[Aria]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

The attack when it comes is shocking more for the damn quiet than from the fact that rabid ghouls are suddenly in your midst...

A grey, blood smeared, face appears in the back corner of the room, the jutting orc tusks a sad reminder of what he might once have been...he/it hisses sharply at the sight, or perhaps smell of you, and then the tanks of water erupt as the ghouls that had been lurking in them surge forwards.  Their brute physicality doesn't seem to be hindered by the dripping vegetation clinging to them and for a moment it is like the scene from some horrible sim flic...

[ScytheKnight]

Damnit, I was gonna stay out of this... just keep my head down and blend in. But who the fragging hell sics ghouls on a circus and a bunch of tribals? I'm probably going to regret this...

As the team starts to descend into the basement there's a crunch of footfalls behind them. For a moment or two it seems that one of the circus folk has gotten lost and followed you, an albino orc you vaguely recall wandering around dressed all in white, normally you'd have noticed him easily but he'd blended in with the circus troop.

The jacket he's wearing is still a pure white, but you've seen enough armored jackets to know this isn't just normal street clothing, the white helmet doesn't look like a prop either, a pair of dermaplast forearm guards finishes the armor. The biggest giveaway though is the Ares Alpha the orc is holding, heavily modified and and held in a way that speaks of familiarity and experience.

As the orc approaches the rear guard he growls out a greeting.

"Name's Snow Crash... sorry for not helping out sooner but I've needed to keep my head down and blend in in about the only place someone like me possibly could." He glances back at the carnage left on the ghoul's wake "But some things you can't just let lie... think I'll be seeing, and hearing, this dreck even when I chip up for a while. So don't mind me, if I'm gonna sleep anytime soon I'm gonna need to find the one behind this and add a few ventilation holes." As he finishes he hefts the Ares Alpha with an unpleasant grin, shifting his shoulders to settle the sling into place as he walks down into the basement, barely even thinking about it as he flicks his eyes into thermal imaging mode.

[adamu]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle - five minutes ago]

Hot on the hunt, Al didn't want to waste a lot of time. But he'd been raised with manners.

Hand extended. "Very pleased ta meetcha. Alouicious Harlan Guthrie, esquire, at yer service."

He took a step back and surveyed his companions.  "Well, well, we got red, an' now white. Hell, Spike, if you was jist blue we'd be set." The lanky giant of a dog whined in confusion at being addressed in English. "But then ol' Al's got 'nuff red, white, an' blue in 'im fer the all of us."

Referring to the non-sapient actors with them, Al quickly explained. "Drones'll mirror our shots, the injun-ghost there's jist supposed ta keep us safe - reckon it'll do as it pleases." He never looked at the spirit as he spoke of it.

Then he spoke to Spike in Tamasheq and they were off.

[adamu]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle - right now]

The tanks. Dad-blame it, the thrice-cursed hydroponics tanks.

Well, their funeral.

Al broke for the center of the room toward Spike, who was quivering with the tension between staying where he'd been told and wanting to rejoin his master. "Stay, boy, stay," Al shouted again in the desert tongue.

While scampering toward the center of the big room, he fired at ghouls as they came over the lips of the tanks, and was gratified to hear the contraption above his shoulder echoing his blasts. "Takin' the party ta stage center, everyone's invited," he yelled.

"An' you," he said to Bad Dog, "don't jist float there, make yerself useful or I'll put you down the moment I git done with these here zombie wannabes."

Damned worthless spirits. Soulless abominations at best, tools of the Adversary at worst, and never a one fit to drink with.

[ScytheKnight]

Dreck, why do they always charge in?! Going to be a tight shot, but if I can get it in over these tanks.

As The albino orc steps into the doorway the muzzle of his Ares Alpha lifts, mental commands via DNI to the smartgun system switching to the built-in grenade launcher and activating the wireless system of the chambered grenade. Aiming a bit beyond his new companions and between the tops of the tanks and the ceiling another mental command sends the grenade flying, lest the pressure of a trigger squeeze foul the shot. The orc doesn't even skip a beat, and with perfect timing sends a wireless signal to detonate the grenade, the blast raining shrapnel down on the ghouls from over the tops of the tanks while leaving it falling to the ground spent at Al and Spike's feet.

[gradivus]

The dwarf seem to know what he was doing, so he followed his instruction.

But does he ever keep quiet?  How has he lived this long in this line of business always making noise?

[Aria]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

Al's shotgun blast and the follow up whine of fire from his tasked drone throw a ghoul back into the soup before the grenade goes off in a deadly wicker of flying shrapnel that pulps the three ghouls emerging from the far tanks...the air is momentarily replaced with razors as it rebounds of the ceiling, walls and shreds the plastic hydroponics tanks...litres of muddy enriched water are suddenly freed to cascade outwards in an expanding wave of detritus...

[adamu]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

Al congratulated himself for keeping his feet in the face of the unexpected wall of air and debris that stung his face and gut-punched his whole body, but a split second later a greenish-brown wave of muck knocked him flat on his skinny ass.

Lying there at the bottom of the flood, he looked up and watched a flailing ghoul wash right over him a meter or so above his head, near the surface of the deluge. Freaking surreal. But then, these jobs always were.

And then almost as quickly as it had come, the waters subsided and the soaked little man wasted no time getting back onto his feet. His mouth tasted like his hippy neighbors had just force-fed him about fifty of their nasty kale and wheatgrass milkshakes. The first thing he saw was Spike's scolding look, and then he turned to see the ghoul he'd been swimming with rush him.

He leveled his Remington at its face and pulled the trigger.

[ScytheKnight]

Snow Crash was grinning as the fragmentation grenade went off, the blast and shrapnel shredding everything in the area, the grin was replaced by a look of shock as the meter high wall of muck water rushed towards him.

Nice work genius, you didn't think of where all that water would go did you?

The albino and pristine white dressed orc makes a dive for the nearby intact tank to take cover from the surge behind, only to get caught midair and tossed to the ground. The water flowering over him was also filled with bits of ghoul flesh and bone adding their own hues to the muck before the water subsides... leaving the orc much more colourful than before, he starts muttering curses in Or'zet as he looks up and sees a ghoul tearing out of the tank he'd tried to take cover behind.

Frag it all you have GOT to be kidding me!

The look of shock is replaced by a snarl, his muttering rising in volume, almost shouting the foulest Or'zet obscenities as he raises his Ares Alpha, take aim and fires a short burst while still flat on his back at the ghoul.

[gradivus]

 Ichirō decided now would be the time to take back the 'he seems to know what he's doing' thought about the dwarf.
How am I ever going to get all this drek off my suit...assuming I don't drown first.
And then the water was gone.

 Ichirō notices a ghoul going after Al but before he can stand to intercept, the newcomer Snow began firing from the ground.

[Aria]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

As the deluge begins to subside the firing recommences, Al's shotgun and the roar of Snow's Alpha replacing the hiss of shrapnel in felling two more ghouls, the whine of the drone fire almost inconsequential.  Before you can congratulate yourselves on your victories a weird ululating cry echoes around the chamber as the ghoul that had been snacking on an unfortunate rises to his bloodied feet at the back of the chamber...it sounds all too much like a summons!  Briefly you can make out the insubstantial form of the dog spirit charging this reawakened threat but you are all distracted by the ghoul that lunges for Al, his flank being savaged by Spike...another monstrosity clambers over the bobbing corpse of its compatriot to get at Snow...and there's a sudden sickening slicing noise as a third ghoul, apparently oblivious to the whirling rota blades of the drones blunders into them as it emerges from the tunnel you came through to get here...the effect is dramatic on its physiognomy to say the least but it renders the already dynamically unstable drone it collided with into scrap narrowly missing Ichirō as plunges into the muddy morass...





 

[adamu]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

Al wasted no time getting into full voodoo-mutter-mode, summoning all the power of the loa to keep the filthy beasts off of him and his aim true. The head of the one charging him exploded, while the other one reaching for him bled out in moments as Spike hauled it to the ground and tore out its femoral artery.

[ScytheKnight]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

Snow Crash's cursing if finally cut off by the sharp retort of Al's shotgun blasting away the final ghoul standing over him. Standing and shaking at least some of the much away he steps heavily over to Al, clapping his back firmly "Thanks, wasn't looking forward to becoming their next snack.". Looking around he see's one ghoul still standing, although what looked to be a spirit bearing down on it, with a shudder and grimace the orc takes a kneeling firing position, lifting his Ares Alpha at taking aim at once of the doorways, finger resting on the trigger ready at the first sight of a ghoul rushing in.

[adamu]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

"Hell's bells, boy, give yerself some credit. Big strappin' feller like you, be a good sight more'n a snack! But yer most welcome indeed. Lordy, ya done took the edge off'n they ambush purty good, if'n we did pay a high price in terms o' personal hygiene."

He leveled his weapon at the last ghoul facing off with Bad Dog on the other side of the room and began advancing steadily, Spike at his side.

"You all right over there, Ichiro-san?"

[Aria]

[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]

As Al approaches the last remaining ghoul he sees it snatch the dog spirit out of the air and crush it out of material existence like squeezing a soyburger.  The strange cry now has muttered words in it, some of them all too familiar to Al, the Creole dry and rusty, quite unlike the natural vocalisations of the feral ghouls.  With a sandpapery shudder the ghoul rises to its feet and doffs a black top hat in Al's direction, the feathery fetishes clicking together.  Rather than the rags from moments before the ghoul is clad in tails...

From outside the room you can hear the scuttle of feet over the whine of the drone's rotas...then they go quiet...damn things are clearly ambush hunters and their senses, even blind, are a damn sight keener than yours even with all your augmentations...