Contract #5: Marcus Bell: Enemy of the State!

[GM Nick]

Doc's visor switches to IR, which transforms the field into a canvas of blues and blacks. He leans out over the rocky outcropping and cranes his neck, scanning the area where the truck is. His gaze locks on to a prostrate and rapidly cooling signature near the front of the vehicle.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc winces and ducks back down, checking the flank for any non-Legion signatures.

< Whoever they are, they're making short work of the legion soldiers, > He comms.

[Elliott]

((It is my understanding that the blizzard would block ultrasound due to the swirling snow. Think Daredevil in the rain. Correct me if this is wrong))

"Frag this, let's get in there and get the package before anyone else shows up!"

Tyrosine jumps up and charges upwards the truck, big footsteps exploding puffs of snow. Unsheathing his claymore, Tyros switches to astral vision and heads toward the back hatch of the truck.

[GM Nick]

The big troll stomps towards the truck, ignoring the flurry of ice particles that plaster against the visor of his Phalanx battle-suit. The claymore whistles as its razor-sharp edge kisses the air, propelled by it's wielder with the momentum of a runaway freight train. Reaching the back of the truck, Tyros braces for sudden combat...

...and stops dead in his tracks.

The other five members of the Legion squad lie dead in the snow at the back of the vehicle. Either their torsos or stomachs have been carved open by something immensely powerful, leaving what the troll guesses were instantly fatal wounds. His gaze rises dubiously, to the cargo portion of the truck. Both of the rear armored doors have been mangled--sheared by what look like giant claw marks. Inside, a large metallic cylinder leans haphazardly against one side of the truck. The containment unit looks as though it had undergone a sudden depressurization and exploded outwards, blossoming like a stainless steel onion.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams pointlessly presses his finger to his ear,

< What do you see, Tyros? >

[GM Nick]

Despite the urge to do otherwise and be done with this whole mess, Tyros relays his findings to the rest of the team.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams frowns behind his faceplate.

< Tyros, keep those chemical seals closed, we don't know what was in there. >

He turns to Pandora.

"What else do you know about this? I'm assuming you didn't just ride a motorcycle into a truck for the fun of it."

[Elliott]

Tyros frowns at the torn cargo truck, somewhat perplexed at the unexpected scene. Moving up slowly, the big troll runs his gloved hands gently over the torn metal, wondering what could have ripped open the truck and slain the Legion squad in such short order.

(roll parazoology/magical threats to see if there is anything distinctive about the claw marks that would indicate what could have done it)

Moving on to the containment unit, Tyros gives it and the rest of the inside of the cargo truck a thorough examination to see what it could have held.

[GM Nick]

A Legion squadron materializes out of the snow, quickly retreating to the vehicle. It's apparent from their posture and focus that they've not picked up the team, but are erstwhile engaged with something just beyond the team's vision. One of the Legion soldiers begins cutting random swathes through the blizzard with his Redline.

"It's too fragging fast!"

The hermetic casts a quick glance back at the truck, which is now mostly ablaze.

"We've got to fall back to the compound!"

[GM Nick]

Tyros slinks back as the flames claim more of the vehicle, entirely sure that whatever clawed its way out of the truck is no para-critter.

[Elliott]

Hustling back to the team, Tyros flops down in the snow in a storm of powder.

"Whatever the special package is, it's escaped and is tearing through the Legion. How the hell do we get out of here? I don't want to be next on the list whenever the thing finishes off our friends."

[GM Nick]

A blood-curdling scream fills the immediate vicinity as something bisects a Legion foot-soldier, creating a crimson brush stroke across the snow.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams swings his head from side to side, taking in the scene with thermal overlaid by ultrasound vision. He barely dares to breathe.

[John]

Max ducks into the snow drift, barely raising the business end of Marlowe over the soft pack of the blizzard. His senses feel honed to razor precision by the cold and somehow aren't dulled even by the blinding snowfall. The team crouches prone against the bank, and Max glances across them, half expecting to see Val or Doc shaving with a dry razor and staring out into the storm. Instead, Max sees nothing but the same anxiety on his friends' faces that he is undoubtedly wearing himself. The elf raises from his crouch slightly, stepping forward once, twice with slow, deliberate steps. The wind howls through the canyon, but still Max feels that he can hear his footfalls crunch lightly in the ground cover. He narrows his eyes against the wind and cold and peers into the thick, gray world beyond the tip of his nose.

[GM Nick]

When it comes, it comes without sound. It comes without that split second of realization before a sucker punch. When it comes, it comes so abruptly that it doesn't even register on a conscious level.

Something big and heavy and mean just appears on top of Max. There is no indication of movement; even with enhanced vision. The thing moves (if that's the right word) with an agility that transcends physical and augmented senses. Fortunately for the elf, his wise investment in move-by-wire technology has saved his life. Max is pinned to the permafrost, legs bunched up at a painful angle. His arms are thrust outward, clutching Marlowe at both ends--which is the only thing that separates him from the creature that assails him. A pair of serrated carbon blades angled like a giant scissors have pierced the first layer of the Phalanx armor as if it was silk. Marlowe's custom-finished barrel has prevented the blades from making soup out of the elf's internal organs.

Max's eyes--quickly dilating from the copious amounts of adrenaline now being pumped into his brain--roam over the characteristics of his attacker. Though his brain struggles to find any descriptors, the term cybernetic abomination are the first to come to mind. Although it appears to be some form of cyber-zombie, the creature is clearly very lucid and very much not, nor doubtfully ever was, human. In the brief moment of entanglement, Max notices with a dark detachment, a plastic tag clipped to the creature's ear.

It is printed simply with the number 6.

[Drew Buddy]

At first Doc doesn't react. The thing just appeared in place on top of Max without movement. The reptillian part of his brain, having not registered any motion, fails for a split second to warn him of what's happening. His higher functioning processes finally catch up and bring the situation into focus, and it's another split second until he has the barrel of the battle rifle trained on the abomination.

"Hey ugly!" He shouts, pulling the trigger.

[GM Nick]

Six twists his neck the instant that Doc moves forward. From his vantage, Max can see the bloodshot eyes directed at Doc's trigger finger. There's a tremendous amount of pressure on the elf's chest, so much so that he fears he will lose his grip on Marlowe. Sinew stands out as Max's cybernetically enhanced muscles are pushed to their absolute limit.

Doc finds himself firing at open air.

Max sucks in a deep inhalation--the pressure having forced air from his lungs. He stares dumbly at the separate pieces of his beloved, now dissected shotgun in each hand.

[Elliott]

"Frag!"

Grabbing Max under the arm, Tyros hauls him to his feet. "You ok?"

"Let's get the hell out of here. Whatever that thing is, I don't think it can fly. Let's get to that gunship now!"

[GM Nick]

"Down!"

Pandora springs forward and tackles Doc roughly. A rivulet of blood splashes the snow and the adept rolls to a crouch, gripping her arm. It's clear from the alarm on her face that but for the nearly clairvoyant battle-senses of a physical adept, she would be dead.

"Run!"

[Drew Buddy]

Doc doesn't hesitate. He follows Pandora's advice to the letter.

[John]

Max ignores Tyros and stands, staring at the halves of his weapon in his hands and feeling an irrational sense of loss. All of the life or death bloodshed through which he's come has been with this single, grounding tool in his hands flashes past his awareness. He is speechless and dumbfounded, but mostly blank; he feels nothing-- not even fear-- and is paralyzed by it. The snow falling around him seems to scream an elegiac roar in some far away land-- distant, violent, and mournful all at once. Max looks from his hands up to the shroud of the blizzard all around him as if trying to remember where he is. The weapon pieces drop numbly from his hands just before Val crashes into him. Shouts of "run, drekhead!" sound about him, and suddenly the elf is moving. At first his feet plod unwillingly through the snow, but as reality floods back in and his senses return, his pace livens to match that of his cohorts. The elf ventures a useless glance back over his shoulder, the discarded pieces of all that ever stood between him and death already lost in the snow and storm.

[GM Nick]

The gunship emits a trumpet of thrust, causing a shock wave in the snow. The bulky craft sails over the team's heads and careens towards the compound, boosters glowing white-hot.

[GM Nick]

The silhouette of a Legion squad retreating directly across their path manifests in Firestarters' visors.

[John]

Max could hardly feel more naked at the sight of the approaching goonsquad. Empty-handed, his eyes dart about his teammates, and he says,

"Somebody give me their sidearm!"

[Drew Buddy]

In a dead run, Adams unslings his SMG, and manipulates the mag release. Placing the partially depleted stick-n-shock magazine into his pocket, he retrieves a full mag of regular ammunition. He slides the mag home, and racks the bolt, before disconnecting it from his PAN.

'Here!" He pants, "don't forget to log it in; you'll want the smartlink!'

[John]

Max takes the SMG from Doc in jerky, hurried motions, and subscribes his smartlink to the weapon. It feels foreign and unfamiliar in his hands, and Max's confidence falters a little. This is likely to be the toughest battle he's been in, and he's going in with an unknown quantity for an ally.

[GM Nick]

The two groups intersect, but any element of surprise or strategy is lost in the panic-driven retreat. A Legion heavy nearly collides with Max as he appears out of the blizzard. A pair of serrated blades protrude from his torso. He stiffens and jerks, blood foaming around the corners of his mouth. The blades separate and eviscerates the Legion solider.

[John]

Max reels from the collision and the suddenness with which he is, once again, covered in blood. The elf stumbles and falls to his knees in the snow, his head rising to see the melee unfold around him as the carnage stains the pure white of the world. Overstreet scrambles up from his knees with the help of a teammate whose form he can hardly make out for the blizzard, and presses forward.

[GM Nick]

Time stretches amidst the blood and snow and screaming. The members of Firestarter run flat out, lungs burning and hearts pounding in their temples. The primal fear of the predator, the unknown, of their own mortality pushes them forward. After what seems like an eternity, the team reaches the mouth of the cave formation.

[Conway]

At a dead run, Sinjin veers in from the flank to rejoin FRSR's makeshift formation. Weapons and equipment bounce and clang about their persons like perverted sleigh bells, making the team further resemble a team of wide eyed and startled horses. Cavalry indeed...

"Looks like we've found where the Abominable Snowmans been hiding," he mutters.

The Adept stands before the cave, steaming from exertion in the cold air, holding a pair of cold, razor edged knives in each hand like batons.

[John]

Max reaches the interior lip of the cave at a dead run, his feet suddenly finding easy purchase on the rock floor and causing him to stumble and slide forward. He retains his balance and manages to stay upright as he reels around to stare back out into the storm at the there-one-minute, gone-the-next monster that could teach Sinjin a thing or ten about going unseen.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams fumbles with his pack, trying to suppress the adrenaline shake in his hands. He pulls out a can of explosive foam, and runs from one side of the cave mouth to the other, laying down a line that disappears into the snow on the ground. He sticks an optical sensor into the foam, and angles it across the opening.

"Hope to hell this at least slows it down," he mumbles.

[GM Nick]

Pandora examines the gash on her arm and says, without looking up.

"We can't linger. That thing is as predatory as they come, and it will follow us. Out in the open fields, we don't stand a chance. This facility has a lot of tight corners, which should slow it down."

[John]

Max stands for a moment with his hands on his knees and watches Doc work and Pandora run. With a bob of his head that would read to anybody as 'fragssake...' he turns and keeps heading into the empty facility. His heavy boots echo their footfalls within the confined space of the cave as the rear exit grows larger in his view. Max's ears pound with the blood crashing through his veins and the heavy rasps grating up and down his throat.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams thinks of the remaining explosives in his pack.

"Well, we can make it pay for every goddamn inch," he says.

"Come on, let's get inside before this thing catches up," he continues, following his own advice.