[adamu]

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

In that moment, in the dark, surrounded by desperate snarls and screams, the top-hatted undead visage filling his vision, dripping with greenish bracken, in that moment Al knew if he lingered a moment longer the thing would eat his soul. It wouldn't just kill him, it would tear his soul to pieces and damn whatever scraps remained to an endless fiery torment.

Later, he would know it was nothing but a magical parlor trick, but in that moment such a thing never occurred to him. He knew, just as he knew Democrats were evil and that his mother loved him, he knew if that thing touched him he'd be damned for eternity.

His shotgun dropped, catching on the shoulder strap. His weight shifted, he half turned to flee…and there was Spike, undaunted, snarling up at the thing in the vat.

And just as Al knew that he'd be doomed if he stayed, he knew Spike and his new companions would be doomed if he fled. He felt a burning on his back. They were with him. And he thought of the choice they had made. And that left him with no choice at all.

The terror washing away in his new clarity, he leveled his shotgun once more, looked the thing in the eye, and smiled as he pulled the trigger.

[ScytheKnight]

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

As the ghoul was whinged and ducked for cover Snow Crash turned in the direction of the shout, a plan rapidly forming in his augmented mind.

He took only a step to come to a halt, dropping to one knee and placing the machine pistol on the floor. Reaching around he unslung the Ares Alpha from his back, resting it against his shoulder as eyes traveled from the tank to the ceiling and back, his mind spinning, but rather than the panic of before it's the maths of trigonometry, force and calculating ricochets that his augmented brain is plowing through. It takes only a couple of seconds for him to do the math and take aim.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE! FRAGGING GET DOWN!!!

The grenade launcher coughs. There's the sharp PING! as the grenade ricochets off the ceiling. The sharp splash of it hitting the water. A slight thud as it hits the back of the tank. Then the roar as the grenade goes off underwater just as the ghoul is trying to climb out, obliterating the tank in a moment and sending water and tank pieces flying everywhere.

[Aria]

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

In the face of the fear and hate being projected from the seemingly bottomless maw of the beast Al’s shotgun blast seems almost inconsequential.  The buckshot rips holes into the things clothing to reveal battered armour plating underneath…unlike the other ghouls it clearly retained enough of its humanity to recognise that walking unarmoured in the sixth world was a quick ticket to the other side.  The same could not be said for its resistance to a second grenade blast at its feet…even with the water limiting the impact, the geyser of brackish liquid and ghoul bodyparts fill the space once more with a choking mist and deluge as the last but one tank is perforated from the inside out. Al and Icharo are splattered with gore and a rain of shrapnel which has thankfully lost most of its explosive force in the trip through the sides of the plastic tank.

With their leader dispatched the remaining ghouls seem to lose heart and flee the scene…

[adamu]

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

Al's dive for cover had perhaps spared him the flying shards of plastic and bone, but it only made the deluge of weedy sludge worse. Spitting muck, he dragged his soaked frame to its feet in time to see the remaining ghouls doing the same. He took down the first one that started to run with a well-placed blast, and Spike dragged another down to the ground, where it quickly experienced death by mauling - a taste of its own medicine, no doubt.

Taking a moment to top up his clip and prepare to mop up any surviving ferals in the compound, he offered high-fives to his red and white companions.

And congratulated himself twice. The voodoo gods did love him best, and now he knew that Dog loved him even more.

[ScytheKnight]

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

Firing the shot the orc quickly slung the rifle back over his shoulder and picked up the machine pistol before the wave of muck could foul it. Standing slowly he surveys the carnage, much of it caused by the two grenades, seeing the remaining ghouls fleeing he re-holsters the Ares Crusader II and tried to wipe some of the muck from his jacket and calm his still rattled nerves.

In his rattled state he can't help tensing as Al approaches, even flinching slightly at the proffered high-five.

He's not a bug.. right? no.. somekindafraggedup voodoo thing.. witch doctor or sumthin? he.. he still got a spirit in him? fraggit

The albino orc barely suppresses a cringe as he briefly clasps Al's hands, unconsciously wiping it on his jacket afterwards, forgetting the amount of muck still clinging to it.

"Well, I'm fragging glad that's over with... reakon gonna complicate me laying low though. *humph* wonder what Europe's like this time o' year...