid small steps, knees bent, which kept his substantial center of gravity level and stopped his stomach from bouncing up and down uncomfortably. He looked vaguely ridiculous but somehow managed to move swiftly and with an almost unstoppable momentum.

He carried his Vibrosword low, trailing behind him, it's tip almost brushing the ground until he was almost upon his targets. At the last moment he started to spin as he ran, a slow, lumbering and yet curiously graceful pirouette. He slid right past the small group, his arm sweeping around in a slow deliberate arc. As he had stared to spin he brought his arm level with his shoulder and brought it down across his chest until it was tucked under his left armpit.

Like dragging an oar through water.

He did not use a sudden impulse but a sustained and implacable force on the hilt of the blade as it slid through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter.

He allowed his momentum to spin him around again, whipping his sword arm back around behind himself and stopping with the Fairbairn-Sykes pattern ceramic fighting knife in his off hand raised in a defensive pose.

A nearby group of three ghouls give sudden cries of pain as they clutch at their heads, though no visible reason why presents itself. Those peering into the astral though can easily track the spell coming from the reaper like spirit of man and enveloping the group of ghouls.

All:


Like a hot knife through butter, Brute's blade slices clean through the bodies of both ghouls. The resistance from the first is notable, as the blade is nearly stopped as it frees itself from the second ghoul's body. The creatures seem to take a moment to realize that they are dead, arms twitching a bit to try and fend off the assault even after it is done, before their upper halves slide away from the lower, blood splattering everywhere as the organs begin to deposit themselves on the street.

The swift death of four of the members of the Hoard seem to give the group no pause.

The HUD display in Jacobs helmet diplays the smartlink marking one of the ghouls that looked to be something more than the others. The two appeared to have tracked the group even with all the spells protecting them. Jacob kept his aim on the one on the right and squeezed the trigger twice.