Rikik
You fall into yourself but feel the odd sensation of yourself spreading out from your physical body. You slide and twist with the flows of data and code as it carries you to your destination. You feel yourself slide through a wall of resonance and re-skinned as you exit what appears a small utility closet into what looks like a cutting edge tattoo parlor. You see state of the art body beds for people to lounge in as their skin is turned into living digital art. There is a single man at what appears to the be front counter. Probably the icon for the normal public access portal as you eye the odd elevator style door that opens directly into the space and is directly opposite the counter. The lone man turns and you watch as the tattoos ripple and undulate across his skin - a living mural stretched across his skin. He is dressed in designer jeans and this year urban chic accessories of masculine jewelry. His body sleeve is done in a neo classic Yakuza style and almost glows with the vibrant colors. He nods upon seeing you and gives a half smile before returning his attention to the elevator door.

Fleet
As you watch the feeds you see an alert from one of the drones deployed around the ranch. With a thought you bring up the window tied to the drone's sensor feed and see the interior of the house slightly distorted through the glass of an exterior window. You see a large bedroom - probably the master - and a man stumbling from it towards the front of the house pausing to grab a commlink from a dresser and putting on a jacket of some sort over his jumpsuit. You can see blades strapped to the back of the coat - built in sheaths it seems and the interior is lined with throwing blades, at least over a dozen at first glance.

Rikik
The shop has two beds for people to be worked on and the walls have covered with virtual screens with deep and complex designs flowing on them. Your attention is caught by a clear and pure tone ringing out through the shop as a light above the elevator doors lights up indicating an imminent arrival. The icon at the desk perks up and slides his hand over a virtual screen sliding over to hover in front of the counter - clearly positioned to feed information to the person exiting the elevator as they approach the front counter.

Eklipse
The sounds and vibrations of bodies slumping or even falling to the ground carry to you some distance away from the paddock. You can see two figures - two women - still seem to have their feet despite exposure to the gas.

Fleet considers for a moment, and then prepares to climb out of the van and join the group heading into the ranch.

<<@Team [Fleet]: Looks like the Master of the house wasn't indulging, so he just took a bit of a knock from the gas and he's heading out of the master bedroom and up towards the front of the house. Should arrive in 6-8 seconds, best guess.>>

As the message about the gang leader being conscious scrolls across his awareness, Rikik squirms slightly in his meat body, an unconscious gesture of fear and doubt. Within the virtual tattoo parlor, he takes a deep breath and sends out a quick message.

<<@Team [Rikik]: We've got somebody logging in to the security node. I don't think they know I'm here yet.>>

Fat Man steps forward towards the paddock, throwing weak bolts of magical energy at the two standing figures - just enough to finish the job the gas had started.

<@Team[Fat Man]: so long as he comes out instead of running away, we can handle him>

Paddock
Ripples slide through the air and pass over two of the last standing people in the area. Their bodies spasm briefly as the mana grounds into their body and they fail to push it away completely. The spell runs its course and their bodies go completely limp as they drop to the ground. There is small trickles of blood coming from their noses and ears as they slam into the ground and stop moving, their chests rising and falling weakly.

<<@Rikik [Fleet]:Since you're on the node, just send a command to add you and I as Admin's on the slaved drones, and remove anyone else on their list, and un-slave. That'll slow everyone down a bit. If you don't have time for that, get me in there on an account and I'll see what I can do.

<<@Team [Fleet]: I'm assuming alarms have already gone out to the rest of the gang, albeit with very little information. Let's keep that in mind - I'm keeping an eye on the roads, but keep sharp - Fat Man and Zero, if you don't have something actively watching the astral, get it there. That's the usual first response from a trained security team with resources.>>

A brief moment of focus sends the quietly drifting mini-zeplin to shift it's coverage pattern slightly, enough to ensure that the team would have plenty of notice of bikes or trucks coming up the road, even while the rigger slid forward through the grass, shotgun cradled in his arms.

<<@Fleet [Rikik]: Will do. Keep your head down until I give you the signal.>>

House
The front door bangs open as a lone figure stumbles out on to the front porch, her movement clearly showing signs of disorientation and confusion as she struggles to clear the gas filled house.

Isaias extends his fiery arc in the direction of the woman. Behind the serene visage of his marble mask, the ravmalakh's voice reverberates across the air.

"Let doubt consume you, and grant you the grace to reconsider the path of sin you dare to tread."

As the fire spirit spoke, the armored shen stepped forward. In the glow of Isaias's flames, the joints in the shen's armor shimmer with a strange green light as the spirit silently projects menace towards the woman, seeking to frighten her back into the house.

House
The two spirits release the innate power within themselves. The woman's head jerks up as she locks her eyes on the the angelic entity - the brief look of real confusion is quickly replaced by a deep and drowning wave of utter chaos as the magic takes hold. She visibly rocks back from the disorientation and stumbles several steps towards the parked bikes when the second wash of magic grips her. Her eyes go wild and she lets out a blood curdling scream as the raw terror surges through her. Her skin goes slick with sweat and a dark wet patch appears on her groin running down her right leg.

Zero looks at the woman, concern clearly plastered across his face. Regardless of her past iniquities, she has the power granted by Him to choose a different path. Follower notes his protege's hesitance, and reminds Zero of his own choice.

It is good that you are concerned, young one, but you must make clear to her that which we both know is true.

Nodding, Zero weaves the strands of ether about the woman, and speaks as he casts a spell of subdual.

"'For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.' Think upon this, and find salvation through Him."

Romans 10, Verse 10.

They are the first two steps that she must take.

House
A flare of light and ripples of motion close around her slim form and sink deep into her flesh as the raw primal scream dies in her throat as a heavy grunt issues from her lips as the magic assaults her body and plunges her deep into unconsciousness. The few first terror steps driven down the short walkway of the porch are cut off as she slams into the dirt and grass surrounding the the house. A small cloud of dust and dirt is displaced as her body impacts the ground.

Emilio looks around and sees no one else moving around the barn, so he starts running to the house.

<<Team[Emilio]: Barn is clear, heading to house to offer backup.>>

Emilio
You turn and begin the easy jog towards the house, pausing to take a moment to see if anything stands out. You see the scattered members of your team and note the strange inactivity that has gripped Eklipse. You recall him being more proactive bordering on eager in the last job.

With the elevator depositing the gang leader into the node, Rikik feels the sudden rush of adrenaline. The drive for revenge and putting right the unfair murders of dozens roars through him. The changeling community had been hit with their own set of violent backlashes, murders and riots when they began to appear. Was the hatred and despair which concentrated all around him truly that different from what their employer feels as she sends them after these targets.

He'd already poisoned the Yakuza, snuck through their home and planned a message of revenge. Drawing on the fear that gripped him as he crept past the gang, the memories of their victims, fragments of their actions and lives as they touched the matrix, Rikik funneled the bits and pieces of Resonance into a sharp knife.

Leaping out of the corner where he'd hidden unobtrusively, he screamed. A myriad of voices that he'd never known in real life took up his scream and drove into the form of the man stepping out of the elevator.

"Remember!"

Rikik
You feel the digital construct hot and alive in your hand as it pierces the shell of the icon exiting the elevator. You see a young but hardened face lock eyes with you and the shock of the seemingly endless hatred that rests in them ripples through you. His mouth twists in a grimace as you feel the code begin to unravel around your blade as the program assaults the housing for this consciousness. Risking a look down you see the blood pumping down your hand and arm from the gut wound, you watch as the drops never quite reach the ground as they break apart into code fragments.

"Whoever you are I am going to find you and....I am going.....to......"

Upon hearing him speak you look back up to see the icon begin to break apart, code and program fragments fall from him as he struggles to stay here but you watch as the technology reaches its limits and the program collapses. A swell of light and heat envelop you and you find yourself standing outside the elevator holding the blade as the last of the blood fades back into the matrix around you.

House
The front door bursts out from its hinges as if kicked down from the center as splinters of wood fill the air. A male form staggers through the threshold with a unsteady step when his body is seized by a fit or attack. All the muscles locking up and his back arching in a bone defying curve. His eyes flutter and the whites stare out from his sockets before closing and like a puppet whose strings have been cut, his body falls limp and motionless onto the porch with a heavy and meaty thud.

Team
Eklipse suddenly comes to his senses and moves from his concealed position, a wave of embarrassment hot on his skin. He grips down harder on his thoughts and feelings - looking for a moment at a woman taken down by the gas grenades. Upon closer examination only her hair has any resemblance to Heidi, his mind provided the rest of the details and drew him down that dark remembrance.

<@Team[Fat Man]: Please do not execute their leader just yet. He may have valuable information - let me know when someone finds him. I'll keep watch in case anyone comes by astrally.>

The Ranch
The last sounds of violence and life die away as the quiet descends. The flames flicker and dance at the various fire pits and the light drone of electricity can be heard for the few powered lights as the team waits for the gas to dissipate. The digital display continues to count down and when it zeroes out people begin to move and take on their tasks.

Rikik
You reach out through the matrix molding the raw resonance to your needs as you begin the task of capturing data and erasing your digital footprint from the area. Opening windows in AR around you as you begin to peel back the layers on the lone icon in the tattoo parlor. You quickly see its an Agent tasked with monitoring and maintaining this choke point in the system. Despite the hyper realistic skin you find a fairly straight forward coding underneath with little in the way of active security programs. You slice through it's database and find the logs. With a flick of a finger you send a copy to your storage and then delete the logs so anyone coming here will be presented with a void of information. You then move your attention to another section of the program and find the access point for the what you suspect is a drone security network. Pulling it up and enlarging it, you begin to alter it and insert an access point for Fleet allowing him to assume control of the network. You grab the alterations and condense it into an single icon of a small steam driven train and send it on its way to Fleet along with the necessary ID codes to log in and begin to look around.

You drop back into your meat self and feel the slight disorientation as the world slows down and distances matter once again. You walk your way towards the compound with necessary tools needed next. You walk around and stay out of people's way as you scan over the bodies and begin to collect a pile of commlinks, cred sticks and small electronics. You power each off in turn and make sure nothing is transmitting or active in the pile. Nothing here that what you wouldn't except to see from successful go-gangers with money to spend and their groupies. You have high end custom skinned items, from the go-gangers and then ordinary everyday versions from their lackeys. You look around and find what you think is the most visually commanding spot for the compound and place the tag with the ARO. You adjust it a few times before you're satisfied with the placement before stepping back and admiring your handiwork.

Fleet
You slide into the system and reach through it into the system that Rikik had paved the way to. You feel your awareness stretch out across multiple drones. You quickly realize that each node has twenty drones slaved to each. One set land based and the other aerial as the programs loaded suggested. You seem then tethered with a landline for the data stream. Your curiosity peaks as you try to figure out how the drones would work with wires trailing behind them. You pull up their programs and coded instructions into separate windows in AR and look them over. It seems this was there big red button response - the drones are programmed with a series of RFID tags that designate friendly targets and have a series of protocols to attack non-registered targets and provide cover for the gang to escape. You see the land drones are equipped with deterrents for pursuit while the aerial drones are tasked with attacking vulnerable features on targets. It would have been like kicking a hornet's nest. They grab the current load out of programs and detach from the network and clear the area until no hostiles are registered for one minute then redock. The system once up and running would be impossible to hack without going after each drone one at a time. Shaking your head at the idea of dealing with that level of chaos while trying to subdue the compound, you begin to retask the drones with new orders and subroutines.

Walking into the barn you see bikes everywhere - most of them highly modified and given custom skins, details and add ons. You look them over and open another window to begin making notes about what you're seeing. You begin to catalog bikes, kits and components. Clearly they had a love of these machines. Every bike is well cared for and appears to be continually tweaked and modded to keep it cutting edge. As you look closer at the bikes and see past the appearance of rampant individualism, you begin to see the pattern beneath the skins and mods. These bikes are modded on a template - one designed to make them efficient and effective couriers. You see smuggling compartments, self piloting, smart tires and even a micro drone for back up surveillance. Someone was clearly directing the way the bikes were modded and keeping them on task for their jobs while allowing them to some wiggle room to make their bikes their own. You feel an echo of admiration for the vision behind the machines as you continue to catalog the motorcycles.

Fat Man
You walk around the area amongst the unconscious humans and soon see the flares of mana surrounding several people. Squatting awkwardly you soon find several active weapon foci scattered amongst the people, all gang members by their tattoos and jackets. Everyone one of them a blade of some sort of various strengths with the strongest being on the body of the male human that exited the house last. You gather the enchanted weapons and lay them out for the others so they know they have more value than the numerous blades on the bodies here.

Sitting comfortable near who you suspect lead this group, you reach out with the delicate strands of mana and connect to the memories housed within him. You feel the draw down and out of your own awareness as you slide into his mind. All around you his hate and anger flares, reaching out at you and smashing against the spell and its purpose. You pour your will and focus behind it, pushing past his resistance and set the magic looking for information. You hold the image of the shop keeper in your mind and feel yourself drawn to a set of memories.

"....I'm telling you I had nothing to do with them." He/you feels the sweat drying along your spine as Min-jun leans in across the table from him/you. He/you feel the heat of his breath slide over your face and feel the that twisted desire swim in his/your gut and along his/your skin. The security officer stares into his/your eyes and the tension builds along with his/your need to touch him, to feel the skin along his neck against his/your palm. He/you see the flash of recognition from Min-jun as he suddenly backs away leaving him/you feeling light headed from the sudden departure. His voice sounds strained and distant as he speaks to him/you.

"We know they joined and we know you're an up and coming star with the Yakuza. I have you clean on the possession charges and the extortion so make it easier on yourself and the assholes we picked up with you. Just give me something to take back to the family and earn yourself some slack. I know there is something less shitty in you, some shred of a man from before. Just be him one more time then I'll you let sink back into the shit you seem to need more than..."

You feel deeper memories triggered by the hanging sentence but will a firm wall blocking you from accessing them. He/you feel the shame wash over his/your face but there is nothing to share. The silence stretches on for minutes as he/you keeps your eyes fixed on the table, not daring to look at him until the sound of the door opening and closing on the interrogation room crashes down on him/you and tears threaten to spill from his/your eyes.

You pull back and hover in the void of his mind as the storm continues to rage outside the magic invoked by you. You flush the strange emotions and remembrances from your mind and set the magic to another truth - information you seek within him and feel again the slide from this place and time to another.

"The data packet went out and we have gotten some details from those above that this group is going to be found and taken care of." He/you stand in the center of a virtual gathering of other gang leaders - each avatar is sleek and anonymous, giving nothing about the user behind it. His/your thoughts roll around trying to figure out how to work this to his advantage as images play in the air of the group of runners. A collection of names and commcodes along with the description obtained from an interrogation of two former security personnel from a site they hit. They also have a security debriefing of a young corporate brat supposedly rescued by this same group of runners. His/your people aren't equipped for taking down runners - they were couriers and decent combatants but they don't track people down and the connections he/you had were built around moving things not people. As the images conclude he moves back to the center of the virtual space.

"They have made it clear that those who do collections and problem resolution will be taking care of them but as always initiative is appreciated and rewarded..." Identical and androgynous laughter erupts around the room which he/you let trail off before continuing. "...but that we were to steer clear of outside parties pursuing the cash incentive attached to this problem. They do not want anyone getting the idea that this isn't a clear and clean transaction. That's it." He/you log out and return to his/your body and as he stretches trying to loosen the stiffness in his limbs he ponders what gains could be made with this new wrinkle. He/you make a note to talk to the crew and see if any of them knows of runners or bounty hunters. Maybe he/you could back a team and funnel some of the reward money his/your way and gain a little more ground on his/your climb up.

You feel the memory end and return to the waiting nexus of the spell, feeling his rage at being violated over and over again. His mind seethes with hot anger as he keeps trying to eject you from his mind. He actively fights your presence as you recenter in yourself and reach out once more for the answers he may have. Your mind is flooded with details of the ranch and the compound, the stash of funds he has in the house, the location of the security drone network, and the extra precautions he took in hiring a freelance mage to ward the grounds, someone with no connections to the Yakuza. A flood of passcodes enter your thoughts for the nodes here and the members of his crew but you find an almost palpable lack of information about other gangs and the larger organization - a numb blank in his mind as you withdraw back to your own body to see if anyone else has information to seek out in his mind.

Emilio
You walk the grounds, waiting a few more minutes to make sure all the gas and its deadly payload has been discharged. You look over the people and begin to stack weapons from their now limp bodies. You begin to build a small stockpile of weapons - mostly personal firearms and small blades. You find in the house in a small walk in closet the heavier guns and a collection of grenades playing to the gangs strength in being mobile and skill with thrown weapons. Someone kept them light and mobile with a focus on impeding pursuit and only a small portion of the armory seems dedicated to actually injuring people. They kept a tight focus on their operations and only bought gear to support that - their lack of heavier ordinance probably kept from low on the security firm's must watch and deal with lists as well. Some intelligence behind the gang at some level it seems.

<<Team[Emilio]: Wow. They were focused. All the gear I see is low-profile. LOTS of ceramic knives and shuriken. Lots of gear to impede pursuit and just a bit of heavy boom-boom. Did we get the boss or was the architect of all this further up the food chain? Thoughts on how to haul stuff off?>>

The Ranch
As gang members are identified Eklipse begins the grisly task of removing hands to be given to your benefactor. He seems to to take no pleasure from it but is oddly not repulsed by the task either. He finds a large storage bin to place them in that seals shut so that o hint of the macabre contents is given away when it is going to be transported.

With the ARO placed, Rikik sees Eklipse beginning the task of collecting the hands. It was gruesome, but looking at the dozens of missing persons reports, crime scene photos where there had been some, and autopsy photos had hardened his heart against these people.

Following behind the other changeling, Rikik does try to ease some of their passings. He uses one of the extremely sharp knives and slits the throats of the gang members. When there are couples embraced in each others arms, he repositions the gang members to make their partner comfortable after the grisly task. Some would awaken to find the cooling heart's blood and severed stump of an arm still wrapped around them. For the other non-gang members, Rikik rolls them onto their sides. When they awoke to the smells and sights, there would likely be vomiting and he didn't want them to choke.

The gang leader was different. The man who sought to use the Matrix against him, who cursed him and saw his true face rather than the one layered under skin and bone. Rikik waited until Fat Man moved away from him. He knelt beside the gang leader and whispered quietly into his ear.

"I remember..."

He placed the barrel of his pistol against the gang leader's temple and pulled the trigger. He moved it to just over the man's heart and pulled it again.

The Ranch
Fat Man releases the spell from the now dead gang leader and rises to his feet slowly looking out over the area. Nothing stands out except for the recent stains on the astral - the recent festivities and then the deaths that followed but even they would fade over time.

Zero
You feel the bond between yourself and the Messenger you called to - nothing resonates through it except for Its unshakable faith in the work it has been tasked to do. Looking out over the astral you see the vivid and powerful stains of what happened here this night all over that realm. You find it nearly impossible to pick anything out of the maelstrom of life lived and then ended.

The Ranch

Fat Man ignored the executions, feeling neither sympathy for the go-gangers nor a desire to participate personally in the killing now that the fight was over. He recounted the Yakuza leader's memories to the others as they gathered the loot.

<@Team[Fat Man]: I think we should seek out this Hin-jun. I think she might be some kind of police. Rikik, do you think you can figure out who she is or was?>

The Ranch

<@Team[Fat Man]: About the hole in his memories - I don't think it was done magically, but I don't know what else can do that. Do you have any ideas? Could this be your sort of magic, Rikik?>

Fleet
You feel the almost simultaneous waves of recognition and conditioning crash down on you. Images cascade through your mind of a lab, somewhere sleek and shiny with dark grey lab coats. You can feel the weight of bands across your limbs and the heavy aftertaste of chemicals lingering in your mouth as you feel the artificial calm spread across you and smother you like a thick heavy blanket. The sterile smell of metal and the twinge of something being inserted into your datajack as a spasm passes through your body and you find yourself back in the present, shaken but strangely at peace with the experience.

<<@Team [Fleet]: I've been forced to undergo similar procedures - it's not pleasant, but it is sterile and precise. Medicine and science, pure and simple. PAB units can remove, edit or replace memories. Someone removed what they didn't want him to have, and unless we find the records of that procedure, we're not ever going to be able to recover it. >>

He continued replacing the pilots in each bike that could drive by itself, spoofing the license plates, changing AccessID's and programming in his basic scripts along with routes to one of the four garages, chosen at random. He spaced out the timing to prevent too many of the bikes from arriving within a short span. Space would be tight at the locations until they sold the bikes, but it was a temporary arrangement. The work pulled his mind away from the memories...he thought he knew exactly what had been done to him, and while it wasn't great, he could live with being polite. It didn't effect his ability to shoot people in the least. But, if they had done something else, isn't that what they'd want him to believe?

<<@Team [Fleet]: Either way, we should go soon, quiet as this was it's bound to have alerted someone, and there's enough corpses here to put us all away for a couple of centuries, Yaks or not.>>

<@Team[Fat Man]: How easy is it to get those PAB units? Is this something where only a few places would be able to do it and we might find the one that the Yakuza have a connection to?>

<<@Team [Fleet]: They're not exactly Bi-Mart wholesale electronics, but I'd bet that any AAA-corp black ops teams and a few legit therapists offices have them. I'd be surprised if an organized crime syndicate had their own, though...don't they usually just kill people?>>

The Ranch
The team moves about their grisly task, most determined to see the first step taken to shifting their status from hunted to hunter again. The silence is broken by motorcycles being driven off or bodies arranged - a stark contrast to the hours before where laughter and music drifted on the winds under the night sky. Drones are moved to the back of the van along with a few of the bikes while Fleet works quickly and efficiently to prep the go-gangers rides to self pilot themselves to various locations all over the city. Each bike is sent on its way one the modifications are complete. The harvest of gear, foci, and electronics is packed up and the quiet once again swallows the area. The lone ARO stands silent testament to what happened with night and why.

Loveland
The last of knot of dense metahumanity before entering Tarislar, the streets show strung out hookers and toy boys pandering their less than sanitary wares to the soldiers from nearby Fort Lewis. Gangs dot the urban landscape like weeds with various symbols and colors strewn about. They are violent and expendable meat puppets for the Mafia and the Yaks who wage an indifferently funded war over this territory. The signs of people preying on each other are everywhere - drugs, flesh trafficking and other contraband. Protection rackets and assault live side by side often committed by the same would be guardians. The notion that life s just another currency to sell, trade or spend is rampant in the hardened eyes of the residents. The occasional true victim leaps out to those looking - the poor and SINless trying to find a place to eke out an existence or the sick or forgotten left here to rot, a kind of perverse fertilizer ensuring the next crop of predators and subhumans to keep the syndicates well staffed and manned for years to come.

As he climbs on to the motorcycle and watches the safe reinforced walls of his van pull away, Rikik shakes his head. The helmet was the best fit he could find from the collection Emilio found. Breathing steadily, he extends his senses into the bike, finding the heart of the machine where it touched the Resonance.

The technomancer stretched out across the web of machinery, calling gently to the creatures that lived within. A small clockwork spider, chitters at him.

You know this machine much better than I. Please help me get it safely to its next destination.

Watching with some trepidation as Rikik climbing unsteadily onto the bike, Fleet relaxed only with the bike stopped minutely shifting and seemed to find a solid center of balance, almost all of a sudden.

Must have just taken him a few minutes to get his bearings on the new machine...

He turned back to his own, sliding a hand across the console and tapping into the machine wirelessly. The spoofed AccessID's and license plates scrolled past his view, and the full readout of gauges and meters appeared in quick sequence around the borders of his vision. A wordless thought flipped the display to advanced, tripling the number and complexity of the readout, giving him nuance and detail that most drivers wouldn't understand and that wouldn't be helpful. It gave him the harmony, though, the breathing, mechanical soul of the machine that gave him the exact edges where the customizations pushed tolerances almost to the redline.

As the group pulled away, he let the lighter, faster bike have it's way, the sudden acceleration a significant jump from his heavier, armored chopper.

These things might be useful for something other than gun turrets and drone carriers after all...

Elsewhere

The rooftops looked run down and ill-kept, the half mangled heating pipe sluggishly spilling vapor into the night air as the raucous sounds of the street life carried up to the tops of the building. The scene was almost iconic for urban decay and the callous apathy that had overtaken this age and its land of mega-corps along with the SINless. The flickering lights of the area painted the shadows with overlays of washed out color only to be outdone by the AR space littered with graffiti and garish ads promising relief from the crushing weight of this life at bargain prices. The area seems like any other of the nearby clustered buildings until a section ripples slightly and for a brief moment it seems to be something there or rather someone.

<< Targets confirmed, ETA 5 minutes - countdown begins now >>

An ARO pops into existence only a few inches above the roof. It shows a van and a loose collection of motorcycles making their way down an urban street. The image starts like a live camera capture then layers peel away as unneeded details are stripped away leaving a tactical grid of the caravan.

<< Confirm the presence of the Heretic >>

The grid moves and multiple visual feeds are layered over it until one bike is highlighted and marked. A secondary window is generated with an alert icon and placed slightly above the main image.

<< Confirmed as best as can without the use of active sensors. Potential secondary target found - the Wyrm's Pet >>

The alert icon appears to be triggered as a data stream of intel flashes by - a condensed intelligence report of some sort with the Saeder-Krupp corporate logo all over it. The window collapses as the the icon is shut and slid out of the display.

<< Secure the Heretic first and foremost, if possible acquire the secondary target - Benito the honor is yours >>

A rich and deep baritone voice carries over the sounds from below, a crisp Italian accent and a deep respect in the voice fills the night.

"O MY GOD, I firmly believe that Thou art one God in Three Divine Persons, Father, Son and Holy Ghost. I believe that Thy Divine Son became Man, and died for our sins, and that He will come to judge the living and the dead. I believe these and all the truths which the Holy Catholic Church teaches, because Thou hast revealed them, Who canst neither deceive nor be deceived."

Emilio
You lean into the motorcycle and feel the tension of the machine, while not your ride it was clear this bike was well cared for and maintained. You swing your eyes back and forth, a habit from your bodyguard days and duties. Letting your vision just slide over the people on the streets trusting that if something shouldn't be there you would sense more than see the disruption. As you swing back for another circuit you feel the twinge and ping of alertness go through you as you see what looks to be an off-duty soldier drunk against a bar front but catch sight of some sort communications gear concealed along the back of his neck.

Fleet
You miss the hum and sync of being the vehicle as you drive the motorcycle manually. You find the feeling unsettling and so limiting - you can't accurately monitor all the systems and feel the shallow experience of meat driving. Looking around at the streets and people, you do a double take at the sight of concealed sensor bundle of some sort along a derelict taxi shelter. Clearly not part of the original structure and out of place.

Zero
You move through the night with a heavy and numb feeling moving through your body as the images of posed dead go-gangers intrude upon your consciousness. It was clear something needed to change soon for you but what you were unsure. You feel the connection between the spirit of the host you called flare into life as it reaches out to you and speaks, its voice ringing true and clear in your mind.

How strange....cherubim here. Do you call them?

<<Team[Emilio]: Ambush!>>

Zero shakes his head, surprised by both the speaker's and spirit's revelation.

I do not, Brother Isaias... Perhaps I should speak to them.

Fleet's eyes widen as he catches sight of the electronics, more in realization of the preparation it took than the actual device itself.

<<@Team[Fleet]: These guys are serious and prepared!>>

Street in Loveland
The street sounds wash over the area - soldiers, whores and junkies sprinkled with the luckless and the lost create a backdrop of motion and bodies. There is a slight lull as the collective mass seems to recognize the new potential for violence and danger that has blossomed in their midst.

Fleet
Looking over the device you think its a fairly high end sensor bundle clearly designed to be employed in the field though it looks mostly powered down - perhaps to avoid detection and lower their profile for anyone scanning for security devices which suggests to you a fairly proactive approach to surveillance. The placement would give someone a clear line of sight to the street.

Zero
You feel the dread creep over you at the news of an ambush - surely more killing and violence will follow as the spirit's words pour into your mind.

They seem very clearly drawn from the Roman Catholic imagery of the early 11th century...

Street in Loveland
The lull is shattered by a clear and loud voice echoing into the night air.

"PER CHRISTUM DOMINUM NOTRUM!"

As the air around the convoy ripples and distorts as flows of thick and dense mana are drawn forth into a dome around it. A softly glowing dome of pulsing magic springs into being and clearly presenting a challenge to the vehicles in motion. It's clear if the pilots stay on their present course and speed they will strike the barrier.

Zero
As you struggle to take in multiple feeds of information, your wrack your memory to translate the Latin being shouted into the night. You think it was "Defy Christ your Lord" and the spell erected around you is a barrier of some sort clearly and physical since you can see its structure without slipping into the astral.

Fat Man
Looking through the window shield you watch as the flows of mana spring up around the group. You see the interlocking weaves and almost feel the dome snap into being. Looking at it you are fairly sure it is a Physical Barrier that is being used to bring your vehicles to a stop one way or the other.

Fat Man crossed his arms over his face to protect his head against flying glass, bracing for the impact.

Fat Man
You brace yourself and prepare for the wash of pain but instead hear an extremely close and loud burst of sound as something bursts from the center of the steering wheel and engulfs the upper half of your body, trapping your arms against your head and seemingly absorbing most of the impact.

Street in Loveland
The van tries to to cut sharply to the right to avoid the impact of the glowing dome, you can feel and hear the impact of the corner of the van as it clips the barrier then slams into it coming to a sudden stop. The barrier itself visibly ripples and distorts from the collision and you can see the it lose cohesion and substance but still stands. Through the diminished glow of the dome you see a man in body armor step from a roof to the left of the spell erected structure. He is clearly older with a mustache and beard, with a gentle and worn face with is completely at odds with his military grade armaments. He floats gently towards the sidewalk beneath while gently holding a pendant of some sort and with a look of deep sadness gestures towards what looks to be empty air near Zero.

Zero
You feel a wave of focused magic begin to push against your innate defenses that you have extended over the others and your companion called from beyond. You feel a wave of incredulity pass through your link from the spirit and outrage.

That man seeks to unmake me!! He is a servant of whom we both serve! What I have done to deserve this sacrilege?

With a curse, Fleet brings the bike to a skidding halt, one raised foot actually braced against the barrier at the end of the moment, as if he could have simply pushed the bike away. He feels the bike howl in protest at the unfriendly action, and triggers his comlink connection with the rest of the team as he sweeps his gaze around, pinpointing each of the attackers he could see and highlighting the threats in a quick overview he feeds to the rest of the team. He gives a brief shake of his head in recrimination as he sees Fat Man scrape the barrier - If I'd had my cars...or if I'd thought to go over the team's vehicles...that's my fault.

<<@Team[Fleet]: Fat Man, Zero, one of you needs to take down this barrier immediately. Rikik, get inside the van for cover, and let me know if the drones can get out. Emilio and Eklipse, get the best cover you can behind the van, but be ready to bolt as soon as the barrier goes down. We're a sitting duck for planted explosives or rockets right now.

<<@Team[Fat Man]: mmmFRGhhhlll fff rrrbvvvg>

I do not know, Zero says to Isaias through the link, "but I will try to protect you, or at least release you back to your heavenly duties."

It is a shame that these things happen, my friend, Follower laments, but it seems that Brothers and Sisters in Him often forget that He would have us love each other rather than fight...

On the Astral
Flows of golden fire and lances of pure light ravage the ethereal form of the spirit after pushing through whatever resistance there was to the hostile magic - grievous wounds are left in their wake as it visible rocks backwards from the impact of the spell. It cries out its face twisted by pain.

Fat Man
You hear a voice cry out in pain and agony that cuts to your soul.

Fleet
You look around and try to see what other possible targets are in play. You sweep your eyes back and forth but catch on something as you swing your head back to the spot you see the distinct ripple in the air that says cloaking technology as you hear more than see a silenced long burst come from the bus stop and see Eklipse lifted up and off his bike by the stream of fire. The absence of blood and exit wounds tells you gel rounds were loaded as his limp body hits the pavement. You realize that the amount of distortion is enough for it to be two hostiles. You watch as one body mass moves from the cover of the bus shelter and sprints to Emilio's bike and you watch as some sort of impact ripple through his body.

Emilio
You feel something large and heavy strike you in the center of your chest with the incredible force.

Emilio lets out an 'Oomph" as he takes the hit to his chest. Shit! Shit! Shit! We are where they want us. Gotta change that!

He then scans around to assess how the ambush is playing out. His eyes dart from side to side, taking in the scene.

His body then snaps into action, pulling out his pistol, avoiding the boot-in-the-shadows, and shooting the barrier. This should help get it down. Hope it is enough.. The pistol then barks one shot at the magical dome.

<<@Team[Fleet]: Alright, at least two in the dome with us, cloaked. If you've got thermo, go with that.>>

Street in Loveland
The bike moves in a smooth and control arc within the dome as Emilio arm whips out steady releasing a round into the barrier. The impact ripples across its surface and even more substance it dislodged from its structure. The dome is nearly transparent at this point and fluctuating wildly but still holding its form.

Emilio
The adrenaline moves through your system and your hind brain kicks in, you are in survival mode and your senses sharpen. You see the vaguely man shaped distortions in the dome with you. One at the edge and one only a meter or so away, probably that one that struck you. As you look to the area just outside the dome you still see the single older man no resting on the sidewalk. The distortion of looking through the magical structure blurs most everything else.