[IC]Streets of Rage: Baptism of Fire

[Game Master]

The heavy doors creaked, and bent inward slightly. They didn't have a battering ram so they had improvised, dragging a cement pylon that had long ago been a part of the highway, before it had been redone. The ten of them battered hard, the doors couldn't last long, soon they'd be inside, and then the fun would begin.

[Speed]

The tunnel was clear. Even from the basement, she could hear the shots ringing off, one after another after another. Speed turned to Amber.

"Billy?" she asked.

Amber nodded her head in a quick fashion, "He's with Nash."

Speed pulled a grenade from her pouch. She studied it carefully. She knew that if they existed through the tunnel she would have to blow the entrance to prevent anyone following them, but when? What if not everyone made it down? Her mind raced. She refused to leave anyone behind...unless they were...

She shook the thought from her head. The building had to have been surrounded by now. Putting the grenade back into her bag, Speed heard something on the stairs. It wasn't feet. Quickly, she ran over to the stairs, her heart racing. It was two of Toyman's cars. As they got to the bottom, they went to different paths. One shot over to the table and the other to the tunnel entrance she and Amber had just cleared.

Bringing her attention back, she looked at Amber. One of us needs to stay here. The tunnel must be watched.

"Amber, I am going upstairs. I am going to go get Nash and Billy. Stay here. I'll be right back."

Speed bit her tongue as she said those final words, 'I'll be right back.' It was like it was out of one of them old movies. Only they never came back. At least she was going up the stairs - for now.

She darted with speed towards the stairs, and took them three at a time. Getting to the subbasement, she whipped herself around the corner and called out for Nash and Billy. The sound of gunfire and revving engines grew louder. Whoever these son-of-a-bitches were, she hoped the boys' bullets were peircing them directly in their corneas, and then ripping through their brainstems.

Nash showed herself and met Speed's urgent stare. For a moment, everything paused and Speed was taken aback at how much she cared for her friends. This couldn't be happening...

"The tunnel is clear. We gotsta get Billy down there. Now."

[Nash]

Nash quietly pulled a blood-covered package out of Billy's pocket. She looked at it for a moment before bringing her eyes back up to Billy's. He was shivering terribly again.

Suddenly, Speed calling her caught her attention. She shoved the package into her pocket, stroked some hair out of Billy's eyes, placed her hand on his shoulder and said quickly, "I'll be right back. Don't worry about it."

She met Speed in the hallway. The tension was so thick she felt she could barely walk through it.

There was a heavy pause and then Speed whispered, "The tunnel is clear. We gotsa get Billy down there. Now."

Nash nodded absent-mindedly, nudging the packet in her pocket, and noticing the blood on her hands. Quickly, she turned to get Billy.

She walked back, looking distractedly at the ground. She moved into the doorway and immediately stepped out again.

"What the hell..."

Billy was gone.

[Deke]

Deke was no good at waiting, but this was a good trick. He struggled with his smartlink system until he managed to turn the mental adjusters that would set the choke of his shotguns, and let them get close, closer, until they were almost at the foot of the stairs. They all crowded around, trying to get a good position, and bunched up as they were, they were perfect targets for Deke. He waited as long as he could, the pressure building inside him until finally he let out a horrible animal scream, and started firing through the small opening he'd made between the doors.

His four shots covered all but one of the enemy in his overlapping cones of fire. Only one bethemoth was completely outside his firing zone, up against the building to the south, and as Deke ducked behind the barrier for cover against their inevitable return fire, it was to this opponent his thoughts turned, as he dropped his shotguns into their holsters and prepared to unlimber his axe.

[Paul]

Like all spirits it was in part representative of its choosen environment. A mirror of its home. Puyallup was a scarred victim, forgotten by many, but feared by most who knew its dangerous charms. The spirit too had changed with the land-gone were its carefree days of trust misplaced, where hope abounded. It was as viscous as the land it thrived in, trusting few, tolerating less. Powerful and deadly it quickly sprung into action.

Focusing its will it extended its control over the land, the city it had lived in, that had birthed it. The intruders didn't know what hit them. Bikes crashed into each other, and the ground as rocks seemed to grow from the ground, tires going flat from nails and broken glass. One suddenly finding a discarded board in his spokes flipped over the handle bars, crashing roughly into the ground with a hard wet smacking sound. Still another was struck by a falling piece of metal that seemed to spring forth from a nearby rusting metal grate.

The first couple of bikes that crashed quickly compounded the problem two fold as confused riders slammed into each other. Stunned companions were killed instantly, some run over by their brehtren, others smackingly into each other like childerns toys being slammed back and forth. Befuddled gangers screamed and cried in alarm and confusion. It wreacked havoc on all it could see.

Shifting its sight slightly it howled. GHULKA! The foul folk were in its domain. Defilers of the dead and the spirit world! Using their gift of the sight to avoid its powers they closed in on it. Roaring it manifested with a thought. It massive form rearing up and kicking backwards. Its legs smashed into the nearest ghulk, crushing its ribs, violently discoloring its body as the blood from its few remaining internal organs burst outward likes blossoms,the Ghilks sinew and bone snapping with a loud snap. It whirled with a inhuman quickness and with a thought shifting its right hand into a spear shaped piece of metal it cleaved through the body of a second ghulk. Its other arm in the shape of a hammer smashed yet a third ghoul off its bike and into the ground with a wet slapping noise, its body and bone collapsing, leaving a messy heap of smashed bones and bloody tissue.

The Ghouls had obviously faced spirits before and they recovered quickly, breaking in several directions, dividing its attention. Its onslaught was slowed as they weaved in and out like gnats circling a bloodied lion. Their voices hissing in the foul ghulk langauge they attacked from all sides.

[Paul]

The spirit had manifested in their midst, reaving like an avenging cloud of death. They had faced its sort before, and quickly they broke their ranks, discarding their bikes for the sureness of their feet.

Swarming the spirit they used their claws, they used baseball bats, knives, and more to chip away at the creature. Their leader, a tall thin ghoul known as Vril lead the attack, his magically enchanted blades bonded to his spirit.

The spirit swatted at them like flies, but each time they disappeared, shifting their sinous bodies away from the blows, enraging the spirit further. It wouldn't be long and this dance would be finished....

[Paul]

Deke's blasts caught them unprepared. They had thought this was going to be an easy target. Just a bunch of kids right? Hell they weren't even a real gang-not like them. When they rode people cleared the streets, people feared their colors. So when Octane had told them about the reward they were sure this would be a case of cherry picking.

So confident most of them hadn't really dressed for a real fight. When Octane gave the word that they were to hit the place, they were surprised. What sort of fools takes odds at 20 to 1? Grinning evilly they had just waltzed forward, at a loppiing walk. It was times these kids learned who was boss.

Thats when the funny stuff started happening. Deep inside they knew it was magic, but they couldn't make their minds work, let alone their legs. Suddenly they were being mowed down by four loud shotgun blasts!

[Paul]

Deke grunted as he fired four times in rapid succession. Most of them weren't wearing any kind of real body armor. That was their mistake. His blasts caught ten of them-one was certainly dead, two more other pretty close.

The rest were meat for the beast.

[Paul]

They'd managed to use their cycles and some chains to drag the old car filled with rubble far enough out of the way to let them gain access to thehuge makeshift wooden door. Sweaty and angry they pounded on the door until it creaked, then buckled. Even the effects of the spell-none of them were smart enough to really realize what was happening-didn't cool their boiling blood.

Their brows beaded in sweat and their muscles burning with the strain they smashed through the door and into the building!

"RAWWWWWRRRRRRRR-urk..." Octanes raging howl was cut short by what looked like a parking meter weilded by a massive troll slamming heavily into his skull. Half of his face vaporized into a pink mist, the rest went slack as the stout troll went down hard, his limp body smacking into the concrete like a discarded sack of potatoes.

Witha roar the troll deftly switched his grip in the follow through swing and brought the makeshift mace over his head in a fiersome swinging motion that left another ganger dead-his skull driven downward into his chest cavity.

With a growl they surged forward.

[Paul]

Ares grinned from behind his concealed position. he had wounded eight of them so far, probably killed two. Pistol and shotgun rounds careened through the window impacting in the far walls and the ceiling. Others ricchotted off the thick exterior walls.

Suddenly flames whoosehed inwards through the window as he heard the sound of broken glass.

[Paul]

Chopper sat at the base of the ramp, his bike idling. Hi street sweeper was loaded with nails, rocks, and broken glass. He'd even managed to cram some porcelain in it. Everything and the kitchen sink too!

He could hear them at the top of the stairs at the ramp entrance. It was covered by a light weight piece of sheet metal, allowing them easy access. They'd find quite the surprise waiting for them.

[Game Master]

The heat was oppressive-it rolled up from the ferrocrete in waves. And still they stood there motionless. Four even rows of fifty. Precise-each stood at attention, their bikes next to them. Green and black leathers emblazoned with their logos. None moved. They stood still like an unearthly army of hooligans.

Depending on which rumors you listened to they were either sinners or saints, soldiers for the Elven land to the South, or rabble that followed their own goals. All of it was true in its own way. Rumors of paladins riding with them abounded, but the truth was a bit narrower. The Ancients sometimes seconded some of their people to help the Elven commandoes on secret missions, but she chose when and how. And sometimes they did trade information for weapons and training, but they'd also pimped out elven teenagers for profit, sold drugs, chips, robbed and murdered. She made no illusions as to what they were.

They were the Ancients. They were the most powerful gang in Seattle. 200 strong they ruled the streets, wherever they chose to ride. Their turf was all of the metroplex.

As one the elves standing beside their bikes turned to face her, their feet stiffly smacking together with a loud crack. Discipline and honor. They set their own code, but they adhered to it like no others.

"We ride." Two hundred elves deftly leapt onto their bikes, and as one the engines roared to life. For a brief moment the adrenaline flowed through her like an aphrodisiac. The roar of two hundred high performance engines literally shook the earth. Like the mongol hoard of old they were a force of nature.

With a hand signal the outriders, twenty strong, whizzed by her and onto the road. They would make sure that no traffic would slow the Ancients ride. They had been at the northern most edge of the sprrawl when word of the offer made it to them. even riding hard they wouldn't be the first ones there. They'd deal with that when it was time.

Pulling her goggles down she revved her engine to life, and sped forward. Like a thunderous lizard they lept forward. Nearly two hundred bikes rode in tight formation onto the highway. In four neat columns still they filled up both lanes of traffic.

With the city burning they didn't have to worry about what a show of force like this would normally incur. The Star, the Guard and the rest were trying to keep the rioters from burning Downtown to the ground. Gang on gang violence in the barrens was the last of their worries.

In moments they passed the first of what was to be sure to be several wrecked vechiles. Obviously forced off the road by her outriders, the humans in the vechile stared nowhere, dead now....

[Chopper]

Chopper could see indents forming on the sheet metal that covered the doors. Taking aim with his street sweeper, he set his sights in the direction. Hold fire until they get inside., he thought to himself.

An engine revved up and an indent immediately followed at the base of the doors that looked like the shape of a tire. A large crack ripped through the right door. A blast rang out as the lock on the left door shattered, sending sparks everywhere. Here they come!

Three gangers busted through bending metal out of the way. The one in front squinted and carelessly shot some sort of pistol in the general direction of the bright light, not knowing what was there. Concrete exploded near Chopper's feet. A loud blast came from the second ganger's gun, much louder, definately some sort of shotgun. More concrete exploded.

Chopper squeezed the trigger. A funnel of black smoke, nails, nuts, and pieces of a broken toilet violently filled the ramp area in an instant. Screams rang out from what was remaining of the doors. Two of the gangers tumbled down the steps, while the third ganger quietly slid down the ramp and hugged Chopper's front tire peacefully.

Chopper just realised that he swallowed his jaw breaker.

[Ares]

Ares wondered how much of his hair had been burned away by the sudden flush of fire-in-a-bottle. Chunks of wood and stone from the library windowframe and interior exploded and sent shards all over the place, including his face. He was grateful for the shades which shielded his eyes from the dusty onslaught, but perhaps more grateful that the library was eating bullets instead of himself.
He scrambled away from the flames and then busted ass to move east a few meters. A hard kick sent the boards of this window out, and the waltz continued. Left one-two-three, right one-two-three. More burstfire rang out and filled the street below. He knew it wouldn't take them long to return fire to his new location, so was ready to dive behind the wall once more.
The sight of these gangers below him being riddled with holes filled his mind with adrenaline. Hearing the shouts and groans. He could almost smell the blood. There was a twisted grin on his face. Then his grin opened up and he started yelling loudly, incoherently, almost trying to compete with the loud rapid piercing sounds of his guns.

[Cain]

Hock's eyes suddenly popped wide, as if he were being jolted out of a daze. He shook his head, sending a single drop of blood flying from his nose, silent evidence of the price of magic. He began scrambling towards the eastern edge of the building, not coming up to his feet, as he half-crawled half-scampered towards it. His head whipped back and forth, looking for something, then they settled on Toyman.

"Toyman, spray those guys over there!" Hock pointed vaugely northeasterly. Dark circles were beginning to form around his eyes, a sign that he had something planned.

[crone]

"Hey! No, wait!" cried Amber, but Speed was already racing up the shaft. The basement seemed frighteningly empty without her, and the mouth of the tunnel loomed ominously all of a sudden. What if some of the gangers were creeping down it? She slung the unfamiliar rifle over her shoulder, and pulled out her pistol instead. Its weight sat comfortingly in her hand. Cursing Speed for leaving her, she crouched behind the boxes, covering the mouth of the tunnel with the gun. The gunshots and warcries echoing from above seemed strangely far away. She hoped that none of he friends were hurt, and even more urgently, that they would get down here quickly.

[Sticks]

Sticks careened down the stairs at a full tilt, recklessly taking three or four stairs at a time. Tiger, Deke and UG had to hold at the doors. They couldn't afford to lose their best asset-the library was for all intents and purposes a fortress. They could hold off an Army in here.

His pistol in his hand he grimaced and pushed himself harder. He had to make it down there...

[Game Master]

Nash had taken the package. Billy didn't know if it was the smartest thing in the world to have let happened, but that was over with. Now he had to make this stop. It sounded like a war out there, gun shots, battle crys and dying screams.

Billy worked his way up the old elevator shaft like a monkey, lithely moving from hand hold to hand hold. As his head cleared the floor he saw Eugene and the others.

Eugene was roaring in rage, swinging his mace wildly smashing his enemies like so many flies. Deke was to his left, just behind him, at the other side of the room. Tiger was here too, he could sense him.

He could smell smoke from cordite, blood and urine. This was happening so fast...

[Deke]

Deke shouldered through the break in the doors, widening it enough to allow his massive frame to fit through the gap. His head instinctively swivelled, seeking out the best target, the finest prey. To his left, by the northeast corner of the building, a group of ghouls battled with an unseen foe; Deke's nostrils flared, and he could smell it: a spirit. The ghouls he understood: they were predators who ate the flesh of their prey. He felt a kinship with the ghouls, he understood them. Spirits, though, and magic, these unseen forces which could cause so much death and chaos, he felt no kinship with.

Before him, a double handful of gangers wandered, stared, and writhed on the ground, according to the degree of influence each event had granted them. Some began to recover from the effects of the unseen, looking around as if the world had just come into focus for them, but none of them seemed to see Deke, standing just strides away.

The air reeked with magic and spirits; it smelled like the boy. With a snarl, Deke turned and looked, and there in the lobby was the boy himself. The blood was gone from his hands, now, and the bloody package of electronics was missing, as well. The boy simply looked around, taking it all in. His eyes fell on Deke, and beyond him, the scattering of gangers who had not yet been devastated by the spirit's influence or Deke's quartet of tightly-spaced shotgun blasts. Deke met his gaze, and with a smile, drove his foot through the skull of one of the now-recovering invaders, smashing it with a horrible crunching sound that filled Deke with warmth, and made the child flinch.

Still looking the boy in the eyes, Deke unlimbered his massive axe and turned to the remaining untouched foe, a giant of a troll, sitting astride a monsterous, modified Honda much like Deke's own. Billy turned away: this he could not bear to watch. Deke laughed in victory, and pounced the distance between him and the troll, who wore a helmet on which was spraypainted the name Torque.

Torque still didn't seem to grasp Deke's presence. He looked right through him, and this the orc could not tolerate. With a swift readjustment of his hands on the grips of his battle axe, Deke reversed the direction of his swing, and slammed the butt end of the axe into the side of Torque's chest, driving him from his bike and knocking it onto the pavement. Torque flew through the air like a doll, to slam into the wall of the library.

That got the troll's attention. He shook his head, and this time when he gazed at Deke, there was an instant of comprehension. The troll recovered, and Deke gave him time to stand again. Torque was breathless with the impact, and with the events of the past few minutes, while Deke just stood, motionless, like a dog waiting for the kill, all his quivering energy devolving into a tension in his taught, corded, artificial muscles, which stood out in stark relief against his dark, ashen skin.

Torque didn't waste any time on insults, but instead reached behind him to where his sword hung on his back. The other guys used to dis him for carrying something so old-fashioned; they prefered bats and chains when they weren't blasting caps, but Torque thought there was something wonderful about a meter-long knife. He didn't wait for his opponent to attack, but instead bellowed a challenge and sprinted the distance between them, swinging his sword to collide with the orc's head.

Except Deke's head wasn't there anymore. With a leap, the orc cleared the swing of the sword and the head of his enemy; as he passed over Torque, he drove the axe into the troll's broad back. It was the kind of blow that would have been mortal, except that Deke had not put as much effort into it as he could have. Instead, it scored the jacket and the flesh underneath, causing the troll's bellow to transform into a shriek. Deke landed in a crouch behind his enemy, and without looking reached back to grab his axe. As the troll turned, his sword preceding him, Deke brought the axe up, and the solidly weighted head stopped the swing of the blade before it could strike Deke. He used the momentum of the blow to swing his axe back around until he had it in both hands, and then he struck again, nearly cleaving through the troll's thick left arm.

This was not the challenge he had hoped for. The other gang members were still reeling, some of them staring at Torque as he engaged this out-of-focus blur. Deke snarled; of course! They could not see him, as Torque had not been able to. He bellowed in rage, and finished off the troll with two quick swings of his axe, one completely through the right arm, and the other a driven blow to the crown of Torque's head. Brains and blood splattered everywhere, covering Deke in a crimson shower, but he simply freed his axe and yelled again. He wanted to fight, and as his axe arced through the neck of another confused and battered opponent - the sort of disposal he relied on Amber for, normally; he missed having her at his side - he feared there would not be enough fight in this group for him.

As he passed the gap in the doors, the child was still staring out at him, now sprinkled with a healthy dose of bright red blood. Deke bared his teeth in a grin, happy to discomfit the boy, and buried his axe in the body of another interloper. Deke hoped the boy had angered many others, or even this crowd of a hundred would not be enough to challenge the might of Deke's gory axe.

[Bishop]

Tiger's quick eyes spotted Billy crawl up out of the elevator shaft as he stepped out of the room, the snap blades on his forearm schnicking in as his eyes swept over to the huge Troll. Octane lay at his feet, head broken in almost two pieces, his parking meter mace swinging back and forth with almost reckless abandon....Tiger /almost/ felt sorry for the poor fragger that got in the way of that thing.

Deke launched himself out the front door, Billy standing there watching as he started to mow down the gangsters with his pole arm. Tiger was tore for a moment; go and collect the kid, or deal with the gangsters trying to get through the door behind him. It was a quick decision; Billy was safe for the moment, with Deke there. The door was more important. So he quickly stepped over to the end of the wall and crouched, pulling his Manhunter out and cocking it. He took two deep breaths, clearing his head and emotions..it was time to go to work.

[Serious Paul]

Speed clambered up the old elevator shaft, and pulled herself out onto the ground floor. The smell of cordite and exhaust fumes hung in the air. Something else, something just below those smells, like a subtle undercurrent. Death. People were dying up here.

Ug was at the main entry way, what she thought of as the front door-they never used the front door- his muscles bulging as he swung his mace. he was surronded by gangers, and more were pouring through the door, some on foot, others on bikes. He was being attacked from all sides. He was giving better than he got, but how long could he hold on?

She turned her attnetion briefly to Tiger, wordlessly he had taken a firing position next to the Northside entrance. They were being hit from all sides!

Deke's roar roused her from her reverie. The Ork had pushed his thick frame throught he east door, which was blocked by several junked out cars. He looked almost comical as he squeezed through them into the street. What was he doing?

[Serious Paul]

Hock made his way carefully over to the low edge of the roofs safety wall. Peering over the edge he surveyed the scene. Gangers were pushing their way into the building. He had do something quick...suddenly his eyes stopped on several tipped over bikes.

One of them was a large Honda Viking style bike. It had obviously been pretty heavily customized, embalzoned across it was a troll in straight jacket-its skull blazing. Its large tank was ruptured, slowly petrochem was seeping out of it, almost like tears slowly sliding down the side of a childs face...

[Serious Paul]

Tiger was patient. As the doors and barrier slowly and surely buckled inwards he held his fire. He waited for the first ganger to start squeezing thru and finally breaking free Tiger let him run a meter or two forward. Then he pulled the trigger...

[UG]

UG waits for them to come through. He’s in a ready position, left foot forward and left arm raised, as if his shield was there. Thumper is in his right hand, raised up behind his head and ready for action.

The tears have already started. He’s not sure why his eyes fill at the first sign of a confrontation; it’s likely he doesn’t even realize it’s happening. Many people don’t even notice; generally his face is covered in blood before they get the chance. Even those who do see have yet to ask him why. It’s just as well, he wouldn’t know how to answer anyway. His capacity for self-reflection is far too stunted to recognize the helplessness, frustration, and, most of all, despair that wells up within him when conflict is near. Not that it matters; a weeping death machine is still a death machine.

The doors burst open, and the gangers flood the room. The first ones through are a pair of trolls. The one in the lead continues the motion that brought him through the door, rushing UG, trying to knock him to the floor. UG allows the contact to his forearm, but steps back with his left foot and shoves out with that arm slightly, deflecting the brunt of the charge off to his side. He uses the twist of his body to bring the mace around and into the back of the troll’s head. There is a meaty crunch, and the intruder flops to the ground bonelessly, grey matter leaking from the crater in his skull.

There’s an ork, slightly quicker than the other troll, swinging a lead pipe at UG’s right shoulder. He steps back again, this time with his right foot. The maneuver is almost the same as the last; a twist of the body, and a backhanded shot with Thumper sends the ork flopping to his other side.

The other troll has finally brought his own weapon to bear, an old wooden baseball bat, partly shattered from the force used to slam an 8 inch spike through the end of it. The troll is swinging it overhead and straight down, trying to skewer UG right between the eyes. Standing his ground, UG switches to a two handed grip and raises his mace horizontally to block the incoming strike. Parking meter meets wood and brushes it back up and away. Thumper continues its upwards movement, then comes streaking down, mimicking the attack he just thwarted. The impact meets with the attacker’s shoulder. A dermal deposit cracks, as do some bones underneath.

A quick choke up on the mace and a stab backwards deals with the ork that had snuck around that second troll, trying to stab UG in the back. The butt end of Thumper meets with some ribs, leaving a few cracked, and plenty more badly bruised.

A final right handed swing low and across his body catches an ork on the other side, trying to kick UG’s legs out from under him. The ork takes it on the kneecap, and howls in pain.

Watching UG fight is like watching a well-oiled machine. Despite all his bellowing, someone who knows what they’re looking at will recognize that what looks like wanton swinging is anything but. Sure, there is tremendous strength in play, but UG possesses an economy of motion that is completely at odds with Deke’s style. The white-eyed ork fights with the exuberance and ferocity of a wild animal while UG is a combine thresher, slowly and inexorably working his way through the field.

More enemy gangers come through the door, and UG continues to weep, bellow, and kill.

[Serious Paul]

Ares grinned madly. His face was caked with soot, and his eyes wide, but the pupils were narrowed significantly. Tunnel vision. He was in a seperate world now. One of life and death. he was a detah dealer. Exhaling deeply he left the cover of the wall, rotating slightly, extending his arms. Time to kill....

[Serious Paul]

The spirits poweers had waned, and they'd broken free. The streets were littered with bodies, and broken bikes. Twisted metal burned, and the loud boom of a shotgun barely drowned out the groans and cries of the dying and wounded.

Kracker had rounded up as many of the boys as he could. So far the north entrance had remained silent. Perhaps they'd forgotten about it, he thought briefly, or maybe they just don't have the people to protect it. whatever the case, he was going to take advantage of it. Hefting his Predator he checked the ammo counter one last time.

Frog was squeezing his way through the gap they'd created. Soon they'd be inside. Frog pressed forward one last time and he was through. Suddenly Frog's head whip lashed backwards. A wet red spray coated the walls and door, as Frogs head vaporized...

[Ares]

There was a momentary pause in the ricocheting of bullets against the wall and window frame. Splinters of exploded stone and wood lay strewn all over the ground. There was a thick smell of gunsmoke filling his nostrils.

Once more, the song had to be sung, the dance had to be danced. With so many targets, this may very well end up the longest piece he's played.

He came whirling back into view at the window, guns already levelled on live targets without so much as a thought. It's as if he knew where they were before aiming. As if every step they had taken was calculated meticulously in his one track mind.

Those gangers down below had already seen the hell unleashed by the gunman, who seemed to play this game effortlessly. So the new targets already knew what was coming when they found themselves looking straight up at the barrel of their designated gun.

Left one-two-three, right one-two-three. Re-aim. Left one-two-three, right one-two-three. The rapid pulse of the guns burstfire rang out even more. It was a distinct sound, which wove itself cautiously into everything else. The screams of pain, the wet impacting of bodies down below, the roar of motorcycle engines. Even the exploding sound of the shotgun. All played a part in this orchestra, and he was playing the part of the metronome, keeping a static pace always.

Shrapnel from the library wall would explode around him when they fired, but when he fired down at them, blood exploded from several bodies.

Six bursts from each gun, 18 bullets spent. 14 remaining in each clip. He'd need to reload soon. In the mean time, he could support four more bursts from each, and then one bout of semi-auto aimed at people's heads. That should bring down at least... six or seven more "outsiders".

Ares was unaware of it, but he hadn't stopped shouting...

[Bishop]

Tiger coldly watched the ganger's head explode all over the wall and the guy behind him, spattering him with brain matter, blood, and tiny bits of skull. He almost smiled, feeling the animal within try to tear loose as he adjusted his aim, watching the ruby red dot of his laser center on the next in line's forehead as he squeezed the trigger, then again, the first bullet tearing a furrow in the kid's left temple, stunning him. His eyes fill with fear as they fix on Tiger, that cold blue-eyed gaze freezing his spine as his perception narrows, fixating on Tiger's eyes, then his hand, watching it move, noting the muscles move under the hand as he squeezes the trigger, then his world ceases to exist as Tiger spatters it all over the wall for him.


Tiger crouched, keeping the Manhunter trained on the hole in the makeshift barrier, watching and waiting for anything to stop the laser sight.

[Cain]

Hock sat back, gasping for breath. The last spell hadn't hurt him too badly, but the aftereffects were still leaving spots across his eyes. It always happened like that when he went for a direct combat spell-- Raccoon was a trickster, not a fighter. There was no way he could keep up that sort of attack. He needed to change tactics, and quickly.

Hock's eyes narrowed on the rutured bike. It was kind of hard to pick out of the pack, but he could see it clearly. One hand reached out, and even so gently, began to move. In his mind's eye, he could see the bike being very carefully moved, as if he were salvaging it for later sale. Salty sweat worked it's way across his face, and the tank began to wiggle. Ever so carefully, the bike was shifted onto its wheels, being held upright as if a rider were standing next to it.

Back when he was a corp brat, one of his favorite games was to run alongside a bike, then jump on at the last possible second, right as you hit a hill. You got more speed out of it that way, especially if there was a slight rise before a huge drop-- sometimes, you could even fly for a few brief, heart-stopping seconds. Now, Hock was doing it again, only this time he didn't have to run. With a few twists of the handlebars, the bike zipped right past several surprised gangers, nearly tipping itself over and leaving a shimmering trail of gasoline. In his mind, Hock gave the bike one last final push, sending it over a curb and running into the gangers near the doorway. He was rewarded with the sounds of grunts and groans as several gangers tried to figure out what do do about a Honda Viking stuck into the small of their backs.

In his mind, he knew Raccoon was smiling-- this was how the raccoon fights, from stealth and misdirection, only attacking when his enemy is weak. Hock took a good look at the gasoline-soaked gangers below, and took a deep breath. This next trick was going to be the big one....

[Deke]

Deke shouted a challenge to the three go-gangers arrayed before him. One had managed to get his motorcycle upright; his rear wheel was already spinning, burning up a cloud of polymer as he launched himself at Deke, his spurs already sprung from inside taut forearms. The second, a woman, was in the process of throwing a hatchet at Deke; she bore a gaping wound on her forehead from his axe. Blood ran openly into her eyes. The third had a 2 meter length of chain, and was swinging it in slowly widening circles, waiting to trap Deke or his weapon.

<i>Feeling the blow
Against your crumbling bones
The screaming pain will not go
It's pounding, pounding</i>

He leaned backward in a limbo stance, his long braids brushing the ashen ground as the axe whirled over his midsection. The rider bore down on him; instead of standing back upright, Deke put his hands up and sumersaulted backward to stand on the biker's off side. His axe spun outward like a tungsten clothesline, severing the rider at the neck.

<i>Start the attack
Let the pressure loose
Your turn will never come back
You're boiling, boiling</i>

The brute with the chain used the opening to whip his weapon around Deke's outstretched arm, wrapping itself around his hand and the axe. Instead of relinquishing the weapon or allowing himself to be pulled in, Deke simply tugged on the chain, and his attacker came stumbling forward, propelled by Deke's unnatural strength. The woman darted in, a long knife in her off hand, so Deke rolled over the back of the stumbling ganger now chained to him, pulling the chain taught between them. He lifted the man off the ground, and his ally, off-balance and partially blinded, drove her dirk into his gut, tearing him open like a wet sack.

<i>Use all the might
In your powerful fist
You're in control of the fight
They're screaming, screaming</i>

Deke whipped the chain a few more times around the dying man, then stepped away and pulled. A horrible crunch lifted the man from the ground, then Deke swung him on the end of the chain like a human mace, smashing his body into the woman who had unintentionally killed him. She fell to the ground, pinned beneath his weight. As Deke bore down on her, she held one arm before her face and screamed, "Oh my god! Please! Please!" His descending axe crushed the voice from her head.

<i>Blood on your hands
Feel the adrenaline rush
No one can stop all your plans
They're calling, calling</i>

[Serious Paul]

The heat was oppressive, the smell of blood was everywhere-mingling with the fumes of smoke from bikes, and filled with the screams of combat. Sticks took deep breaths as he bounded down the stairs, as he cleared the stairwell drawing his pool cue.

He quickly scanned the scene. Tiger was taking cover behind the wall leading to the bathrooms, kneeling partially in a combat shooting stance, his left hand cupped under the right. A dead ork was lying limply just inside the north door. Others were pushing behind him, trying to bypass the corpse and make it inside. As they came pouring through the door Sticks charged forward, swinging his broken cue in a sword like fashion. The butt of the cue cracked across the face of the lead Ork, shattering his jaw and dropping him dead.

Sticks stepped intot he swing and brought the end of the cue closet to him out like a staff catching another int he gut. Suddenly he felt the burn of a round passing by his ear. Tiger had dropped another ganger dead.

Suddenly Speed was yelling from behind him. Grenade? Shit he had to move quick...

[Serious Paul]

Chopper swallowed his jaw breaker with a gulp. His throat immediately felt distended and overly full, coughing he spit it back on the floor. Looking back up as he rapidly reloaded and backed his bike Chopper suddenly felt the hair on the back of his head stand up. Something was very wrong.

Burning acid streamed into the entry of the ramp slamming into the concrete just above the door way, fumes splashed everywhere. Chopper coughed and wheezed-but through his hacking he could pick out the sounds of someone else coughing. They were coming down the steps!

He had dropped his reload on the ground-maybe it was time to get the hellout of here?

[Buzzed]

Chopper didn't know what the hell that stuff was hitting the walls and creating those repulsive fumes. He didn't want to wait around and find out, especially since he had more gangers to deal with.

Just wanting to get out of there to breath again, Chopper quickly backed his bike up, trying his best to stay coordinated. His eyes stung and his nose flowed a stream of snot that he could feel flow down his chin and soak the front of his neck. This was aganizing.

"I can't hold them off!" Chopper shouted. "Push the book case!"

[Serious Paul]

Amber heard the shots ring out from the basement above her. For a second she wanted to move-her weapon was unslung and at the ready-but she held her ground. For a second it was as if time had stopped. This was all really happening.

Suddenly she heard Choppers yell "I can't hold them off..." The rest of his scream was cut off by the noise of gun fire. Damn it. Billy was gone, Nash was gone-and Speed had left too. Damn it she was all by herself. She gripped her weapon, her knuckles whitening. Damn it.

She suddenly realized that she was swearing aloud. With a nod of her head she raced to the elevator. She had to help Chopper.

[Serious Paul]

The intensity level had just gone up a notch. When the Ghouls had detroyed the spirit Hock had felt it-the emotional after shock of its death like an etheral scream. He knew that was impossible of course-spirits didn't cry in anguish like that did they? At any rate he was too far away to have heard it.

"I've got a little something for you fraggers..." Hock muttered under his breath. Dancing in a shuffle step imitation of Raccoon he moved his fingers in the intricate motions as he chanted-his voice growing in power-his features assuming more of the mask of his Totem.

He could see the bike raise off the ground as if animated by magical fingers. Which of course-it was. He asserted his will pushing the bike forward. Slowly at first, but picking up speed as it moved. Soon it was moving much faster than even he expected it. The Ghouls were moving as a pack away from the spirit. Whooping and grinning madly they were heading for the North side entrance.

"C'mon you fraggers just a little bit more..." Hock dropped the spell and immediately flung his arms outward. Magical energy crackled from his eyes and hands, as a fireball was willed into exsistence. Sweating heavily he flung the fireball at the bike with a yell.

"Eeeyyyaaaagggghhhhh" Hock roared defiantly as the fireball whooshed throw the air, burning ozone as it went. The bike exploded with a loud whump....

[Sticks]

The grenade blast was brief but furious. A loud WHUMP and then the blast. For a second his ears hurt, and his body seemed to tremble, but then something inside him snapped. He pressed forward.

Sticks was hot. Sweat beaded down in rivulets from his hair line. His shirt stuck to him, clinging to his sweaty form. He had lost his leather jacket in the scuffle somehow, and was bleeding from a dozen small gashes and lacerations. Still he worked his pool cue like it was the last shoguns sword. "Regulate mutherfuckers! You want some of this? You can't handle this!"

His face was contorted in rage, his eyes narrow slits as he swung again and again. Bones cracked and men screamed as he waded through them-he'd gone quite mad with blood lust, a berserker rage clouding his judgement. "You bitch ass motherfuckers ain't got what it takes to be a Angel! You hear that!"

Swing. Crack. Blood. Oh so much blood. Fuck them! Fuck them all!

CRACK The first gun shot hit him like a freight train. For a brief second he stood deathly still. His eyes losing their focus slightly.

CRACK! The second shot spun him backwards, facing Tiger.

CRACK! The third shot hit him square in the back, knocking him to his knees. Blood gushed from the three wounds.

CRACK! The fourth shot seemed so distant-almost as if he didn't feel it. It was simply a slight tugging and then he smiled.

"Ain't life a bitch?" Sticks dropped face first into the ground.

[Toyman]

His cars in motion, Toyman nearly jacked out when he realized he simply wasn't going to be effective if he tried anything else... He wasn't any good in his meat-body. They were simply hitting too fast, too hard. He swapped again, back to Haze and Mist so he could get an idea of where the enemy was hitting, where the Angels' defenses seemed weak... There! Deke went to meet the enemy, but behind him! They're getting inside... He needed to work fast... he'd swap drones again... He could lob a grenade in front of the entrance to tag them just after they squeezed through... He hoped.

[Ares]

There were people getting into the library. Sticks had taken several bullets. The first floor was being overwhelmed. Even the spirit had been destroyed. Things were looking very down for the Angels.

But Ares was ignorant to all of this. In his own little world, a rapid tempo played out, and a red screen filled his vision. There was no great battle plan, no tact, no peripheral idea of what was going on. It boiled down to Ares vs. everything moving down below.

Sweat rolled off his forehead. His arms showed a rare steadiness, even now. The song had to continue until the outsiders no longer played it. Left one two three, right one two three. Switch targets, repeat. The streets would be paved over with a layer of their dried blood before the night was over. Ares knew he could not lose.

After firing, he stepped back behind the wall and checked his ammo again. 14 in each gun. One arm raised to brush the hair away from his face and shades. He took a breath and readied himself for the next volley.

[Game Master]

Downtown was ablaze. She grinned. At any other time this would have been a good time to conduct business. The Star and the Corps were having problems just keeping the fires under control-the core of the city was locked down hard. APC's and hastily erected barriers would have barred access to the best parts of Downtown if they'd tried to ride in that direction.

It was nearly two o' clock, and the heat was devastating. The road shimmered in spots, like water was on the road just at the edge of her sight. They were making decent time, with a little luck they'd be there by night fall....

[Ares]

In the peripheral of his mind, Ares knew that the library was surrounded. He also knew that the number of bodies on this side of the library was falling short. They were dwindling out.
The ones that remained stood below in fear of him, the lone gunman, who seemed impervious to attack. Their morale was shaken, they were going to merely be picked off.

There were three other fronts to face. He ran rapidly across to the north wall to face outwards. Just as before, a solid kick broke the boards and allowed a stream of lead death to spray out into the hot Seattle air. Four bursts, two from each gun, exploding into 12 bullets. Units of three zoomed in on their separate, designated targets. His eyes hidden behind those shades regarded the bikers with hatred, pure and unbridled. He was grinding his teeth.

8 shots left per gun. One more volley of bursts. Gonna need to reload soon.

[Toyman]

The drone swap made him a touch dizzy, as always... the sudden confusion of images as the signals switched over, but once he had his cars active, he jumped into Baby Thunder. It was still positioned near the elevator and stairs. Getting it moving, Toyman stretched his senses out... Sticks is down, but it looks like Tiger and Speed have him covered... The tiny car sped across the floor, heading for the barricaded door Deke had squeezed himself through. Toyman didn't have a good angle or view, but it was obvious one ganger was pulling himself up and through the door, over the rubble filled car. It looked like a second might be helping. I see you... Smile for the camera, boys...

Baby Thunder's motors whined as power fed to the turret drives. Waiting a moment to get an idea of where they were headed, Toyman set up to lob the grenade. He wanted to land it on the car, and definitely inside the door... as little as he liked Deke, Deke was part of the gang. No matter what reservations Toyman held, he wasn't going to hurt someone from his crew. Looking like nothing so much as a miniature toy-tank with an oversized gun, Baby Thunder prepared to fire.

[Serious Paul]

Manny and Jane had made it inside. Manny smiled, they had snuck past the maniac ork with the insanely huge axe and scrambled through the wreckage that blocked the door. Manny wasn’t terribly large for a human, he only stood 1.7 meters, lean with wiry muscles he was a perfect fit for the hole that the ork had created. Jane was smaller of course. They were both dressed in their riding leathers, which were oppressively hot and covered in grime and sweat now. But they were going to get inside, and with any real luck they’d get the boy and be gone before anyone was the wiser.

Manny worked his way forward keeping his revolver shoved forward, just in case. Just as he reached the edge of the short passageway through the rubble he heard a thumping sound, like a fizz pop bottle with an M90 exploding in it going off. That’s when the grenade hit him square in the chest.

The initial impact shattered his ribs, and drove him backward into Jane who had just enough time to curse at him before the grenade exploded.

[Amber]

Amber halted at the top of the shaft. What the hell was that green cloud? There were bodies at the foot of the stairs, and she could hear more people coming down. She swallowed hard. The taste of the gas in her mouth made her want to retch. Chopper was hastily backing his bike away. Relief at the sight of him, turned to alarm as she caught sight of his streaming eyes and nose. He was shouting at her. The bookcases! He wanted her to topple them. The urgency in his voice compelled her to action even as her brain struggled to make sense of the situation. She charged at the bookcase at the end of the line, then strove to keep her balance when it fell clattering into the next one. She found her feet under her as the whole row of metal shelving went down in clashing, jangling heap in front of entrance. That should slow them down a little!

[Serious Paul]

Sticks lay still, unmoving. Something wet and sticky was dripping into his eyes, forcing him to blink repeatedly. His ears were ringing loudly, making his temples throb and his head pounded. What the hell had happened? The suddenly it all came back to him-the attack, his charge and then the pain of the gun shot wounds…

He was alive, that was all that mattered now. He had to get up off of the floor, and get to his people….



Amber hit the shelving system like a pro linebacker, her body knocking both of the metal shelves sideways. Gagging on the smell of acid fumes Amber deftly kept her feet under her as she reversed her momentum and shifted backwards to the safety of a jagged section of the concrete basement wall.

The shelves had been rigged to hold the weight of several hundred pounds of debris that Chopper, Amber and the others had collected from around the neighborhood. Broken glass rocks, rebar and sand poured down into the entrance as another ganger, a massive ork muscled his way through the doorway, shrugging off the debris with a feral grin.

Beating out the force in you
He will not stop
Until you beg him

“Meat!” His voice was low and guttural, in his left hand was a hatchet with a jagged looking blade that was covered in dark stains. In his right was a massive claw hammer, that was clearly meant for use by larger than average individuals. His posture was relaxed-he was obviously ready for action. He wore thick leather looking jacket that was obviously some sort of synthetic, and armored. Metal spikes covered in dust protruded from the shoulders of his jacket. His long hair was pulled back in samurai style topknot, and braided into his hair were trinkets of all sorts-beads, pins and bones. His jeans were torn and ragged looking, but his boots were obviously new and well cared for.

This red meat attraction
Is reason for action
To end this obsession
Of brutal deception

He sprung forward with a growl, his body moving with a liquid smoothness. He seemed to glide across the floor as he pressed forward, seeming to ignore Amber completely. His first blow, with the hammer, smashed the headlight of Chopper’s hog and cracked the plastic of the front fender. Chopper hastily pushed his bike backward on the balls of his feet.

Your self control has gone away
You have to leave or become his slave

Shifting his momentum with snake like quickness he suddenly swung his left hand at Amber. Her eyes widened slightly but she managed to avoid most of the blade by twisting her body slightly, and sucking in her chest. She still felt the blade slice through her armor just enough to open a thin cut across her left breast.

Licking your wounds
Until the next breaks up
Just get out of there
Because the beating won't stop

Suddenly he stopped. Then smiled, dropping his hands to his waist in a sort of close-handed shrug, he smiled again. “C’mon bitches! Let’s play!”

[Serious Paul]

Deke was clear into the street now. He was covered in blood, mostly not his own , and dust. His axe dripped with gore, and the chain wrapped around his forearm not only cut into his skin slightly, but was warming up quickly in the sunlight.

As his axe slammed into the woman’s head he heard the sounds of scuffling feet across the debris. Like an animal he tensed, his muscles tightening involuntarily ready for action. Suddenly he was hit from behind with some sort of club like object. It felt like a ball bat. Several of the ganger’s had used their dying companions as cover to sneak up from just behind him. They were beating him with bats, metal pipes and at least one had some sort of mace.

The brunt of the blows pushed him off balance and he struggled to keep his feet, stumbling forward. They quickly spread around him, their blows raining down upon his broad back, and thick shoulders. He could smell them-their grime, the dirt and volcanic ash that had coated them, but most of all their fear. They were afraid of him. Their screams filled with rage and fear as they cursed him, beating him forward away from the library….

[Speed]

Speed stood there in a momentary shock. Her hands trembled violently as she had just watched Sticks be gunned down in front of her. It couldn't be. Fuck.

Urgency regained it's place in her mind and Speed darted swiftly over to Sticks. He laid with his front to the floor, the blood slowly draining onto the floor beneath him. His face to the side, he tried to speak but began to gag for air rather than forming anything comprehendable.

"Hang on." Speed warned as she crouched in front of his head. Buckling her arms beneath his, she let out a loud growl as she pulled with every ounce of energy within her. Sticks made a very short screech of pain, but then focused on trying to push his legs in the direction he was being dragged.

Speed glanced over to Tiger, unsure if even he could keep his own. She had to move Sticks, though - then should would return. "Kill those sons-a-bitches T!" she yelled as she dragged Sticks towards the library.

Her eyes scanned the room like lasers, zooming from one end to the other, ready to drop down for cover if she had to. Sticks was breathing, but it didn't sound right. She was scared, and she had every reason to be. Her friends were being anhilated in front of her eyes. Where was Billy? With strength being pulled from every muscle in her fragile body, Speed pulled Sticks up and laid him down, finally, by the library check-out desk. She had avoided being shot. He was another story.

[Cain]

Hock looked down at the conflagration with some satisfaction. The dark circles around his eyes faded, although blood continued to trickle slowly from one of his nostrils. He hadn't been able to control a fireball that well before-- Raccoon had been smiling on him recently, something one should always be grateful for.

Hock unsteadily got to his feet, and took off for the door. He'd spent enough time delaying people. Time for the better part of valor.

[Bishop]

Everything slowed down as Tiger watched Sticks go to town with his favoite pool cue, swinging it like a major leaguer going for the fence, cracking bones every time he connected. Then that sudden ebb, like in the movies...silence. And CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK, each shot jerking Sticks around until he faced Tiger, slowly dropping onto his knees, saying something as his face rushed to the floor, bouncing off it.

That smile. That smile broke something in Tiger. He felt it give, and his eyes snapped up, meeting those of the Dwarven ganger; the killer of his friend. He growled worldlessly as he pounced over the rubbage, bouncing over Sticks body as Speed dragged him away. She shouted something at him as he loped over, but the words didn't register. The Dwarf tried to back away, the fear in his eyes almost causing Tiger to smile as the blades snicked out of their sheathes on his forearm. The Dwarf yelping and backpedaling away, trying to bring his gun to bear, but his efforts were fruitless. Tiger snarled, his left hand striking out, knocking the gun off target as he pulled the trigger, then the Dwarf's eyes went side when he felt the steel driven into his gut with all of Tiger's fury, the blades protruding out his back. Tiger snarled again, kicking the dead man off his blades and going after the next one. He was beyond thinking now, in that cold, calculated rage that had grown his reputation on the streets in so short a time. Anything that faced him now was going to die, and they knew it. The remainders broke and ran, but Tiger dragged one down, stabbing over and over an d over with his forearm blades, until his chest looked like ground beef. He looked up, meeting Speed's eyes, covered in blood, his blue eyes blazing. He grinned, then bounced up, going after the next one, his blood lust not sated yet.

[Buzzed]

While constantly fixating his eyes on the Orc, Chopper wiped the snot off of his face with his forarm and pressed a button on his bike. At the same time, he grabbed the smooth grip of his chainsaw. He killed the engine. For a moment everything was silent, except for muffled sounds of gunfire and screams above.

A rithmatic tune started vibrating out of the Harley's speakers. Dun dun dun dun DUN! DUN DUN! Dun dun dun dun DUN! The tune abruptly drowned out as the sudden roar of the chainsaw loudly echoed off of every surface of the basement. Every thought forced to concentrate on that sound.

Chopper smiled as he paused to allow the speakers to be heard.

When a problem comes along, you must whip it!

Chopper pressed the throttle on the chainsaw in full force and leaped off his bike toward the massive Orc that stood before him...

[Deke]

Deke stumbled forward as the blows rained down on his broad back. The mace caught him on the side below his ribs, and with a snarl, he stood erect. <i>Enough![/i] He whirled, the heavy blade of his axe pulling him around. The one with the bat saw the arcing blade in time to try blocking, but to no avail: the blade was made of the same tungsten carbide used in tank-piercing shells; it was incredibly heavy and exceptionally hard, and was sharper than any wood-chopping axe ever made. The bat simply gave way to it, and the axe exited bat, then bit deeply into neck before swinging free. His throat slit, blood pouring from his wound, the bat-wielder fell to his knees, then his face. Deke had already looked away, intent on combat.

The second one was smarter; he ducked the arcing blade, and tried to strike at Deke's grip on the axe. He could not have known the animal felt no pain, would not drop his weapon until his hands were dead claws. Deke brought the weapon up and over his head and brought it crashing in on his opponent's undefended midsection. The man with the pipe folded around Deke's axe, then exploded backward with the force of the blow, his flight absorbing much of the axe's bite. He landed several meters away, on his back, screaming. Deke pondered attacking him again, but the man was no threat, no fun.

He turned back to the two remaining assailants, one with a solid, plascrete-filled pipe and the other with a home-made mace. Deke spit blood on the ground between them. He fought Ug, with a mace made from a parking meter. Pipes and clubs held no fear for him. He roared in their faces, and prepared for their blows.