Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: Jack_Spade on <01-17-16/1841:29>
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[spoiler=Soundtrack]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dlr90NLDp-0[/spoiler]
Somewhere in Europe, November 2073
There had been absolute and utter silence within the old Gothic church. Therefore the scraping of the small swivel window high above the choir sounded like a brass band falling down a stairwell to the ears of the shadowy figure, squeezing itself through the opening.
Once through it took only two hand over hand motions to land safely next to the ancient organ. Isaint held his breath and listened but now that he had stopped to impersonate a bad cat burglar everything was silent once more. Taking this route had been inconvenient, but at least he didn't have to break the seal the cops had applied to all doors of the ancient building. Strictly speaking, Isaint was committing a serious felony by entering an active crime scene. But since the efforts of the corp cops had so far been unsuccessful in the extreme, the ork wasn't particularly trusting that they would crack the case on their fifth try.
Neither had the parents of Oliver Partridge, victim no. 2. Isaint still wasn't sure how they had gotten ahold of his contact information, but after what had happened to the 13 year old boy he hadn't been inclined to refuse the offer. The latest victim had been a 12 year old choir boy, killed not twenty hours ago, and already the police had gone.
Carefully Isaint climbed down the stairs and went towards the altar. A full moon gave enough light that he could see the scene clearly. The blood had sprayed everywhere and added an absurd amount of realism to the heavy oaken cross with the crucified form of Christ.
Now he was close enough to see it: The killer had opened up his young victim and used his intestines to create a spread eagle form that resembled a snow angel. Or rather a blood angel.
So far the press hadn't caught up on the story - which showed precisely where the efforts of the police had been directed. Meanwhile there were now five bodies in as many weeks. Isaint took a deep breath to steady himself - opening his third eye was still new for him. A shudder ran across his back.
The sight confirmed what he had felt earlier - the brutal murder had warped the mana scape and left a clearly visible scar. And there it was: The faint traces of an aura, not completely erased. It confirmed what he had expected - this monster was one of the infected....
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Death sucked! That was a fact Rick Deckard had quickly realized. But in his line of work, it was a common occurrence and truth be told, there was a lot of money to be made because of death. Sometime that was just this, a job. Other times, it was a bit more personal; like this job that took him in the heart of Europe. See, death was one thing, but when it involved young kids, Deckard found it despicable.
So when he was called from London to find the murderer of a young boy, he didn't hesitate; with the new talents he had recently developed, his skills had become a hot commodity. Little did he know, he had stepped into the case of a serial crime.
And here he was in the driving seat of a rented Renault car, parked not far from a chill-giving gothic church, waiting for the police or corp security or whatever they were to leave the premise. Apparently, another kid had been found dead inside. From the tip he got, it had been a horrifying scene. But for Deckard, it was most and foremost a fresh scene. All he had to do was wait for the last cop to leave, make his way inside and let the place 'talk' to him. A mental check confirmed the entity he had summoned earlier was ready for his call not far in the Astral world. They - the authorities - had been quite efficient at keeping all those murders away from the media. He could understand why. Knowing someone was after your kid would scare the shit out of any parents, and scared parents tend to become vocal very fast. All he had to do was wait.
Rick Deckard opened his eyes and a moment of panic surged inside him, making him wide awake automatically, Drek! he must have dozed off while waiting on the police to get the hell out. It was now dark everywhere, the full moon lighting the old buildings and the church with an eerie blue shade. The silence too felt sinister. Was Deckard just feeling the remnant energy of the events that perspired inside the church or the thousand years of history that had occurred in this city? Everyone had left, and traffic was sparse at best. Time to get in.
The two doors that led inside were sealed with police tags. His chaotic nature was telling him to just not bother and get inside, but until he could at least identify the murderer, he preferred to stay low key. Yet, thanks to his wife, he had come prepared. He turned on his AR and with a few key motions a trid projection of an old blueprint-alike map appeared as an ARO. Even so far apart - his wife had had to stay in London for a job - she had managed to give him a hand by digging some old archives in an architecture library. If it was correct, the gothic church lead to some sort of catacombs underneath and according to the map, there should be another entrance to it, entrance which could be accessed from... Deckard spotted the heavy plate securing a sewer hole down the alley adjacent to the Church and grinned at his genius... of marrying such an intelligent woman.
He approached the sewer access point, extended his hand and the old and rusty heavy plate was no match for his psychokinetic abilities. It slowly lifted off and slided to the side as a gust of putrid air escaped from the now opened hole. Deckard drew his gun to use the flashlight attached to it and leaned over the hole, rethinking about the whole idea, then shrugged. He had wasted enough time snoozing. He had to get inside.
To his pleasant surprise the sewer weren't that bad. Sure the odor was terrible, but only a thin stream of liquidish elements ran in a well conceived irrigation tunnel, the side of it pretty dry and allowing a couple human size persons to walk in a remain clean and dry. With the map on, he quickly found an old metallic door; the other entrance to the Church's catacombs. Interestingly, it didn't have any lock on, rather not anymore. Running the light source on the edges of the door and the pavements in front, it made no doubt to his investigative mind: the door had been used not long ago. He tried to open it but struggled. Whoever had managed to use it was strong... or had help, like he did. Once more he reached with his mind to feel and touch the mana energy surrounding him. With an invisible hand much stronger than his own he pulled on the door which gave way and opened up.
The catabombs had given Deckard the chills, but the map had been perfectly accurate. A stairway led up to a thin entrance way blocked by a wall of well carved stones. When he pressed on the stones a mechanism inside
made the whole wall slide. The luminescence from inside the church, created by tonight's beautiful full moon, came bathing the deep dark stairway. Deckard had made it. He turned off his flashlight, and softly stepped inside the ancient and cold building, his revolver still comfortingly held by his side.
There had been absolute and utter silence within the old Gothic church. Only the agile and quiet acrobatics of a cat burglar wannabe had disturbed it so far, so it wasn't hard for ISaint not to notice the creaking of a heavy statue of the Virgin Mary sliding to reveal a passage way hidden in the wall and the shadowy figure stepping discreetly out of it.
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Isaint looked up. Astral perception wasn't really seeing with your eyes - that was just the sense that was easiest to translate to the sensation, extinguishing most of your other senses. The building itself had an enormous aura. Full of shadows, doubts and fears but also points of lights where hope and thanks had been expressed. Funerals and baptisms, marriages and other festivities had carved their mark into the foundation. And now this crime, this sin had been committed here at the center of believe, perverting in a single instant what the building should have been.
Distracted like this Isaint missed the arrival of the other awakened person entirely. Only the prickling feeling at the nape of his neck warned him.
The impulse to draw his gun and jump into cover was strong, but he suppressed it.
Carefully he closed his eyes and the astral connection. The only sound he heard was the rushing blood in his ears and his own silent breathing. He knelt as if to look at something on the floor to glance around surreptitiously.
There. In the second alcove the darkness seemed to be even darker than in the others. He was almost certain that someone was lurking there.
With a mental command he activated the bike he had come with. Another one gave the order to stay in neutral and have the engine rev up to maximum for a moment.
The little distraction was all he needed to make a swift roll behind the altar to get out of the line of sight. Very carefully to not make any sound he eased the handgun from its holster.
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Deckard's heart pumped faster when he heard a loud engine noise as he stepped inside the Church. Instinctively he had brandished his revolver, but as the sound faded less surprisingly than it arrived, he decided that was clearly coming from outside and he should relax a bit. He stepped deeper into the church.
The full moon piercing through the small swivel window high above the choir formed a beam of light that came expanding on the stoned floor. More light was trying to fight through the beautifully restored vitrails depicting various religious acts, bathing the whole church into a low colorful and surreal light. First Deckard wondered why the hell he didn't think of using the window to come in, then he realized he would have missed the walk through the sewer and the cave/catacombs, which would have been a pity really. The real question was why was that window opened...
The silence had returned and became oppressive almost. All shadowrunners are paranoid after all, and he could tell something was up. He focused and sent a wave of Mana around him. He wasn't expecting anyone, but something seemed off. His talent at sensing life forms around him had saved his life more than once and when he sensed a metahuman located behind the Altar, he rushed to take cover behind a big column. Drek again! A cop?, highly improbable, one wouldn't be hiding; a thief? there were no artefact around somehow carryable. Then, there was the reason he was here, the murder scene. Could it be of interest to someone else?
His mind was racing to figure out his next course of action, but he wasn't here to start a fight. He cursed internally. Maybe he should have spend a bit of time to learn some of the local language or dialect. His back against the column he prepared for action in case the guy was an adrenaline junky, and whistled. The blow echoed through the Church, sure to catch his attention, and made Deckard's presence known. Hello Stranger. Wasn't expecting any date to the party... How do you want to go about it now that you're not alone? he continued.
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The voice rang eerily through the empty church. 'Well, at least they are talking and not shooting.'
"How about you step slowly into what passes for light around here and keep your hands where I can see them. Nothing personal, but considering who was here only a day before I'd like this to be a friendly talk."
Isaint's voice was gruff and he tried to imply as much as possible that he was the one who had a right to be here, even if he didn't say anything like this loud out.
While he discreetly checked the other party's movement with his little telescopic mirror he talked on:
"If you are a paparazzi I must say you are really late to the game."
When he saw that the figure came closer, he left his own cover and straightened up, the gun held in both hands, pointing to the ground.
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Late? I just dozed off for a... Hey! nevermind, I'm no paparazzi.
He took a deep breath and side stepping away from the column, hi gun held tight by his side, he slowly moved to a position facing the altar, where he could see the individual. His senses switched to Astral Perception, and he cursed, again. Though Deckard had magically pushed his reflexes to surhuman levels, he knew he could still be easily outmatched by a well trained adept, and that was what this man's aura was screaming. Of course, he had now no cover, almost as good as dead. Time to be persuasive then.
He spread his arms away from his body, his revolver hanging low in a non-threatening way. I am here for the murder, but only to find out who did it, catch him, and... well... alive will only cash me a bit more nuyens, but between you and me after those horrific crimes on the kids a bullet in the head might be good justice.
He paused a second, trying to gage the big man's reaction, still content the man's gun gun wasn't pointing at him. Equipped like you are, I take it you're no mourning family member either....
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Isaints teeth gleemed in the darkness so wide was his grin:
"Normally I'd say this is a likely story, but since I have the exact same motive to be here, I say: Well met."
Carefully, Isaint put his gun back into the quickdraw holster and lowered his hands.
"The name's Isaint. I'm a private investigator working for the Partridge family. And don't worry. If what I just read is correct, the murderer is already dead - or rather one of the infected."
The ork indicated towards the altar: "Have a look yourself."
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Relaxing his tensed up body, Deckard offered the man his hand. Mine is Rick Deckard, occult investigator... or Bounty Hunter, which ever you prefer, I'm licensed for both really.
Deckard walked toward the Altar. He opened his greatcoat and extended a hand mid-air. A blade, coming from behind ISaint came flying into his hand and he replaced it inside the coat. Looking at ISaint, he apologetically added: Sorry! had to be careful...
He looked at the blood and the disturbing scene the murderer had made, and once again turned toward ISaint.
It should be no doubt to you that I'm well versed in the art of Magic. I've developed a special talent that sometimes allow me to recreate a past scene as if I was there. It can get confusing and hard to interpret, but sometimes it gets pretty clear and graphic. The only thing is, I don't know how long it's gonna take me, so I'll appreciate if you bare with me for a minute or two...
Deckard placed his hand on the altar and closed his eyes. WIthin a few seconds, his head is jerked back, his eyes still closed though, as he is flooded with emotions and imageries.
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Isaint shook the man's hand but rose an eyebrow at the floating knife. Oh well.
"Same here. Usually I work as bodyguard, but sometimes you are to late or have to be a bit pro-active to ensure security for your clients."
As Deckard went to the altar he said:
"Psychometrie, eh? I visited a guest lecture on that in Paris. Very neat."
He paused. This could be unexpectedly helpful - if the man was what he said he was. 'But I'll only find that out if I stick around. Trust but verify.'
"I'd very much like to here what you find out."
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Fear was the first emotion that came flooding Deckard's brain. The sensation of it was unsettling, even more when imageries of a young boy fighting desperately against a grip much too strong for him came with it. Pain, despair, resignation, more pain, death. Deckard was horrified but so was the price to pay for more information. The altar had lived everything, the torture and passing of the boy, but also the vile act of his aggressor. Flashes of sceneries, the gruesome dissection of the boy's entrails, the power of his murderer... and the disgusting part: the thrill, the pleasure, the satisfaction. A thirst being quenched. The event was fresh and thus much more vivid and clear than usual, to Deckard's detriment. Then came the magic, a least the feeling of its power. The murderer had fed on its victim but more terribly, used the dying being to perform some sort of rituals. More images flooded his mind.
Deckard's hold on the altar was disrupted in a violent action. Some instinctive action; his body telling him he had enough. The mage felt gagging reflexes kicking in as the nauseous feeling intensify, but he managed with some breathing to keep everything in place.
He turned toward ISaint, somehow relieved to see the big man had honored his word to stick around.
I've seen him. I know what he looks like. He paused, gathering his own thoughts and trying to make senses of what he felt and perceived, and trying to get his heart palpitations to slow down.
I can find him, but I believe I will need your help. You saw it earlier, we're dealing with an infected... but worst I believe we're dealing with blood magic. This creature is powerful. And thirsty for more victims.
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Isaint nodded with a grim expression on his face:
"Agreed and I appreciate your cooperation. I suggest we leave here and meet up at my hotel. We can compare notes there. And I need fresh air.
By the way: How did you get in here? I didn't see any marks on the window and the doors were all sealed tight."
...
A short while later in a non-describt business hotel, Isaint gave his guest the only chair while he sat on the bed. With a mental command an AR map of Europe unfolded around them.
"As far as I could find out, the first attack happened near Lyon, France. Victim was a 14 year old altar boy named Luc Chasseur. Police declared it to be a critter attack, since the boy was eviscerated outside a little forest chapel.
The second one was Oliver Partridge, 13 year old, near Geneve, Switzerland. Again a wild animal was blamed. This time it happened next to a grave yard. The boy was just cycling back from soccer training.
The third one was Marcus Brehm, 15, near Basel, also Switzerland. Worked part-time for a landscaper. The real murder site hasn't been found yet, what remained of the boy was fed into a wood chipper. But I'd guess it was close to a church again.
The fourth happened in Arlon, Belgium. Took me a while to find that one. The victim was a black boy named George N'banwe, 14. His death was attributed to a hate crime of some neo-nazis. He was found in a mosque, surrounded by swastikas drawn in his own blood.
And the fifth, well you've seen that one for yourself.
I managed to get a look at the sites of Partridge and N'banwe. Both times the astral signature had been thoroughly erased. As far as I could infer, all murders happened in the late evening or at night.
It also seems as if whoever did this is getting bolder. The first attacks were very carefully disguised. He or she is getting more blatant but keeps a schedule: Every week from Saturday to Sunday, a boy around 14 is murdered and eviscerated.
You say he used a knife for a blood ritual - an Athame. That would fit the last two murders. Before that the reports show very clearly that claws and teeth were used - or a mechanic equivalent. DNA testing was inconclusive - resp. they didn't find any foreign one.
I do have a theory, but I'd like to hear what you found so far."
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By the way: How did you get in here? I didn't see any marks on the window and the doors were all sealed tight."
I guess you can call it the backdoor, he said pointing at the stairs to the catacombs. It leads to the sewer system, with an entrance just outside in the alley. Can go back this way if you want.
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A short while later in a non-described business hotel.
Deckard took the chair offered by ISaint and looked with great care at the ARO display that popped up out of nowhere.
Hat off for putting those together. I was hired after N'banwe' murder. Apparently, some people in the government don't want the hassle of explaining to the populace a magically active blood sucking monster is at large about to spread around your kid's insides. I got tipped of the disappearance of a boy here and made my way as fast as I could. My first psychometry in Arlon showed me gruesome details of the murder, but I couldn't get a face and like you mentioned the Astral Signature was erased.
My theory if I add the data you've collected: A disturbed mage got infected, Vampire or Banshee, I'd say. Weak at first, he fed of his victims to gain back strength and power, then he moved on to blood rituals. Why he picked kids is beyond me, but he's in a quest for power and is probably close to being insane.
Now that Altar was a little more 'generous' with details. I've got a face ISaint, and a faint astral print. Do you realise what that means for a talented conjurer like me?
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"Hopefully, that you can call up a task spirit to search for that fragger and give us an address. Putting a bullet in his brain from 500m out would than be my next step.
Don't look like that. I would subdue him if I could, but infected like vampires just can't be knocked out, their regeneration is to strong...
But back to the theory: Yes, that's what I figured too. Only, I'm pretty sure its a woman or someone who identifies as such. Ever heard of the Medea Complex? It's a psychological disorder where a mother has a death wish for her offspring or in this case any children who remind her of her own, usually to get revenge against the father.
As usual in such situations there is a history of abuse. I'm pretty sure she or he made contact with a blood spirit who fed on the negative emotions.
If we come face to face with the perp, you can expect them to see in us the very thing they rebelled against in the first place.
So we need to be very, very careful indeed if we don't want to have our blood boiled from our pores", Isaint replied
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Deckard looked quietly at ISaint for a short second or two.
I've known you for less than half hour, but I must say - I don't say that often, much less to men - I'm impressed. Never heard of the Madea Complex. But that makes a lot of senses, outside of....
He closed his eyes and cocked his head slightly to the side trying to bring back to his memory the images he'd seen in his Psychometric visions.
... well, with that angle in mind, she could... she has a rather rough looking face, but yeah, that murderer could be a she...
And I agree I'd rather have a partner on this. Have you dealt with Blood Magic before? This shit is scary and abnormal. And trust me, when a guy who can call upon and speak with ghosts and elemental beings tell you something is freaky, well, it's freaky. And that's being oblivious to the main reason we've been brought here: we're dealing with an Infected. The only one I encountered was a Wendigo. That monster actually convinced one of my teammate to let it eat him!! They're dangerous. But enough said.
Let's see if one of my friend can find where this murderer is hiding.
Deckard made himself more comfortable on the chair and his body went limp as his soul entered the Astral Plane, where a being of light, slight resembling a humanoid form with his aura bursting with power, was waiting for him.
Greeting, my friend... thoughts Deckard
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"I've encountered a few different things, infected included. Ghouls for the most part - the sane ones usually aren't much trouble, while the insane ones... well someone has to do something. Also an ugly vampire case - came very close to end as a snack there.
Good for you to survive against a Wendigo. I hear those are mean sorcerers.
Regarding bloodspirits... no, not yet. All I know is second hand from a chummer I went with to hunt Shedim. But there is a first for anything. So go ahead. The sooner we get on track the greater the chance we catch whoever did this before they cross borders again."
Isaint watched on fascinated - with his astral sight in place - as Deckard began his spirit communion. He had to suppress a shudder. To closely was the resemblance to what he saw in that hospital in Prague when those perverted spirits had flocked towards the corpses...
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Deckard came back in his body, his eyes wide opened. He looked at his bag, reach for something inside, and pull out a small plastic bag, which he opened.
He picked from it a few gummy bears that he shoved in his mouth. Still chewing he presented the bag to ISaint and added:
This can take some time, why don't tell me a bit more about you. Shedim, Ghouls, Vampires, magic theories, you don't mess around.
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Isaint thought for a moment, than took a handful of gummy bears himself.
"As you wish. I got my training with the KSK - Kommando Spezial Kräfte - in the ADL. Decided shortly afterwards that the private sector would be more lucrative. Made a few unprofessional decisions while working as a bodyguard that landed me ultimately in intensive care.
That's when my mentor found me. St. George the dragon slayer. Turned my life around and gave me a purpose again.
Got myself back on my feet and started as a free lancer. Turns out that you need my kind of talents a lot more if your opponents are super humanly fast or tough - and that happens to be what the infected are by and large.
Some time later I was recruited into a team - shadow runners - who specialized in the same thing: Hunting horrors.
Nex, Carnifex and Interfice. Nex was the leader, gorgeous elven lady and a very accomplished street sam. Carnifex was a human shaman. He is the one who told me about blood spirits. Interfice was the dwarven decker, teached me a few things about computers and matrix searches.
They had specialized in finding and eliminating predators. I was hired as a sharp shooter.
In our first mission together we rooted out a bunch of feral ghouls - easy job in retrospect, but I was as nervous as a virgin before her wedding night. They have no special powers beyond being able to perceive you in absolute darkness and being slightly tougher than a normal human.
There followed a few other gigs until we were hired to hunt down a serial killing vampire. Turned out to be an unfortunate teen that got a bit more goth than he expected. Really, no sophistication - only raw speed and strength. And regeneration. That is the crux with those infected, you can't subdue them, you have to kill them, or the next second they are up and kicking again. Destroy the brain or the spine - that's the only solution if you don't want to fiddle around with stakes and UV-lamps. Or be a mage with some killer spell - that works too.
That boy had created himself some kind of blood doll collection of all the girls he liked in school, but rejected him. Most where to far gone to really ever come back. Had to nail the kid with before he could kill Interfice. Took of the dwarf's ear actually, but got one in the kid's head.
I didn't sleep well for a few weeks after that. Nex helped me deal with that.
It was three months later that I had my run in with Shedim. We got hired to investigate rumors of a ghoul infestation beneath a children's hospital in Prague.
Carnifex noticed immediately that something was wrong with the place.
To make a long story short, a Master Shedim had taken over the head chirurg of the clinic.
He was killing kids in his care and filled them with Shedim. It ended with us having to fight our way out of the morgue. That was the worst day in my life - worse than when I was shot. And as if that wasn't enough, Nex hesitated at a critical moment and was killed. Than it was my turn and it's only due to the intervention of my patron, that I found the strength to shoot her body, before the spirit inside could use it as a weapon against us. Carnifex made us run out before he leveled the whole building with his bound earth elementals.
Since than I've been working on and off as investigator for cases like this one. Some things just can't be tolerated in this world."
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Still chewing on the gummy bears, Deckard listen with attention to ISaint story.
Whao, you've seen some crazy drek too. Shedim hunting? I know of better ways to spend your week-end!.
But we both have at least some experience with infected and that's going to prove to be useful. I'm glad you're here. I'm usually the first to run into danger, but I intend on keeping it as safe as possible this time....
He paused, his thoughts clearly somewhere else. When his attention came back, he smiled at ISaint, willing to share where he went:
You see, my wife is waiting for me in London and I don't intend on letting a crazy creature keep me in those european cities for too long, no matter how pretty they are.
He grabbed his comlink and punched a few keys, clearly oblivious he could have been much faster with Trodes. The commlink projected a trid image of a brunette woman. She had a small frame and fair skin but intense green eyes. She was attractive but would not win any modelling contest. The way Deckard was admire it was telling of how much he was in love with this women.
Her name is Cora, she an Matrix wizard. Really she can do marvellous thing with computers and all. I have no clue how she does it, nor what she does, really, but her attunement with the Matrix is quite similar to how I am attuned to the Gaia Sphere. Quite admirable.
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Isaint couldn't help but smile at this display of genuine love. "Seems like you hit the jackpot then. Because I'm in the business of bringing people back alive to their families. Cora must be a very lucky woman to have you."
Isaint hesitated for a moment than made a snap decision:
"I have to admit I'm a bit paranoid where my real persona is concerned. I'm pretty good at changing my face through my abilities.
But I have a feeling we'll need to cooperate fully and trust each other if we are to fight this monster - since it's very likely we'll face something perfectly capable of manipulating others or even changing it's appearance.
So I'll extend to you something I don't do often:
I'll tell you my name, my real name that is, for I believe that names have power.
Isaint or rather Ice Saint refers to one of the five Icy Saints - weather saints people prayed to to protect their harvest and avert famine.
My real name is Pankratius.
So if you are unsure about whether it's me you are facing, you can ask me for my real name. I'll do the same with the name of your wife."
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Deckard extended his hand to ISaint.
I appreciate the trust. You can count on me to keep it safe. A man of faith, respectable. Difficult in our field of work, but respectable.
Suddenly Deckard cocked his head as if someone was speaking in his ear. HIs eyes then stared back at ISaint:
She's at the train station! We can't let get away!
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Isaint was on his feat immediately.
"Get your bike ready, this might be our only chance before she leaves for yet another country."
Without waiting, Isaint had slung his backpack over his shoulder and was running out of the room.
Reaching the front, his bike was already waiting for him - called by DNI.
While he was racing through the deserted nightly streets he first looked at what trains were going next.
Only two options.
He called Rick:
<<There are two trains: One overnighter to Paris arrives within the next half hour and a commuter train heading over the border in about a quarter of an hour. I'll try to find her. Be ready to give me some magic back up if she starts to sling blood magic against me. If it comes to it, I'll try to keep her attention on me.>>
The station came into view. It was an old one, made with marble and old glass windows. Only four tracks lay behind with one being a terminal. So far after midnight there probably weren't a lot of people around, but he didn't pull out his rifle. If it came to it, he was able to assemble it in three seconds - but that would probably cause some severe backlash from security - better to keep that in reserve. If it came to it, his Warhawk would have to do the trick with hand loaded Ex-Ex ammunition.
He didn't wait for the bike to stop, but jumped off, stumbling towards the entrance as the autopilot began to slow down and searched for a parking spot.
'Showtime'
Isaint entered the building.
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I rented a Car, left my bike in London. Let's catch her before she runs off.
The small electric Renault car wasn't made for speed, but in the tiny street, that was plenty enough.
<<There are two trains: One overnighter to Paris arrives within the next half hour and a commuter train heading over the border in about a quarter of an hour. I'll try to find her. Be ready to give me some magic back up if she starts to sling blood magic against me. If it comes to it, I'll try to keep her attention on me.>>
You take the heat, I watch you r back, sounds like a plan to me.
When Deckard arrived, ISaint was already about to enter the building. They had less than 10 min before the next train would enter the station. They had to hurry. Deckard followed ISaint inside the station, looking as calm as he could pretend to be. He had to admit, though small, the antique look made the station quite an eye sight. He particularly liked the marble.
The sight didn't last long however as the Mage switched his perception to the Astral world. He looked at each travelers to see if they were Awaken or had some sort of Magic in them, but nothing.
He approached the Human looking Ork: Can't see her here. Want to check the tracks?
#26
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Isaint looked around, frowning: "Where did your spirit spot her? We can try the tracks, but I have a feeling she'll keep hidden somewhere until the last minute to enter the train. End or beginning of the train most likely where the service entrances are.
There is nothing to it, we'll have to split up. I'll take the north side. If you find her do not engage, observe and try to follow her unobtrusively. I'll do the same.
Damn, a decent decker would be worth gold right now. I really need to get me one of those agents one of these days."
Isaint nodded towards Rick and ran off to the steps leading down the tunnel back to track 4 where in less than five minutes a commuter train would arrive to take the wageslaves over the border at this ungodly hour.
Passing a few smokers who had also acquired steaming paper cups of Soycaf, he hurried on.
Infected had troubles passing for human in daylight, but at this hour everyone was bundled up against the cold and looked gray and ill.
Isaint opened his third eye to look around - no trace of any magic and the background count was minimal - mostly boredom and the ever so slight annoyance about missed or late trains.
Isaint reached the end of the platform and looked around. There was a small closet for tools and cleaning supplies he guessed. A discreet press of the handle confirmed it to be locked.
The AR display announced that the train was now imminent and Isaint could already see the faint lights in the early mists getting brighter by the second.
And still he didn't see her.
<<Rick, do you have a visual? Unless she has extraordinary masking abilities, she isn't at my end. Look for anyone not drinking Soycaf or eating something. The infected have trouble keeping normal food down.>>
-
The Astral World was a marvel on its own. Feelings and emotions became substance, auras turned tangible. Deckard had always felt privileged to not only be able to perceive it but fully project into it and forgo all limitation of the human body. Yet the human body was definitely the best medium in the meat world, and he focused on his Astral perception to spot their target.
Their was a gathering of strong emotions at the end of the platform. Deckard approached it. He noticed four beings dispersing away from another one, almost at the edge of the platform. The Aura of that last one was powerful and... twisted... and somehow familiar. That was her, as close as he could remember from his Psychometric vision.
He revert to his normal sight to notice ISaint's AR message via his contacts image link. He lifted up his gloved hand and activated his subvocal mic when he felt a strong shove on his shoulder. He quickly realized that being solely focused on his target, he had ignored the four 'kids' walking by him. 'Punks' was more appropriate of a term.
The one that bumped into him started shouting in a foreign language: Et ta race, r'garde ou tu vas, du con. Deckard didn't have the time to answer about his ignorance of the language used than another shove on the back pushed him forward.
His eyes focused again on the serial killer woman, half a platform away. Wrapped in heavy clothes, he met her gaze and could picture a grin hidden behind the scarf.
<<Platform B. Visual. Now would be nice. >> The loud horn from the incoming train warned everyone to be careful and ready.
-
Isaint started to sprint at this message. Suddenly, his sixth sense exploded - his hand crept for his gun even while he jumped over a toppled waste basket. He cleared a coffee dispenser and now had a clear view to the end of the platform.
What he saw made him redouble his efforts - Rick was in deadly peril and he didn't even seem to notice.
Three punks had encircled him and kept him occupied while a fourth just got ready to push him onto the tracks for the oncoming train. On some unconscious level Isaint was impressed by this instinctual pack behavior.
"RICK! Behind you!"
He wasn't sure if the mage had heard him - the blaring of the train's horn almost droned him out.
Without another thought, Isaint let go of the Savalette and instead reached for the Warhawk. With a lightning fast motion, he brought the gun up while a mental command spun the chamber in position.
The gunshot was deafening even above the roar of the train. The heavy gel round impacted on the sneak attacker and drove him to the ground.
Shooting in full run on a snowy train platform with a high caliber weapon wasn't the smartest thing to do as Isaint learned the very next second. He stumbled, but managed to turn it into a roll.
But the shot was enough for the punks to attack in earnest now.
-
Deckard wasn't a Combat mage, but punks, he could handle. With unnatural reflexes, he crossed his arms in front of his body with each hand facing at one of his young assailant by his sides. A wave of kinetic energy slammed them and both were send tumbling on the ground. The first kid attempted a strong punch that almost connected but only grazed the tip of the magician's chin. The ganger's feet suddenly were off the floor and it wasn't long before he was floating a good foot in the air, a surprised and incredulous expression on his face.
Keeping a hand raised mid air palm up, as to sustain his spell, Deckard could see for the first time the youngster that was downed by ISaint. That was what was called teamwork. The train arrived on the tracks. The doors opened and a female automated voice announced : Gare de Leuven, deux minutes d'arrêt. Deckard looked at ISaint to point to him the target but the look on his face was worrisome, and the way the handful of remaining passengers were running away in total panic.
When he looked back in the direction of the woman, a spirit was finishing materializing in an agonizing howl. A tall and big skeleton covered in raw and sore covered muscles came to life. Well ain't you ugly!... Deckard whispered.
-
Isaint had come up in a crouch just in time to see the end of the materialization. But his focus was on the woman - the monster.
Fighting spirits was like fighting the symptoms of a disease and the solution was the same: Kill the cause.
A mental command had turned the chamber two instances further. He aimed at her and pulled the trigger.
Again the heavy gun roared and sent a hand loaded armor piercing discarding sabot round towards the creatures head.
-
ISaint was pretty sure of his shot, her brain should have exploded in the gorest of fashion, adequate for her Blood beliefs. Yet it seemed the bullet never reached its target. Either magically deflected or a bad shot, all ISaint could see is the blur of the woman who jumped through the open train door at an inhuman speed, and disappeared inside.
Deckard drew his beloved gun from his coat as the horror creature started to advance toward them with a disturbing confidence. He sarcastically mention to ISaint:
Sure, leave it to Deckard to handle the Bloody Thing!
He released the youngster from his telekinetic hold and simply announced: Take you friends and run. Far.
Deckard could feel the reassuring presence of a silver coin he always carried in his pocket. Through this token, he was able to create Mana barrier, that could prove quite useful right now!
He extended his hand and cast the spell to put a mana wall in between the creature and everyone else.
To ISaint, he added: I mean it, go get her, Champion. We can't let her go away
-
"We won't."
Isaint was on his feet and jumped into the nearest open carriage door. But instead of running towards the creature, he took half a second to look around. With a quick step he went to the side of the train and pulled the emergency break. Immediately a ringing started and a voice came from a speaker: "Emergency system triggered - automated halt engaged, please state the nature of the emergency."
"Murderous vampire on board - evacuate."
Numerous passengers looked on in stunned confusion as for the scene that was playing out outside as at the same time Isaint had begun to sprint down the isle, gun in hand, looking for his target.
Meanwhile the blood spirit hat fully manifested. Deckard guessed it to be a rating 6 at the very least. A redish light coalesced around its unnatural, visceral form and suddenly the people in the train closest to the beast began screaming. Bloody tears began to appear everywhere on their faces and those who hadn't closed their eyes from sheer pain now had pure red eyeballs as blood began to fill them from the inside.
[spoiler]
Hemorrhage power:
Hemorrhage (http://orokos.com/roll/381703): 12d6t5 5
Average Joe resists with 6 dice (STR+WIL)
Hemorrhage resist (http://orokos.com/roll/381704): 6d6t5 4
Wow, that could have been a lot worse
Hemorrhage resist (http://orokos.com/roll/381705): 11d6t5 3
Typically,
[/spoiler]
Isaint stumbled as his body was wrecked with pain and a red veil was pulled across his vision. Yet he ran on towards the target
-
Deckard was keeping the Spirit at bay with his Mana Barrier but he knew it wouldn't last long before the monstrous form pass through. He had hoped for the train to depart and take all the passengers away from the platform and was surprised to hear the emergency brake alert and the passengers starting to pour out of the train, with the Spirit almost in reach of a few innocent souls.
Then the horror started. He could feel the spirit magical power emanate from it and almost as a reflexe he lifted his own magic as a protection. But he saw first hand what was happening to the passenger exiting the train. His fear had come true, this spirit was a Great Form Spirit, capable of killing or severely hurted anyone around him in no time. His gun, no matter how powerful, could only do minimal damage.
The Blood spirit punched through the Mana Barrier as Deckard simply dropped it. There was only one thing to do he could think of at this time and he knew it was gonna hurt. He had never attempted it but he had to tap into his abilities.
His focus went to the old leather wrist band he was wearing on his left arm. The old fetish was what allowed him to project the kinetic force he had used an instant ago against two of his assailant. Now was time to see how much energy he could gather.
As the beast approached him with a deadly look on his deformed face, Deckard took a step back a deep breath as he tried to connect with the Mana he was sensing around him and with a loud scream he unleashed a powerful blast of magically created kinetic energy at the Spirit. Where most of time he had used that spell, it was barely visible, this time was different. Streaks of light surrounded him, and the air crackled almost like lightning was forming around. Deep inside him he felt this energy growing and running through his body and his arm and through the fetish bracelet. There was no being subtle. The clout was focused and hit the Spirit square in its center mass. It got ejected by the force of the shock and before it got to fell off the platform and onto the opposite tracks it simply disintegrated back into its Plane.
The light around him disappeared And Deckard stood still in his attack stance, his left hand still pointed at where the spirit previously stood, his other hand holding his revolver. His breathing was heavy as he was almost terrified by his own power. The crowd kept fleeing and Deckard turned toward the opened door, hoping ISaint move to stop the train had been the right one.
[spoiler]
Force 13 Clout spell
Clout attack (http://orokos.com/roll/384927): 16d6t5 5
Edge reroll (http://orokos.com/roll/384935): 10d6t5 3
Total 8 successes
Spirit Dodge (http://orokos.com/roll/384929): 12d6t5 3 + Spirit Dodge Magic (http://orokos.com/roll/384931): 6d6t5 2
Total 5 successes
Total 3 Net Hits
Spirit resistance (http://orokos.com/roll/384937): 6d6t5 2
Total Damage 14 Stun
Drain resistance vs DR 8 (http://orokos.com/roll/384938): 15d6t5 8 !!Holy Molly
[/spoiler]
-
For the moment, Isaint's vision was blocked by the people running from the train. Only a few now remained in their seats - panic in their eyes.
It came as a complete surprise to him that the train started moving again - without closing its doors.
It took him half a moment to realize that the creature had entered the train just behind the train operators cabin.
'Mind magic. Fuck.'
The display of raw magical power outside made him stumble again even as the blood spirit was violently disrupted.
"DECKARD, get in here, quick!"
The creature already had already one person under control it seemed. He couldn't let her get more.
With iron determination he walked on in the steadily accelerating train, his gun trained towards the front where somewhere out of sight his prey was waiting.
-
He first thought it was his mind playing trick after unleashing so much Mana, but no, it was real, the train was moving again.
He pushed through the fleeing passengers, trying to make his way against the flow. Only a couple meters separated Deckard from the train, but he thought for a second he would not be able to make it.
At the right time though, the door to the train car emptied and Deckard jumped inside. The entrance was nothing graceful, heavily landing and smashing himself against the opposite door. He quickly got up on his feet though, trying to keep his pride intact.
I'm right behind, ISaint.
He automatically extended his magic senses to protect himself and ISaint against potentially harmful magic that could come their way. He could see the fear on the remaining passengers' faces.
I'm sure she influenced those kids who just attacked me. He was wary any of the poor souls that remained in the train could very well become a threat if that creature could indeed control other's mind so well.
He didn't speak about how he disrupted the Great Form Spirit yet, but was dying to, still high from the experience. More importantly he couldn't wait to tell his wife about it, she would be so impressed.
-
Isaint held his position until Deckard had caught up to him. "NIce fireworks - be prepared to face a mob of people prepared to throw us from the moving train - that's what I'd do with this situation."
The train was still accelerating - way faster than a normal passenger train was supposed to go.
"We have to end this fast - at this rate we'll go off the rails soon. If you have a stun ball now's the time to use it indiscriminately. I hesitate to use a flash bang, but I will if I have to."
-
I'm afraid the only balls I have are in my pants.
He switched to astral perception gave a good look at the remaining passengers. If the creature had control f their mind, ISaint and him would indeed be in deep trouble. Upon inspecting a couple of them they had indeed a spell lingering over them.
Drek!
He holstered his gun and reached inside his bag to pulled a pair of thin goggles, that he hastily put over his eyes. ... Unless we go where no one would follow. Deckard hinted, pointing at the ceiling.
I know this is gonna sound crazy, but we can reach her from the outside of the train and no one will get hurt inside. Controlled or not they'll have no way to follow.
He touched ISaint on the arm and the Human looking Ork could feel Magic running through him. (F6 Gecko Crawl on iSaint and Himself, Sustained)
Let's go for a ride!
#40
-
Isaint felt the power flow through him and grinned. "I'm right behind you."
Bringing his now sticky gloved hand to the top of the open door, he pulled himself up and on top of the train. While he did so he sent Rick a message to avoid screaming against the rushing wind
<<I'll go through the operators cabin and try to stop the train. I'll give you a signal. Use your sure grip to attack when everyone falls down from the emergency break. This will likely be our only chance to do this without collateral damage>>
With that Isaint moved pressed down on the roof. He was aware that doing this was incredibly dangerous considering the high voltage wires overhead could arc into him at any second. His hope was that the electrical insulation of his armor would keep him from getting flash fried.
We made sure Rick was in position, before he pulled out his gun, aimed for a second an shot down in a shallow angle the glass, hopefully only shattering it without hurting or destroying anyone or anything.
Without hesitation he swung himself inside in a shower of safety glass.
-
ISaint made his heroic entrance in the small train control room. As he landed, he found himself nose to nose with who certainly was the conductor, now a pale cadaver. His life sucked away through some deep incisions on the man's jugular. More to it, large cuts on the man's wrists was letting out whatever blood he still had inside him.
He felt a hand grab him, and was already turning his gun toward it, when he heard this eerie voice saying "Puny annoying humans" and all he could see was a dark mist disappearing through the cabin door.
Deckard had crawled back almost inside the car of the train through the last wide opened door, braced and waiting for iSaint's signal and the hard break. He cursed out loud however when he saw a black mist coming out of the control cabin. Knowing the nature of their target, it complicated things greatly.
#43
-
'Fucking Vampires'
Instead of firing, he turned around to see the instrument board smashed - for a moment he wanted to panic until he remembered that all trains still had to have by law a mechanical break switch - really, it had to be harder to keep the train going than stopping it. A moment of looking around revealed a button behind safety glass. Without a moments hesitation he hammered his fist into it.
A loud klaxon sounded as the emergency breaks engaged - and not a moment to soon: As soon as Deckard had entered the train all remaining passengers in the front part had rissen from their seats with hatred in their eyes. The sudden deceleration took them by surprise and every last one of them tumbled to the ground while Deckard stood firm through his gecko spell.
The black mist wasn't moving fast, especially not with the wind rushing through the open doors. Without any support and being as heavy as the surrounding air physics took over and squashed it easily against the front wall beside the cabin door.
Rick could see how it began to coalesce once more. Whatever he wanted to do, now was his chance
[spoiler]
Monster uses complex action to shift back out of mist shape.
Mob mind spell used on passengers
[/spoiler]
-
Behind him a handful of people were rushing to stand up and get their hands on him, whilst ahead of him the dark mist started to shape and transform into a more solid and humanoid form.
He, for obvious reasons, never liked the well know concept, at least in the Shadows, of "Shooting the Mage First". But he knew that the most efficient way to stop the spell the passenger were under was to simply and quickly dispose of the caster.
The "Women" was a child killer - blood magic practitioner Vampire. Simply Evil. He drew his revolver and pointed it at the form. His moral was yet fighting his common sense. He was no judge, and yet judgement had been passed. His face contorted in a mix of disgust, fear and pity.
The form turned back solid.
He shot.
The powerful shot blasted a hole in the woman's chest and as the train decelerated the body sled along the wall of the cabin, smearing it with a trail of blood.
#45
-
But even as he looked, the hole began to close again and pale flesh began to knit itself over the wound.
Under the greasy hair a malicious grin had appeared with yellowing teeth and a pair of too sharp canines.
Than the thing's head exploded.
Isaint had stepped out of the cabin and unleashed a burst of bullets from less than one meter into the momentarily unmoving head of the thing.
Grey brain matter, bone fragments and a surprising amount of blood splattered on the walls and seats.
"Nice shot, but always aim for the head with these suckers. Only spine and brain reliably won't regenerate."
Around them the commuters got up with frightened and confused looks on their faces. Someone screamed and from afar sirens could be heard.
The train had stopped just outside the town and about 200 meters away from a sharpish curve.
"I hope you have a licence for that thing. Just because we stopped a lunatic vampire and saved a train full of people doesn't mean the cops won't arrest us if they can."
-
"I hope you have a licence for that thing. Just because we stopped a lunatic vampire and saved a train full of people doesn't mean the cops won't arrest us if they can."
If that thing you're talking about is this handsome face, he said pointing at himself, well it didn't come under government control. I have one for my gun, though. And technically I was legally hunting down that murderer... but this being said, I'd rather get the hell out of here and avoid any Police questioning. The French border isn't too far, or we get to the motorway and hitch a ride back to the previous town. I'd rather stay in the shadow, if you know what I mean.
Deckard looked down at the headless corpse. In a way he was relieved to know she would no longer kill those innocent kids. But he felt like he wanted to have known more about her motives... when he caught something sticking out of the corpse. He extended his hand and the object came flying into his gloved hand. A dagger. The one used as the murder weapon.
The route Deckard was going to take was gruesome, and he knew it was going to be challenging. He looked at ISaint then closed his eyes to fully focus on his psychometric talents.
A minute later he opened his eyes again as the dagger dropped on the floor, and Deckard ran out of the train and a few meters away were he vomited over a low bush. Catching his breath and gathering his thought and feelings,
She... She was a pawn... worst is coming...
-
"You tell me?" Isaint had used the time to inspect the downed monster's other possessions. Beside a keycard with no logo, a commlink, some stuff he had recognized as reagents he held up a piece of crudely cured leather - leather that looked like it was made from human skin.
Written or rather tattooed in a mixture of ash and blood was a Latin text.
"As far as I can translate, it's the shopping list for a larger ritual... and it talks about seven servants or slaves to prepare the return of something.
I think we should get out of here - now."
With that, Isaint grabbed Rick and dragged him from the train. "My bike will be here in about two minutes. Keep moving, the police can't be far out either."