[Jack_Spade]

Goodnight is considering her reply when catches Isaint and the Frenchman making their comments, and then Solo's surprisingly mild reply. Very calmly, she draws her Ares Lightfire 75 and turns around, stopping in the middle of the tunnel. She glares at Isaint and the Frenchman and tells the Isaint, "Not just infected. I think you're an indiscriminate thug where everyone is concerned. You said it yourself, 'Hurting people is we do' right? So don't be surprised or upset if I think that a paid legbreaker with hatred of monsters is, y'know, going to attack what most people would define as monsters, or if I treat you like a violent thug." Goodnight looks angry, but it is not the flashing rage of earlier and her voice remains calm. Now there is an edge of resignation to it, an unspoken measure of weary acceptance, as though she's dealt with people like the Isaint she describes a thousand times before, and didn't enjoy it then either.

With measured, calm, even mild words Isaint replied:
"That's because you chose to ignore or disregard half of what I've been saying in favor of your preconceived notion and misconstrue the other half. If you think I'm a hate filled legbreaker, I think you are a hypocrite of the worst kind, condemning in others what you apologize in those you favor.
If you engaged that pretty head of yours for a moment you might even wonder why I carry an arsenal of less than lethal weaponry."

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight doesn't turn around, and her voice is as level as Isaint's. "This is pointless. You do your thing, ride drag and don't trust the guide, and I'll concentrate on finding our way out of-" She takes a turn as she speaks, then curses savagely in Sperethiel. Ahead, the first tunnel out, the one that would drop them at the end of The Warrens and allow them to travel to Hellbound, is impassable. A rockslide, brought on by god knew what, has filled the passage. She turns back to the group at large and says, "Unfortunately, it appears that we'll be down here a little longer. This exit has collapsed, so we need to move on to the next one." Her voice is calm, pleasant, and reassuring, betraying none of her worry at being stuck down here even longer. She turns and continues walking as Solo shows Natasha the ins-and-outs of the submachine gun he handed her.

To Isaint, Goodnight sends a private message. <<Look. This is getting us nowhere. You think I'm a flighty, hypocritical girl and I think you're a bloodthirsty asshole. That's not likely to change anytime soon. After this, we can have it out. Frankly, I'd like to beat the tar out of you, and I suspect that you want to do the same to me. You're welcome to try if you think you're hard enough. But in the meantime, here's a little food for thought.

1. The only weapon I've seen you use is an armor-piercing, high-caliber weapon that can discorporate a spirit in a single burst. That is, by definition, lethal. So don't get on your high horse about an arsenal I haven't seen.

2. I haven't apologized for a goddamn thing, and I'm not going to. I don't even know where the hell that part is coming from. Its not violence I condemn, its bigoted, nonsensical violence born out of ignorance or fear. I never claimed to be a peace-loving hippy. But I assess and respond to threats and circumstances on an as-needed basis. Sometimes, yes, killing is what you need. Sometimes torture. But not always, and needlessly causing pain when there is no reason to cuts against every grain I have. I'm a dryad. Cruelty, pain, and negative influences physically affect me.

3. My notions of you are entirely based on what you have said, and a great deal of hard-won experience with violent, hate-filled legbreakers. If you don't like being ascribed cultural norms, then maybe don't play into them quite so damned much.

4. You don't know a thing about me. While we're leveling accusations of hypocrisy, I'd like to point out that you have no idea where my notions and thoughts come from. You're being just as judgmental and hypocritical as I, and for the same reasons.

4. Talk down to me like I'm just a pretty piece of ass again, and I will leave you down here. Yes, I'm pretty. Yes, I'm emotional. Yes, I'm a grrrrl. I'm also one of the most puissant mages down here, a 'runner in my own right, and perfectly capable of holding my own in a fight. If you don't believe me, start something and I promise I'll finish it. Just so we're absolutely clear.>>

The words only take a moment to write and send. Mental typing speed, wonderful stuff. Her snippy matrix message sent, Goodnight tells Solo- who had just rejoined her with Natasha in tow- "Good idea. I didn't realize you were packing more appropriate firepower under there." She walks in silence for a dozen more steps and then says, "I'm sorry about airing your problems. In my defense, with as enhanced as everyone here seems to be, they could already hear us, but I still shouldn't have done it. Something about that...man rubs me the wrong way."

Goodnight keeps walking and the silence is longer this time. Finally, when she speaks, her tone is low and sad. "Family. My sister." The words are lead-heavy. "I could have left her above, but she has a...medical condition. She could have tried to lead a normal life in the light, but she needs someone who cares for her, who understands. Acceptance isn't enough, and I'm the only family she has. I could have left her to her life, but then if anything happened I could never have lived with myself. So we talked." One corner of Goodnight's mouth curls up in a sardonic half-smile. "She thought the idea was great, of course. She's a teenager. The shadows sound so romantic at that age. So we walked. She chose a person who loves her and a life of excitement and danger over a life of...nothing. Fighting her condition, worrying about a...relapse, trying to get by. At least down here she has something to live for."

[adamu]

Well, so much for his attempt at not arming the whole family. Al looked around in amazement as, in less time than it would take to say 'death by electrocution' everyone in the clan but the terrified William was armed to the teeth. He didn't agree, but he could see the argument. What he couldn't abide was all the tasers and shock shells. Like that somehow made it safer. Things went to shit, there were now bound to be some friendly fire casualties - a thirty-second tutorial in a pitch-dark tunnel was not going to prevent that - and he would sure as hell rather get hit by a bullet than one of those shocker things. Hell, he could take a bullet. That shock shit would lay you out in no time, and being asleep would mean being a meal just as much as being dead would.

But there was nothing for it. And nothing to say. The last thing they needed was another round of contention and bickering. He congratulated himself on his peaceful nature.

He'd go crazy trying to make sense of this insanity.

As long as they kept moving.

He didn't even need to bend down to pat his monster dog's head, and he caught himself doing it a lot. As much to ground himself as to reassure the beast. His other link to reality was his Remington 990, clip of buckshot cartridges lovingly in place. He wished Snow was still with them. Now that tusker has known what to do with a pack of ghouls.

In the rare moments when people weren't giving each other intimate relationship advice or threatening over and over to kill one another, he listened. He'd spent a little time in places like this. Mostly Tehran. Lagos. Few other spots. They were all quiet. But none of them really were. The longer you were in them, the more you could hear. Or feel. In the dark long enough, hearing and feeling sort of blended into one.

It was hard, with the bike and the drones, but he listened.

He was mostly interested in the owls.

He kept hearing them.

No trees.

No mice, he was pretty sure. Nowhere much to fly.

They'd stop. And then start again.

Sometimes far. Other times close.

Close enough to see.

But he never did.

[Triskavanski]

[Tobbis -Thursday June 18th, 2076 - Al's Place - Current condition 7 Stun damage -
Tobbis stared at Nitro for a good long while. Just simply stared at the man. "Do... Do you come with subtitles?" he asks, confusion thick in his voice, as he has absolutely no idea what Nitro just said. To the others, "I'm not someone who carries guns. The ones I have are mine and are very important for not being dead. But they'll drop almost anything that bleeds." Of course to note, that he he seemed to have very little of nothing on himself, other than a  slight bulge around one arm for those who were very good at seeing. Then of course his medkit.

36 posts worth add to sheet - 45th Post
So far Solo and Hal have cameras 8/10 cameras left in my possession.
Hal has a Datatap of mine
Pain Editor On

[ScytheKnight]

the flamboyant runner barks a laugh at the comment. "Well lessjus' say no' all o' us 'ad opper'unity fer fancy schoolin' in pro-nun-cia-tion. I learn' wha I nee'ed te survive, an thrive onna streets. Go' enou' schoolin ter cover me bassi's, bu' learnin' te 'andle a car a' spee' over blac' ice or pullapar' an' reassem'le an engine bloc' 'as jussbeen more impor'ant."

He listens to the constant back and forth and bickering with a bemused shake of his head. He didn't understand it, it was pointless, all of it. They just needed to focus on the job at hand rather than getting all emotional, all that was going to do was cloud their judgement. "Phe, you sayn' i'll give 'im some'in te love for.. Issay 'is gonnabe thin'in' too much o' daydreamin' abou' some sapp' fuckin' las' stan' or raissin' a ki' or some shi' instea' o' focussin' o' tha job a' han'... which righ' now is gettin' tha fuck ou'a 'is place!" He doesn't even notice he's using the assault shotgun as a pointer to Goodnight and Isaint. "An' 'en you two bickerin' li'e a pai' o' spurn' fuckin' lo'ers! Ye, go'a storry an ye go'a storry a guess wha' we all gosta a fuckin' storry an none o' i' ma'ers a fuckin' pigs far' down 'ere. We suposse' ta be fuckin pro'essionals fer fucks sa'e! Righ' now were ac'in' jussli'e those fuckin' shi'ass tri'eos than dunno fuckin' drec' abou' wha' we really do." Throughout all this, the rigger's voice is flat, he's not raging or shouting, there's not a whole lot of any emotion in his voice.

Having said his peace he goes back to watching and listening, the milspec shotgun ready, waiting for their next move.

[Triskavanski]

[Tobbis -Thursday June 18th, 2076 - Al's Place - Current condition 7 Stun damage -
The changeling technomancer stands there, trying to process what the flamboyant runner is saying, before looking to the others. "Please.. Anyone? Can I get someone to translate what he's saying?" he asks exasperated. "I think I heard him say Montly Crew with my matrix hearing."

Tobbis wasn't much more schooled than Nitro was, perhaps even less. But when you can download feeds for just about anything, things begin to get a lot easier. But the Rigger's accent is unlike anything he has ever heard before... or wait. Perhaps it wasn't. Pulling up information on one of the two-dimensional monster movies the changeling watched, he turns to Nitro. "Vallowin' een esh granfadda's vootsheps?"

36 posts worth add to sheet - 46th Post
So far Solo and Hal have cameras 8/10 cameras left in my possession.
Hal has a Datatap of mine
Pain Editor On

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight blinks, once, as Nitro goes off on his oddly even-tempered tirade. Her brow furrows, and another hot retort rises to her lips, something about needing drive, and a reason to put one foot in front of the other even down here in the dark, and how depression can kill as fast as distraction in this line of work. A scathing rejoinder on his lack of humanity follows in her mind, and Goodnight's perfect mouth opens to give it all voice.

Then the sweet little mutant cuts in, and all of Goodnight's anger is walled off behind intense concentration as she fights not to collapse into a fit of the giggles. When he twitches his head for a second and then cuts in with what is absolutely the best bad German accent she's ever heard, something straight out of an old trid about the Flux State, it only gets worse and for a moment all she can do is clamp her mouth shut and vibrate in place as she stifles her laughter.

After a few seconds, she gets it under control and glances to her side at Natasha. The teen looks confused, and scared, and that sobers Goodnight instantly. What must she think of them, fighting and arguing and carrying on? They are the girl's only hope of survival, and in that second she seems as afraid of them as she is of the darkness around them, her cheeks tight and her eyes hooded, lit by her borrowed contacts.

Goodnight is suddenly calm enough to chill helium, and she rests a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "Peace, child. Its alright. Emotions run high in our line of work. A cost of being so high-strung, I am afraid, and even an argument is better than dwelling on the dark around us. Do not fear. It will not impact our ability to keep you and your family safe. It is a passing moment, nothing more."

The moment of anger past, Goodnight strives not to make a liar out of herself. Instead, she considers Nitro, who seems a flamboyant, fun-loving, gregarious sort. What would cause him to snap so, even if it was incredibly mild compared to her and Isaint's combative arguing? She looks at him, and sees nothing that calls her obvious attention. He seems the typical thrill junkie, the big gun and fast car and drek-hot armor, the hair, the drones...he's the perfect poster child for a Shadowrunner from the streets, what the trids would call a "Mohawk."

It isn't until she shifts her perception to the Astral that Goodnight sees the big, big holes he's ripped in his essence, in his basic humanity. She's intrigued, but horrified. Such extensive augmentations, and no signs of force to mark them. The only person she's seen with more chrome is Dolly, Victoria's friend, and her cyberware didn't come by choice.

Goodnight's horror is writ on her lovely features, but only for the barest of seconds before she shudders once, then shifts back to her pleasant, meaningless "working face." Venturing forward in silence now, Goodnight concentrates on the darkness in front of them, her eyes straining. As far as she knows, no one has been this deep into the catacombs in months. Her fuschia orbs flick back and forth, tracking every shadow.

Something isn't right.

Goodnight hears the strange hooting sounds, but odd noises are so common Below that she doesn't really register them as out of place.

What causes her skin to crawl is the skittering.

Its only barely there, a faint sound at the edge of hearing, a series of tiny little taps somewhere in the dark, in the walls. Like devil rats, maybe. Only...

The walls aren't hollow, except for the burial alcoves.

Goodnight shudders again, listens again, but now she can't shake the image of a skeletal finger, tapping the nervous rhythm of the living heartbeats so close by, approaching all unwitting.

Click click. Click click. Click click. Clickclickclickclickclick.

Silence.

[obidancer]

The Frenchman couldn't refrain a grin when Goodnight started her tirade. Whether verbally launching at him or ISaint, all he had in his mind were lustful thoughts and passionate ideas. She was a beautiful specimen. For all he remembered -and that was very little - it was the first time today he had met a Dryad, and she was up to the name. But just as Solo had mentioned very emotional too.
He leaned toward ISaint's and whispered. Fiesty... you did pissed her off pretty bad. Impressive.

Unaware of her messaging the Human-looking Ork, he addressed the small issue. Du calme, Milady.  Nothing wrong with your voice, au contraire, sounds like a sweet serenade to me. But the yapping about girlfriends, love triangles, and Solo's grating voice, now that's annoying. There's a time for everything, Let's take care of the therapy sessions once we put everyone in a safe place. Deal? Maybe you and I can talk about it all over  a bottle of wine, what do you say?

He was not expecting any answer. Or rather, he was, but not very willing to listen to it now. Anyone with an good eye for body language and firearm expertise could have notice that the Frenchman had surreptitiously shifted his stance to hide from view his arm holding his gun down his body but allowing for a quick firing should the need arise. Between Solo's message about Goodnight's emotional instability, her burst of anger toward ISaint and most importantly her drawing her gun, he was on the lookout.

Boy, I did miss something down the Dock. He continued to whisper to ISaint.

Then he witnessed Goodnight and Solo arming the girl with probably more firepower than he had! he softly shook his head. He disagreed with the process, but refrained from commenting and creating more rift between the team members. He caught the eyes of the boy William who was staring at his pistol, after her sister had been handed a sub machine gun. Don't even think of it, kid.

The Frenchman moved away proceeding to continue down the Catacombs with his loud delegation, his senses in full alert

[gilga]

Goodnight keeps walking and the silence is longer this time. Finally, when she speaks, her tone is low and sad. "Family. My sister." The words are lead-heavy. "I could have left her above, but she has a...medical condition. She could have tried to lead a normal life in the light, but she needs someone who cares for her, who understands. Acceptance isn't enough, and I'm the only family she has. I could have left her to her life, but then if anything happened I could never have lived with myself. So we talked." One corner of Goodnight's mouth curls up in a sardonic half-smile. "She thought the idea was great, of course. She's a teenager. The shadows sound so romantic at that age. So we walked. She chose a person who loves her and a life of excitement and danger over a life of...nothing. Fighting her condition, worrying about a...relapse, trying to get by. At least down here she has something to live for."

Solo say: "Yes i am used to feeling under augmented around runners, but just because they can hear it anyhow - doesn't mean you need to shout it, but never-mind that, you are clearly upset and I clearly do not value much what people think about me."

...
Solo said “I think that in your case it is the other way around. Your love to her drags you deeper and deeper into the shadows. You already reached a point where everything is a weapon,  everything is a mean to an end - even a smile or a lick on the lips as you’d say it.

I also had a medical condition, still suffer from it actually... It is called being an awakened elf. It was a big issue at the time, and the fact that raging spirits appeared every time I was under physical stress did not help to convince people that i am a person.  I was nothing more than a demon an alien or god know what.  He takes up his sleeve to reveal a serial number tattoo ‘TS - 24601’. That's who I was for a long time - test subject 24601. I never did any sort of cosmetics like you, I know i can easily take it off, but it just do not feel right.

First they tried to find a ‘cure’, then they tried to clone magic and  weaponize it. I think this this is how HMHVV was rediscovered." He sighs  "Sometimes the only cure is acceptance, but acceptance takes a lot of mistakes to achieve"
He pulls down his sleeve - some people are just born in the shadows -  "you are lucky to be young. Had you been as old as me, you too would have a 'medical condition'.  You should come riding with us - it will make you feel alive, bring your sister with you - I bet she does not get out much.”

M said in the astral to preserve Goodnight’s privacy “So she is the one that feeds on you? can it be?”
 

[gilga]

Unaware of her messaging the Human-looking Ork, he addressed the small issue. Du calme, Milady.  Nothing wrong with your voice, au contraire, sounds like a sweet serenade to me. But the yapping about girlfriends, love triangles, and Solo's grating voice, now that's annoying. There's a time for everything, Let's take care of the therapy sessions once we put everyone in a safe place. Deal? Maybe you and I can talk about it all over  a bottle of wine, what do you say?

Solo smiles at Frenchman, "my girlfriend saved our asses in the hotel, she distracted a mage and allowed us to sneak Rachel in peace.  In that spiritual ambush, she took two of the spirits on her own.  But please, feel free to refer to her as nothing more than an annoying distraction" He bows gently and let the two talk for a while. 

[obidancer]

The Frenchman only replied to Solo with a wink. What it all meant was up to interpretation. Tension diffuser, tease, challenge, only Solo would have to decide.

[gilga]

I am called M, I don't believe we have met before. Said M with a soft and clearly feminine voice.  She extended Solo's hand.

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight's spine stiffens as M asks her question.

Oh god no. Oh please not here.

But lying in the astral is nearly impossible, not when there are so many visual cues that a person simply cannot control. The second Melisa gave voice to her damning question, that ship set sail. Goodnight's aura flashes and swirls in a storm of emotions, answering just as clearly as if she'd spoken aloud for those who can read it, and Goodnight knows that she might as well speak.

Goodnight holds her silence as Solo and The Frenchman spar, returning the accented 'runner's offer to talk things out with a curt nod, and flashing Solo a grin as he defends Melisa.

Finally, once Melisa introduces herself to the Frenchman, Goodnight answers. Her astral "voice" is very tight and her shoulders are hunched, as if against a coming blow. She doesn't look around, seeming completely focused on the way ahead. "Yes," Goodnight says, knowing that everyone else who is astrally perceiving will hear her, "my sister is the one."

[gilga]

Meisa whispers softly... "I sensed it when I met you, you are a critter of love, passion and sacrefice.  There is no shame in that "  Her aura gives the mage an equivalence of an astral hug.
When the Franchman arrives she ads "...and you make men go wild.... whats not to like?"

[ScytheKnight]

Most wouldn't have caught it, but he's seen it so many times, that sickened look so many mages get when they look at him. He'd had a few of them enplane it to him, the damage caused to his Essence by his augmentations. To most mages it was a horrifying idea, something about the link between their magical ability and their Essence... but he's also known a few augmented mages int he past, those few who manage to strike the right balance between technology and magic can become terrifyingly powerful.

None the less he nods, and grins slightly to Goodnight. "Ya, I'm augmen'ed, 'eavily so. A price one mus' pay te clim' to tha to' o' the riggin' game, an' one I ain' regre'ed payin'. Hear' some say thayse surprise' I'm s'ill func'ional with all me augmen's. Didnna know wha' 'til I go' tha genewor' done. 'ey 'ad te analy'e my DNA o' cou'se, tu'ns ou' some'in' in me DNA ma'es me more... compa'ible wi' cyberne'ics. Well, mosso 'en mos' people anyway. Ne'er un'ers'ood why more o' ye ma'e ty'es don' ge' augmen's, I've wor'ed wi', an' agains', augmen'ed ma'es affore, no' one te 'e ta'en ligh'ly."

He gives the changeling an utterly confused look then just shakes his head and move on, his head constantly moving, trying to pinpoint sounds beyond the hearing of his companions. He notices Goodnight's shudder. "Ye 'earin summin as well? Try lissin te infra an ul'ra sonni' as well... a righ' fraggin' messoa pla'e this is. 'ill... summin' no' righ'...ye go annykinna dire'ions ye wor'in from? Mossai's wor'less wi'out 'trix access bu' me orien'a'ion sys'em shoul' 'elp us kee' in tha righ' derrec'ion."