[Malevolence]

Ohanzee tries to keep his cool, and surprisingly he finds that after the events of the last few days, even something as out of the ordinary as this hardly phases him.


<< @Team [Ohanzee] Let's milk them for a little information first before we crush them. We might even be able to delay them for a few minutes and make them fight on two fronts when Canon arrives. Two birds, one stone.>>


"That's an intriguing offer. The prospect of being a free spirit has a certain appeal - near instant travel to anywhere for starters. But as you've no doubt discovered, the downsides are significant. No VR, or other DNI for that matter. I'd be unable to summon spirits -" a look to Ohanzee Prime "That's gotta suck - and without the ability to materialize at will..." he trails off. "But, I suppose it beats dying. So, how does it work - what's the ritual? A little hocus-pocus and we can jump out of these meat suits and tag you guys in. As nice as this one is, I'm pretty sure I could find better."

[Tecumseh]

Rozkhi and Ohanzee Prime exchange a glance. Rozkhi looks bemused.

"So you're the chatty one in this life too, neh?" Rozkhi says with a smirk. "The ritual ain't much. It takes a few days but you'll be asleep for it. You don't have to do anything."

"You'll wake up with all of your memories back," Ohanzee Prime says, leaning forward eagerly.

Chino activates his qi foci. The tattoos around his eyes glow as his senses open while the tattoos on his hands and feet turn into claws on the astral. B13 scowls.

"I see what you did there. What I did there," B13 says as he postures himself astrally to the challenge as he would physically. "You're playing with my toys, and Imma takin em back one way or the other. It's just like Ace Holt always says: aut viam inveniam aut faciam."

The rest of the spirits see Chino's action too. Rozkhi tsks. "Быть по сему." He shrugs and readies his Alpha. "Имейте это ваш путь."

[Tecumseh]

Katsina can see which direction things are going. With a quick snap of her wrist her claymore is out and at the ready. She knows the presence of the weapon focus will decrease the chances of defusing the situation peacefully, but Chino's activation of his qi foci has already provoked the spirits.

How crazy is this? she thinks to herself, her mind racing with what sort of colossal power would have been required to create an obelisk that could make free spirits out of people. Her own expertise can only scratch at the notion. Her respect and admiration for the ancients grows.

The spirits' offer had made Katsina unconsciously hold her breath. Now that it looks like the bargain is being rejected, she exhales. She wasn't sure how eagerly Blue Team was to get their memories back... if the existing members of Blue Team would even be "back". I'm guessing that the spirits would override the new personalities, she thinks, uncertain but not encouraged by what little she knows about Inhabitation spirits. And if the spirits got their bodies back, that wouldn't bode well for Ace or I. It's clear we were at odds with Blue Team during the run and it doesn't look like those animosities have disappeared for the spirits.

So Ace, APB, and I must have created spirits too. I wonder what became of them. Did they fight the spirits of Blue Team? Did they run off? Are they still looking for us? Questions that would have to wait for another day, or at least another hour when she wasn't being confronted by several antagonistic spirits alongside men with assault rifles and grenade launchers.

She spins her sword in her hands, getting ready. Tactically, the situation is complex. Ohanzee's lodge is providing a mana barrier that will help keep the spirits at bay, but it won't do anything for the bullets and grenades soon to come their way. She wonders if it's worth it to rush forward, to give up the protection of the lodge in favor of taking the battle to the enemy.

She opens her mouth to say something clever to Rozkhi but all she can manage on short notice is, "Hey, chummer, you look ready for trouble. If the price is right, we might wanna buy a sample." She shoots a wink to complete the taunt, then remembers that they probably couldn't see it behind her mask. Frag it!

[Malevolence]

<< @Team [Ohanzee] Well, that deteriorated quickly. So much for delaying them.>>


Ohanzee focused on the astral realm, on the lookout for the telltale signs of directed magic, ready to disrupt any spells that might be directed against them. But the uneasy tension held for a second, then another, a dam ready to burst at any moment, but stayed as the pressure built. Ohanzee reached out to Bear, calling on the one favor the spirit had agreed to, and asking him to fight along side his team in the coming skirmish.


Ohanzee had fought hard for that one service. At first he had sought Wolf, knowing that there were good odds of a fight, which Wolf would enjoy. But Wolf refused for inscrutable reasons of his own, and so Ohanzee called to Bear. Bear was less bloodthirsty, and only caved to the shaman because of the spirit's protective nature. Ohanzee wasn't sure what spirit he could call to provide assistance when Canon showed up - if they were still alive for that.


One thing at a time...


Bear, the fight is imminent. I will need your assistance.

You shall have it, shaman.


Bear, wise and ancient, would know best how to use his gifts in the coming fight, and so Ohanzee remained silent on the specifics. The summoner-spirit link informed the spirit as to what Ohanzee planned to do once things started, and so it could decide whether to concentrate efforts or sow disruption in the enemy ranks by harassing others.


Ohanzee also knew that this manifestation of Bear, powerful for a spirit, was a vital asset. Ohanzee', as he'd taken to thinking of his manifesting alter ego, couldn't do much on the physical plane without a physical form, but he could fight the spirit and attempt to banish it on the astral. If that happened, it could severely reduce his team's odds of surviving. As much as he wanted to simply fireball the van, Ohanzee' had to go first. Likely Bear understood this as well, but any of the other Free Spirits could pose a problem for him as well.


Bear seemed to realize that he would be of more use on the astral side of things in the early fight and shed his manifested form - one less source of damage when the shooting started, which to Ohanzee's horror happened immediately after Bear's shift.


In an all too familiar pattern, the world slowed. He thought about dropping his astral sight in order to reduce the risk to him on multiple fronts, but he would need it if he were to help dispatch his doppelganger. And besides, as slow as the world seemed, Ohanzee was frozen in it as guns barked and magic flew. He could see everything clearly, knew he should do something - especially use the physical barrier that Katsina had provided him - but the only muscle that moved was his heart, beating a hundred times a minute.

[Zweiblumen]

Doc watches as their old selves almost instantly turn aggressive.  So much for the "easy way" option.  They probably weren't going there anyway.  Just as this is happening Doc notices an attack coming his way in the matrix.  The little bastard didn't fall for his "hide in plain sight" trick and tried to sleaze a mark on him!  Luckily his firewall is keyed up and this decker now has a sexy little caduceus tucked into their icon.

Snarling at the opposing persona, Doc keys his configurator and switches form stealth/defense mode into crush all metahumans mode.  As the wrapper program stops running what looked like another satellite uplink falls away and is replaced by a 'roided out version of Doc's faceless medic persona.  He quickly pulls out a scalpel and simply attempts to bury it as deeply into this deckers eye as possible.  All semblance of subtlety thrown to the side.

The cossack sees the hulking icon of Doc charging and attempts to dance away while bolstering his firewall.  His precautions are for naught as Doc's scalpel finds its target and drives directly into the decker's eye socket.  His attack was so strong his entire forearm plunges into the persona's icon ripping the opposing decker from the matrix forcefully.  Probably destroying the deck in the meat in the process.

Doc and his agent quickly start looking for the rigger to take out next.

[Tecumseh]

In the Matrix, Doc is busy neutering and dismissing a Cossack. Once Doc is done, the decker sits up and projectile vomits in the van before collapsing back with blood dripping out of their nose and ears.

In the van, this is a clear signal that things have begun. A summoned spirit - a mounted Hessian - leaps out of the van on the astral and charges the mana barrier of Ohanzee's magical lodge. The Hessian, armed with a lance, gallops toward the barrier and smashes into it. The barrier holds, but Chino, Katsina, and Bear can see its structure weakening and wavering.

Katsina knows the mana barrier won't stop a grenade or suppressive fire, and Rozkhi looks capable of either. He's too far to reach, she thinks on the fly, other than maybe just slamming into him. Knock his weapon out of his hands with a knife? No, let's tie him up.

Raising her claymore, the vampire charges forward. She can only cover half the distance to the troll, so she casts while she runs. It's a powerful casting, fueled by essence drained who-knows-when from who-knows-who. The life force of that forgotten victim (or donor) channels itself through her, binding the troll with rings of astral energy that cinch around him like hoops of steel. Rozkhi tries to move his arms but cannot; in fact, it's all he can do not to topple over.

Behind her mask, Katsina grins, her feral nature unleashed. A spell comes sliding toward her from inside the van, but she redirects it into the forest night with by jamming the mana in front of her to deflect the spell to the side. Doc Hack, the cackling imp, descends upon her on the astral, but she swats him aside as easily as she did the spell. She makes a beeline for Rozkhi, raising her sword to strike.

In front of Sam, the smaller man wearing the chameleon suit raises his assault rifle and fires a mini-grenade toward Ohanzee and Chino. The shot is precise and lands neatly between the dwarf and the ork a fraction of a second before exploding. The troll in front of Sam - slower than the smaller man, and more lumbering - keeps watch on the perimeter, letting the others handle the meet while he keeps an eye on the surrounding forest.

[Malevolence]

These spirits smell ... wrong, Bear thought to himself, offended by their very presence. Time passes differently in the various islands of the astral sea, and consequently the denizens of these worlds perceive it differently still. But Bear was certain that it was long ago that he encountered something similar, and the repercussions had caused the whole of creation to shudder. Bear was a protector, and usually slow to anger, but the familiar red tinge of rage colored his aura and he found himself hoping for battle - a desire he had not felt in a very long time.


He did not have to wait long. The meeting was quick to deteriorate, and when the shaman who had called him invoked the terms of the pact they had agreed to, Bear was only too happy to oblige. Quickly, he shed the cumbersome material form he had worn to interact with the dull creatures of this world - most appeared only as shadows in the True realm - and prepared himself to strike fast and true against these abominations - half-manufactured things that had no right to be.


And no sooner had his material form evaporated into ectoplasmic mist than the others began attacking. He charged headlong into the spirit that mimicked the one who had called him - Ohanzee; the Shadow. Names had power in the astral world because they were fundamental to the being of an astral entity. The beings of this Earth discussed formulae - arcane symbols that describe the basis of a spirit, similar to what these beings referred to as DNA - as if it was some sort of recipe, but among the entities that make the astral realm their home, these were True Names, and knowing them meant that you knew the being to which that name belonged at the most fundamental level. Sprits rarely bothered to know the names of their summoners - the words that the Awakened of Earth used to name themselves were meaningless. But words - concepts really - such as summoner or shaman or dwarf were all small parts of the summoner's True Name, and the spirits learned these, as well as their summoner's astral signature. These had meaning.


Whatever process had created this spirit had been informed to some degree by the victim's perception of himself. The name, meaningless when describing the being of flesh that had summoned him, was a lynchpin in the True Name of the spirit that took on it's likeness. Ohanzee, Shadow. Bear seized upon this thread and pulled. The artificial spirit cried out in agony as it's very structure began to unravel, barely clinging to its corrupt existence. Bear smiled inwardly at his success, setting aside his revulsion for the taint that the other spirit's guts left upon him.

[rednblack]

Hearing the empty hollow thunk of a grenade launcher, Chino rushes forward, charging the troll to his right.  Through his astral vision, Chino sees the tattoos on his arms glowing menacingly, and he can feel the mana coalescing into his "claws,"  as he locks eyes with his quarry, daring the troll to hold his gaze.  When his spirit version descends on him in the astral, its own claws bright and wretched, Chino pumps his legs to the left, and comes down in a slight crouch, the satisfying sound of compacting snow beneath his feet.  Two, maybe three more steps before he can leap into his flying kick, leaving B 13 in the haze behind him.  Come on, chummer.  Let's see whatcha got.

#

When it went hot, it went hot fast.  First the sound of a grenade launcher, then the near-blinding light and hard pop of a flashbang.  From appearances, Ace's team is unfazed, and a roar of gunfire sounds.  Through his smartlink reticle, Ace holds to his plan, targeting the one that looks like Sam, the only "them" in the flesh.  Through his thermo, the form is darkened and hard to track, but then it freezes up, the Ares Alpha halfway between shouldered and pointing at a charging Katsina.  He zeroes in on where the troll's massive skull meets his neck.  Severing the C3 vertebrae results in limited head and muscle movement, with complete paralysis of the arms, body, and legs.  The respiratory system is compromised, resulting in an inability to breathe due to the lack of control of the chest muscles and diaphragm.

Ace prepares to give the fire command when not-Sam lunges forward, suddenly moving again, and moving quickly.  Ace fights to urge to fire off a quick shot, but even a laser beam to the shoulder might not slow him down, and the damned troll's head is probably thick enough to take a shot to the upper skull and keep pushing forward.  Ace can feel the machine pumping his blood -- and other fluids -- increase, an instantaneous response to the increased adrenaline in his blood, and now his reticle is bouncing as not-Sam levels the Alpha against his support arm, the rifle looking almost comically small but no less deadly as the laser site lines up in the center of the Masked Woman's Pentagram mask.  Don't frag this up, Ace.  Take the right shot, but take it fucking fast now, already.

Ace overrides his mechanic heart, slowing it temporarily.  Thump, thump, thump . . thump . . . thump . . . thump  A full-auto burst crackles in the night air, the troll's faint thermo form holds steady as his assault rifle finds his shoulder, thump . . . . thump almost lined up now, the trolls laser site holds steady, thump Ace finds the C3, or where it should be, thump he pulls a long exhale of breath short, finds the space between "heart" beats, thump . . . .


<<Instigator: Command Prompt:>>
<<Fire>>

There's no sound, but a brief flash of light compromises Ace's position.  Not twenty meters in front of him, the troll, the one who isn't Sam, the one called Rozkhi, pitches forward, his chin pushed low from the impact, his Alpha dropping and firing once into the snow a moment before the troll impacts, any sound lost in the chaos of the gunfight.

Katsina stands, still rushing forward, looking unhurt, Thank Ghost.

<<Instigator: Command Prompt:>>
<<Boot: Hermes Ikon //Running Silent//>>
<<Slaved Device: Smartlink System [External]>>
<<Slaved Device: Smartlink System EX Shocker>>
<<Slaved Device: Smartlink System Ares Lightfire 70>>
<<Slaved Device: Smartlink System Ares Crusader 2>>
<<Slaved Device Instigator Hydraulic Jacks>>
<<. . .

Ace pushes the booting protocols out of his vision, and prepares his next move.

[Poindexter]

"Yo, Sam, aim that thing at your own hoop, wiz?  The shimmery fraggers won't give a fuck-all bout what you're packing."

Oh yeah. Dammit! His subconscious mind goes immediately to the second best target he can find; the van. Unfortunately, the Pioneer isn't the best weapon for this target, so he drops it in front of him, confident that the sling will bring it with him when he needs get up. In a few moments, the Xm30 is in his hands again, but a few moments is all it takes for his mind to start working. Why did I go straight for Doc? Am I afraid of him? He instantly realizes that he is, and feels a bit foolish for letting his emotions influence his tactics in combat. It must be because of that damn BTL. That's all the time he has before the rifle is in his hands and ready to fire, but things have unfolded a bit during the time he wasted switching out weapons. The little keeb in the chameleon suit has started lobbing nades around and his big friend looks like he's going to start any second. With barely a thought, he's opened up his little death machine and let it roar it's hatred forth directly at the pair. Surprisingly, neither of them are caught off guard by this, and they both step away from the snowmobile in opposite directions and hunker down near the ground just in time. The little one keeps low better than his friend and avoids all the lead entirely, but the troll is just too damn big. From Sam's angle, it looks like he took three, maybe four rounds, and from the sheer volume of dark, warm, delicious blood seeping into the snow beneath him, Sam can tell he's hurt pretty bad.

Not bad enough to keep him from plunking off a pill that looks like it's going to land smack dab in front of Sam's face though. Fuck you and your flashbangs. Confident in the layers of protection keeping from harm, he doesn't even blink as the grenade rolls through the air toward him. Instead, he's lining up a shot of his own, trying to get that Troll's throat right in the center of the scope. Suddenly, a volley of bullets from above him! He barely has time to think Dammit! Drones!" as he abandons his shot and rolls to the right as fast as he can. His thick hide and thicker armor stops most of the burst, but one of the rounds catches him square in his unprotected throat while he's face up for a moment in mid-roll. He barely registers the hit as he comes to a halt face-up, now lining up a shot on the drone, hovering above him.

[Malevolence]

He expected bullets, but almost jumped out of his immaculately tailored suit when the dull whump of the grenade launcher sent a large object hurtling toward him at the speed of a Major League fast pitch, only seemingly slow due to the arc needed to drop it on the ground at Ohanzee's feet. The indecision that plagued him, keeping him frozen, was instantly overcome by blind reflex as he half-leapt, half-ran from where he assumed the grenade would end up, but despite his magically enhanced reflexes, his short legs simply could not get him entirely out of the blast. The light and sound disoriented him, but momentum carried him forward until that voice in his head that he had learned to listen to screamed at him to stop. With great effort, he regained his footing and came to an abrupt halt, almost falling over. The smaller meta in the chameleon suit let fly with his assault rifle, leading his shot. He's completely caught unprepared for Ohanzee to suddenly stop, and the shots walk neatly upon Ohanzee's previous course, finding only air.


He is still pondering the closeness of that close call when the mana barrier formed from his lodge finally gives under the assault of his alter-ego. Or was he the alter-ego? No matter. The loss of the barrier would be a problem until it reconstituted itself in a few long seconds. As much as he wanted to toss a fireball into the van, he'd leave that to Sam and Ace. With such an array of astral only targets, he and Kat and Chino had to focus on them since the others could not. Chino seemed to have Chino' - B23 - handled, Bear was handling O' quite handily, Doc' - Hack - was not as threatening as the spirit that had helped tear down his barrier, and Ohanzee could not attack the mage in the van from where he was, though he sure hoped that a nice explosive payload would remove him as a threat sooner than later. So, that left that spirit.


Let's see the nature of your contract with your summoner. Ohanzee reached out with his magic and sought to sever the connection that bound the spirit to this world.

[Tecumseh]

Katsina is charging forward, staring claymores at Rozkhi. Her claymore is low and behind her in the rear stance, as she prepares to stop just in front of Rozkhi and let her tremendous momentum carry the sword up and into the troll. She zeroes in on where the troll's massive skull meets his neck. If I severe the C3 vertebrae it will result in limited head and muscle movement, with complete paralysis of the arms, body, and legs. The respiratory system will be compromised, resulting in his inability to breathe due to the lack of control of the chest muscles and diaphragm, leading to a fatal case of deadness.

There's a flash of light directly opposite her which is absolutely blinding on the thermographic. Astrally, she can see the hole in Rozkhi where his C3 vertebrae used to be. The giant troll pitches forward, faceplanting into the snow and sending up a plume of ice crystals. Despite the grievous wound, she can see that the spirit has not left the troll's body. Whatever magic it used to possess the vessel is keeping it assembled and functional, if only for a bit longer.

All around her, there's the BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT of automatic gunfire, followed by the deep WHOOMPs of flash-bangs detonating. One goes off at Chino's feet several meters to the right and she can feel the concussion wave wash over her. It blows her lined coat sideways, in what might appear to be cinematic flapping in the wind but is actually a violent attack. Behind her, a line of bullets chases Ohanzee. She can hear them but can't see what they've done. Ohanzee is the link to Bear, and Bear is a powerful ally helping to keep this fight from turning into a giant mismatch. Ohanzee can take care of himself, she tries to reassure herself as her rapid footfalls take her ever farther away form him.

To her left, Sam is riddling a troll with armor-piercing bullets. The fan is wide but so is the troll, who eats several of the rounds. One of them catches his arm in the bicep. Judging by the spray of blood, odds are good that the brachial artery was nicked. Trolls have a lot of blood and it takes ages to bleed out, but this one is done for without medical attention. Not that you would know it by looking at him. The troll responds with a primal, feral scream that suggests a major influx of mana or combat stimulants or both. Raising his Ares Antioch-2, the troll fires a flash-bang squarely into Sam. The grenade pops with a deep BANG that does little more than dust the snow off Sam's shoulders. A hail of gunfire rains down on Sam from on high, striking him squarely around the neck and shoulders. Katsina can't tell how badly he's been hit - wonders if Sam even knows how badly he's been hit, given his damage compensators - and hopes he remembers the preparation she gave him.

To her right, something similar is happening to Ace. A line of fire walks its way up to him. Seeing it coming, the supersoldier bursts out of his nest and rolls to the side to avoid the worst of it. Ace and Chino can lock down that flank, she thinks. I need to take care of the spirits and the van. She stares at the van, wishing she had taken one of the grenades. I could jump up on the roof, open it like a tin can with my sword, drop the grenade in. The thought pleases her, but for now it's impossible. No grenade, no chunky salsa. Salsa. I wonder if I liked salsa... before. I wonder if I ever had it.

She shakes her head, trying to refocus. I need Ohanzee to teach me Fireball. She continues her sprint through the snow.

[Zweiblumen]

Having dispatched the decker with ease, Doc turns his attention to the rigger that's currently trying to light up Ace.  Not being the subtle sort, he queues up three caducei and attempts to stick all three at once on the slitch. 
Obviously the rigger got the heads-up that his partner was gone and goes on the defensive.  The punk is able to swat away all three of Doc's MARKs. None of that drek code came back at Doc, so the attack ended up being simply a no-risk:high-reward action instead of the usual high-risk:high-reward.  And he distracted the zero from doing anything on the meat for a few moments.

Looking around at the matrix view of the field Doc knows he needs to start sending his Agent after some of the devices out here.

[Tecumseh]

The Hessian rears up. Now that Ohanzee is exposed, the spirit is prepared to ride him down. The horseman moves from a trot to a gallop, the three-beat canter changing to a four-beat gait, bearing directly at Ohanzee with its lance lowered to skewer the dwarf.

Ohanzee continues running, but from the grenades and the bullets kicking up the snow in a neat outline around his feet, not from the Hessian. The dwarf stares down the spirit, then waves his hand in front of it, severing the invisible astral connection between the spirit and its summoner... The horseman leaps over Ohanzee, raising its lance as it lands on the other side of him and rides off into the astral night. Ohanzee watches it go for a fraction of a second, then looks up to find that he's being shot with another grenade.


Katsina charges forward, rapidly debating what to do about Rozkhi.

He's down! No, his weapon is right there. He's still a threat. He got shot with a laser in the spine! You've seen what magic can do, how it can put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Let's not give them the opportunity. But you can't kill a free spirit, not in the physical world at least! Try draining him! Maybe you can suck the Essence right out of the spirit now that it's trapped in this world! ... An interesting idea, but there's no time. That will take minutes, and we only have seconds.

She lifts the giant sword above her head and brings it down on the troll, never breaking stride. Rozkhi sees what is coming and lifts his hand to stop it. The sword slashes downward, through his natural dermal plating, muscle, and bone, until it hits the ground. Rozkhi's hand rests in the snow at an obtuse angle to his arm, the hole in the back of his neck smoldering as the giant collapses into the snow and struggles to breathe.

Katsina rips the sword out of the ground in time to see Doc Hack descending on her in the astral. She sidesteps him easily, her magically enhanced intuition providing her with additional insight to the rookie spirit's approach. The spirit of B13 is still going after Chino while Ohanzee Prime is rapidly being undone by Bear. The center holds; the battle may be won or lost on the flanks, depending on whether Ace and Sam can survive the withering fire being directed at them. She gulps and continues running forward.

[Malevolence]

Bear can smell the panic in the "spirit" as it tries desperately to go after the shaman that had summoned Bear, likely hoping that removing him from the fight would also remove Bear, and thus spare it from Bear's ruthless assault. But Bear cannot abide such an affront to the balance of things. Without the link to his summoner, he would be removed from this realm, and that could not be allowed - Bear would see each of these abominations unmade.


He takes advantage of the single minded focus of the other spirit and launches a vicious attack. From the "real" world, a disturbance that might appear as a heat shimmer from a casual glance is all that marks the disruption of the erstwhile spirit, née shaman.


Bear takes a moment to savor his victory, ignoring the bright flashes of emotion that erupt around him as the battle rages on in the material world and lazily surveying the progress of the fight on the astral.

[Poindexter]

One still moment as the snowflakes tumble from the treebranches above him. One still moment between breaths, between heartbeats, between moments. One still moment to line up the bulbous form of the gel spewing little hoverdrone above him and... -POP!-

With a spark, a dull 'thwoo woo woo', and bit of flame from the rear, Sam can see the drone through his scope starting to rapidly lose altitude. Without any conscious thought guiding his movements, he rolls into a crouching position behind a tree and prepares to raise his weapon again and lay down whoever is before him. In the half a split second it takes for him to regain his bearings though, he can hear a blood curdling scream coming from the wounded troll growing louder and closer. The bastard has dropped his weapon and is charging Sam unarmed! I must have really hurt this guy, he barely has time to think before the monster is on top of him, foaming at the mouth and howling like a banshee as he brings one massive fist down on the left side of Sam's titanium laced head like a jackhammer. The massive russian can't feel any pain, but he can see the blood from the hit and he knows that his foe must have some kind of bone lacing. No way you could have hit me that hard with just meat. DAMN! Gonna to make it harder to eat you. He's still spinning a bit from the force of the blow, and is a neuron away from sending the signal to his fingers to drop his weapon and spin back around with a wicked claw to tear into this massive chunk of meat for a feast when a line of green text pops up in his corner of his frosty smart-goggles.

<<Sam, a grenade!>>

The beast inside him SCREAMS as loud as anything he's ever heard and it terrifies him to his reinforced bones. As much fear as Sam may harbor for the nasty thing that used to inhabit his body, he has far more for the hungry demon currently residing in his soul. He fears what he may become if it isn't satiated. But Uncle Sam is nothing if not a tower of self-control. Dammit! No more fear! If the team neads a nade, they get one. In defiance of everything he believes to be rational, he stops his spin midway, coming to rest on one knee with his back to the screaming madman trying to pummel him into dust. He raises no defense against his attacker who grabs him from behind, instead using the flicker of time he's got before the blows start landing to line up a shot for the broken windshield of the van. He gives the mental order to fire, the grenade set to detonate on impact.

It looks to him like a good shot, but he may not see how it worked out, as the savage creature behind him pops its jaw open with a scream and prepares to chomp into Sam's spiny corrosive flesh.