[Tecumseh]

Doc spends some time researching bounties that might have been issued for the team, either pre- or post-amnesia.

He starts with Ace but doesn't find anything. Maybe not a surprise, given Mr. Corporate Soldier. People don't issue bounties on Ares Instigators^TM without facing the wrath of an AAA corp.

The searches for Chino and Doc don't come with anything concrete. Doc sighs, a bit relieved that their pre-amnesia antics didn't land them on anybody's To Kill list. Who were those guys from Chino's BTL? Yaks, Triads? Evidently dead men tell no tales.

Sam, the Russian, doesn't have any bounties, but evidently as a fomôraig he's worth ¥1,500 in the UCAS or the CAS. That's the same as it is for ghouls, but only a tenth as much as a wendigo or a nosferatu. Doc finds that the bandersnatchii that infected Sam would have been worth ¥7,500 each, but only if you had dragged their corpses to the UCAS.

Ohanzee doesn't have any bounties, but he is listed as a "person of interest" in the Gloria Winters missing person case. The PCC SecForce is looking for him to question in conjunction with Gloria's disappearance. (Evidently her body hasn't been found yet, as she is not listed as deceased, just missing.) It seems that Ohanzee had used his first name in the relationship, as Gloria's boss and coworkers remembered it and shared it with the SecForce. They don't have a last name though.

Things get much more interesting when Doc gets to Katsina. He doesn't use that name, of course, since she's only been using it for a few days with this team. Instead Doc uses terms like "the masked woman" and "woman in black", and so on. Doc's search leads him away from the reputable bounty hunting boards - the ones where national and corporate law enforcement officers post their bounties - toward the black-market forums on the dark underside of the Matrix. He finds the following deep in ShadowNet:

>> January 30, 2075, 17:05
>> WANTED
>> Gender: Female
>> Race: Unknown, build suggests human or elf
>> Age: Unknown
>> Nationality: Unknown
>> Hair: Dark brown, chestnut, worn long to the shoulders
>> Eyes: Unknown
>> Skin: Unknown, subject wears all black and does not leave any skin exposed
>> Height: 1.7 to 1.8 meters
>> Weight: ~55kg
>> Distinctive features: Subject wears a BLACK MASK with a white Wiccan symbol on the front, subject often carries a CLAYMORE (blade length 1+ meter), subject has a thing for the Gothic
>> WARNING: Subject is magically active and EXTREMELY DANGEROUS, subject has the ability to change her physical appearance for short periods and is magically attuned to danger and potential enemies
>> EXERCISE EXTREME CAUTION: Claymore is not for decoration, subject shows minimal regard for the lives of others and will kill with little hesitation
>> Last known position: Aspen, PCC, January 25 (five days ago)
>> REWARD: ¥20,000 for delivery, plus reasonable expenses, ¥5,000 bonus if alive
>> To redeem: Contact commcode 72574-25b1

Then, an update a couple days later:

>> February 1, 2075, 20:05
>> Subject observed in Aspen traveling with five (5) individuals of unknown origin
>> Subject evaded capture, resulting in multiple casualties
>> REWARD: ¥75,000, plus reasonable expenses, including funeral fees and next-of-kin benefits. Alive if possible. Dead, just as good.

Doc realizes that the update was posted just a few hours after the action on the road leading out of Aspen.

[Zweiblumen]

Doc forwards the results of Kat's search on to her.  He trusts her to explain to the team better than he could what is likely a Black Lodge hit out on them but specifically her.  Knowing the "short period of time" is either in accurate or no longer true makes their situation a bit better.  Still not so great.

[Tecumseh]

Katsina reviews the bounty with detached bemusement.

Was I really so dramatic? So 'Gothic'? she wonders, shaking her head. Was I so quick to kill? That thought is unsettling. I don't need to kill to feed, especially if I'm infertile.

She shares the report with the group, along with her thoughts.

"From what we know, mostly based on Ace's mission log, I was sent to Aspen to disrupt Ace but he managed to flip me. I don't have any communications with my Johnson telling him to frag off like Sam told his, so I'm guessing I went incommunicado. After enough time they figured I was compromised and put a bounty on me.

"It doesn't mention that I'm a vampire. I wonder if they don't know or if that's an intentional omission. I could see that going either way. Some people aren't going to mess with an Infected bounty. Then again, there are groups of Hunters out there who specifically target the Infected, especially the ones immune to age, figuring that they will have accumulated wealth and no legal recourse." Drekhoops.

Does that make these men my thrall? she wonders offhandedly. Is Ace my whip? The thought brings a wry smile to her face. She scans the postings again.

"Then it's updated after our contact just outside of Aspen. I'm not sure what to make of the amount. On one hand, ¥75,000 seems high for an individual. Maybe they're feeling vindictive; that price will bring professional shadowrunners out looking for me. On the other hand, it seems low if they figure I have the obelisk. The update doesn't mention the it at all, but perhaps they reason if they can find me they can find the artifact.

"Either way, the bounty, combined with Sam's trail of burners, suggests that we should get the obelisk off our hands sooner rather than later. Is there any reason we can't be ready in the 24 hours Cannon needs? Can we finish this, one way or the other, tomorrow night?"

She looks around the group for anything else they need to do to get ready.

[Zweiblumen]

Doc thinks about the amount of ¥¥ on Kats head and is thankful they've got such a large payday coming as that kinda jing would be tempting for any one of them (except maybe Ace) in normal circumstances.

"Agreed, the sooner this is over, the happier we will all be.  I can be ready in a few hours, so 24 is more than enough.  I'm going to dropship some satellite uplinks in the area to mask ours.  Turns us more into background from a matrix perspective rather than an advertisement saying 'Here we are!'  Outside of that I'll just ride in the RV while it heads to town and keep an eye on things from the Matrix.  And here's hoping that all sides just want to take their perspective prizes and run, but if they don't we'll bring hell down on them."

[Tecumseh]

Plans continue to form as the night progresses. Eventually fatigue comes knocking and people retire with the same routine as before. The difference is that tonight the team has the Prometheus to sleep in, a notable upgrade from tents and snow caves. The interior is warm and inviting; the bed and couch cushions a distinct improvement from thin sleeping pads.

Ohanzee summons a spirit and sets it on watch. Katsina quickly claims the bathroom, seeing as everyone else (except Sam) has already had a chance to shower. She locks the door, disrobes, and disappears into a heavy cloud of steam, which is all the thicker because of the dry mountain air. She emerges from the bathroom looking happy and relaxed, if a bit gaunt.

Ohanzee has the spirit cover the Prometheus in snow and ice to cloak some of its heat signature, but not so thickly that the RV can't be used for a slow getaway. Also, not so thickly that you suffocate. The dwarf sits in the passenger seat up front and projects into the astral. A quick sweep reveals little other than several free spirits in the distance and winter forest life in the woods. The rest of his watch is quiet.

Ace and Katsina flop on the bed in the back, prudently clothed. Katsina tries to get some sleep before she takes the second shift. Doc stretches out on a couch while Chino passes out in an uncomfortable-looking position on the short bench next to the dining table. His knees are tucked up against his ribs as he jabbers in his sleep about spelling bees and smashing bee spirits. Ohanzee thinks its a good thing that Chino can't astrally project, lest he go pick a fight with some of the free spirits before bed.

Sam is tentative inside in the RV, constantly worrying about touching something and melting it. Doc tells him just to put down a space blanket first, but the troll is in a mood. He steps outside into the frigid night air, contemplating the black-and-white world around him. Of course, the same world is blindingly bright in the astral, with the earth and forest providing more illumination than the sun on a summer's day. Sam goes to walk the perimeter and check on his charges while contemplating the new duality of his perception. He hears a voice next to him.


"Rozkhi," a voice says. Sam turns. It is Bear, who is still as large as a grizzly and still improbably purple and somewhat transparent.

Bear is close enough to touch. Sam reaches out but his hand passes through the shimmering image.

"I am here," Bear assures him. "You cannot touch me but you can feel me." Indeed, Sam can hear Bear in his head as clearly as his own thoughts. But does that mean Bear is simply a figment of Sam's imagination, a different form of his own internal monologue?

"Rozkhi, a time is coming," Bear continues. "A time when you must confront yourself. Your nature is divided against itself. You must resolve the conflict between your two halves."

Sam thinks of Chino, imagining of how delicious the ork would be raw. Mouthwateringly bloody. He looks down and finds that he's holding a grenade in his hand. He imagines swallowing it. He remembers the same look he saw - thinks he saw? - on his own face - his old face? - the last time he went out patrolling the perimeter on his own. The look of disgust and revulsion.

"I understand," Sam says.

"Not yet, but you will," Bear replies, and then he is gone.

Sam looks up and finds himself back at the RV. He has no recollection of walking back, but turning around he sees his footsteps through the snow behind him. He vaguely recalls checking on the charges and finding them satisfactory. He starts to wonder if this Awakening thing ever gets less disorienting. Mask, O, and Chino seem to handle it well, even enthusiastically, so maybe Katsina is right when she says, "It gets better."

...

Katsina wakes up after a few hours and trades shifts with Ohanzee. The dwarf wanders into the back and drops into bed alongside Ace. Ace rolls toward Ohanzee in his sleep, his arm hovering in the air above the Amerind for a long moment before Ace realizes that his bunkmate has changed and that the new one might not welcome the overture. Ace turns back around and falls asleep again.

...

In the morning, everyone wakes up to the smell of breakfast and soycaf. The scent is close and comfortable, the product of Katsina using the kitchenette in the Prometheus.

"Soykaf?" she asks, walking around the RV distributing mugs like the Soykaf Fairy. Breakfast consists of sausages, eggs, and toast with real butter. The eggs are real too and remarkably, incredibly fresh, with bright orange yolks that sit up high above the egg whites. They are amazing with sausage and toast.

"You can thank the ranch down the road," Katsina says mischeivously. "They're keeping a milch cow and a brood of chickens."

A few deceased chickens hang upside down in the RV's galley, their heads lopped off and their feathers plucked.

"Damned coyotes!" Katsina says with a sigh and a twinkle in her eye. If dinner is going to be your last meal, then at least it looks like it's going to be a good one.

[Poindexter]

After his long and strange walk through the beautiful astral world of the night time snow in the mountains, the frosty giant who's been calling himself Uncle Sam pauses before re-entering the warm and comfy RV. He's quiet and still for a few minutes. Standing in the swirling winds as the gusts spray him with fine white powder from all angles, he crosses his arms before his chest and remains as still as the trees. He's got his vision half focused on the RV containing the rest of his team, and half focused on the great mountain peaks in the not so distant background. Resolve the conflict between my two halves... His furrowed brow is starting to accumulate a thick layer of frost as he ponders. On some level, I'm baffled as to what that damned bear is talking about, but on another level, I know that's a lie. I sort of know exactly what he means. Just not really. He's not sure if he likes the idea of sleeping in the nice warm vehicle with the rest of the team. It's quite likely we'll all die tomorrow night. I'd like my last night to be somewhere that feels like home, and out here feels far closer than in there did. He nods his head in decision, turns and makes his way back to the igloo he's been sleeping in since he woke up like this. On the way, he powers on his main comm for the first time in days and sends off a text to the team.

<<@Team [Uncle Sam] Sleeping in the igloo tonight.>>

As he lies on his back, staring up at the tightly packed white ceiling of the modest dwelling, waiting for sleep to come, he goes though all of his messages, contacts, and files once more before peacefully dozing off for, what he imagines will be the last time in his life.

I suppose neither I, nor this Johnson will ever be able to make good on our threats.

[Malevolence]

The dwarf rubbed the sleepers out of his eyes as he prepared a plate of breakfast from the repast that Katsina had prepared. He supposed that he should be worried about the cholesterol or something, but the voice in his head laughed dryly at the thought. You won't live to see another sunrise no matter what you eat. Unless he ate something that gave him the presence of mind to screw the money - just run and don't look back.


But the food was good, and it made him think that maybe the world wasn't such a heartless bastard after all. Unless you were Katsina and couldn't even enjoy a last meal. The cook who couldn't eat her own meals - life was full of ironies. And death seemed to deal in them exclusively. They would likely die tonight having only lived a handful of days, due to a situation made by people they didn't even know. Those people had worn these bodies and had met an untimely end of their own, an end they would have met even if the artifact hadn't robbed them of the days or weeks that the nanites would have taken to complete the job.


So, history repeats. Ohanzee figures that regardless of their choices, the best result is to simply delay the inevitable. So let's try to do some good by giving the artifact a proper home where it might be able to do some good, and get some cash so we can live out our remaining days in comfort. Running just guarantees we die poor.


The winter wonderland of cold and death outside makes it hard for him to push away the dark thoughts, but with some mental effort he succeeds. By the time they are all making their preparations for the meet t his evening, the little shaman has all but forgotten the dour imaginings that occupied his breakfast.

[rednblack]

Ace wakes up staring at the ceiling of the new RV, and turns over to find himself face-to-face with Ohanzee.  Ace makes a face and recoils some before saying, "You're plenty pretty enough.  Just not what I had prepared myself for," and gets down to the business of dressing himself for the cold.  Over breakfast he's largely quiet and introspective.  With any luck, today will be the day.  They've made what preparations they can, and planned out contingencies as best they saw them.  Now it was just to see who, and what, was going to come down the road, and elsewhere.  Ace finishes eating with the same economy and thoroughness he seems accustomed to, and gives Katsina a squeeze on her shoulder. 

Later, Katsina requests a few items from Ace for some of her witch magic.  After some time alone she returns with his comb, a memento from Moran's cabin, which she tells him is infused with healing power.  He carefully places it in his left breast pocket, and deposits a single bullet from Moran's antique pistol in his right breast pocket, should he need to barrier himself further in the snow.

While it's still early, Ace prepares his nest, not wanting to stir much before the planned meet, should forward observers give away his location.

#

When Katsina is passing out plates for breakfast, Chino grabs two, and heads toward the igloo.  Inside, he finds that Uncle Sam is awake, though he hasn't stirred much.  "Hoi, ya hungry?" the ork says handing over a plate and delightfully bare arm.  "Haha, Whaddysay, we knock this out later today, and head for Fun Land?  You'd fraggin' love it there.  Light shows at night, too.  All that wiz shit."

Chino happily munches away his breakfast, eating with his hands, and cracking a morning beer.  He pulls another bottle from his pants pocket, and offers it to the troll. 

[Zweiblumen]

As the crew starts to wake for what will, one way or the other, be their last day out here in the mountains, Doc starts to methodically go over the checklist for the day.
At breakfast Katsina asks for a few personal effects to enchant, and he hands her spare connector from his hardware kit and barrel from one of the syringes from a medkit.  She returns these to him and he carefully stashes them away in separate pockets.
For the most part he keeps to himself this morning, a little more withdrawn then usual.  He feels somewhat the outsider now.  He knows that what he thinks of as himself is even more different than what the others, aside from Chino that is, are going through.  Though it's likely that Ace and Ohanzee will succumb as well over time.  His personality is at least stable now.  If the deal goes through as planned, however unlikely that may be, he may be able to do the research needed to make this situation easier for others.  Chino is a perfect example of the struggles with the situation, his personality like that of a BTL junky looping though random chips.
This leads to even more introspection as he wonders how his personality came out as settled and relatively mature comparatively.  Also why he's not, at least as much, of a murdering psychopath as his former iteration was.  That could be the result of this situation they woke up to find themselves in, and the stabilizing force of the other murdering psychopaths he's found him self aligned with.  He hopes that one day he'll be able to learn about this body's former inhabitants, plural given the situation, as that would make for an interesting story.

With a shake he brings himself back from the sinkhole of those thoughts and focuses once more on what's going to be needed for today.

"We should probably start keeping an eye out for scouts of some sort sooner than later.  I'll make regular matrix sweeps.  100m isn't a huge range for optics in this environment, but it's better than nothing.  Would it be possible to encourage some type of obscurement?  Some low cloud cover would be great for us today.  I'm really not familiar with what your spirit friends and such can do.  Speaking of, keeping an eye out for overly curious spirits in the area wouldn't be a bad idea either.  Or other astral snoop types."

[Tecumseh]

After lunch, Katsina takes some time to tend to her sword and throwing knives. She sits down and sharpens them with a metal file, a whetstone, and some sandpaper. The camp is filled with rhythmic scraping sounds throughout the early afternoon. Once she is done, she wipes off the blades with a towel, then applies a little oil to each and rubs it in. The sword goes back into its sheathe; the knives disappear into the easy-access pockets in her lined coat.

It's clear that Katsina finds familiar routines to be soothing, that the attention to detail keeps her mind off the things that could go wrong tonight. After she's done with her blade, she turns her attention to dinner. The chickens are already dead and plucked. She pulls out the crops and windpipes, then trims off the necks at the backbone. The feet are cut off at the leg joint, then the tails are nipped off, then a cut is made across the body cavities. Out come the innards: lungs, guts, heart, and other bits that nobody but Doc cares to identify. The necks, feet, livers, and (cleaned) gizzards all end up in a pot, simmering into a stock that must optimistically be intended for tomorrow. You find yourselves hoping for a fate different than these chickens'.

One of the chickens is left raw for Sam; the other two get roasted to a rich golden brown. Dinner goes on the table shortly after Ohanzee finishes his ritual around the obelisk just after sunset. The chickens are served with freshly baked bread and butter that Katsina churned herself, roasted root vegetables (carrots, potatoes, beets), and roasted apples and pears. All of it is delicious and you're left to wonder why a vampire knows how to cook so damn well. Ohanzee correctly identifies the irony of the chef that can't taste her own creations. She's left to sit back and watch everyone else eat. Ace and Ohanzee split one bird while Chino and Doc split the other.

"I'm not a coach and I don't have any advice," she says while everyone else is busy eating, "other than stay alive. Whoever we were, we were talented enough to make ends meet. That's still true. If worse comes to worst, I say bug out.

"I'm going to make two preparations for each of you. I need to trigger the one that heals you and I'll need line of sight to do it. Comm me that you need it and I'll trigger it. They're strong but won't put Humpty Dumpty back together again. If you get shot or cut, let me know. Don't let things get too far out-of-hand.

"The second preparation will make a barrier. Those work just by touching them. The barrier will be either a wall in front of you or a dome around you, whatever you're thinking of when you touch it. The barrier should be about the same strength as ballistic glass. You'll be able to see through it - it will be a bit cloudy - and it will be able to regenerate itself after a few seconds if it's damaged but not destroyed. If there's an avalanche, touch your preparation and make a bubble around yourself. It should give you enough air and space to dig yourself out or to wait for someone else to dig you out. I should make it through an avalanche just fine so if you're stuck, just breathe calmly until I can get you."

She looks around the table at the assembled runners, not knowing what's coming but knowing that this group can give as good as it gets.

After dinner, she skips the dishes. (Better to wait to see if you survive first. If not, Doc can do them.) While Ohanzee comms the initial instructions to Cannon, Katsina begins work on the aforementioned preparations, pulling reagents out of her pockets. Bits of birds' nests and dried frog tongues are ground up into tinctures that become inks which are used to inscribe the items that the team provides. For herself, she uses two throwing knives. She smiles at Ace when he hands her a comb and a bullet.

Is it wrong that I'm happy that he's going to be hidden away from the action? she thinks to herself. That should keep him safer, and give him that much better chance to slot and run if this drek blows up in our faces. She tries not to feel guilty wishing for his safety. It's not that doing so compromises the safety of another. And he can do things from a distance which I cannot. This is the logical thing to do. Before she knows it, the preparations are complete. Unsurprisingly, they are some of the more powerful ones that she has created. She hands Ace the comb, then drops the bullet in the designated pocket with a reminder not to touch it until he needs it.

She complete the rest of the preparations, handing them out with the same instructions. She bids goodbye to Doc, squeezing his hand and saying that she'll see him soon. As the RV rumbles out of camp, Katsina  hugs Ace and gives him a peck on the cheek (going so far as to remove her mask to do so) before he takes a sleeping bag and some space blankets off into the forest to bury himself in the snow. After that she retires to a tent to meditate and pray for a couple hours. When she emerges, she no longer looks like a young Hopi maiden. Instead, she has reverted to her original look: black lined coat, black pants, black boots, black gloves, and black mask with a white Wiccan symbol on it.


Hecate, be with us, Katsina prays.

"Illeana, you are precisely where you must be to do what you must do," the Goddess reassures her.

Illeana bows her head and figures she can die - or live - happily, knowing that.

"Doc made it to Grand Junction and Cannon is in Rifle," Ohanzee announces. "Twenty minutes."

Katsina nods and takes her position behind Ohanzee.

[Tecumseh]

Ohanzee has barely made his announcement when everyone hears vehicles approaching, including the telltale whine of snowmobiles. Everyone exchanges a look: it's far too soon to be Cannon unless Cannon was already 15 minutes up the road from Rifle. That doesn't make sense.

Sam hustles to get into position but doesn't have time to bury himself in the snow like Ace. Ohanzee grabs the Fly-Spy and Flying Eye drones. Activating them, he makes sure they are slaved to Doc's PAN before tossing them up in the sky. Their feeds come online as they begin to circle the campsite.

The clouds have dispersed and the sky is perfectly clear. The moon hasn't risen and won't for another hour and a half. There's no ambient light other than starlight. The wind is perfectly still. It's a couple degrees above freezing.

<<@Team [Doc] I've got incoming. You ready?>>

Ohanzee takes point with Katsina, Chino, and Bear in a diamond formation behind him. Ace is buried in the snow opposite of the group, trying to be behind the new arrivals. Sam is in the trees a bit to the east.

A GMC Bulldog rumbles up the snowy road, following the tracks left by the Prometheus. Two snowmobiles accompany it, one on each side. A troll drives each snowmobile. Sam's eyes start playing tricks on him; eventually he realizes that what he's seeing on the astral doesn't line up with what he's seeing in the meat world.

Sam activates his micro-transceiver: "There's a second person on each snowmobile, behind the trolls. Chameleon suit, thermal dampening. Smaller, like a human or an elf. Looks like they're trying to use the trolls to block LOS on the riders. Smart."

Chino checks out the vehicles. "Van looks modified. Not off-the-lot. Guessing that's ballistic glass. Those snowmobiles look rented for the occasion. How do you think they knew they would need them? Ain't nobody renting snowmobiles this late at night."

The headlights of the Bulldog fall on Ohanzee and his backup. The van stops about 20 meters away and kills its engine and headlights, plunging the scene back into darkness. The two snowmobiles peel off to guard the flanks, one to the east and one to the west. The one to the east is not far from Sam. They shut off their engines and things are much quieter.

There are metal bugs in the sky, Bear reports to Ohanzee.

Yes, yes, I know. I put them there, Ohanzee responds.

Katsina murmurs, "We have a buzz above us. I'm guessing rotodrones."

Ace and Sam try to look up but the trees block their line of sight. Chino glances up, his low-light vision making it easier to work with starlight. He mutters, "Yeah, I see them. Two, way up there. Maybe 125 meters. Assault rifles on the weapon mounts. Look like Ares Alphas from here."

On the flanks, the trolls get off the snowmobiles and set up a perimeter. They are carrying large weapons.

"Ares Antioch-2s," Ace whispers over his micro-transceiver. "Grenade launchers."

<<@Team [Sam] Switching to text since these guys are close. The little guy closest to me has an assault rifle. I can't see the left flank because the van is blocking my LOS.>>

The driver's door of the van opens. There are other dark shapes in the van but they don't move to exit. A troll steps out of the van and it's... Sam.

A wave of shock ripples through the group. Everyone has to consciously avoid doing a double-take to Sam's hiding place so as to not reveal his location.

<<@Team [Katsina] He's dual-natured!>>

Ohanzee assenses the troll. "It's a spirit!" he says less-than-subtly.

Chino activates his qi focus and does the same. "A hybrid form spirit! A spirit inhabiting the troll! But, like, a spirit of Sam!"

Behind Ohanzee, Bear growls. Sam's mind reels. The troll in front of him would be his twin, prior to his Infection. But this version is dual-natured, like the others said, which Sam feels quite certain he was not.

"Hoi, chummers. Miss me?" the troll laughs.

[Tecumseh]

"What, don't recognize your old pal Rozkhi?" the troll asks semi-rhetorically. He closes the driver's side door of the Bulldog and rests an Ares Alpha over his shoulder. He steps in front of the van, maybe 15 meters in front of Ohanzee.

"No, I guess you wouldn't," he says to the stunned silence. "Things have been pretty confusing for you the last few days, huh? Trust me, you're not alone."

He raises the hand not carrying the Alpha and makes a strange one-hand clapping gesture. "Come on out, boys," he says.

Several astral forms emerge from the van, having been obscured by the Bulldog's body. They manifest behind Sam so that they're visible in the physical world, even if they don't have physical forms. They are the spiritual forms of Doc, Chino, and Ohanzee.

"Say hello to your other selves. Your true selves," the troll named Rozkhi says. It's unclear whether he's speaking to the spirits or to Ohanzee and Chino. "Guess you're wondering what's going on. Well it turns out that artifact of ours" - he points at the magical lodge Ohanzee made, then clicks his tongue - "makes free spirits, leaving the bodies behind. Dunno why you'd want to do that, but maybe the ancients would have said the same thing about cyber, or VR, or going to Mars like we do.

"So, we're back to collect our bodies. Well, maybe not my body. Haven't decided yet. Not sure what you did to it but I look uglier than that hooker Doc Hack brought home weekend after last. Frag, man, what did you do to us? Our face looks like you went bobbing for French fries!" The troll looks around a bit, trying to spot Sam. "I wasn't digging the spirit life so I hitched a ride in this chummer instead," he says, indicating his new body. "Not as good as my old body, but it sounds like neither is my old body."

There's more stunned silence. Other-Chino floats forward a bit. He has some feral traits to him that remind Ohanzee of the beast spirits he summons. "Hey, you. Me. B13. Yeah, you. Keeping in shape? Yeah, good. Ironic, neh? Make a living punching spirits only to become a spirit yourself. Real ironic. Anyway, I'm ready for my meat body back. Can't punch drek in the astral. Flying's wiz, I guess, but it's like freerunning with none of the challenge. And I miss the crunch of bone getting kicked, knamean?"

Spirit-Ohanzee considers his physical self. This spirit is most human-like of the trio, likely being closest to a spirit of man/dwarf. "It's like astrally projecting all the time, I guess," it shrugs. "I'm taking my body back though. Can't have sex in the astral. Well, you can, but it's all emotional-touchy-feely. Feels like drek, really. Ain't got nothing on pumping and dumping a slitch." He gives a knowing wink to himself/Ohanzee.

"Where's my body hehehe?" spirit-Doc asks. He's stooped over and gives off some of the simmering insanity of a fire spirit. "I'm not dead, am I hehehe?"

"That's a good question," Rozkhi says. "Hey! Hacker-who-ain't-Hack!" he calls out. "If there's some 'trixter floating around her, tracking him down! We gotta get Doc Hack's body back!"

He seems to be addressing someone in the van. Doc notices a persona starting to look for him.

"I need my body back hehehe," Doc Hack says. "Can't go VR in the astral hehehe. Can't shoot dudes in the face either hehehe."

"You're still running with this slit?" B13 asks incredulously to his other self, pointing at Katsina. "Man, you were supposed to crease her! She's the reason why we're all in this mess!" Chino remembers the security footage of his other self stomping Katsina in the face after they collided.

"Yeah, de-rezz the joygirl hehehe," Doc Hack giggles. "It's all her fault. De-rezz her right in the face hehehe!"

"Well, I guess they don't remember," Ohanzee interrupts. "And she's probably wondering where her spirit-self is, or the spirit of those other ones, the cyborg and the squeaky. Honest answer: don't know, don't care."

"So we got a little proposition for you," Rozkhi says. "We get our bodies back, you get all your memories back. The catch is: it ain't optional. Now we're packing gel, stick-n-shock, and some gas grenades with a compound that Doc Hack thought up himself. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but either way we're leaving with our meat."

"And the artifact hehehe," Doc Hack chimes in.

"Yes, and the artifact," Rozkhi nods. "Frag it, you even know what that thing's worth? We're going to be rich!"

He smiles widely and gestures back to the van, inviting you in from the cold.

[Zweiblumen]

<<<@Team [Doc] Well, seems like we found our old personalities!  Or rather they found us.  That's rather odd.  And their timing couldn't be worse.  FWIW, I've no interest in giving up this body to the prior owner.  Wouldn't mind having a talk with him, find out a little more about the whole "It's all her fault" statement.
That said, we've got 3 people in the van.  One rigger and one decker.  Don't know if they've figured out that this particular Sat-link is actually me yet or not, but they know I'm out here and will be ready once I attack.  I'm not quite impetuous enough to start attacking before everyone decides on course of action.
Possibly a stalling action until DIMR and ASPS shows up and we get ourselves a nice little three way stand-off?>>>

Doc continues to observe what's going on around him while drawing as little attention as possible to himself.  He know's they'll find him eventually, but the longer that takes the better.  Specifically he's keeping an eye on the decker.

The prospect of talking to his former self is interesting, even as a foreign personality in this body he should have access to the memories and such of the prior inhabitant but instead those are in the form a free spirit currently threatening the new incarnation of this team.  Learning what happened between the escape from the facility with the artifact and the crash in the bulldog would be invaluable.  After very little thought Doc is perfectly happy to let Doc Hack rot or try and find another host for his body.  He's very happy in this one.

[Poindexter]

Sam can taste the bile bubbling up in the back of his throat as the scene unfolds before him. So, this is what Bear meant. He grits his teeth and lines up the sights of his rifle with New Doc's head, holding as steady as he can, waiting for the moment to fire. A voice in the back of his head is SCREAMING at him to just fire now and not wait for the go ahead, but his willpower wins out and he holds himself in check for the time being. I hope you guys come up with something good, and soon.

<<<@Team [Doc] Well, seems like we found our old personalities!  Or rather they found us.  That's rather odd.  And their timing couldn't be worse.  FWIW, I've no interest in giving up this body to the prior owner.  Wouldn't mind having a talk with him, find out a little more about the whole "It's all her fault" statement.
That said, we've got 3 people in the van.  One rigger and one decker.  Don't know if they've figured out that this particular Sat-link is actually me yet or not, but they know I'm out here and will be ready once I attack.  I'm not quite impetuous enough to start attacking before everyone decides on course of action.
Possibly a stalling action until DIMR and ASPS shows up and we get ourselves a nice little three way stand-off?>>>

<<@Team [Uncle Sam] I also have no interest in returning this body to the asshole who used to inhabit it. If we're looking to stall, maybe someone should contact Cannon and let him know his deal is about to get scooped out from under him. Also, the second anyone acts funny, I'm blowing Doc's head clean off his neck.>>

Where in the drek did they get all this jing this fast?

[rednblack]

It's felt like hours since Ace posted up in his hidey-hole, though he knows he's barely been in position for thirty minutes before he hears the low rumbling of a Bulldog mixed with the higher pitched squeal of two smaller vehicles, ATVs or snowmobiles by the sound of it, though Ace guesses the latter.  Too soon to be Cannon, with Sam still out of position and the rest of the team in what looks like prep mode.  Frag, this is bad.  His initial assessment isn't improved when the vehicles come to a stop fairly close to him, and Sam?! steps out of the Bulldog.

After what passes as an initial "greeting," three wispy forms emerge as well, talking in the voices of his new allies, looking like his new allies, and sounding like they did in the video feeds.  Ace is not prepared for this.  Between the astral forms, the new Sam, and the four figures on the snowmobiles, Ace figures it's going to get hot out here sooner rather than later, so he lines up the reticle of his Lancer on the point where New Sam's neck meets his skull.  Nothing over the subvocal about hitting, so he stays his trigger finger and waits, not daring to speak himself, even at a whisper.

Come on, soldiers, he thinks to himself, echoing some long lost superior, We know how this starts.  Let's make sure it ends our way.

#

There's more stunned silence. Other-Chino floats forward a bit. He has some feral traits to him that remind Ohanzee of the beast spirits he summons. "Hey, you. Me. B13. Yeah, you. Keeping in shape? Yeah, good. Ironic, neh? Make a living punching spirits only to become a spirit yourself. Real ironic. Anyway, I'm ready for my meat body back. Can't punch drek in the astral. Flying's wiz, I guess, but it's like freerunning with none of the challenge. And I miss the crunch of bone getting kicked, knamean?"

"Yeah, I've had a little practice," Chino says with a glint in his eye, "Punching spirits and whatnot."  He gives his neck a good crack by rolling his head, and takes a step forward.  "But I gotta admit, the prospect of kicking my own ass has a certain prurient appeal.  Yo, Sam, aim that thing at your own hoop, wiz?  The shimmery fraggers won't give a fuck-all bout what you're packing."