Taking to moment of confusion caused by MR. Rocket Launcher falling from the sky, Eric grips the two fallen men and pulls them out of the fray. "MIKE! TAKE OUT THE FIRE HYDRANT! When the two wounded men arrive, Eric checks for signs of life...

Ana freezes, fists glued to the steering wheel. She flinches at each sharp crack of the guns. Where is HE going? Ana thinks staring straight ahead as she hears Mishka move out. Squeezing her eyes closed she tries to shut the sounds out. What the frag was I thinking... Well, I was thinking I'd plow through the cars and attack from behind... but with Tash in here... how fragging stupid can I get? She swallows, drawing out her Predator, clean and shining, well-maintained and fired only at the practice range. Her palms sweat. She checks the clip in the Predator, slamming it back in and engaging the Smartlink. She cracks the window and fires at the men. This fragging stupid.

Aiming through the window is tough, but Ana was used to contorting herself in tight spaces.

First those horrible things back there now this. ... ... When will this end?

Mishka lets loose with the first knife, targeting the gunman closest to him. He quickly follows this up with a second knife, aiming at an opponent adjacent to his first target.

Not waiting to see the results of his attack, the young man surges forward, closing the distance between himself and the largest group of assailants in order to get within melee range. As he does so he draws another blade from his belt and sends it flying at yet another opponent.

Joe and Eric quickly get the 2 wounded out of the humvee, on the side opposite of the gunfire. Laying on the ground, hands on the wounds, things are looking worse for the 2 wounded, who have begun to spasm from shock and loss of blood. One of the gunmen looks a bit shocked, a blade from a throwing knife sticks through his neck, his gun drops limply by his side. One of the gunmen pulls his gun around directly at Mishka, the sound of a gun shot later, and that man is falling back, a hole in his forehead. Another knife is thrown, and yet another gunman falls, his shoulder beign the target of the attack, enough to make him drop his gun. Another shot later, and yet another gunman drops as Nine, with careful precision takes out her 2nd target, leaving only 2 remaining. Mishka is directly between them when they open fire on him. With almost effortless ease, Mishka reaches out, grabbing the wrist of the one man, and aiming his gun at the other. A burst later and the last man standing is finding himself flailing through the air as Mishka flips him over his shoulder.

The last man standing is at the doorway, seeing the speed and deadliness of the team, he dives inward, barricading the door behind him.

Eric feeds magical energy into Gnat and Nick, binding the terrible wounds.

Ana lowers the gun, barely able to even register what has just happened. Brain still feeling the recoil and recoiling from the sense of satisfaction she'd felt as the men dropped. Reflex carries her out of the driver's seat. Man this thing is WRECKED. She opens the door to the back seat and whispers in Russian to Tash, "Stay put, little one."

Shutting the door quickly she slips around the side of the vehicle, switching on her ruthenium scanners as she ripples into virtual invisiblity. She slinks low across the bodies of the lined up cars, keeping them between herself and the Pub's door. She looks over to Mike's land rover and sees frantic scurrying on the opposite side. Her gut twists. Someone's down. Oh no. Oh... dammit. DAMN IT. She bares her teeth, eyes flashing and crouches low headed toward the front door of Mike's. The groans of Mishka's latest victim fading as she focuses on the facade of the old building. Where can I get in and take a look? She glances up and down, looking for a window or vent. Anything.

"Bloody hell!" Mike exclaims as the two injured men are draged behind the jeep. As the shooting dies down he pops the trunk and grabs out some of the newly aquired medkits and rushes them over to Eric.

"I knew this would happen! Damn that girl..."

He watches on as Eric tries to heal the two men.

As Eric directs the healing process over Gnat and Nick, he listens to Mike going through the jeep. "I knew this would happen! Damn that girl..." Mike had said. Damn her is right if anything happens to my family Eric thought. Eric looked up as a pair of medkits hit the ground next to him. Mike stood there, looking on as [b]Eric treated the injured men. "There's still at least one left inside. How many exits from the bar? Can they get directly to the apartments from the bar? What about sewer access? Skylight?" Eric paused, worry plainly etched on his face. "My family were in the last apartment, I know someone has family on the top floor. Is it secure?" He looks down at the wound and shakes his head. "This is taking too long. Where's Nine and the big fella?"

Joe looks over the car to see if anyone might try to fire at them, keeping one eye toward the house, and one eye towards the wounded which he will help if there's anything he can do.

"We'll probably need to move out shortly, they could probably fire at us from a window on the inside and it would be hard to fight back. It would be safer to move as soon as they're somewhat stabalized. I'm keeping an eye on the house, please do something about them, I wouldn't know what to do personally. "

Stephanie and her father were sitting at the small table playing cards. Neither one of them could sleep knowing Eric was... out there. Stephanie drew a card from the deck, smiled, and began rearranging her hand. With a flourish she laid her cards on the table and placed one on the discard pile and said "Ha HA! Gin!" Alexander shifted at the noise and Stephanie cringed. It had been a struggle to get his to lay down. He wanted to explore everything. Unknown places don't last very long with children around. Ed groaned, careful to keep it quiet, and said "Sometimes I wish I'd never taught you how to play." He gathered up the cards and began shuffling.

Seeing the look on her face, Ed reached across the table and gripped her hand. "Eric will be fine, Steph. He can handle himself. Then there's that bunch he rode out with. I can't say as I'd like to meet one of them in a dark alley but I can tell you from twenty years on the force that they're no strangers to violence." From the look on Stephanie's face, Ed say that he wasn't helping like he had meant to. "Hey. Eric trusts them, so we should too... for now."

Mishka's blood was boiling!

Maddened by the fact that these scum had been shooting at his defenseless sister, the young man was lost in a haze of fury and battle lust. Not satisfied with merely injuring his opponents, Mishka took the extra time to deliver a deadly finishing blow to every gunmen he could see that was still breathing. The building and all it contained meant nothing to the big blond, as he was still unaware that this was their intended destination.

Eric and Nick don't look like they're going to make it. More than healing, they seem to need a stabilizing spell. The medkits are quickly brought out and the first thing they suggest via their electronic scan is an infusion of adreneline to keep their hearts from stopping after some chemical compound intended to increase the coagulant effects of blood.

Meanwhile Mishka is a raging fury quickly dispathes the men, none which were dead, just very injured and wishing they were, a wish Mishka grants. As he performs the last of the killing blows, a man of obviously Italian descent bursts out the front door shouting obscenities at you while waving a big ass pistol. Something along the lines of "You know who I am? Who know who the Frag you just Fragged with?", except with alot more obscenity intermixed into each word.

Joe was watching the house when he sees the man burst out holding a pistol in Mishka's direction. It doesn't take more for him to react almost instantly, quickly drawing his sporting rifle ready in a surprisingly graceful way.

There is no hesitation, no warning, Joe carefully takes aim and fires. He intends to hit the firing shoulder of the man with the dangerous-looking pistol.

If his shot hits the man, Joe will shout to Mishka: "The door is opened! Keep the door opened!!!"

Frustrated, Locke throws open the door of the hummer and steps out. Seeing the man open the door, Locke replies, "No."

When he sees Joe shoot the man, he thinks "Fragging fool. He had better hope that that bullet didn't hit any freindlies when it overpenetrated...".

Ana understands clearly each spat, frothy syllable. The ammo readout on her image link is in the black so she slips up behind the man and to his side putting the muzzle of her gun up in the soft spot at the top of his neck behind his ear. She sees Joe taking aim and her eyes widen. He doesn't see me! She steps away swiftly - Joe's shot rings out and Ana's dampers kick on and off - dodging down and rolling backwards over a shoulder. Drek.

Once inside (if she makes it) she'll try the comms again murmuring into her subvocal mic, <<I'm in. Repeat. I'm in. Scouting now.>>

Eric watches in horror as Mishka violently stomps on the throat of one of the injured men. The gurgling sound would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Magic doesn't seem to be helping Gnat and Nick. Their wounds are severe and beyond Eric's meager medical skills. He looks toward Mike and shakes his head slightly. "I don't think there's much more I can do. It's out of my hands now. If anyone has EMT training now would be the time to use it.

It was then that another suit stormed out of the bar waving a pistol and and asking who he was. Eric listened a moment and realized he was screaming in a mish-mash of street slang and italian, somewhere in the mass of expletives and butchered grammer was, "You know who I am? Who know who the Frag you just Fragged with?" For a moment, the man is haloed with a shimmering not unlike the waves produced by asphalt on a hot day. It is then that he sees Joe smoothly lift the large rifle to his shoulder and fire. The halo launches away from the man and is gone. He looks again at Mike ans calmly says, "Drek, here we go again..."

Gremlins 6 anyone?

Fraggin puters!

With perfect precision, Joe hits the shoulder of the man who emerged from the house, causing him to drop his gun, a look of shock on his face. Nine leaps into action, jumping past the fallen man to see carnage inside. There are dead bodies in the house, grotesquely disfigured bodies, not unlike those found in the store earlier. Bullet ridden walls tell a story of men with guns battling these creatures as they tried to invade your abode. No family member is seen currently, but the whimpering of a child is heard coming from around the corner. Closer inspections of the bodies reveal at least 2 non-creatures (Ie: normal men) who had died in the battle, blades in hand, and gored by ragged edged weapons or claws.

Joe runs toward the house, rifle in hand to see what's going on in there, worried about his family. He sees Nine going inside and will follow in when he reaches the door. On his way there, he shouts to the man he just shot to stay where he is and not move. "We have medical supplies and we can help. Don't draw weapons at us." Joe is used to shoot at people and then try to help them and he couldn't help saying those things now, even though they seem out of place.

The sound of the rifle being fired instantly drew Mishka from his all-consuming combat madness. Up till then being pretty much totally ignorant to his surroundings, he became aware of the man only in time to turn and see him fall back against the building.

Droplets of blood fall from Mishka's hands as the big youth takes a few deep breaths and looks around at the carnage littering the street. Assured that there he could spot no immediate threats, Mishka watches as the guy wielding the rifle runs forward and goes through the door, then locks his gaze on the only living opponent remaining. Taking a few purposeful steps towards the wounded man in the doorway, Mishka stops just short and stares intently at him for a moment, fighting the urge to strike out against this latest in a long string of threats.

Without breaking eye contact, Mishka reaches down and picks up the dropped pistol, stuffing it into the waistband of his track suit. With a shrug of his big shoulders, he sighs and turns away, heading towards the bullet-riddled Hummer. Flinging open the back door, Mishka sees Tash still huddled on the floor, hiding under his large shirt, and pulls the little girl into his arms.

Ana draws up short at the charnel house that greets her instead of cozy wooden warmth. Joe bumps into her and she stumbles to the side, mind refusing to accept the carnage. A whimper. She starts upright, moving forward in lockstep with Joe, toward the sound. "Hello," she calls, "Are you okay? Hello?"

She homes in on the whimpering, gun held pointing up, ready for threats. She scans the room, eyes slipping blankly past the torn and disfigured bodies. Ana swallows bile as she imagines what might be transpiring at her grandparent's home. And elsewhere. Cramming those particular thoughts down she focuses on the room.

Learning that those... things had been here stuns Eric. All thought gone he races to the apartment at the rear of the bar to search fo his family. Not stopping to open the gate, Eric flings himself over the wall with a leviate spell and hits the ground running. He stoprs at the door only long enough to whip it open, "STEPHANIE!?! ED!?!...

Mike is not yet ready to give up on the injured men, he crouches by them, trying everything he can think of to help them. But it doesn't look good.

He see's that the rest of the team has managed to make it inside and he looks over at Eric, "Maybe we should get them inside? It won't be pleasent, but it's better them letting them die lying on some street."

Drawing into the house, the team finds the rest of their families safe and secure. They are huddled under some sort of ballistic blanket that nobody recalls ever seeing before. Stephanie is the first to speak, "Are Tony and Mario ok?" she asks with much concern on her face. Then she sees Eric and runs at him, arms wide open. As they embrace she sees the 2 human bodies on the floor and starts to cry, a whimpering "no..." escaping from her lips before burying her face in Eric's shoulder.

The man with the shoulder injury remains on his knees, anger fuming through his eyes. He does look like, if he were given even a split moment to do so, he'd grab the pistol on the ground in his other hand and start shooting. "You done fragged with the wrong people...." is all he says though.

The house look secure, friends and family safe within, though it becomes painfully obvious that the "friends and family" considered Tony and his group to be allies, people who were defending them.

In moments, the dead or dying are brought within to attempt medical attention.

"What have we done... "

Joe is heartbroken because of how things turned out. There was no need for a fight like this one; these people actually saved his wife and daughter. He had thought that they were hostiles when he had seen how Ana rammed into them. And when the firefight started, there was no going back, really. Hugging his family, he was mad inside. His wife Connie was angry too, and Charm was weeping silently, quite understandly frightened. "Why the hell did you do that?" she asked.

But Joe was wondering about the very same thing. Turning to Ana, he confronted her loudly and straightforwardly.

"Why the hell did YOU do that?" Joe screamed to Ana for everyone to hear.

It takes some time before stephanie's words penetrate the elation at seeing his wife alive. His children must also be safe as she seems happy to see him. "Are Tony and Mario ok?" she asks. Tony? Mario? Who the hell are th... It hits him in the stomach like a force 8 earth elemental. They weren't attacking the compound, they were defending it; from us. The air gets thick and Eric's chest tightens. The ground spins wildly. His wife thinks it is relief that has made him weak, but it is realization. Eric pushes his wife away and walks outside. He turns and vomits loudly on the sidewalk.

A thought slips through his mind as the memory, vivid and in living color plays through his mind. You didn't kill any of them. They did. Ana went off half cocked and these men died. It's her fault. SHE is responsible. She should pay, not you. For a moment, Eric listened and contemplated. Then Alexander came running out and jumped into his arms. No. he replied to the gentleman in the red velvet suit perched on his shoulder. No. WE did this. He listened as Alexander regaled him with his adventure. He nodded sagely as his son explained so matter of factly that he wasn't afraid for a minute; O.K. for a minute, but that was all. Stephanie appeared at the door and Eric handed their son off to his wife.

Eric moved from body to body administering what aid he could, to those who needed it, praying over those who didn't. He could hear Joe screaming, probably at Ana. Ease up Joe, I don't think you'll make her feel any worse. He couldn't bring himself to 'save' Ana just yet so he finished doing what he could for those who would benefit and began hauling the wounded into the bar. The wounded he carried, as respectfully as he could to the park across the way where they could be burried.

Ana's ears begin to ring as the consequences of her actions begins to sink in. Her knees go weak and her hands get clammy. The ringing in her ears becomes a roar and dark flecks appear at the edges of her vision. She sways on her feet. She looks up, eyes wandering vaguely to Joe's reddened, angry face. He's shouting. Her blank look roves past, blinking and sliding across the sniper's face and looking beyond.

"...do that?!" Joe screams. At me. He's screaming at me. Of course he is. I killed all those people. Me. My fault. She swallows and turns to face Joe. She looks like someone unkind has scooped her guts out and didn't put anything back. Her normally esquisite beauty a mask of loss and confusion, blotchy and ugly with the blood rushing away from her brain.

She opens her mouth to answer Joe and words escape her. She shuts her mouth. And opens it again. "I... don't... I..." Her eyes drop to the floor, unable to rest on a place not full of angry, scared and accusing faces... or dismembered bodies. There is no excuse. Not for this. I can't take this. Whatever's happening, I can't take it. She shakes her head at Joe, eyes wide mouth opening and closing, wordlessly moving.

"I can't stay." Her eyes are bright with welling tears. She pushes past Joe headed for the door, already bringing up the chipped coordinates that will take her to the nursing home.

Locke follows the others inside, and checks to make sure his daughter is okay. Okay... bug things got in here too...

When Ana says that she can't stay, Locke will look up. "Why not? You did the wrong thing by ramming those cars without thinking, but you lack the training to have known that. You do have skills in areas that the rest of us lack, however, and you are still a valuable member of the team despite your", then, smirking, "tactical inadequecies. So, in the future, leave the initiation of combat to those of us who are trained in determining such things, okay? That that way we can minimize freindly fire in the future."

He will then turn to Mike. "Did you know that these people were coming, Mike?"

[if the answer is yes]"Then you should have told the folks in the other car know that, and we would have avoided this whole mess."
[if the answer is no]Locke will turn to Eric's wife. "Not that I'm complaining, seeing as they saved my daughter as well, but what were you thinking when you let those men in? They could have been violent criminals who decided that killing you all sounded like fun." Then looking at the survivors "No, offence, but I don't know anything about you."

After that little diatribe is over, he will turn to Joe. "And, last but not least, Joe, you have very little reason to be getting upset at Nine. What the drek were you thinking when you shot the man in the doorway with your rifle? You're a police sniper, so I would assume that you have enough training to know that rifle bullet can and will overpenetrate soft targets, and are more than capable of going through interior walls like tissue paper. You're lucky that only...", then turning to the injured man, "What's your name?" [after learning name] "[name] was injured. And, unlike Nine, you should have known better."

Joe was still furious. Ana was leaving and he was thinking 'good riddance'. When Locke started talking her into staying, he was shocked, and looked around to see how others felt about this. Unable to unmask their opinion, he didn't interject just yet.

"you should have known better." Locke says.

Joe was fuming at this point and in no mood to take comments on his combat decisions. Joe is no communicator and his anger showed in his demeanor.

"This man was armed and dangerous. He was pointing a gun at friendlies with uninterpretable intent, in the middle of a firefight that had not completely stopped. Shock and anger in him could have made him react in any unpredictable way. The safest answer to this kind of situation is a swift blow with minimal risk. And risk was minimal. This kind of rifle does not pierce walls. The angle of fire was ascending, from the street to the front door, and thus it was extremely unlikely that my shot hit people inside."

Joe's voice was very quick, somewhat loud, and showed as much anger as before.

"Leave the evaluation of difficult shots to me, it's my element. I probably saved lives by shooting his shoulder. It also prevented that one of you fools like Ana or Mishka kill him without question. You're trying to put blame on me when it's all her damn fault if all these people died. What's between you two anyways?" Joe added about Locke and Ana.

Joe just couldn't keep all his anger within. He had no blame to take for this in his opinion, and he regreted not thinking before letting all of this babble out. His temper was cooling down and he would listen more calmly to what others have to say.

The sun had risen a few fingers above the horizon. The lake was quiet, as though afraid to make a sound. There weren't even birds or squirrels in the park. He lowered the last of the bodies to the ground and covered them with one of the tarps from the jeep. We had best do this soon. When the sun hits there won't be any place untouched by the stench for three hundred meters in every direction. "Well, gentlemen" he began, uncomfortable at the circumstances. "If you'll excuse me I am going to get some help. Stay right here and we'll take care of you. I have a nice bit of dirt picked out with a good view of the sunset and in the morning you get a nice cool breeze. Ahem." He turned and headed in the direction of the bar.

Eric walked the last few hundred meters to the bar thinking what a tragedy had just happened. Still vivid memories, aided by the hardware in his brain, streamed through his mind. The sounds of crunching bones sent chills up his spine. Eric cringed at the vision of Mishka delivering coupe de gras on helpless men. Have to watch that one, I will he thought. It is amazing how quickly things can turn ugly. Another fifty meters and Eric turned his mind to the present set of problems.

The question was, what to do now. Mr. 'DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU JUST FRAGGED WITH?' would undoubtedly be seething at the death of so many of his men, and rightly so. But now was not the time for retribution, not when numbers may well mean the difference between living and dying in this place. They couldn't very well bind this man for an indeterminate amount of time. He obviously considered himself a man of some authority, someone used to being in charge. Though he definitely looked to be from the wrong side of a badge. Eric supposed it all boiled down to their new guest's expectations were that would determine their new course of action.

Eric met Ana walking out of the bar. He approached her and said "So did our guest remember who he is yet?" He could see the pain in her demeanor and hoped a little levity would relieve some of it. "Hey, don't take this too hard. We all share a portion of the blame for what happened here. You're gonna take this fight to bed with you for a long time. You don't have to do it all now. What's important now is keeping our families safe. Come what may you're part of that family now. You just learned an expensive lesson, one that I don't think you'll ever have to take again. So don't run off and leave us having to teach that one to your replacement, O.K.? Let's go back inside and try to resolve this thing. What do ya say?"

Despite attempts to leave, Nine finds herself compelled to remain, though remaining in a mostly negative state about everything. Joe, remaining true to the hot-headed swat image so commonly portrayed, is the first to detect something is amiss...

Tony's face, something familiar about it. That's it... Tony the Face. He'd been picked up on several accounts for Larceny, though all charges were usually dropped due to an unwillingness on the part of the victims to press charges. Tony had this thing of getting invited in, and 'negotiating' the most valuable assets of a place into his pocket for chump change. A silver tongue mobster, more than silver... magical even. Once he started talking, it was almost impossible to ever disagree or resist.

Ana continues to walk outside, not wanting to mix with the people she hurt, and finds an interesting fact. The smell of blood is strong in the trunk of the limos parked outside, and not just from the corpses that were dragged away, but from the trunks? Each limo had the smell of death coming from its trunk. Eric, who is standing next to Ana, doesn't seem to notice anything yet.

John, who chose to address those that let the strangers in is met with the silence of people in shock. Their saviours had killed their saviours, how does one react when a friend kills a friend, turning the last remnants of home into a warzone. The only thing he gets from them is a look of despair and the comment, "They saved us...."

Mike does what he can for the critically injured teammates, making them as comfortable as possible in the corner of the bar. Once he has done all he can for them he turns his attention to the others.

"Will everyone calm the f--k down. It was a mjor clusterf--k. We all know that." He looks over at Ana for a brief moment, then back at the group at large, "and it's something you're going to have to live with for the rest of your life. It'll make you sick. It's going to keep you up at night and haunt your dreams. And that's good. It means you care. It was a misunderstanding. We are all under a shit load of pressure here and mistakes are bound to happen. This might have been the first, but you can bet your ass it won't be the last."

He takes a breath and slumps down in a chair.

"Some of you know me better then the others, but those that do know that I did my time in the millitary. I've fought in some messed up bloodbaths and it would turn your stomech if I was to tell you some of the things I've seen. This... This was what we called a Friendly Fire accident. We had no intel. We reacted on instinct. And this is what happened. It wasn't all our fault. These guys should have know we were coming back. They should have sent someone unarmed out to meet us, not crowed around behind a barricade with guns out. And, yes, Ana shouldn't have been so quick to act. That ramming stunt was just plain fu-king crazy, even if they were "bad guys." It was a bad idea."

He gets back up, "But what really pisses me off, is you..." He turns and points at Mishka, "Who the f-uck are you? What type of f--king animal does what you did out there? We save your ass just so you could go fu-king butcher people? I don't know who the f-ck you are, but I want you out of my place, got it? Grab some food and water, whatever your sister needs, then get the hell out. The last thing we need is to be hold up in here with a fu-king animal."

He storms over to the bar and grabs himself a beer.

Eric walked with Anaaround the front of the bar talking. "You have family out there still, don't you? I think there are others too. Our next order of business should be to gather them here and fortifying this place. There is no telling how many others like 'The Face' are out there looking for safe harbor." Ana seemed distracted, rightly so, by the events of the past few hours. Perhaps some reflection would help. "I have to see Mike about a shovel. Why don't you see if you can get these conspicuous vehicles parked inside the gate for now. We don't want 'The Face's' friends and/or enemies to think he is here."

Eric left Ana hoping that having something to do would take her mind off her problems for awhile. He finds Mike sitting at the bar, a half empty beer sitting in front of him, looking for all the world like a man ready to commit murder. Eric sits quietly for a moment, letting the man to his thoughts. The room was strangely muted. Something new had transpired. It figures. We don't get a rest. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke quietly to the dwarf. "Mike, we need to talk. There are some things that need doing and not enough people to do them. Like I said, your place, your rules. Here's my take.

1) We have to fortify this place. We cannot have more 'Tonies' just showing up and taking control of the place. I have some ideas about that I'll share later. This also means we have to deal with Tony. The options as I see it are these:

We turn him out, which has its own problems. He may have other men out there and he might want revenge.

We convince him that it is in his best interest that he stay and support us, again with its own set of problems. How far can we trust a mafioso? When do the odds shift in another direction and he sells us out?

We kill him and bury him with the rest of his men. The least tasteful, not to mention morally abhorrent, but the most likely to end the Tony associated problems.

2) Something has to be done about the bruiser. The way he went about deliberately killing those men is unconscionable. If it were just him I'd say turn him out to fend for himself, but it isn't. He has the girl. Maybe she's his sister, maybe not, but separating them will probably mean killing him. I am certain he has had a rough time of it and perhaps we can help. But the behavior cannot continue.

3) There are those here with us who have family 'out there.' We need to make whatever attempts we can to secure their families and bring them here. If it were my family out there you can bet it would be the primary thing on my mind. I know Ana has family and at least one other. Given what's happened they'll be more inclined to just head off on their own if we say nothing. I think that's tantamount to killing them.

4) Finally, we need to procure food and water. I know we got food with the rest of the gear from Gaylan's will last for a little while but since we don't know how long this is going to last we need to think long term. I think I have the water covered, but I don't know about food."

Eric gave Mike a pat on the shoulder and stood to leave. He stopped, turned back and asked "Do you have a shovel?"

Eric starts to leave the bar, stops, and looks around at the group within. This just won't do

"Mr. Locke? Given recent events, would you mind making a sweep around the area to make certain there are no more surprises out there? Mr. Gordon would you step outside with me for a moment? Mishka, would you join me for a walk in the park? He trots back over to Mike and whispers to him "These people need something to do or their going to fall apart. Would you keep an eye on 'Tony'? Maybe you can get some information out of him.

Outside Eric turns to those that follow him out the door. "We have a great deal of work to do gentlemen and no time to do it. If those of you going out to scout: We need to know approximately how many people are within a two block radius. How dangerous they are, you know your jobs so I won't suggest how you do it. Mr. Gordon; 'Tony' cannot be left alone. It would help if we knew if there were others in the area like him, their dispositions, etc... Mike is with him now but I'm sure the tow of you can get something from him."

After an unconmfortable silence, Eric turns to Mishka. "I'd like you to help me bury the fallen. I have taken the bodies out to the park to the west of here. As soon as we are all done we need to get to the tasks of gathering the families of those not present and securing this place against more intruders. I'd appreciate any suggestions those of you in the field can offer. Let's meet back here in say... Two hours?

Eric heads toward the park, hoping the others would see the tasks as necessary and get the jobs done. Then there was Mishka...

Joe is actually happy to have something to do. I'll think about what I have to do later, he thought. For now he sees that what Eric said was wise and he went to see Tony right after showing to his wife that they had good intentions and still pointing to Ana for fault.

"First, I know this is a bit point-less, but I want to apologize for what happened out there. Not that I take responsibility for it. As for your shoulder, I'm sorry but I had to. I hope you can understand."

Joe doesn't expect any kind words from Tony, but saying this felt like the right thing to do. After that, he might think about interrogating the man but he had to be fair to him first nevertheless.

Depending on the way Tony reacts, Joe will then explain the situation to him frankly, discussing security and possible collaboration. Of course he doesn't promess anything but discussions can't hurt.

"That sounds like a good idea, Eric. I'll get on it."

He will then pop his helmet on, and begin scouting the area, recording everything as an image on his HUD.

Ana bristles under all of the scrutiny, hostile and otherwise. Against her better judgement she stays, offering, rather, insisting on helping Eric with the bodies instead of the cars as he'd asked. If nothing else, it's an excuse to get away from Joe. She takes the opportunity of relative isolation with Eric, Mishka isn't far off, to speak with him.

"Don't think I didn't notice what you did back there." She stops, rubbing sweat off of her brow with her upper arm. "Thank you." She doesn't say much more, though anyone looking at her can see that she, like everyone else, has a lot on her mind.

On the way back she hangs back behind Eric a bit, asking him to walk ahead. She sees to the cars and the Humvee if no one else does, bringing them within the protection of the pub's courtyard. She winces at the lumpy motion of the Hummer. Boy, did I foul this up. She parks the hummer closest to the outside.

Once inside, she checks all her gear and takes Mike aside, giving Joe and everyone else a wide berth.

"I've got family out there. I'm going to get them. Before something like this..." she pauses. Like me. "...happens to them. If you don't like it, that's too bad. I'm going anyway. I'd like to come back, but I'd understand if you said 'no.'"

She glances up at Joe, "I'm sure I won't be missed."

If Mike has anything to add, he'll have to call it at her back or follow her out to where she's parked the vehicles.

While Ana leaves, Joe thinks about this whole thing. Ana is definitely to blame for all this. She made a huge mistake and she should pay for it. But on the other hand, not coming back here might mean that she dies and that is too big a price. The general feeling is to let her come back and that's fine after all. He'll always have a grudge with her but it should fade away eventually. Locke's words shocked him but in the end, it should be all right between Joe, him and Ana.

What is shocking to Joe now is rethinking of Mishka's behavior. This man is like a wild beast hungry for blood. The man is quite talented and his magical abilities make him scary. Mundanes are always easier to deal with whereas a magician like him is unpredictable - at best. Joe makes it a priority to address the matter with others when there's a chance. Unlike in Ana's case, Joe feels that Mishka should be left out of the house, kicked away like the criminal he is. Joe resents Mishka, despises him and considers him dangerous. His child should stay though; it's probably safer for her. There is no forgiving for mass killings which were utterly unnecessary.

As for the rest, Joe feels no responsibility in the killing. In his mind, there was no other course of action for saving the lives of his group, which lost two souls in the end nevertheless. Leadership will have to be stronger and more listened to if we are to survive this, he thinks. Joe puts high expectencies in Mike for that.

07:44:23 Tuesday 08 June 2064 - Mike's Bar

Eric starts for the park and the grizzly task ahead. Ana, insisting on helping him walked along side and after a few moments of silence said "Don't think I didn't notice what you did back there." She stops, rubbing sweat off of her brow with her upper arm. "Thank you." Eric stops and turns to face her. The sadness in her face caused the knot in his stomach to twist. He shook his head and looked at the ground. It was a long moment before he spoke. "You seem to be doing a good job of punishing yourself, you don't need me adding to it. Being responsible for the death of another is a hard thing to live with, and once it happens you can't take it back." He looked back to the bar and sighed. Hard truth time. "Your actions also damaged what trust we had as a group. You're going to have to put up with some serious angst if you stay. I think it's a reasonable price to pay for the security this group can offer your family. If we are going to survive this we are going to need each other. Some don't see that at the moment, but they will. Thomas Paigne once said that 'these are the times that try men's souls.' Truer words were never spoken. Before this is over I think we'll all be sleeping a bit uneasy for the rest of our lives. C'mon, lets get this over with."

An hour and a half, and a lot of sweat later, Eric, Ana, and Mishka tamp the last bit of dirt over the mass grave. The loamy smell of fresh turned earth clings to the air, a refreshing change from the stench of decay they had put up with of late.

Upon leaving, Ana drops back and Eric takes the opportunity to speak with Mishka. "I don't know an easy way to do this so I'll just say it as plainly as I can. Your behavior earlier was bordering on the psychotic. I cannot imagine the kind of life that would harden one so young as to make them unwilling or unable to control the animal side of their nature. What you did was murder and unacceptable if you wish to remain here. Your sister deserves better, YOU deserve better, but you are in control. You are responsible for your behavior, and you will have to bear the consequences of your actions. Unfortunately you won't bear them alone. That little girl will bear them with you. My conscience struggles between screaming for you to get away from me and my family and wanting desparately to help you. I want to help Mishka, but you have to take the step. I've got some things to take care of but I'll talk to mike and see what I can do. Nick is scouting the area for more of those things, he could probably use some help." Eric nods in the direction Nick had initially gone and turned toward the bar.

The bar fairly crackles with tension when Eric enters. He walks over to where Mike sat and plopped down beside him. "Got an extra one of those? Thanks." he said. "Any thoughts on our next move?"

Mishka had followed the others into the building, bending his knees and ducking his head so that Tash, boldly perched on her brothers shoulders, could pass through the doorway. Her took no notice of the general uproar as he made his way across the room, and swung the little girl from his shoulders in an almost blurred move which ended with her giggling as her rump softly touched down on the edge of the bar.

He watched quietly as the crowd in general turned its anger on Ana, oblivious of the meaning behind the hate-filled glances directed his way. It wasn't until Mike's tirade that a little comprehension even started to sink in, but even then he didn't fully understand the situation. He had not started the fight. Technically, even Ana hadn't started the fight. The gunmen had opened fire on them first. Opened fire on Tash, who had done nothing to deserve it, or any of what this long night had brought. He had merely killed them to end the threat. Mishka had learned long ago in The Pit that a wounded opponent is just as dangerous as an uninjured one, and he had been dealing with way more than one opponent, all of them armed. 'They even showed it all the time on the Trid, where the almost dead guy grabs a gun or a knife and makes one last attack, usually when the hero's sidekick least expects it.'

Mishka had squared his shoulders and watched as Mike stormed to the other end of the bar before addressing evenly him in a matter of fact manner.

"They shot at my sister! They threatened my sister! So I killed them. If you ever threaten my sister, I'll kill you too."

The big blond paused and looks around at the roomful of faces staring back at him, more than a few etched with disgust. He shook his head and turned back to the bar's owner.

"We never asked you for nothing in the first place, and we don't need anything from you now."

Mishka scooped up the little girl in his left arm and slung her pack over his other shoulder as he turned and headed towards the door. Outside he was waylaid by Eric, who suggested that he help bury the bodies. The big blond readily agreed, but was adamant in his refusal to leave Tash with anyone else.

He held her against his chest, her head resting on his shoulders and her eyes slowly drooping closed as he followed Ana and Eric to where the other man had stashed the corpses. Once there, she lay against the trunk of a tree while he went about the somewhat gruesome, but not unfamiliar task.

The conversation with Eric on the way back to the bar was a mystery to the young man. Mishka just didn't grasp exactly what was so wrong about what he had done, so he had mrely listened in silence.

As the other man enters the bar, Mishka stops short, not quite sure what to do next. He unconsciously strokes Tash's long blond hair as her sleeping head nestles slightly closer to his broad neck.

09:45:55 Tuesday 08 June 2064 - Mike's Bar


Alexander was playing near the wall when Eric finally made it back to his family. Stephanie sat just outside the apartment watching on as her son bounced a ball around the parking lot. "How are you holding up?" he said as he reached her. She didn't take her eyes off their son as she said, "Terrified. I can't believe this is happening. What are we supposed to do, sit here forever while the government lets us die? I mean, people are killing each other in here!" She checked herself and lowered her voice. Alexander had stopped bouncing his ball and was looking their way. His face brightened at the sight of his father. "Look Dad!" he said as he began working his way down an imaginary court, faking out linemen and dunking against impossible odds. At least that's how he would recount it to his father. Eric just laughed and called his son over. "All-Star material son, All-Star material." Alexander beamed and plopped down beside his mother. "Why don't you go see if your grandpa needs some help. You father and I need to talk." The young boy pouted and grumbled as he pushed his way into the apartment.

Stephanie stood and started toward the end of the parking lot. Eric knew something was bothering her. She alway paced and wanted to walk as she talked when she was anxious. "How long do we have to stay here Eric? These people scare me. I don't want our children to be exposed to that kind of violence, and they attract it. One of them actually blamed me for what happened. ME! Of all the nerve. Uuuhhh!" she stomped her foot in frustration and turned around. Eric had to sidestep her or be knocked over as she started walking again. "Steph," he started "I don't know what is going on. The city is quarantined for some reason. There's more to this than we're being told, but for now we have to make certain things are safe for all of us. I know these people aren't what we are used to, but trust me to keep you safe. I'm going to make some arrangements and we should be able to weather this. But we have alot of work to do, not enough people to do them, and even less time to get them done. Maybe you could start organizing the families and make some order from the chaos. Your pretty good at that and it would give you something to do, something to take your mind off the scary stuff." Eric grabbed his wife and hugged her tightly. "We will be alright. I need to talk to Mike and hash some things out. I'll be back so we can eat some luch together as a family. How's that?" She nodded and they walked back to the apartment, kissed and said goodbye. Eric went off insearch of Mike.

Meanwhile, on the roof, Ed was watching the city wake up.

The next couple of days stream past, sometimes flaring into angry episodes of the worse soap operas ever made, other times spent revelling in laughter at the bar, almost forgetting that life was now hellish.

Its cold, dim, and dangerous at dawn. Right now the only thing still stirring at this bleak hour is quite possibly more cold and dangerous then the dawn it self. A solitary figure with a small child on his back and a drawn SMG walks in a staggering line down the double yellow line in the street.

As he struggles closer to the wrecked Hummer the casual observer can notice the security armor he is wearing is barely hanging on, held together with a mix of soot, mud and dried blood. The Ingram he wields has also seen horrific abuse, the wire folding stock bent 90 degrees, and the stump of the fore grip jammed on the mount.

The little boy is far and away the only thing in reasonable shape. The resemblance he bears to Lt Baker is striking, carrying the same strong frame and sharp features, softened only by his youth. Other then a few scratches Adam is in good condition, but somehow looks... older then he should be. Another oddity is that the child is armed, a palm pistol tucked into the top of his unlaced high tops. Somehow the dicodimy is only proper in this time and place.

Able walks across the pavement, only hours ago a battle zone and site of execution. Once in proper light, his condition is grim. He has been beaten to the consistency of hamburger, left eye swollen shut, nose definitely broken. The shattered security armor shows slashes and punctures though even the most reinforced portions. From all evidence he went 9 rounds with a mutant Croc. on Kamikaze and won.

Able gingerly lets the boy slip to the ground at the door of the pub. He whispers something into Adams ear and the boy ties his shoe before finding a knot of other children. He looks around the room at a few familier faces "Lt Able Baker 0135443-8CAo Cross Applied Technologies Special Weapons and Tactics". Its an odd contradiction in terms, as Able removes his helmet, he is grinning, somehow in spirits that belay his condition. "I found my boy." He finally motions for someone, and at this point anyone with a pulse, to get a first aid kit and try to patch the most grevious wounds.

He relates his story, beginning with his somewhat questionable dissapearance at the sporting goods store. He had been standing far out infront of the store when he recieved a call on one of the corperate channels, from a very memorable voice, his Sargent. He did what came automaticly and responded to the call with mesured force. The two friends fought side by side aginst a wave of those...things, before Sgt Black was mortally wounded, and ordered the Lt to fall back. By the time Able had returned to the store the rest of the team had vanished, leaving more bodies. He took the time while there was still day light to track back to CatCo. to try and find any remaining elements of the security team. It seemed like the army had used the wreckage of the now toppled R&D building as a barrier and had fought a small pitched battle aginst the decimated corperate squads. It had all ended in tears, with not just the forces, but their wives and children, and others simply gunned down at the invisable line that was the border to this now en-circled city. Only an odd act of fate had re-united him with his son, who had been staying with a friend blocks away. The problem is that series of city blocks had been claimed as turf for a small cluster of toughs from a heavly weakend gang. The fight that esused was nothing short of a battle royal, ending with the heavly wounded Baker dropping a loose fire escape on his final hostile.

Somehow his statement reguarding his intent to go find his daughter is shadowed with dout, considering his current condition.

Joe decides to take charge of some stuff. First he wants to secure the place down. He'll gather some wood and everything that he finds might be useable and starts building a sort of lookout with the tools they took from the abandonned store. Of course, he makes sure that the roof is solid enough to take the extra weight. He plans on reinforcing it with stones and/or metal sheets if he comes across those.

His wife offers to help him out and brings their daughter on the roof top too, making sure she doesn't get near the edges. They seem tired and scared but his wife is keeping it together for the little Charm. So does Joe for his wife Connie. Both of them come from outside chicago, so they have no other relatives in here. In this moment, they feel somewhat lonely even if they joined with a bunch others to survive. The events are strssful and Joe doesn't like what Ana and Mishka did. He'll have to live with it unfortunately.

At some point the sort of small shack in which there's only enough space for about two men to sit and a few more to stand is completed on the roof top of Mike's. Joe uses big stones and/or heavy blocks of whatever to make it very stable and as bullet proof as he can make it with what's available. From there, it will be easy for anyone to see if people are approaching the pub and warn the others in time. It's also a good spot to shoot at the enemies from higher ground and cover. He'll have to think of some way to add camouflage to that thing eventually; he'd like it to be hard to guess what its use is. That would make it even more an ideal spot for a sniper such as himself.

Eventually, Joe will also try to search with others for whose still living in the area and try to organize a kind of neighboorhood watch. He's not sure how that would work for now but it sure is a good idea to try to put up some kind of organization to fight back the violence of the streets and the dangerous mutant orks out of the neighborhood.

After some tense negotiations and agreements to set aside any issues between them for the moment, the group begins planning their next step. Upon entering the bar, they are surprised at the drastic changes they find. “What the frag happened to my bar!?!” are Mike’s first words. Words he begins to eat as the women begin admonishing him for such language, give stern looks all around and begin serving a meal. It isn’t much, but considering the materials on hand, it’s pretty good. The dim bar lamps have been replaced with brighter bulbs, the tables have been carried away except for a few set up to make one large table extending out from a booth. “All right people, where do we start?” Mike began. “I want your ideas no matter how crazy they might sound to you. I’ll start with this. I don’t know how long this thing is going to last but with the way things are going it won’t be long before the crazies and the power hungry start carving out territory for themselves. Unfortunately that means it has become a race. I suggest we reach out to the surrounding community and set up some kind of collective. That means some sort of governing body, militia which will need to be trained, food rationing etcetera. I think a four block radius around the bar is sufficient for our purposes.”

At the last comment Eric raised his hand and asked “I think you are on to something Mike, but I think something larger would be more appropriate. We are going to have to provide for ourselves unless and until the government starts making food drops which, for the size you are proposing wouldn’t be likely to get a drop of it’s own. That means fighting for it. We have a natural barrier, the Chicago river, to the north and west. We have Lake Michigan to the east. That leaves the south open. If we erect a wall down East Roosevelt Road from the Chicago river to Lake Michigan we will effectively seal off the area. That gives us less than four and a half square kilometers to defend. I know it sounds like a lot but consider that, if we demolish all the bridges except for Lake Shore Drive north and south, Congress parkway to the west, we limit access to three points unless they come by water.” Eric stopped as he glanced around at the incredulous looks he was getting. “You don’t think small do you?” Locke asked. “While were at it why don’t we borrow a couple helos and just take our families out of here?” Nervous laughter rippled around the room. Eric chuckled as well but continued. “It’s really just a matter of numbers. If we can organize this plot of land, may be we can get to the bottom of what’s really going on here.”

He waited for some kind of response from the group. After a silence he took for consideration Mike asked “I don’t know. It IS a large area to defend. I was thinking something more… modest. I see your point and it has merits, but we still need to defend OUR territory if push comes to shove. How about we compromise and make two fortifications? One outer, covering the areas you spoke of and the other around the bar plus some breathing room. But that still leaves the ‘barricade’; do we blow some buildings, board ‘em up, and put our defenses on top?” The nods all around spoke to the wisdom in the dwarf’s words. The next words they heard nearly floored them. Eric, straight-faced, said “We build a wall.”

“You want to make a what?” Mike said, the look on his face clearly displaying his doubts Several others looked askance at Eric as well but held their tongues. Eric, seeing the doubt on the faces before him, held up a hand and said “A wall, ten meters high, twenty meters deep, and as wide as the street, that follows a path around our territory; And another one surrounding the bar and a small piece of property around it. I know it seems like a lot of territory to defend but I think we need to be bold. It’ll be easier to defend what we have than to take the territory later if we need to.” Mike waved his hand to stop Eric[/b]. “And just how do you propose to build such a monstrosity?” he said. There were a few nodding heads in the group. “Earth elementals.” Eric replied. “I can summon them to make the wall. The inner wall will need some refinements but I know of a spell or two that will allow me to do it. My wife is..” Eric checked himself and continued” was a civil engineer for the city. She can direct them in the construction.” Joe shot Eric an incredulous look. “Where do you propose to get the material for the wall, knock down a couple of buildings with explosives we don't have? You have to be talking about millions of metric tons of whatever for a wall that big!” Eric patiently waited until Joe finished and said “The elementals will dredge up stone from the earth to build the wall with. It will take a while for them to finish but it’s a fire and forget job. They’ll work tirelessly until the job is done.” Not everyone was sold on the idea but they agreed to sleep on it.

From the end of the table Ana took the opportunity to speak up. “All those things are well and good but some of us still have family out THERE!” she pointed to the front door. “I for one have no intention of sitting here while a wall is being built. I intend, alone or not, to go and get my family!” Mike responded with unusual poise “You are absolutely right Ana. So here’s what we are going to do. Eric, make whatever plans you need to get your little project going. Locke, Ana, and Mishka; You take one of those limos and get your families. Take what gear you need.” He stressed that last. "We are on a shoestring for the moment and if something happens, heavens forbid, we need to limit our losses. I know it sounds hard but that’s how life is in a war zone. And don’t kid yourselves people, that’s exactly what we are in.

The last of the walls rise, as Ana, John and Mishka return froma failed expedition. There was no family left to go get, if they were even alive was a mystery with no resolution.

The walls which had already surrounded Mike's property was enhanced, and altered, allowing for a relative inner-city war headquarters. Nothing short of a few missiles, or an Earth Elemental, or a Shape Earth spell, or maybe a few other things could hope to quickly overcome the walls to the yard. Of course, the 10 meter high wall which was the width of a street all the way around the territory, springing up practically overnight, turned the quiet almost hidden fort into the most visible beacon of hope on the landscape. It towered over the other homes and even many of the office buildings in the area, but it was safe, and it would not be long before the throngs of weak came seeking refuge within. That became apparent from the first night, when shouts were heard outside the walls of people asking for refuge. Women, children and men alike sought the safety of the walls, forsaking their homes to whatever mobs might be out there in hopes of refuge within. Of course, letting them in was suicide with what little provisions could be gathered, and could a benign leader or group of leaders even hope to survive in this new world?

Thankfully, a watch-tower of sorts had been raised on the roof of Mike's place, a nicely designed for optimal viewing of the 'courtyard' shack. This would give the team valuable intel if their perimeter were breached.

Ana returns from a foray into the disintegrating city in search of her family with shadowed eyes, favoring her right leg, arm clenched tightly to her side. Locke is right on her heels and looks no less grim. He goes over to Mike to report that they’d managed to loot and salvage a broadcast truck with a good deal of operational gear. An old orc man stumbles in leaning on the arm of a very pregnant woman, another orc, who dotes on the old man. Her face is bleak, and streaked with tears. She’s near term. Just what the compound needs.

There is no sign of Ana’s family. Eric hovers nearby, but Ana fends him and others off with silence. In her head she sees the blinking beacon of the son she doesn’t know. The only family in the world that she has left. Ana hangs in a rapidly decaying orbit around the promise of finding her son.

Somewhere toward evening of the first night the elven woman disappears. In all the bustle of building up the place few notice her absence. Around supper time it’s clear that she’s not around. And by dawn she hasn’t returned.

Sometime around dusk on the second day, Joe spots a shimmer coming over the walls, northwest corner. He draws a bead with his long-barreled rifle when the shimmer materializes into Ana carrying something. Some… one. She is covered in blood. Again.

She pauses, flipping her hair back to observe the transformed interior of the compound, a bustle with dozens of new faces and a lot of activity. She locks eyes with Joe and it is clear that she sees him perfectly even at this distance. She drops her eyes and lifts the body into her arms again, lowering herself more awkwardly down than the weight can account for.

She is a wreck. The young boy, probably eight or nine years old, bears a striking resemblance to Ana. Both are near complete exhaustion Ana collapses with these words, “Gangs – south of the river. Headed…”

After a while the boy stirs, it is wholly dark now. He is pale-skinned, with dark hair and eyes, tall, almost as tall as Stephanie. And thin as a rail. He sits up, drawing his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He glances down at the woman who carried him across dozens of city blocks, swimming, taking gunfire, hiding him and returning covered with blood and a terrifying look in her eyes.

When the call for chow comes, Stephanie knocks on doors and rousts out stragglers, she gasps when she sees the dark-eyed boy. And Ana’s still form. “How long has she…?” The woman breaks off, “What’s your name?”

“Ad...” His voice is raspy, raw and rough. He clears his throat, “Adrik.” He looks from Stephanie to Ana and back, “Is she really my mother?”

Gunfire is heard in the distance, heavy gun fire. The look of fear in everyone's eyes tells the tale of what feels like a long unending battle for survival, and the realization of the thread by which it seems to hang. In the distance can be seen a couple of vehicles that appear to be running on gasonline, a near obsolete concept in the current year. They are definitely older cars, and what can only be rough gangsters are riding on the outside of it, shooting into buildings and at rooftops, as well as towards some of the other autos that are chasing it. They are headed down the street your abode is on, and if they don't slow down, the barricade at the front could very well be tested against the steel weight of an antique buick. Behind it are 2 more cars, and a big semi-truck that looks to be designed to carry some sort of liquid in mass quantities.

When Locke hears that Ana's back, and hurt, he will rush to see her, to make sure she's okay.

If he hears about the gangers first, though, he will suit up and head for the gate, HVAR loaded.