Clusterfrag

Max is back in his element. He brings Marlowe up to his shoulder, his eyes following the bright green cross-hairs that the smartlink paints on his vision. Lining up an unfortunate gangster, he squeezes the trigger that's been customized for his fingers. A muzzle flare brings a millisecond of daylight to the tunnel.
The Yak jerks back as a slug hits him.
(( 8P DAMAGE! ))

He falls forward on to the table, scattering blood-stained mahjong tiles across the floor.

Max fires a second slug at enforcer 5.

Max pulls back on Marlowe's varnished walnut foregrip, flinching his head to the side as a smoking casing sails past. His prized shotgun ready once more, he narrows his eyes and squeezes the trigger.
A shower of plastic and shattered beer glasses erupt from the table as the slug narrowly avoids the diving gangster.

Doc raises the business end of the SIG at the group of surprised Yakuza and pulls the secondary trigger. A PLOONK accompanies the flight of a small, egg sized projectile that sails over the table and detonates upon Doc's mental command.

A ball of flame expands outwards, temporarily blinding all present and scattering debris in a 360 degree radius from the explosion. The detonation echoes around the tunnel, like hammers on the eardrum.

Doc zeroes in on the second Yakuza, and the Sig spits out a quick hail of armor piercing rounds.

(( Narrow burst ))

There's a deafening series of reports as the battle-rifle fires.
(( 15P DAMAGE! ))

The force of the battle rifle's impact carries the Yakuza enforcer a full meter, where he promptly bleeds out.

((I think they are all temporarily blinded?))

Tyros leaps through the hail of bullets and bombs bursting in air with a disregard that borders on disrespecting physics. His massive frame lands on the table, it's groaning under the pressure audible even over the gun and grenade reports. Using both invisible hands, Tyros makes two fluid strikes at Yak 3 and 4, the claymore a feather in the troll's paws.

((splitting dice pool between Yak 3 & 4. Don't forget the +1 dice pool for being on high ground, not to mention my +4 reach and invisibility))

(( Yakuza Enforcer #5 performed a full defense, thus forfeiting his turn. ))
The first sweep of the claymore connects with one of the gangsters.
(( 12P DAMAGE! ))

A fountain of blood erupts from the gaping wound that Tyros inflicts, killing the Yakuza on the spot.

The second sweep is a second too late and simply tears a ribbon of fabric from Enforcer #4's suit jacket.

Sinjin looks from the carnage before him to the white capped grenade in his hand and back to the ensuing battle again before replacing the flash bang almost apologetically as if to say Sorry old gal, maybe next time.

His hands flash as he expertly draws and throws a grip of knives at Yak #4, the blades flying at with terrible speed toward ther target.

((Not sure how many knives I can equip? The rules say Agi/2...but don't mention rounding up or down.))

Both of Sinjin's knives are dead-on and sink into the yakuza's armored suit.

(( 7P DAMAGE! ))

(( 8P DAMAGE! ))

The Yakuza enforcer slumps forward with a gurgle, critically wounded.

Yakuza Enforcer #1 brandishes an UZI IV and returns fire.
Max stumbles back as a barrage of 9mm slugs pelt his torso.

(( 3P DAMAGE! ))

Max falls to one knee, the bullets failing to register more than a minor wound.

The Yakuza squeezes off another burst at the elf.
Max rolls away as a trio of bullets ricochet off the concrete floor.

The elf cries out a shocked "DREK!" as he drops to his knee-- the searing pain of the shot radiating through him spreading with unimaginable quickness.

Rage overcomes anxiety as Val catches Max go down out of the corner of his eye. He swings his SMG around the corner, takes aim at Yak #1, and sends a burst of lead in his direction.

(( I did, Tom. ))

Val's sub-machinegun dances in his hands as it fires off round after round.
(( 6P DAMAGE! ))

The wall behind the Yakuza lights up with orange paint splatters in Val's thermographic vision.

He keeps the hammer down!
(( 6P DAMAGE! ))

Val releases the trigger, the nose of the SMG led away from his intended destination by the recoil. After a wisp of smoke clears from his field of vision, he watches as the Yakuza enforcer slumps face-first to the ground--dead.

Max regains his composure after taking the lead and fires again at enforcer number five. He takes a split second to feel the shotgun in his hand. He takes a moment to smell the blood and smoke in the air. He takes a moment to appreciate the carnage strewn before him. He takes a moment and pulls the fraggin' trigger.

(( 10P DAMAGE! ))


The Yakuza's head explodes under the impact of the slug, showering the already chaotic scene with gray matter and skull fragment.

Max turns and fires on the injured Yakuza.
(( 11P DAMAGE! ))

The skirmish ends with a bang--literally, as Max discharges Marlowe and sends a slug into the throat of the final living Enforcer. The man makes a wet choking sound and collapses.

The elf huffs and puffs as he drops his shotgun limply to his side. Gesturing to his wound and speaking to Doc, he hollowly asks,

"Little help?"

Much of the color has left his face, but the mangled cigarette still hangs from his lips.

The ringing in his ears subsides into a whimper while Doc surveys the slaughterhouse. The tension of the infiltration has been released by the sudden, and short, frenzy of violence. It's become a familiar feeling.

"On it," he replies to Max, snapping out of the trance. He sprints over to his moderately abused teammate, and sets his pack down. The medkit is sitting in a separate, and easily accessible compartment with the other medical supplies.

"Allright, let's get you patched up."

Max gives his teammate a faintly weary smile that is neither amused nor embarrassed. Scoffing slightly, he suggests,

"Hey-- at least I didn't get covered in anybody's insides."

Max remains still as Doc goes to work doing what the elf imagines his human friend had once been best at before his best was killing.

Val glances in Max's direction as Doc kneels down beside him, wishing he could help but knowing he'd only get in the way. He reluctantly turns his attention to the rest of the room, scanning for any device that might have recorded the brief fracas and generally trying to get a better view of the place now that his vision isn't quite so obscured by smoke and muzzle flashes.

Sinjin pads softly across the room and bends to retrieve his weapons, grinning excitedly to his teammates in turn.

" Poor bastards never had a chance. Christ Tyros, that looks like your mothers haggis." he chides lightheartedly, nodding to the blood and offal gelling to the floor.

Max speaks up as Doc noodles about on him,

"If I didn't know any better, Sinjin, I'd say you enjoyed that."

The room resembles a bank vault. It may have been a storage area for out of service train cars or parts at one time, but the Yakuza have re-purposed it into a munitions warehouse. Plastic crates line every wall, some stacked as high as 3 meters. Their contents vary but at first glance seem to contain mostly shells for small arms. An arsenal of heavily used AK-97s is leaned against the rear wall. Perhaps of most interest is a large object (about the size of Tyros) covered in multiple layers of heavy sheeting.

((I think you forgot my +6 dice from invis on that last melee combat roll. So many damn modifiers to remember...))

Tyros reaches down to a fallen Yak and uses the corpse's shirt to clean his claymore blade. Wiped free of blood and gore, Tyros replaces the blade in his backsheath and approaches the covered object. Lifting up the sheet he peers underneath.

"It's going to take a bit of time to move all these boxes, and they won't fit in the rover. Can we call in a truck to move everything?"

After the last encounter with a mysterious object under a tarp, Doc flinches, and then moves behind the invisible troll, placing Tyros between himself and whatever it is that's about to be revealed.

"No time for a truck. This place needs to be a crater, and soon. Let's take what we can carry, and use the rest to blow this place into orbit."