[gradivus]

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

Ichirō had a polite but short conversation earlier with the pilot, Dogmeat. He refrained from explaining to the gaijin that calling him a ninja was actually an insult. He was after all, because of his ignorance, actually trying to make a compliment.

Having found Al earlier,  he had left it to the dwarf to ask their employer about the troll's release. He then went off to find some sleep among the ruckus.

Ichirō dreamed of wearing the kabuto and menpō of the Imperial Guard. He dreamed of service, honor- purpose. In his dream it did not occur to him that the menpō served to hide his shame. All he knew is that it was the way of the samurai. The one true way to distinguish himself in hos father's eyes.

As Ichirō dreamt of the Imperial Palace the chrysanthemums began to turn red- a red too deep. A red the color of blood. This disturbed his psyche.  He awoke disoriented but began to make out something that did not belong. He awoke to the sounds of battle.

[gilga]

Dogmeat ordered his drones in formation, trying to clear a path for retreat to all interested.

He used the speakers and yelled: Circus people... come here my drones will protect you!
He used two of his rotodrones in order to slow down the Ghouls and the third one to snipe the really mean ones just before they kill. They were so many of them and it took some skill not to do colleteral damage but in the massacre that was happening colleteral damage seemed to him almost like mercy killings - they did not have the luxury to avoid it - it was save as many as you can type of scenario.

He was not completely sure that it was really happening - as the horror of the night merged into his horror dreams. 

Just in case he was not dreaming he sent the following message:

<<Broadcast[Dogmeat]
I may have finally lost it - but if you also see many ghouls eating people alive I am trying to group our people into a defensible location where we can land the LAV for evacuation.  It is at these coordinates... I will use all my firepower - both spirits and drones -  but there are so many of them I am not sure my dogs will be enough. 

Cutter please bring the LAV to rescue as many circus folks as possible... Anyone that hear that and have a gun - you can take fire position on top of the carts - it should be a nice place to shoot from.

If you have a car - bring it along also we can use all the evacuation capabilities we can get.

[All4BigGuns]

As all hell starts to break loose, Cutter rushes toward the cockpit of his 'new toy' and straps in, transmitting to all friendlies in the area, <<If you want to evac, board up on the bird now! Once I take off, I'm gonna do some spray-and-pray!>>

[gilga]

<< Cutter! - it is good that you are too in this horrible dream - I am trying to organize some evacuation at these coordinates - I'll have plenty of cover fire from drones and even some magic. I think it is the best place to land your new toy.

*Coordinates attached.
*Included Drone feeds.

[adamu]

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

Al watched in horror as two packs of feral abominations descended both on the circus people he was being paid to protect and the hippies that had taken him in.

It was a helluva distraction, he thought, as he climbed onto the roof of his truck's cab. People screaming as they got eviscerated by ghouls was not something he could just ignore. No doubt they'd planned it that way; whoever had so cleverly - and barbarically - unleashed this carnage hadn't gone to the trouble for shits and giggles. No, there was someone around here somewhere jockeying for a bigger prize.

Fortunately, his co-workers were coordinating an amazing response. So as he started pumping buckshot into any undead that came too close, he kept his main focus on spotting the real threat.

Hearing the screams of a woman as she was swarmed and devoured, he swore he'd find whoever did this and take it out of their hide.

[gradivus]

Ichirō was torn between going for the LAV and going toward the dwarf named Al. In the end, he decided that Dogmeat could take care of himself once he was airborne.

He ran over to the truck and shouted at Al, "I shall make sure no one comes up behind you!"

With that he places himself facing directly away from where Al was shooting, trusting the dwarf to watch his back.

[adamu]

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

"Muchos arigatos, honorable red-skinned amigo-san," Al shouted back over the gathering din of death-shrieks and automatic weapons fire. "I'll do the same fer you."

With Al now standing high atop the cab of his big Gaz pick-up truck, his gaunt frame and round ears made it clear that he was, in fact, of homo sapiens sapiens descent, however much his diminutive stature and sandpaper voice might indicate otherwise.

[Aria]

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


After the initial tumult, screams, automatic weapons fire and the slavering of the ghouls, the noise drops off eerily fast.  The Mechanicals, after the initial panic, react with startling efficiency, almost as if they’d trained for an attack like this…not that anyone could anticipate some sick fragger weaponising the local ghoul population!  The circus folk too manage to keep their heads and retreat to the comparative safety of the land trains where they cram themselves in cheek by jowl…

That leaves a few ghouls in the open gorging on the flesh of the dead but they are easy prey for Dogmeat’s drones and the studied shots from Al and his oni compatriot.  The LAV barely has time to make it into the air… from Cutter’s vantage point a devastated scene spreads out below, sprawling bodies, some moving feebly, and the low heat signature corpses of the ghouls that succumbed to weapon fire…but far too few for the devastation…so where have they all gone?  Tribals begin appearing on the roof tops amidst the green houses and rooftop gardens, herding sleepy children and the rest of their frail or infirm…so if they are retreating to height…

[gilga]

Dogmeat sent his horizon flying eye('Little Dog') towards the tribal homes in order to see if they need his help.

His resources were stretched thin, as his drones where busy and even his spirit was pulling its weight.  I only got my last card left to play - myself.... His continued the thought... I could probably get to the tribal homes with levitation and may even survive the trip using some invisibility. He was in poor shape but could still pull do some offensive magic.

His next thought was 'that's awfully brave of myself... better wait to see what the little drone discovers'

When the ghouls disappear, leaving behind them a mess of bodies some ghouls some half eaten people and unfortunately some people with bullet holes, Dogmeat flies his drones in combat formation towards the village.

He pulls out his deck and perform a matrix test to see if there is anything suspicious around.
[spoiler]Matrix perception: 12d6t5 2[/spoiler]

He then sends two of his drones to check on the village.

[adamu]

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

Picking off a stray that came too close, Al shook his head. "This here stinks worse than Catfish Thursday at Farley's Fish Freehouse back New Orleans way," he called to the oni.  "Where in the name o' Captain damned America have all them things got off to?"

Without waiting for an answer, he jumped down and started moving in a rapid circle around the scene, eyes darting from side to side looking for sign. Couldn't be hard to track this lot.

[gradivus]

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

Ichirō wondered who "Captain Damned America" was. A strange name that. But now was not the time fore idle musings so he brought himself back to the present. He stayed close on the dwarf's heel in case something nasty popped up.

[gilga]

Dogmeat transmit the following question:

<< Broadcast[Dogmeat] Anyone see where the zombies went? The dog is in the dark here. >>

[Aria]

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

Smoke fans out from tipped over dustbin fires and kettle drum barbeques…the sound of the injured is beginning to increase as they come to realise that the immediate attack has subsided.  Hands reach out towards you desperately seeking help as you circle through the devastation looking for the illusive ghouls.

Their trail is easy enough to follow for now…clusters of bodies at three locations in buildings off the central party space where defenders tried to stop them in their tracks.  The stinking corpse of a ghoul is testament to their brutal toughness, it obviously sustained horrific damage before succumbing to its injuries…

A rather subdued Oblique addresses you over the sec channel

<<I am torn.  I must keep my people safe but equally we always pay our debts and these tribals helped us when they didn’t have to.  The attack even came in disguised as us from what security have informed me.  I see only one way to resolve this and after discussing it with Torrent he has agreed.  I will release you from your current obligation to us, with full pay, provided you stay and help the Mechanicals.  This is on an individual basis so those of you who elect to stay with l’Ombre will accompany us to our rendezvous location in Tacoma.  If you want to seek compensation from the Mechanicals I’m sure they will be grateful for your assistance, but I wouldn’t expect much financial reward.  Let me know individually what you decide in the next five minutes, we are moving out then!>>

[gilga]

<<<Dogmeat[Oblique] I will stay with both you and the mechanicals,  how long do you guys have toward your destination? I'll just split my forces. >>

Dogmeat rushes out of his quarters and starts treating the wounded.

[adamu]

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

Having tracked the ferals to three points, it was clear they were somehow more coordinated and focused than they should be. Instead of eating and running, they were going deeper into the compound's infrastructure...

Then Oblique's message. For Al, the choice was obvious - these hippies had pulled him out the deep stuff not once but twice (and charged him handsomely both times). More than that, this was where he lived. He would have their backs, hell or high water.

He needed to talk to Oyl or Bit, but finding them in this chaos would cost precious time any captives did not have. Anyway, the hippies had his number, and he knew they'd be in touch once they heard from the circus dwarf.

<<Ol' Al gon' stay with the Tribals. Been nice knowin' ya. Put me onna list fer yer next performance.>>

And with that, he resumed looking for the tracks of the still-missing ghouls.