[obidancer]

The sound of his bullet on the metal blade sounded like sweet music to him. But to his surprise the Elf girl in all her grace flipped around a heavy revolver in her hand and probably some other sharp tool in the other. With his only desire being to tear his face away to stop the burning feeling, his concern was much more on the gun than the hand-to-hand weapon she may have drawn.
The loud shot pierced the air and came grazing his shoulder, the protection of his Chameleon armor taking on and absorbing the full hit. It hurt like hell, but was somehow happy it wasn't his right shoulder.
Then with inhuman speed the Elf mime was already on him, the blade he had decided to ignore slashing and thrusting at him. With the hot smoke around him and the berserk elf skillfully trying to "ventilate' him, he thought for a split second that place was going to be were it all ended.
Yet his instinct, skills and sheer luck kicked in. A block with his right forearm, a deflection with left hand, an amazingly timed duck and great footwork to keep his stance and Frisk just couldn't land any hit.
The Frenchman had her wrist in his hand. His grip as strong as his augmented strength could allow. He tried to use his weight to pull her so slightly out of balance when he noticed Al and ISaint had joined on the action.

It would take four of the strongest people he knew to subdue the crazed Elf. Don't do drugs, kids. This shit was crazy!

[Jack_Spade]

The hand cuffs snapped shut not a second too soon. The elf was slippery like an eel. Jackhammer could barely hold on, but to Isaints relief, the massive runner proved to be a match for the crazed mime. With flying haste, Isaint produced a packet of plastic restraints gave a third each to the Frenchman and Al and immediately began to capture her legs. First the thighs to restrict her range of movement. Then the knees to deny her leverage and finally the calves to stop her kicking.
And still she thrashed around - only the sturdy fabric of her armor prevented the ties from drawing blood. Instead a very nasty popping sound could be heard.
"Damn, she dislocated her own shoulder. Hold her just a bit longer. We need to secure her legs to her hands for a hog tie. And add additional restraints to her hands. With enough time you can slip out of those cuffs - especially if you are willing to dislocate your own thumb."

The last words were a bit slurred. Isaint blinked to clear his vision. Again the mortally wounded man stood before him."Go away, you aren't real." Isaint muttered.
'You know why I am here Pankratz. You fucked up - then and now.'
There was nothing I could do. I did what I could.
But it was not enough. You didn't spot the ambush. You lost us our guide and now the hostages will die.
They aren't dead - the family is not dead - we'll save them.
And all you had to do, was leaving your brothers in arms behind.
SHUT UP!

Isaint realized to late that he had screamed at a phantom. He quickly got back to his feet, leaving the other three to add more restraints. "I'll go get the family."
The smoke was still thick and Isaint activated again his focus to find the mother and the son so he could guide them out of this chemical hell towards the rest of their family.

#188

[adamu]

Al pounced back into the fray just as the other three men piled on top of the hell-mime. Even under all their weight she threatened to flail free, and he dove in, adding what weight and muscle he had to that of his three larger companions. Isaint got the first pair of cuffs on her, but that was far from the end of it - he handed out flex cuffs and the two humans and two orks trussed every joint they could find, Al topping it off with a second pair of handcuffs on her wrists before they used all the power they had to bring her ankles up to her hands and hogtie her.

Only then did Al have time to even notice how badly his nose, throat, and the soft tissue around his cybereyes were still burning. And that was when Isaint freaked out just a little, and Al wondered what sort of chemical nastiness his internal air had spared him. Everyone looked like shit but the huge Jackhammer, who was suddenly all chemsealed up. Good on him. Little Decker-Dog was down though - Al rushed over to check him - still breathing, vitals stable, but out cold and sweating.

Al dragged the little guy out of the coalescing chemical combo cloud, then pulled his canteen and grabbed Spike around the neck with one arm while sloshing the animal's eyes and snout with water. That would help with the pepper, but there was nothing Al could do for whatever else was in him - he was barking sporadically at nothing at all.

They'd gotten their asses kicked, and he had no doubt these miserable Flower types had more suicide pawns where those had come from. "Get the family on their feet - don't care if they's pukin' they guts out. We gotta move right now, an' we already gotta shlep clown-gal an' Tobbis. We go the same direction we was goin', an' hopefully Sheena of the Jungle here'll come to her ever-lovin' senses afore we git lost."

And with that he pulled the whining Spike along by the scruff of the neck with one hand, picked up the sword that had almost killed him with the other, and moved to make sure they got everyone moving.

And he kept a special eye on Isaint.

[pistolgrip]

[Jackhammer -Thursday June 18th, 2076 - Binding of Mimes - Current condition 0 damage - full body armor]
Aaron released the chem seal on his body armor so he could talk with his normal voice again. With the clown-mime bound, double-bound, and triple-bound, he would at least have enough time to punch her unconscious if she started to get free. But it didn't seem like it was going to come to that, as whatever the poor elf was exposed to looked to be right on track to kill her all by itself. At any rate, if she didn't die, they'd probably still need her. So Aaron borrowed some dead sap's clothes--a large overcoat primarily--to bag up the slender elf. He carried her over one shoulder and kept his other hand full with this Taurus. Back in the city, the Taurus was great to have around. Down here, it seemed just a bit pathetic. He looked it over with clear distaste and a sigh.
"Hey Isaint, do you have a warhawk I can buy off you? I feel like that's going to be a bare minimum."

He pauses for a moment, deciding it's best not to ignore the elephant in the underground. "And who the hell are you shouting at? This place getting to you?"

[spoiler]
42
[/spoiler]

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint had just dragged son and daughter back to the group when Jackhammer spoke to him. With a raspy voice he answered:
"I think I've a mild form of hallucination. A bit of my subconscious has opened up to torment me and remind me that I've been in a similar situation before. Shut up!Don't worry, I've got a handle on it.
I don't sell weapons - but I'll gladly lend you my Ruger."
With a little flourish, Isaint produced a black Ruger Super Warhawk with external smart gun from somewhere inside his coat. A few seconds later he added a camo holster to it and three speed loaders.
"Careful, it's loaded with Red'n Black: APDS and Gel alternating. You need a smartlink to select what you want. Or you have to reload. Don't worry about the grip, it's molded to fit my hand size. Don't lose it - when this is over I want her back.

If you can shoot with rifles, I can give you also my Ruger 101. It's a nice and reliable weapon. Shut up!"

[adamu]

They were a sorry sight as they limped away from the scene of the battle. The corpses in their wake testified to their victory, and miraculously none of the family were dead. But Tabor's headless form stole any joy from it, not to mention that half their group were virtually incapacitated.

But if they didn't move, they'd soon be dead - the Flowers could hit them again at any time.

Al literally had to drag Spike along. Isaint did the same with Frisk - it was damned undignified, but there were no extra hands. All four family members were completely blind, and half were still puking their guts out or literally choking on burning mucous. French and Jackhammer had their hands completely full helping two of them along each, Jackhammer also carrying the inert form of Tobbis on his back as well. Many of their number were phasing in and out of reality all the while, plagued by hallucinations.

Al had grabbed Tabor's head and stuffed it into a bag - there was no way they could take the body.

It was slow going, and all they could do was struggle along in the direction their Harlequinade friends had been leading them. But after a few minutes, they found a small side passage and went down it. It was hardly safe, but they all needed to rest, and at least it was better than where they had been.

And they needed to see about Frisk. Her thrashing was becoming sporadic, with increasingly long spans between eash spasm, while the foaming at the mouth was growing worse and she was shouting things in Sperethiel. She was going to crash soon - an ugly, life-threatening crash that, to be straight about it, would leave them down here without a clue how to get out.

They laid her down. Al got out his SOTA medkit and started setting up the apparatus. He was no medic, but he had a pretty good idea what he was doing. Still, he'd be happy for the kit's online assistance if they could get a signal. At first it was a no-fly, but Isaint spread the flaps of his coat - he had that cool fresnel weave on the thing - and they were in business. Al's plan was to wait for her spasms to stop completely - they couldn't  work on her properly as long as she was mummified in restraints the way she was, nor could they risk a spasm mid-procedure - and then hit her with the meds fast before she could slip into a coma.

In the meantime, he was having trouble seeing himself - all the mucous around his eyes was oozing and swelling across the photosensitive surfaces on his cybereyes. With Isaint also acting as his assistant, he applied the recommended anti-inflammatory, but it was hopeless. Great. He'd have to deal with Frisk half-blind.

When they'd timed a full minute since her last spasm, they checked her for hidden sharps then started unlocking the cuffs and cutting the plastic ties, ready to jump back on her if she came to. Al applied the electrodes and soon they had a pretty good picture of the hell the combat drug had played on her slender form. She was a patchwork quilt of torn muscles, an array of hairline fractures in her bones, and worse, severe swelling of the brain.

Her brain was what they needed - they had to wake her up. Al selected that option, even though the computer suggested they let her sleep, adding annoying warnings about the possibility of long-term muscular-skeletal damage if they allowed her to move. Yeah, it was the selfish choice, but if they didn't do it, they'd never get her to the proper docs she needed.

Besides, the computer was also saying if they didn't wake her up and relieve the pressure, she'd die from that. Thanks. Very helpful.

A drawer popped open, ejecting a sterile bag containing a hollow stainless steel needle pre-fitted with a drainage tube. And a tiny vibro drill. The computer showed Al a picture of where Kocher's point was, the spot to drill and then insert the needle to perform the field ventriculostomy, and he managed to find what he thought was the right spot. Still, he asked Isaint to double check it for him against the readout. When they were as satisfied as two amateurs could be, they all held their breath as Al started. His was having a harder and harder time seeing, but his scar-mangled hands were steady. A sensor in the drill stopped the motor once the pressure indicated they were through the cranium, and Al started the process of inserting the needle into the ventricle of the brain. 

[Jack_Spade]

Although they couldn't carry Tabor's body, they could at least make sure they didn't leave his more expensive gear behind. The mimes surely could use it.
While Isaint picked up the Frisk's dropped knives he looked at the slumped bodies of their erstwhile enemies.
'You can't do that. This is even more depraved than anything else you already did.'
"They are already dead and if just one other suicide freak hesitates to follow in their footsteps, it's time well spent."
'Or you'll enrage them and they'll send even more freaks after you.'
"Then I might to repeat the exercise."

With quick steps, Isaint walked over to the dead men. First he cut open their garments. Then - with fast and just a tiny bit shaking movements he cut the bloody cross into their abdomens. The stench was almost overpowering but he continued.

'If you still were a soldier you could be court martial-ed for mutilating the dead.'
"I am no soldier, I am a warrior and I will do worse to protect my charges."

Once their make-shift lazaret was in operation, he did his best to double check Al's steps with the manual. It wasn't much he could do besides giving his chummer a boost in confidence. 

#190

[Aria]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~10:50, Tunnels beyond Nightside Market, London Below, London]

From the dubious safety of the side tunnel the group, what is left of them, attempt to make themselves comfortable and address their various hurts.  Time is passing with agonising slowness and they are all too aware that the devil rats may be circling like flies drawn to a dying beast.  Eventually Frisk drags herself back to consciousness...at first she is confused but horrifying clarity returns all too fast and the group witness the appalling grief turn to icy hate...with a threatening deliberateness Frisk returns the mask to her face, a finality of movement suggesting it will be a long long time before it comes off...most disturbing of all is that during these moments she doesn't speak a word beyond the inevitable hiss of pain dragged out of her battered form...

With a wordless gesture she indicates it is time to go...!

While focus is mainly on Frisk and her internal battle the family are facing their own struggles...Natasha in particular has been badly hit by the chemical cocktails after her recent brush with Isaint's retaliation...a medkit alert indicates that she is far from well, and indeed there is a blistering mark appearing on her cheek that the kit identifies, or rather fails to identify, as an unknown toxin.  Isaint vividly sees again the troll reach down to embrace her slender form in the first meeting with the degenerate Flowers back in the Market...and the kiss... 

***

_#64

[Jack_Spade]

'You do realize that it's your fault that girl will die.'
"Wait, what?"
'The kiss, you did see it, but you didn't think. A band of chem freaks and you don't even think to check that kiss?'
"I didn't know who they were at the time."
'Yes, but you didn't check after you learned what they were.'
"I didn't have to, we used the medkit to wake her up. The bio-monitor didn't show anything at the time."
'Excuses - you didn't mention it and no one checked - it's your fault.'

Isaint stopped whispering to himself. He didn't want to alarm the family even more, so he contacted the team over his comm: <<Guys, I fucked up. The bio-monitor has detected an unknown toxin on the girls cheek. That troll from the flowers gave her a kiss right on that spot - I saw it but I didn't make the connection.
We need to get her serious medical attention as fast as possible. And we might have to hire someone in Nightside to find out what toxin this troll uses.
Al, might your friend be able to do that? Otherwise we won't have an other option but to ask Goodnight or her sister for help - no matter her feelings for us, she will help want to help the girl.>>

[adamu]

Al quickly messaged back: <<You didn't fuck up, you got that filly away from a planned abduction by a pack of freaks on their home turf. I'll do what I can for her, and I will call my guy. Calling Goodbye, hell, can't hurt. Yeah, she's partial to the girl. But she's crazier than a rabid polecat, and I'm hoping to be topside before she could even reach us. Your call - you're the one she's most likely to kill if you should, well, anything.>>

He stopped the group just long enough to scan Natasha and find out the damned medkit didn't have a clue. He went with a broad spectrum antibiotic and some low-grade stimulant that wouldn't crash her out later.

Then he texted Requiem as they followed Frisk. <<Hey, kemo sabe, we been beat into next week. Flowers done hit us hard, most hurt, and poor Tabor is lost to us. Damned sorry for it, too. He took one with him, though. But as it says in the Good Book, a friend in need is a friend still in need - our little girl we're looking out for, she got herself kissed by some trog Flower leader, and now her face is swelling up like a horny chimp's backside. We're trying to get back to the world for help as quick as we can, but if you can track down some treatment advice, well, I'll just have to put it on my I-owe-ya tab.>>

[pistolgrip]

Aaron nodded at Isaint as he took the weapon. He'd certainly seen his share of men on drugs, and this one at least still seemed to know which end of the gun to point at people, and better yet, who those people were and weren't.

At the development with the girl, Aaron couldn't help but get a bit stern. "We've spent enough time down here. Every second we spend trying to fix one thing, two more things go wrong. This place has more poisons and murderers than doctors and friendly neighbors. Let's pick her up and double-time it to the surface. We'll get a real doctor and leave this house of horrors to the freaks that call it home. Come on, pack it up 'doctor Al'. I'm taking our scientist doc here and heading out, and I'm not stopping until I see some damned sunlight."

[adamu]

Al couldn't fault Jackhammer's logic. Hell, he'd been saying the same sort of thing since they'd gotten down here. And there wasn't any more he could do for the girl anyway unless Requiem got back to them with something useful.

They were in better shape now anyway - the worst of the pepper effects had passed, and the hallucinations were receding as well. Everyone - both family and runners - were worn to the core, despite it having been only a short time since their rest at the underworld hotel.

He stepped up to Frisk, who led the way with a grim determination. She walked as if all she wanted to do was finish the job - so she could go back and kill some Flowers. "Any idea how much longer we gotta hike? An' if there's a closer option, well, nothin' up there could be worse than what we's dealin' with down here, so any shortcuts'd be most welcome."

[Jack_Spade]

"You are totally right Jackhammer. Double-time is what we need right now. And I'll send a message to Goodnight. With any luck we'll know what we are dealing with before we reach a clinic."

Isaint had gathered is coat again and used its amplifier functionality to aim a message back to the market:
<<Hello Goodnight. We need a favor - I need a favor: Natasha has gotten herself a kiss from a troll of the House of Flowers about an hour ago. Now the bio-monitor registers an unknown toxin and her cheek started to blister a minute ago. We are moving her to a clinic above ground. It would be useful to know what we are dealing with, so we can order countermeasures. I hope you'll help us for Natasha's sake.>>

[obidancer]

The Frenchman borrowed some water from Al's canteen t wash off his face. He needed some painkiller the medkit could provided but waited for everyone to be cared after before letting Al give him the necessary drugs and treatment.   
He stood guard while the rest of the team was getting looked after.
When Frisk was up again the two exchanged a glance. He could only see her eye now that she bore her mask again, but a lot was said despite the silence. He had been very close to shoot her dead, to protect his friends and to keep himself alive. She had shot him and almost slashed his throat if not for his acute combat instinct. There was something to be said about the bond death would create between people.

Jack got my vote too, I'd do whatever it take to get the hell out of this damned place, a.s.a.p.

[adamu]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~12:00, under an alley off High Holborn, Temple District, London]

It wasn't long before the masked and silent Frisk was leading them up ladders with increasing frequency. Climbing was almost more than any of the family members could handle, but the idea of going up seemed to give them access to their last reserves of strength. Jackhammer, already carrying Tobbin, also had to haul Spike up each time, but even that didn't seem to slow the huge ork down.

At some point, Al's practiced eye could see they were entering areas of active infrastructure. They were out of London Below now - these were garden variety accessways for utilities maintenance. All the more reason to move quickly - it wouldn't do to run into a work crew.

Rachel Pellettiere started crying when they saw thin spots of sunlight on the cement floor below a manhole cover. Frisk didn't say anything, and didn't have to. She immediately started to stalk off. But there was one thing to do before she left.

Generally oblivious to social niceties, Al found himself tearing up awkwardly as he caught her, tapped her shoulder. She halted, and at first didn't turn, but it was clear to the small Southerner from the set of her shoulders that she knew why he'd stopped her. Maybe she didn't want it, or maybe she'd chosen to forget it, but Al couldn't let her walk off without it. Slowly she turned, and he proferred the sack with as much respect as could be mustered amid the deep ignominy of the situation. She took the morbid remembrance from him, and if she felt gratitude for the gesture - or for her life - there was no sign of it though the eye slits in her mask. She walked off and disappeared into the dark.

The ceremony complete, Al turned to find Natasha prostrate at the bottom of the ladder, her father kneeling over her and reaching for a commlink. Exchanging quick glances with his three remaining comrades, Al stepped quickly forward and snatched the device from the man's hand. The Doctor rose, and from the look in his eyes Al was afraid he might have to take the man down. But the mathematician somehow restrained himself for a moment, seething in front of Al, giving the smaller man a chance to speak. "Doc, if it were jist a question o' goin' off ta slave away fer a corp not ta yer likin', then I'd call the ambulance myself." His voice in the near-dark was like a stone slab being dragged off a sarcophagus. "But some o' them as is lookin' fer ya, they don't want ya alive. Now ya know that, Doc. We brought ya this far, all four o' ya, an' we ain't gon' quit on ya now. But the one thing good about goin' down into that subhuman hell was that there's a chance, just a chance, we done shook our tails loose fer the moment. That could give us the window we need ta git you an' yours to my NeoNet contacts. Git ya somewhere safe."

The man calmed down, but logic would only go so far at this point. There was no doubt the girl needed real medical care. They had to keep moving.

Climbing the last ladder, Al grunted and lifted the heavy iron manhole cover the few inches necessary to take a peek. It was a summer midday in London, but his eyes compensated instantly for the drastic change in the light. No, the sun was not the problem, not what made Al curse.

He was looking down a short alley onto High Holborn, the north side of the Temple District, the heart of the Lord Protector's enclave, the most secure area in London. In the space of just a few seconds he saw a pair of cops walk across the mouth of the alley. There was no way they were going out on that street covered in blood, some barely able to walk, and armed to the teeth. He stepped down a couple of rungs and pulled out his own commlink, which he knew was vastly more secure than the Doc's.

<<Chastity, yeah...no, not hardly, not yet...but quiet down now an' listen. Sheeez, woman. That clean van I sent the cred for, that's ready, right?...Right. Alley on south side o' High Holborn, right across from a wine shop. Morgan's...yeah, hush hush an' lickety split...right.>>

He went back down the ladder. "Taxi's five minutes out. Now, how we gon' make that handoff?"