Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 7:59 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<@Yacht Club: Your tail is breaking off. I'll see if they're headed to the site of the chopper crash. If they are, then I'll try and catch them all at once. Could use some spiritual guidance if anyone's willing. Remember, I can heal you by remote if you over-exert yourselves.>>

Keeping his attention on the car just enough to see if it was headed towards the crash site, he put the blimp on auto-pilot and sent it in a wide arc north and west.

<<@Danny: Danny! Lower the Kull down and make sure it's got a clear path out the door.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 7:59 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Jovan allowed himself a very tiny smirk at the surprise and exclamatory remarks regarding the downed helicopter. He wondered for a brief moment just how weak the others thought he was in magical power. What exactly were the ones in the know expecting from an entity as magically superior as a nosferatu? Did they think he was going to be crude and unsubtle and just throw pathetic fireballs at the chopper until it came down? Ridiculous. But he held his peace, following the immortal words of Shakespeare: 'give thy thoughts no tongue.'

Very good. Now then, please look inside that machine and let me know how many survivors are in it. Describe them to me. In addition, do you see any other spirits or astral forms in the area? Maintaining magical superiority in this situation is a priority, you see. I do hope that there are no Awakened in that aerial vehicle you brought down, either.

"Oswald, the supposed hacker is in the driver's seat. He may or may not be driving it manually. But don't just go off killing them all just yet. We need to take at least one of them for informational and defensive purposes. Killing them all would be to our great detriment."

<<Have we any sorts of tracking devices of our own to 'give' them before they can escape?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 7:59 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

The silver ferret paused in its scan of the warehouse node. Messages from the team were flitting back and forth in front of his eyes, little buzzing packets of chromed data.

<<@Yacht Club. Oz, should we move to intercept or keep up the show here? We could still use a few vans as bait for later. Or we can come pick up what's left of our pursuers after you have shot them up a bit?>>

The silver ferret hops back and forth on it's hind legs, unsure what to do next. He is sure he could hack the warehouse node, but the crashed helicopter might give them an opportunity to go on the offensive against their pursuers.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:00 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<@Yacht Club: Oh, I'm not going to shoot them. That'd just scatter the roaches. I'm going to cluster-bomb the sons of bitches. After all, a corpse in the hand is worth two in the bush, et cetera. You might use this opportunity to scrub your traces and get to your real destination. If there's 12 of these fuckers, I'm not going to miss the opportunity to break their backs by killing half of them right up front!>>

With the blimp acting as an intermediary, Oswald was easily able to piggyback his signal all the way to Bellview and the Matrix proper from there. He had already maneuvered the small plane out the front door and down to the entrance road. Once he could get it in the air, it would be a matter of minutes to the target.

<<@Ms. Johnson: Hey boss. Looks like some paramilitary group called the 12 Vipers are trying to get at that gear. Gonna be a lot of mess to get through on this end. Thought you should know in case you've got opinions on the matter. Personally, I don't know if we're equipped to take on 12 hardcore assholes with small-unit training and the cash-on-hand to buy shit like helicopters. Any chance we could get a little assist?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 7:59 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

I like the old guy. For more reasons than one, I'm glad he's on our side.

Invisible Professor taps Thirty on the shoulder. <<@team: We're here now. Let's set up and see if someone we didn't notice is still on our tail. Oswald and Jovan have the ones we know about handled, so Thirty, take over here.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:01 PM,

<<@ Oswald: I will look into that. I've seen some action from that group, but nothing that concerned this cargo. Keep me posted. >>
The tall Amerind caught the Johnson staring into the Matrix,"How's it going?" he asked casually as he stared at her in his stoic and unflinching way. She really didn't need this guy breathing down her neck. Maybe she could use this to get some breathing room,"There's another interested party. I've got a contact that could help, but he's real skiddish. I'm gonna have to go rogue for a few."
The Shaman made no change of expression receiving the news. "It's your show" he replied, with the slightest trace of mordancy.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:00 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<@Yacht Cub: Not yet, you aren't. What do you think killing them immediately will accomplish? I would remind you all that our security and anonymity has been compromised by these people. We don't know how they found out about us, we don't know how they managed to find us and tap Ferret's vehicle, we don't know their capabilities as a whole, we don't know whether they are independent or are affiliated with a fourth party, we don't know where they got the funds for a helicopter and what may be a serious amount of cyberware and training (as the Strawberry woman seemed to be implying that they were fully confident in their ability to tear through that gang at Twisters), we don't know why Viper12 is so interested in Long Legs' disappearance, and we're not even sure who they are at this point. Kill them now, and none of that will have changed - except that you will have shown any Viper not in the blast zone one of our significant assets, your Tower and its capability as a weapons platform. We need one of them alive. And if it assuages your bloodlust any, I'm more than willing to kill the murderous civilian-attacking thug myself after I make him talk.>>

Returning his attention to the van, Jovan glanced briefly behind him to check on the condition of their sedated prisoner, then switched his mind to the astral plane. He needed to be on alert for any astral voyeurs stumbling onto another potent asset of theirs - himself.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:01 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

"Oh, that stuff's easy. They were staking out the place with a two man team. The hacker and Ork muscle. No mojo in the ride. The hacker's Scan program bliped a group of new links on the scene which, when analyzed showed to be far too high tech to be locals. That's them, walked right into the crosshairs. When they were inside, the Ork sauntered up to Ferret's van and put a couple microtrackers on it. That's them compromised. They're a gang of 12 with enough juice in just two of them to wreck the Stilettos. They're an independent group looking to get their hands on a large amount of military hardware. They talked to Bigs about this before the original heist. If you like, I'll intercept the SUV before it reaches the rest and just bomb the helicopter crew by themselves. I'll need some serious backup to contain that SUV crew though. It ain't about making them pay. You got to remember that the first objective of any war is to eliminate your opponent's ability to make war. They know this even if you don't."

The Kull was in the air and headed south east at a 360km/h clip. Meanwhile the Cram had definitely set in. Oswald was spun.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:01 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Acme shook his head at the very slight groggy feeling that the spell had caused him in the head. He'd been used to the feeling for years now, but it was still a bit of a distraction. The new feeling was the slight tear that Professor's appropriation of the spell had caused. It was a new feeling, the tug between him and the spell split off and freeing him to go to another task. He let the discussion of the overkill float in the background, waiting for them to head out. He wasn't much of a planner in the group, he usually just sat back and offered advice.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:01 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Professor considers the discussion as he waits for Thirty to arrange the troops. <<@team: Jovan has a point about getting at least one of them for questioning. He is very good at getting people to talk. If we can manage to disable this bunch and get one to interrogate, that would be the best of both worlds. And a demonstration of superior reasoning, right Jovan? I do believe that if there really are twelve of them, we should cut down their numbers as much as possible here. They've demonstrated willingness to use violence, and in that respect I believe giving is better than receiving.>>

Slippery slope, old boy. Watch yourself.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:01 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

The chromed ferret dissolves as Ferret's eyes open.

<<@team: Everyone back in the van. We're huntin' varmints. Oswald gimme a location. We're on our way.>>

A grim looking Ferret climbs from the back of the van into the driver's seat, forcing Professor to squeeze in between Rusty and Thirty in front. He waits until Acme takes the chair in back again and has the van moving as soon as they are seated.

Nobody messes with my van. Or my head.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:01 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Thirty stops himself from speaking aloud, instead sub-vocalizing over the group's comm channel. <We've still got non-combatants with us, so keep the van out of line-of-sight of our targets. If we're going to hunt, we'll go in on foot. Oz, you've got the best viewpoint, tell us where to go.>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:01 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Acme took the time to tyr and clear the fuzz from his head, since he was sure his skills were going to be needed. He hadn't cast from a moving vehincle too many times, but he'd see how well Coyote liked it. <<@Ferret- Do we have a screen or something that goes outside? I don't want to have to hang my head out the window if we're in a firefight.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:00 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Jovan feels the spirit's eagerness to be finished with his obligation, Will this be your final request?

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:03 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<@Team: They've had too much of a head-start on you, all this jawing going on. I've seen how slow you drive Ferret... But, hell, I'll send you the coordinates anyway. [packet] If Acme can get a spirit together, I'm sure it could make the scene in time to help. The rest of you keep eyes peeled, and continue on as normal. Their actions are based on yours, so you need to stay the course until I can engage.>>

Having monitored the SUV's progress for some time, Oswald managed to estimate the time until it arrived at the scene of the crash. The Kull would easily beat them there. He had to stall its arrival. There was no way he could contain the SUV by himself, and backup was still this giant dark spot, even if said spot was sitting in the next seat over. Unknown is unreliable by default. The only thing he could rely on is the power of chaos and using that power to his advantage. The Art of War. Some things are universal, no matter what universe you might be talking about.

He set the blimp's autopilot to fly to a spot a klick plus north of the helicopter crash and watch. Meanwhile he intercepted the Kulls approach and made it circle 3-4 kilometers northwest.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:00 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Your lack of motivation is both unhelpful and irritating. I recall my previous request. Please position yourself above the buildings if you have not done so already, so that I may form and send a lesser watcher to your location.

Taking a slow, deep breath - and noticing for a fleeting moment that the slight sick feeling from the toxic domain they had been in was now gone - Jovan focused on the ambient mana around him in the astral space and shaped it into four watchers. You, he said to one through their mental link, this one a bit more stable than the others, there is a strong air spirit near here. Go to its location, tell me if you see any other spirits or astral forms, and tell me how many metahumans are in the large, conspicuous-looking vehicle that it brought out of the sky to crash there. You, he said to the second watcher, there is a large rounded flying shadow in the astral sky. Go to it and serve as its escort, keeping an eye out for any signs of magical activity directed towards the shadow. And you two, search the area surrounding this vehicle here for signs of any Awakened nearby.

"You will have your astral eyes arriving soon. How many people are still on the streets by now?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:03 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Professor, now in the back with the three guests, motions them to stay down. "Our contact doesn't like surprises," he shakes his head in contradiction, "so it would be best if you guys kept out of sight while we wait for the story to unfold." He nods his head in affirmation.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:03 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

Jovan's minions fan out into the astral plane moving to their assigned tasks. It isn't long before they are reporting back. One being still remains in the vehicle you spoke of, another moves to a structure to the north. I see nothing awakened here that doesn't serve you.

While the Astral space at the crash site was clear, The van was a different story. A spirit was moving at top speed to the spot it's master had lead it, and within seconds it had materialized inside Ferret's vehicle. It was a giant serpent taking up almost all the space left in the crowded confines of the van. The spirit lunged at the first awakened target it could. Thirty took the giant snake right to the neck. His sword was already up and in the beast's belly, but the creature was not going down that easy.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:03 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

The shock of the attack held Professor momentarily spellbound, but Thirty's plight roused him. In this confined space, among so many crowded together, against something magically armoured, bullets were insane. Only one thing he could do, and hope it was enough. He focussed his mind and punched the spirit, driving every ounce of his will into its aura.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:03 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

If Jovan had been a dog, his ears would have pricked up like a hound listening for a rabbit to catch. He heard sounds of a struggle in the van, of a blade stabbing through flesh, of someone suddenly gasping for breath in a way that was not normal for being struck, a way that he was all too familiar with. Someone had been bitten in the neck.

Jovan's eyes widened. They were under attack. Damn it all, they had been compromised again! Perhaps. Perhaps it was a wild animal, but Jovan was no fool. Always fear the worst when something takes you by surprise. This could be an Infected attack, or a spirit, or some sort of imperceptible assassin drone. His mind began issuing orders as the accelerated reactions of an Infected kicked in.

One of you two stay here to prevent this vehicle from being surprised. The other one, there is a vehicle near here with quite a few metahumans in it, at least three of them Awakened. Something is happening there. Find that vehicle immediately and tell me what is going on. Ask the air elemental for all I care, as the car it was shadowing earlier was itself following the vehicle in question, but do it immediately. Now, you other one at the downed flying machine, continue following the survivor attempting to escape. How whole is his or her aura? And the structure ahead, does it look like most other structures in this place, or is it more conspicuous?

Elemental. The ground vehicle was following another vehicle before you brought down the flying machine. I hope you can still see that latter ground one, because you're going to need to go there very soon.

<<Backup coming soon. Has our dear contact turned hostile?>> "Going astral," he said, as he let his mind lift up out of his body into the astral plane outside the vehicle.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:03 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Ferret gives and involuntary squeak as the giant snake appears in his van. He jams on the brakes, pulling the van to a halt. Even though his first reaction is to flee, Thirty had carried him out of the Twisters and had been friendly to him. He wasn't going to let this spirit hurt his new buddy. Twisting in his seat, he lets the long blade slide out of his arm as he slashes at the spirit.

"There's a fraggin giant snake in my van. Get the frag outta my van, you fraggin fragger!"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:03 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

<<@Yacht Club: Jovan, we could use some magical support here if you got a spirit on hand. Ozzie, put some hurt on these fraggers. Maybe then they'll call this thing off.>>

He tries not to look at the Thirty's clearly serious injuries instead shouting encouragement as much for his own benefit as the ork's.

"Hang in there Thirty, I got yer back."

While his blows seem to be having little effect on the spirit, he pushes his attack hoping to drive the thing off.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

The snake withdrew from Thirty as the dwarves began their assault. The ork grabbed his neck and slumped over, his sword still lodged in the beast. Professor's hands seemed small, but his will was strong. The serpent rolled away from the blow into Acme's lap. Crew struggled to open the back door and Strawberry screamed.
Jovan made his way into the astral sky as his watchers flew to the scene. A beastly spirit is upon them sir. One of the awakened is quite injured. Oswald checked the crash sight of the chopper with the long range camera's on the blimp. The crash site was in the middle of a shop and save parking lot. The people nearby had mostly steered clear, leaving the parking lot nearly deserted. The chopper was still in one piece, with the pilot moving around inside. His fellow passenger was heading into the store. It was a run down shop with boarded up windows. But the electricity was on and it looked to still be functional. At least, it was before the helicopter was dropped in the parking lot. The kull was looming closer as the SUV made its approach.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Oswald's Rover, Redmond

<<@Yacht Club: I'm not looking to distract them; I'm looking to kill them.>>

"Where the hell are these guys?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

Maybe this was the fault of how long they took to plan; Coyote was always quick to ignore his own plans for the speed of the attack when it was advantageous. If he survived, Acme figured that he and the team would need to get together quicker. Maybe this was a lesson? Shaking his head, the shaman let out a yelp at seeing the spirit landing in his lap. With a barking yell in his tribe's tongue, the shaman grabbed for the snake's head as he started yelling in a sing-song gutteral language.

"You are not welcome here!" he yelled, beginning the swaying motions the best he could in the cramped space. He wasn't the best with spirits, using their gifts instead of directly trying to bind or banish them, but he knew that he couldn't hold back out of fear of inexperience. "By the power of Grandfather Coyote, I order you to go back to your own plane!"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

<<ElliotsRestaurant: @KittyKane Your table is ready - please meet the head waiter in the entry.>>

Amber sent her acknowledgement to the Matire d' station as she made her way into the restaurant proper, simultaneously fuming at Leapus for his perverse sense of humor. Half a dozen Mafia quality false SINs he'd acquired for her and every one of them with a name that wouldn't be out of place on a simsense porn star.

At just eight o'clock, she was a bit early for dinner, if she wanted to be part of the elite of the club scene, but it had been hard enough, and expensive enough, to get the reservations to Elliot's on short notice, and she didn't to be too late when things really started happening at Dante's or Infinity, anyway. It had cost her more than she liked - 50 to the valet to keep the chipheads away from her car, another 50 to the doorman to get her on the VIP list, and a cool 100 to the Maitre d' to get her a table with a view onto the pier itself.

She graced the waiter with a beaming smile as he showed her to the table and pushed in her chair for her. She perused the wine list and dawdled as she did. It didn't pay to be in too big of a hurry - all the better to be seen on the scene, after all.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond in astral space

Jovan's ethereal form frowned to himself at the news of severe injury. He hadn't seen Professor carrying any kind of blade earlier, so the victim must either be Thirty or the newest one, this Acme person. A tiny part of himself hoped for a second that the victim would survive; not because he would miss them or grieve over their death, of course, but rather because their deaths were so ... unnecessary to this job. Such apathetic brutality these shadows harbor.

I presume it is materialized in some sort of serpentine form, correct? Follow the link from the spirit back to its conjuring magician. Now, if not sooner. Once you find the summoner, even if you see that he or she is about to disrupt you, you must immediately send me what you see of his aura through our mental link. Immediately, understand?

Elemental. A spirit is attacking the aforementioned ground vehicle whose pursuer you spied upon earlier. If it is still present when you get there, then beat it back to its native metaplane, but do so in such a way as to give my watcher time to follow the link back to the spirit's summoner.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

The slithering spirit swayed for a moment, gazing at Acme and his chanting. The link between this spirit and its summoner was weakening. Jovan's watcher found the wavering link and made off towards its source. Ferret punched the Snake's tail but it barely noticed. Crew finally pops open the back of the van and he and Strawberry spill out onto the street. Rusty is pinned under the beast's midsection. He's struggling to pull his cattle prod out of his poncho. The Black truck that the team had been pursuing is reaching the shop and save parking lot, and so is Oswald's glider.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

"I said look at me, Hiss!" Acme snarled out. His face was getting more animalistic as he kept his banishing ritual going, humming under his breath as he eyes went to a full amber coloring, his black hair beginning to wash out into a brown with tan and grey highlights. He made too backhand the spirt as part of the ritual. "Get out of here, your summoner is wasting your time!"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Oswald's Rover, East Redmond

<<@Yacht Club: They're buying time. We've got to make them think they've got it or they'll come right back at you with another spook. Meantime, they just walked into my crosshairs.>>

<<Oh what the hell? You got made? Hunker down; I'll have reinforcements on your position in ten.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Redmond

Acme was slammed back into the side of the van with the spirit's counterattack, seeing stars from the power of its hatred towards the runners. Several vessels burst in his nose, dripping on his shirt as he groaned, holding his head from the draining that the serpent spirit dished out. "Ffff....aarghh.." was about all he could breathe out as he just stopped from banging loudly into the side wall. His totem's features were still evident, but he was getting quite tired already. "Fuck... you're pissing me off now..."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Frag, we're all gonna die! thought Ferret as the spirit knocked Acme into the side of the van.

Struggling left-handed with his seatbelt, he finally managed to free himself. Then, climbing up onto his seat, he launched himself into the back of the van with a screech.

"Death from above!"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Only a dwarf would have room for a flying attack in a crowded van, Ferret sails over the seat onto the spirit's back with his spur. The giant serpent evaporates as quick as it had appeared. Rusty pulled up his weapon as the Snake vanished from on top of him and he looked around in confusion. Crew was running down the street while Strawberry was frozen with indecision. Thirty lay face down on the seat, not moving. The air elemental arrives to find his last duty unfulfilled. The spirit has been dispatched already sir.

The watcher that sought the spirit's master spoke once before he was destroyed, The mage is far to the west, in the city. a Building...

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

"Strawberry! The snake is gone! Get back into the van!" Professor shouts. "We'll collect Crew, too, if we can."

He collects his wits and looks to Thirty, drawing out his medkit. It looks bad.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Hastily putting gauze patches on Thirty's neck wounds and setting the medkit to analyze Thirty's state, Professor comes to a realization.

Great Grampa was right. All my life I have resisted his words, "Sometimes, kid, ya gotta solve a problem with your fists, not your mind." I don't know how many times he told me in his last few months about that swordsman in the Cairo market. I rejected it all. But here I am, blood and guts spilling around every corner, and the best I can do is patch up the holes in my friends.

If I am to hunt down the bastard who framed me, I have to enter his world. Not half-assed as I have done, but adapt, improvise, become.

When it is over, will I be able to return? Will I hate what I have become?

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Groaning as he peeled himself off of the side of the van, the shaman coughed out, wiping the blood leaking from his nose with the back of his hand. "That thing kicked way too hard," he muttered. Coyote had always admonished him that he spent too much focus on getting the gifts of the spirits without dealing with them directly. It was a bad habit of his, saying he respected them too much to try and whistle them up like a dog, but times like this just hammered home that he needed to study spirits more, that even if he didn't summon them it would help better in these situations... He let out a long breath, just trying to make the ringing in his ears go away.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:08 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Amber's ears couldn't help but pick out two voices in the restaurant speaking German. While it's a common enough language, it's rare enough Seattle to stand out. A few tables behind her a woman and a man were having a very serious chat. The woman was quietly irate,"Warum Sie würde, bringen Sie das hier(Why would you bring that here)?"The man responded casually,"The whole body would have been tacky don't you think? We can have a proper discussion when I get my tea. You should relax, this is not some runner bar. These people are tending to their own affairs."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Redmond
Oswald watched the other team from his blimp. The driver of the SUV pulled out a large case and went to the helicopter. He was human, and he and the ork pilot seemed to be working on the instrument panel of the downed bird. the second ork was waiting in the truck. There was still no sign of their friend inside the store. At least not from the blimp's vantage point.

Strawberry stood confused, too scared to move, while Crew was fading away at full speed. Rusty called out to the girl,"Come on hon, yer better off in here. I'll look out for ya". He looked at Thirty, laying there, barely breathing, and hoped he was right.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:09 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Any other time, Amber would be hoping to be noticed, but just now her instincts were telling her to be just as boring and normal as she possibly could. Casually, she set her ear recording unit to operation, feeding the data into the storage in her data jack. While she continued to play the part of the vacuous girl who couldn't decide on which wine to have with her meal, she focused her real attention on the couple, even going so far as to figure out an excuse to look their way and get a visual recording to go along with the voices.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Ferret looks Acme over. He doesn't look too badly hurt, mainly just shaken up.

"See if you can help the Prof with Thirty." Still facing the rear doors, he jabs a thumb towards the front of the van, unwilling to look back to see just how badly injured Thirty was.

He then moves to the back of the van in time to see Crew disappear around the corner. He retracts the spur and holds out a trembling hand towards Strawberry. He tries to keep his voice soft, but his words come out rough, mixed with anger and sadness.

"Rusty's right. The spirit's gone. You'll be safer in here than out there in the street. We'll get you guys somewhere safe, then deal with these fraggers ourselves."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Redmond

The fall of twenty grenades was so ironically quiet. The few clinking sounds on the pavement barely registered in the ears of the mercenaries before the force of the explosions evaporated them from this world. The truck and helicopter both were shredded, their fuel tanks erupting into fireballs. pieces of shrapnel flew out across the parking lot and stuck into walls and cars and a few people as well.
Strawberry reluctantly returned to the van, pausing a moment at the distant thundering sound of the explosions. Professor was just getting the medkit hooked up to Thirty. His vitals were very low, and there was a suspected poison in his system the machine couldn't Identify. The skin around the wounds was purple and yellow and he had broken into a cold sweat.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:09 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Amber watched her waiter as he passed, using him as an excuse to turn her head. She saw the back of a blond woman's head facing a man in a fine, yet outdated, tuxedo, including a top hat. He was dressed perfectly well for this kind of establishment, but at the same time seemed absolutely absurd. Most people would think rich and eccentric, she supposed. He looked up at her as she called to the waiter for a fresh water. She continued to follow their conversation from afar.

"I would still choose your words carefully my friend, just as a professional" replied the woman.
"Of course, my dear lady, of course. So it appears that our mutual associates little side venture has caused quite the mess." said the man while he fixed his tea.
"Agreed, but it looks to be ironing out, I just hope my team doesn't come up short on manpower because of this, I'm running out of new talent" The woman sounded a little tired with that last remark.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:09 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Amber is nothing if not impulsive, so when the jauntily dressed gentleman makes eye contact with her, she tips him a saucy wink before appearing to go back to her menu. When the waiter passes next, she places an order from the light bites portion of the menu, but is so intent on the conversation behind her, and the possibility of the blond being in need of "talent," that she can't remember what she's ordered mere minutes later.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

"I'll... mmmnngh... see what I can do," he offers, but barely moves over. Where Ferret would just see him as banged up, Prof could see that he was weakened by the attack on the spirit. His eyes were half-lidded and he was holding the side of his head as he looked over Thirty. "Whatcha need done?" he asked, holding it together.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:05 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Professor looks at the haggard elf beside him and thinks, "Many a time I've looked like that." "You look like shit.

"My medkit is trying to figure out what that spirit snake injected into Thirty. I think I have him stabilized, anyway. I'll set it to continue that in the background so while it searches, I can see what I can do for you. Thanks for sending the spirit home, by the way, I don't know how effective I was."

He attaches a couple more monitors to Acme and waits for the verdict from the machine.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Ferret's van, Redmond

Professor tries something:

<<@Oswald: You have any electro-mojo you can send down our way to help me fix Acme's drain? He's looking pretty beaten up form sending the spirit home.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Oswald's Rover, East Redmond

<<@Professor: Well, yeah. I've got a medical shop in the back of my vehicle, but if you've got a kit, just give me its matrix ID and permissions and I'll take care of him from here. I'm fully trained in remote medical operation.

The cargo dropped, Oz sent the small plane on an automatic route around Bellview to circle over the Puget Sound and await further instructions. In the mean time, Oswald shifted his focus back to the blimp to try and survey the site of the bombing.

"Well, I don't know how many of them I got, but I blew the shit out of a few of them. Maybe you've got a spook who can see any survivors? Also, if any of their 'tronics survived the blast, I could try and get their base of operations off that. So, how are you on the idea of pressing the attack?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Ferrte's van, East Redmond

"Hang on Acme, I have medical expertise coming through momentarily." Professor sends the medkit address to Oswald.

<<@team: War is like a woman. It disrespects a man who only does half the job. Now that we have attacked, let's finish what we started. I still think Jovan's suggestion of a prisoner is a good one, if we can swing it.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:04 PM, Oswald's Rover, East Redmond

Jovan gave one more look around the astral scenery, and then returned to his body, the threat posed by the spirit eliminated. "I have returned," he said upon opening his eyes as he looked quickly through his new messages. "I presume you have either already rained death down upon the Vipers or are about to do so, correct? One of the people inside the chopper was able to escape from the cockpit and flee into the nearby store before you got there. I believe he would be an ideal target to capture, no?"

<<@team: The magician who summoned that spirit is holed up in a building far west of here, though I could not verify whether he is in Redmond or outside its boundaries. Is there anything of note in that direction, to the best of your knowledge?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:06 PM, Ferrte's van, East Redmond

<<@Jovan: I don't know.>> That green ooze in Thirty's puncture wounds looks ugly. Professor changes the gauze.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:10 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

The man in the top hat smiled at the wink and switched the conversation to English,"Curious indeed, a small Mome has taken a liking to me,"
The woman could barley say,"What?" before he continued.
The man pushed his wispy blond hair back from his pale face and sipped his tea,"Well I believe it is customary to invite this lady to the party... so of course I mustn't you see? I will keep in touch. This reservation is well worth the price of a drink my dear. I wouldn't waste it"
With that he stood, tipped his hat with a bow, and turned for the door.