Helios:
By sheer luck or perhaps a higher power, your leap clears you from the path of the incoming bullets. You feel the inrush of air as explosions rip through the wall behind you and decimate the chair you land next to.

Graves slowly moves up the stairs, each step carefully placed. He takes up a position flanking the door behind JT and Bishop. Weapons held low, there is a disconcerting sense of movement in front of him as the shotgun with grenade launcher waivers in and out of view where Bishop's hands grip it.

Still concentrating on the invisiblity spell held on Tigger, JT works with some more mana around him.

Team:
JT's features are covered in the mask of Dog and you hear Kane howling in the distance. As the ex-Lonestar Mage exerts his will on one of the Society members, the gunman's body is enshrouded with mana forming a hybridized man and hound. The magic doesn't settle in and the sound of a short burst exploding at point blank range shakes the room.

The Marquis de Lyon collapses to the floor in his bedclothes. His head is mostly missing, splattered against the ceiling and wall.

"oops"

Edana's steps up the stairs are steady in spite of the fear that has her stomach in knots. Two... She takes a deep breath... Oh don't let this end b-- gunfire and a spray of blood and brains. What was the Marquis' head is splattered on the wall and the shamaness can't help but gasp at yet another sight she'd never thought she'd witness outside the trids.

I can't, I can't. They'll kill him... The Sword!

Sturmdottir, they serve a higher master. I can smell their obedience. They will not falter.

I have to try.

"Wait!" Edana calls out, her voice is high and tight, accent heavy. "Show them," she says to Herne. She lowers her bow slightly. Come on... just move the gun a little... just a touch.

With a menacing growl, Herne lowers the bow and pulls the sword from behind his back. He holds the blade out flat facing Ballefour, so the Society men can see it plainly. He blinks golden eyes impassively, though the surge of hunting lust across their link makes Edana want to pant.

Helios hears the Society member's gun go off, and he knows that it can only mean one thing: their target is dead.

Great. There goes our hope of ending the HMHVV plague in Seattle. It's gonna be frickin' zombie nation back home.

Gritting his teeth, Helios prepares for his next move...

Herne kneels and slowly draws the greatsword over his shoulder. Spreading it openly and non-threateningly across his arms, the spirit shows the blade to the Society members.

Closed helmets stare back at you, but the assault rifle does not falter.

"Leave woman."

"Your price is paid."

"Take your hound."

Tigger remains loose and focused. The air thick with tension makes his skin crawl but he waits.

Helios gets up from the floor and runs out of the room, into the hallway he came in from.

He presses his back against the wall immediately to the side of the door, out of the mercs' LOS, and triggers the commlink.

"SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED! REPEAT! SHOTS FIRED IN THE UPSTAIRS BEDROOM!" he yells over the commlink.

Dammit...I did NOT sign up to deal with heavily armed and homicidal mercenaries!

Knowing that nothing he's carrying will even scratch a bunch of armored mercs, Helios tries a novel approach, at least for him: talking.

"Who are you guys and what the hell do you want?!" he yells from the hall at the Society members. Maybe if the price wasn't too high, they could get out of this alive.

There's no way we can win in a fight when they're willing to kill and we're not, Helios thinks.

And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon.

Synapses fire, muscles begin to move and time stands still. Three of the Society members telegraph their intention to attack, initiating a reprisal from Tigger and a bloody instant. The thought itself, enough to trigger a deadly action.

A lone hunter standing amidst the blood and broken furniture lashes out at the man he knows is a heartbeat away from attacking him. Magical forces ripple through the air coalescing into immaterial claws that puncture and tear the suit of heavy armor. Tigger steps in close, denying the Society member the use of his heightened reach. He takes a cleansing breath and shoves his fist through the protective plating. Blood seeps out of cracks, mixed with the rancid scent of bile as the holy warrior stumbles back again.

Heightened hearing is barely able to separate out a quiet prayer in Latin from the echoing cacophony of assault rifles reporting. One shooter tracks Helios as he runs for cover and opens fire, the other takese aim at the space just below the phantom shotgun. Both take obvious pains to keep Edana clear of their line of fire.

Before the dust has a chance to settle, you see the reason that you were on this continent perish. Knees buckling, the man described as a genius and a murdering sociopath crumples. His neck torn from the space between his head and shoulders by a spray of explosive ammunition. Blinking, a look of shock fills his face as he locks milky eyes, with his would-be saviors.

Lastly, the Society member who lays nearly eviscerated, twitches in agony and executes a final mental command to his rifle. The grenade launcher belches out a grenade which skitters across the room, hitting walls and finally coming to rest in the ruined remnants of an armchair.

Drek... so much for turning the tides.

Bishop levels his shotgun at the grenade and launches a freeze foam canister at it, hoping that the hardened foam will help muffle the impact of the blast. He then turns his launcher on the mercs and fires another canister.

The room fills with white foam as it expands out from two mini-grenades obscuring vision and bogging people down.

Graves advances slightly to get a clear line of fire, two short bursts grind into the white foam and security armor. In the corner of his vision, he sees Helios collapse to the floor, bleeding profusely from the chest and abdomen.

Under the sordid shroud of invisibility, JT ducks low and moves as quietly as he can over to Helios' body. The ex-Lonestar cop's body comes to rest firmly interposed between the Society and his dying companion.

Tigger:
One second you had been fighting, then the sound of a muffled explosion behind you and the world went white. The foam begins to melt away from your body as your very aura turns acidic and begins to eat at the restraining compound.

You see that the foam is holding down the Society member that had been harassing you directly. Most of the furniture is enshrouded in the same binding material that coated you. Turning your head from behind the couch that helped block part of the blast, it is clearly obvious that someone from the doorway just blew a large chunk of the freeze foam off of the body of one of the Society members. His armor has a few cracks in it from the explosive ammunition and his legs are still trapped.

You can hear the minor movements and smell the plastic artificial scent of the heavy armor, but with the exception of the one bounty hunter that you ripped apart with your hands, the other scents are all blocked from you

Team:
The sound of vat grown muscles stretching and chemically reinforced joints popping comes through on the edges of your heightened hearing. You can see the one Society member that had most of the Freezefoam blasted clear of his body bend back with the flexibilty of a gymnast constrained by steel and ceramic. He slowly begins to work free of the foam, but it will be an arduous process.

Bishop smiles a bit as the foam keeps the mercs busy. He takes a shot at the two remaining, his shotgun blasting off a round at each.

Seeing his previous target still standing, Graves leans out from cover and fires another 2 bursts into the same target.

There is a similar feeling to shooting fish in a barrel as Bishop and Graves both press the advantage and fire. The Society member that was almost free, falls back in a heap as explosive rounds chew through the soft joints of his extended body. One leg snaps free of the foam with the other twisting at an odd angle obviously hinting that the bone has broken.

Heavy capsules filled with paralytic toxins slam into the foam casings of each of the two remaining Society members. DMSO flourescing on the thermographic level with the chemical interaction between the various compunds. With luck the payload will still work its way into the bloodstream of the European bounty hunters.

Tigger takes a deep cleansing breath and strikes downward, looking for the most vulnerable point of the foam holding his body captive.

With a speed and power built from long hours of training and internal clarity, Tigger drives his fist home through the foam. It crackles and sizzles as the acid coating his arm burns it away. After a second strike, the hardened foam crumbles and breaks, cohesion giving way to the disharmonic waves rippling through it.

Tigger steps free of the freeze foam and sends a quick message out over comms. "What now?

"I hit them with some Gamma Scope, that should put them out for a while. Lets grab what we need and get the heck out of here."

With little effort, the team concentrates fire to gun the Society members down in cold blood. The Freeze foam absorbs most of the blood, taking on the deep red color of iron rich fluids.

The scent of cordite and body fluids fills the air washing over those with any sense of smell and slamming with the weight of a Mack truck into the unlucky ones to have a heightened sense. After the echoes of gunfire have quieted, the calm silence of death and emptiness fills the house. The only sound to be heard is the team's own breathing. At your feet lay a dead noble, your bounty, and a duly-authorized team of bounty hunters and paranormal threat experts. Below you on the lower floors of the mansion, the house staff and chateau security have been laid to waste.

All in all, heightened recall gathers a total of about forty metahumans who have died tonight.

The question remains, how did the Society know where to find Ballefour? A known quantity, expected to be efficient and ruthless, moving with a higher purpose behind every step, how did this team end up here, tonight?

Edana drops her bow, hand shaking. She looks at the bloody foam, torn apart by acid and shotgun blasts. The dead Society. Helios suffering. Swallowing, she nods at Bishop's comm call, <Right. Uh... moving in. Over.> She steps on Bishop's heels as she 'moves in'. Her eyes scan the ravaged room, unable to settle on anything that doesn't make her feel queasy or bad. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. Ballefour was supposed to come along quietly and... She looks down at her feet. Ballefour's head is mostly covered in foam, his ear and a few dyed-brown-comb-over strands are sticking out of the foam. She stoops down, mostly to counter the swooning sickness that churns in her gut, but also to see a dull metallic glimmer. She picks the foam away. That's right. He had a data jack. There might be head memory that... I can't believe I'm thinking this.

She stands suddently and stumbles back a step, caught by the steady hand of her ever present shadow and guardian. Easy, Sturmdottir. If there is anything in his head, it might very well save millions of lives.

How do you make your hands warm? The stray thought flickers over Edana's consciousness. She blinks. Yes, you're right, Herne. Have you ever seen such pointless savagery? She regrets the question before the thought has even fully formed. A painful howling floods across her link to the wild, old spirit. The huntsman's hound of countless acts of brutality, hunts across the Astral plane beyond time and space under a different master.

There is remorse now because of you... Mistress.

Herne, I... I didn't mean... I'm sorry. I...

Enough. It is because of you that there is also hope. And love.

Edana's shock makes Herne let go of her arm. She turns toward the pale-eyed spirit. We... I... We need to get out of here. She backs away from Herne a bit and stoops to Ballefour's head. She digs at the foam reflexively, completely overloaded. Trying to think of nothing, nothing was hidden from Herne. She was not alone in her own head and suddenly the spirit's presence, a comfort more often than not, seemed overpowering, looming.

Don't think of a pink elephant.

A stab of confusion twisted through the unspeakably complex tangle of the bundle of sensations along the link.

Pink. Pink. Pink. Her fingers broke narrow bits of foam away and soon Ballefour's head was free. She picked it up and froze, her mind completely siezing. Too. Much. She dropped to the floor, on hands and knees. Ballefour's head bounced and rolled, eyes looking glazed and vaguely puzzled. Pain stabbed. All over her body. No. No. Not now. Not... With a scream Edana reared back, blood streaming down her face. Thin spikes of bone pierced her white, white skin. Osteocuspis. Not now. She stands, painfully, gritting her teeth, bitter resolve on her bloodied face. She grabs Ballefour's head by the hair as she rises to her feet.

Herne hovers protectively over the girl transforming before his eyes. There were only a few visible spurs now. But in a relatively short amount of time, there would be more. And more blood. And more pain. This was an Edana that recalled an older master. A cruel one, to whom pain was a tool.

<We need a way out of here. Herne. Find it. JT, please...> She pauses, jaw muscles bunching <...Check the woman in the next room. See if she can be saved. Let's grab Ballefour's luggage and get out of here. This place will be crawling with Interpol, if we're not already trapped.> She looks at JT ignoring any looks of concern or revulsion that she's getting <Can Tak intercede? Call him. Or you, Graves. Colonel Hodges?> Her eyes unfocus as she looks at Graves. She hisses, her breath catching and she tucks Ballefour's head under her arm.

She digs Mickey's number out of her bag. No way. No way he'd pick us up.

In the astral plane, the weak flame resting in Helios' breast gives a last flare and winks out of existence. Death wraps him in her warm embrace sheltering the vampire hunter home under the night sky.

Graves: "Alright people, target is secured. Extract now. Sanitise the area as best you can and let's get out of here. Mages, clean up the astral. We got to find ourselves a new vehicle and move out."

Tiny head s out towards the back of the house looking for any signs of vehicles and garages. Watching around for any forthcoming danger.

Bishop pulls out a spray can and starts to spray down the foam. It instantly disolves and fades away into mist. Quickly, he goes through the room, looking for anything that could be useful in figuring out the cure they need to bring back to Seattle. "Everyone look around and see if you spot anything useful."

"Helios didn't make it," JT looks up from the body slowly growing cold. The shaman's body fades into view, as does tigger's. His voice is without emotion, but very shaky. Too much uneccessary death, but is it ever necessary. Edena is talking to him and he realizes he is lost in thought.

He gives a whistle, and shortly Kane is climbing the stairs. Entering the room, JT is there to meet him, and give him his next command. "Good boy," he rubs his head, "Find Beffafour's possessions!," pointing down the hall.

Kane is quickly on Bishop's heels to offer assistance, JT behind him. He stops though, near Bellafours fallen corpse.

"Should we take the whole thing. It will be very odd if the police show up and find a body with a missing head. We can wrap it up in a shower curtain and a blanket."

Moving on, not really waiting for a reply, it does seem like an odd request. Plus, not only will it smell, but its a bit more than a little creeping, towing a cadaver with you, not like bringing the head isn't. All he knows is, that if he were the detective arriving on scene, and he found a body with no head, that would be where he would start. That would be the obvious target of the assault.

"There are some cars down at the car port, unless someone can fly that helicopter," his voice is now calm, as JT tries to make the best of the situation. No time to panic or remorse here, there will be time for that later.

Bishop:
With the help of Kane, you are able to track down the few possessions that belong to Ballefour. Strangely, the scent dog doesn't seem interested in the suitcases. A cursory search of the desk provides a sleek pocket-sized cyberdeck. It is missing any form of interface or monitor but has a datajack port with self-reeling cable.

Kane pushes the door to the bedroom open, following the search for items with the doctor's scent on them. He finds a three-piece suit obviously in need of laundering, laid out on the back of a chair. The hound is focussed on his job and passes straight past the remnants of the woman on the bed. Young, blonde and attractive in life, now she looks like a broken marionette with its strings cut. The signs of sexual sadism match what you saw nights before in Ballefour's bedroom, of course the shattered torso torn apart by explosive ammuinition is a new development. A gag lays discarded at arm's reach from the girl.

Tiny:
Walking around the house, you see the limo anchored in freezefoam. In the distance you can see the separated garage, still locked down from the last time the now-dead chauffeur left it. The sounds of the helicopter are receding to the south west.

Tiny Activates the comms. "I have a hellicopter heading away from the south west. I have found I closed garage probably locked. heading over to check it out."

Moving cautiously towards the closed garage, looking at the mayhiem that is left behind. Tiny arrive he listens for any sounds behind the door. Before checking the handle.

Tiny:
Leaning in close you don't hear any noise on the other side of the door. The maglock has a number pad and looks to be state of the art. As you turn reflexively to look back at the house, you notice a camera swiveling towards you from one of the sensor clusters along the roof.

::Elsewhere::
"Visual contact confirms sir. Report several heat signatures on the upper levels as well as one moving on the ground."

"Run the facial recognition software, see if anything comes up on the known terrorist watchlists."

The young, recruit furtively begins feeding information into the computer database hoping to find a match. With any luck he'd be able to give the Colonel an answer as to who they were dealing with before the team arrived on the scene. Success in a crisis was always a good step towards the fast track for promotion within the company.

High above the remote chateau nestled into the mountains, a recon satellite collected data and smart frames re-routed information from onsite security to the regional office for scrutiny and response facilitation.

Bishop does his best to ignore the girl on the bed and goes over to the suit left at the chair. While he searches through the clothes, he says over the comms, "Can someone check out the Limo and then lets get the heck out of here. How are things coming getting that body wrapped up?"

The comms crackel, and Tinys voice blerts over the air waves.
"I have a high tech maglock and keypad here at the garage, looks state of the art. O crap, there seems to be and active security system here people. I have a camera moving around out here. We may have over looked something. It would be a good idea to sanitise the area quit as possible and get out of here."

Tiny makes way for the nearest cover.

Trying to keep his food down, JT replies over the com: "We are almost done, could use some tape to hold it all together, though."

Bishop:
You run your hands over the coat, coming up with a wallet tucked into an inner coat pocket. His pants contain an intricate gold watch, probably sentimental since you know that the blind man would not be able to read the fine engraving or the small hands that show the time still set for Seattle.

Bishop grabs the wallet and makes for the door, stashing his gear and activating his Rutheniums.

"Lets jet people! Anyone know how to hotwire a car?"

Graves carefully adjusts the hood of his form fitting body armour and desert goggles covering his face. "Damn! The sec cams are still active. Try to keep your faces covered."

Tiny cover is face from the cams, moving around.

If we use the cars here what are the chances of a tracking device?

Covering the area's checking for security sensor clusters.

I here at the garage I have a camera on the room. Just take care

Edana watches the team swirling around her through pain-glazed eyes crackling with a solid sheet of blue-white energy. Bad, bad timing. She pulls the drawstringed hood and mask over her face, letting her horns throguh the vents designed for them. No way I can hide myself if they've seen anything. How many albino human-trolls are there? She turns to Herne.

Go to the van. Bring Gonzales and Charlie to the front of the chateau. And make sure we don't have any company. And get Charlie's crowbar.

She rounds on JT and Graves, << Need I remind you that we're in the country illegally - we need the proper authorities on our side and we need them NOW! >> With a grunt she puts Ballefour's head onto the carpet, and fishes into her pack to finds a length of anything that can bundle Ballefour's body. << And that we're standing in the middle of a massacre. You can bet we won't be alone here long. >> The young woman's usual quiet mien is shredded. The lilt in her accented voice is stronger than ever. Her eyes flash and her blood-smeared face is tense, as the bone spikes pull at the skin they've pierced.

Herne places the sword on the ground and vanishes. Streaking off into the astral plane to the van. Scanning the horizons he searches for signs of the chateaus guardians or the inevitable arrival of the authorities.

He materializes at the van and swiftly begins recovering the bodies from the wreckage.

Sturmdottir -- what name is on the security cameras? It may help to know who comes for us.

Edana looks up in the corners of the room and tosses JT the cord she'd wrapped half of Ballefour's corpse with. She moves over to the first camera she spots, carefully shielding her face as much as she is able, dragging a chair with her and climbing to peer at the camera's housing.

<<While we aren't here in this country legitimately, Ballefour is our legitimate target. There are protections we can claim. And we did not murder anyone. We need to act quickly.>>

Graves: "Lady, we are already on the wrong side of the proper authorities. We are in violation of the local firearm laws, not to mention, quite a few trespassing and breaking and entering laws too. Not to mention whether France recognises our legitimate UCAS bounty as a valid target. When Mr Tigger charged in here, we are already fragged higher and deeper."

Tigger chuckles to himself. "We were in trouble from the beginning of this, when the other hunters starting killing anyone they ran across. I have a license for this line of work and for this country. I take it the rest of you don't?" He moves quickly and quietly through the building, taking care to remain off camera and sensors as much as possible.

"So anyone gonna help me carry this frag outta here? I can offer the cloak of invisablity...," his voice trails off, as no one has offered a hand yet.

Graves picks up the headless corpse and heads downstairs. "Someone find the closest UCAS Embassy or Consulate. We go there and turn in the bounty and let them figure out what to do with this piece of drek."

Graves does not feel any squimishness about carrying around a headless corpse, which disturbs him even more. "Edana, get on your comms and help me contact the Colonel, will ya? We'll need some help getting this drek pass the Marines on security detail." Graves tells Edana the number to call.

Edana:
Crawling up beneath a motion sensor in the hallway directly outside Ballefour's door, you spot the draconic lettering tied to Saeder-Krupp.

Tiny:
Still near the edge of the garage you see a blur of motion moving almost faster than your mind can comprehend. It soars off in the direction of the van. Seconds later, a bare-chested Herne comes loping across the snow with one of your fallen companions over each shoulder. The weight is obviously a heavy burden on his chest and shoulders but it doesn't seem to slow down his movement as he seems to half fly over the snow in your direction.

The materialized spirit drops Charlie's corpse on the ground and then sets Gonzales' body down more gently, taking care to keep his face out of the snow.

"Hold this." He almost growls as the feral nature of the hound peeks through the masking form of a human that he has taken. Charlie's crowbar is dropped in your hands and Edana's ally races to the house turning immaterial as he passes through the wall.

Edana nods at Graves as she follows him out of the room, dialing as she goes. Herne appears and at a nod from Edana picks up the body of Helios lying in a beam of sunlight. Too much death.

She spots a sensor in the corner of the room as the call connects, she waits for a response... human or answering machine.

"Colonel Hodges? This is an associate of Graves, Edana O'Reilly. Our assignment has gone badly. Our bounty is dead and another group of hunters have murdered dozens of civilians here. And our team members. We're in over our heads. We need help. These are our coordinates." She transmits the data. She spots a sensor and peers closely at the name, "Oh drek... pardon me, Sir, but Saeder-Krupp has our location's security contract. Please, do what you can."

Edana:
"Hello, Miss. Miss, I'm going to need you to slow down a moment. Ok, now Miss O'Reilly start that again."

“There isn’t time!” Edana grunts in frustration. There isn’t an option. She takes a deep breath. “I’m with Colonel Hodges subordinate, Mr. Graves. I would like to speak with the Colonel, please.” Her lilting voice is tense and strained.

"I see, well the Colonel isn't in the office at the moment. I can certainly take a message for him if you'd like and call his cell phone asking him to contact you."

“That would be brilliant. Thanks. And, please, do contact him soonest… it’s a matter of life and death… More death.”

"Yes ma'am, I do understand that this is a very important matter. I will get in touch with the Colonel immediately."

You cut the connection with the Corporal answering the phone at the Colonel's HQ, realizing that it is getting on into the evening back in Seattle. Moments later your phone rings again with a blocked ID. Colonel Hodges' gruff and gravelly voice barks out across the line making you instinctively pull the phone away from your ear to keep your hearing intact.

"O'Reilly! I heard we've got a squad of hostiles cooling on the pavement and three of our own KIA. You're a little outside my jurisdiction and the closest Embassy I have contact with is in Paris. Your team is going to need to do a hot evac, double time if you don't want to deal with the French National Guard. Normally I'd say they are a bunch of pushovers but I don't think your team is functioning at peak performance. Now get moving, I'll call the embassy in Paris and have them ready for your arrival. The other embassies can be alerted from there that you may show up with hot pursuit. If you are being pursued with hostile intent, DO NOT, bring it to my doorstep. I like the boy but I cannot start an international incident without direct orders."