Clusterfrag

The door at the end of the hallway dings as the access light turns green.

<Found the door code. Like I said, be careful...>

Max searches the area he can see for a way to disable to ghouls without using bullets.

(( How many are there? ))

< Milly's right. Max, I don't know if there's a simple way to do this. Suppressed gun or knife, we'll be doing these poor bastards a favor. >

Adams pulls out his suppressed submachinegun, and thumbs the selector to semi-auto. He walks behind the gurneys, and places the barrel a couple centimeters from the top of the first cyberzombie's head.

Max moves into position and does the same to another of the creatures.

Doc looks down at the pitiful creature, and pulls the trigger. Jaw set, he starts working methodically down the line.

On the cue of Doc's first report, Max fires.

Drugged or inert--who knows? The cyber-zombies fail to stir and succumb to the execution, one-by-one.

As the elf-- who had been a private eye in a former life-- works his way down the line, his face and clothing get increasingly more coated in what little organic blood the cyber zombies have to give up. The spray of tissue and meat falls over the whole room as the extermination nears completion, and all the color has drained out of Max's face. His hand remains steady and his demeanor calm, but the moxie has gone from him. The work isn't thankless-- it's soulless. Max fears as he moves, fires, moves, fires, moves, fires, that he is somehow losing himself in the extermination. At last the final round is fired and the final empty cartridge is ejected, clattering to the floor in the ringing, smoky room. The room falls silent. The air is thick with the acrid smells of cordite and blood.

Adams avoids making eye contact with Max, the grim triage complete.

He feels cold.

Rawhide clears his throat, frowns sheepishly and moves his hand towards the door controls.

"You boys ready for whatever is on the other side?"

Doc stows the SMG under his coat, and readies his considerably less subtle rifle.
He nods in affirmation.

Max nods as he reloads his weapon. As he finishes sliding fresh shells into the gun, he looks up at Rawhide, raises the killing end toward the door, and says,

"Let's hit it."

Rawhide thumbs the door controls and then rapidly retracts his hand to grab the fore-grip on his SMG.

As the door slides open, a gust of frigid ice particles whisk through the opening and pelt Doc and Max in the face. The area beyond resembles what, at one time, could have been the atrium of a large compound. Large sections of the ceiling have given way to the elements and snow and (some) sunlight pour in. The entire floor of the area is covered with a fine powder and immense cold permeates every surface.

A statue, partially covered with ice, stands slightly askew in the center of the atrium--a testament to nature's tenacity.

Max looks around and queries to no one in particular,

"Where the frag are we... ?"

The elf pushes cautiously into the room.

Doc sweeps the room with thermal vision, looking for anything that stands out in the snow covered ruin.

"Max, I've got a feeling we're not in Seattle anymore."

He instructs the Dragonfly to move up through one of the holes in the ceiling, and look around.

The elf dryly says,

"Maybe if Blynken clicks his heels three times and says the magic words we'll magically wake up in Senor Chang's."

Adams' stomach rumbles at the mention of Seattle's finest Mexican/Chinese fusion cuisine (Zagat rated!).

"Drek, how long has it been since any of us had a meal?" He wonders aloud.

"A long time, I'm almost hungry enough to eat dwarf", Tyros says while grinning at Rawhide.

Tyros starts moving out towards the statue, hoping its inspection might yield a clue as to where they are.

A shimmering field erects itself in the middle of the atrium. The harsh light is particularly blinding to Tyros, who perceives the barrier in both the physical and astral plane.

From the opposite side of the atrium, a squad of 6 figures rushes forward--their advance covered by the undulating screen.

Four of the figures are suited up in heavy armor and carry LMGs. The other two are dressed in arctic jumpsuit and appear to be carrying no weapons.

"You were a distraction for him but now you have grown meddlesome," shouts one of the unarmed men.

Adams dives behind the nearest piece of cover he can find.

"Something tells me that the guys without the guns are going to cause us the most trouble!"

Max follows Doc's lead and dives for cover.

Time seems to slow down as the entire team dives for cover behind granite planters, their movement hindered somewhat by the thick layer of frost that seems to be everywhere.

Max fires on the nearest mage.

(( Single shot for now. Will re-evaluate after result. ))

A puff of smoke and a raucous shot fill the air as Max squeezes off a shotgun blast.

The slug catches the top of the magic barrier, which ripples and repels the projectile.

(( Geek the mage! ))
The mage staggers back and falls to his knee as the slug catches him in the torso.

One of the gun-men swings his weapon towards Max and slams down the hammer.
A clump of granite explodes and rains debris on to Max's head.
More of the marble planter melts away under the concentrated LMG bursts.

Under the sprays of plaster, Max shouts,

"Take out the mages first!"

Rawhide squeezes a full auto barrage at the man firing on Max.
The astral barrier undulates as the bullets are deflected.

One of the troopers swears as his LMG jams and sets about clearing the misfire.

His comrade opens fire on Max.
The first grouping is wide and ricochets off of Max's cover.
A stray bullet grazes Max's shoulder.

Doc pokes his head up, and sights in at the unharmed mage. He fires.

The mage's head snaps back as Doc's bullet lands directly in the cerebrum.

At that same instant, the mana barrier vanishes.

"It's open season, fellas!" Adams shouts as he swings the rifle to the injured mage and fires again.

The second mage's head explodes in a shower of gore as Doc's rifle round detonates it.