[Poindexter]

Something isn't right with Sam. He keeps up the same pace and he keeps his back straight, but with every step through the blinding snow, he feels worse and worse. Whatever it is, it will pass. I'll be fine. But after another ten minutes of walking, he feels like a bag of hot dog shit. Despite the fact that he can feel the cold winter air seeping in through the tear in his jacket, he's drenched in sweat and actually enjoys the cool breeze on his ribs. As long as he can make it back to camp and get a good night's sleep he'll be fine. Or at least, he hopes. A dark voice in the back of his head wonders, What if the nanites are doing this to you, because you haven't been drinking beer? From behind, he feels Ace slip the burner back into his pocket and the mere sensation of being touched by another person almost makes him wretch. A few seconds later, the chromed human speaks to him, the sound of his words, irritating the inner ear.

"Where'd you leave them?"

He takes a deep breath and speaks slowly and evenly as he answers. He'll be damned if he's gonna let on that just the act of walking makes him wanna vomit his boots out. "One at the safehouse, and another at each stop we've made since then."

"Do the others know?  If not, we need to tell them."

Just keeping one foot in front of the other, Sam answers. "I suggested the idea to Ohanzee and Chino. They both advised against it. I did it anyway. I plan on telling the others when we return." He turns to look at Ohanzee for a moment as he continues. "Sorry, Hanzee. It just felt like the right move."

-------------------------

Soon, Sam's vision is getting blurry. He can see the camp ahead of them, but he kind of doesn't care. His fingers and toes are all tingly. I haven't seen a butterfly in a long time. The sweat has finally stopped pouring out of him, but that may be cause his pores are frozen shut with the stuff. Is snow supposed to wave like that? The massive troll is feeling positively groovy. He vaguely notices that there's a big fire, but whatever. Hey, there's Chino!!! But that's not his real name. Sam begins staggering toward him, intending on giving him a big hug. Only getting a step or two before losing his balance and stopping, he tries to point at Chino, but only manages to sort of twitch his right arm in the general direction before bellowing out, "YOU'RE A TRID STAR, KID!" and collapsing onto all fours in the snow.

He remembers tasting his boots in the back of his throat before everything goes dark.

[Zweiblumen]

Against his advice, the team all gather around the fallen giant to help move him towards the fire.  Doc tsks quietly to himself as they all fuss over their fallen comrade.  He goes through the diagnostics and readout from the medkit and biomonitors.  His face turns ashen as he's reading the results.

In an authoritative tone Doc sets forth the rules, "Okay, no more contact with the patient.  He's contracted Ghilani Moneriviridae, otherwise known as HMHVV Strain II.  While highly contagious, it does need to be injected.  So, open wounds near him are a problem, as is ingesting his vomit, fecal mater, sweat, saliva or any other bodily fluids."
He looks at Ohanzee and Katsina and continues, "There is very little technology can do to help him.  And little I can do other than monitor his health, make him comfortable and try to keep him as healthy as possible so his own body, and possibly the nanites, can fight the infection.  If either of you have anything that can bolster his body and or mind, or better yet specifically fighting diseases it would give him a fighting chance."  Addressing the rest of the team once more, "Survival rates are extremely low, but Sam is extremely tough.  If he does survive, he'll drop into a coma and devlop Jarka’s Syndrome within the next 20 hours.  Those with this syndrome are referred to as fomóraig."

Doc finishes his diagnosis and report of the patient and returns to being a team member, obviously stricken by the news of prognosis.  He looks worryingly at Sam as the Russian's body struggles to fight off the disease knowing there is nothing more he can do for him.

[Zweiblumen]

As Doc continues to monitor Sam's condition he becomes more and more worried.  Sam's immune system appears to be compromised.  Running some more checks, Doc sees that this is likely from receiving immune-suppression treatments for recent cybersurgery or a bio-genetic procedure.  Not only will Sam have a hard time fighting the retrovirus, but he'll be even more susceptible to normal things like bronchitis and pneumonia.  The decker-cum-docter checks the supplies of their various medkits hoping to find something that can help boost his companions chances of winning this personal battle.

[Tecumseh]

Katsina rushes forward to check on Sam. She agrees with Ohanzee that moving him by the fire would probably be best for Sam, plus it will give Doc some more light to work with. She hooks a hand under one of Sam's armpits while Ace does the same. Using her magically boosted strength, she heaves and lifts his shoulders off the ground just enough to drag him the final distance to the fire.

She has a flat, even look on her face while Doc delivers his prognosis and warns everyone to stay back. "I can be your hands," she says. "I'm not at risk for infection. Further infection."

Internally, her thoughts are at war with themselves. Infection is not a death sentence, but would it be better to be dead? Personally, she regrets her condition; she wants to be a giver, not a taker. But could she make that judgement for another? Would Sam even know the answer, were he in any condition to contemplate it and answer?

"I don't have anything that will help," she says ruefully.

[Tecumseh]

Katsina studies Sam's astral form. She can see the Infection marching through his veins, advancing like soldiers sweeping through peasants. The nanites try to beat the Infection back but are overwhelmed.

"I'm going to try something drastic," Katsina says. "I can try to suck it out like snake venom."

Doc raises a finger to object, knowing that the sucking snake venom was a myth busted over a hundred years ago. But what's the harm in trying here? Doc is losing the battle against Sam's HMHVV and he knows it.

Katsina whispers something to herself in Sperethiel and then removes her mask - pulling it out of thin air from most perspectives, as her spell conceals the mask behind her new "face" - before setting it down next to her. She looks up at Chino, who she eyes warily as he stomps about and gnashes his teeth. "Keep and eye on Chino, please," she asks Ace and Ohanzee, unsure of how the ork will react to the scene.

Kneeling in the snow, Katsina bends down to the wound and bites Sam's abdomen. She dips her face low and tries to be as discrete as possible under the circumstances. After a minute, she sits up and spits a bit with a distasteful look on her face.

"It tastes awful," she admits. "Like a scoop of dirt mixed into your water." She shakes her head to indicate her doubt about the attempt. Doc continues to monitor Sam's vitals and confirms that the transformation is well underway.

"He's slipping into a coma," Doc says after another hour. "This one's going to be close."

Another hour passes as Sam convulses and sweats profusely with everyone watching on in silent vigil. Finally, Sam's body spasms, then is still except for his breathing.

"It's too late," Katsina says gravely. Doc nods at the verdict.

What should I do? she thinks to herself. I could drain his remaining essence. He'd slip away, nobody would have to know. Would people secretly prefer that, even if no one is brave enough to say it? Or is Sam one of us, no matter what?

She tries to wring her memory for her own transformation event, but all she can remember is the shock and panic. Did I want this? she asks herself. Was an I an accident? She looks at her mask, feeling that it must be a clue of some sort. She picks it up, places it on her face, then whispers again in Sperethiel. There's a small click as the mask locks into place behind her spell.

Doc studies the monitors and does the calculations. "The transformation will be complete in 20 hours," he announces.

Katsina nods. "We need to rest soon, hard as that might be. We should make a plan for tomorrow. For your safety, you should not be here when Sam wakes up. He'll be hungry and confused. I remember the trauma of it if not the actual details. I can coach him through it, but it will take some time.

"His diet is going to be a complication. The good news is that he'll be omnivorous - except for cooked meat - but he'll need metahuman meat to survive. It doesn't have to be immediate, but Sam's a big guy and will need quite a lot. I'm guessing 25 kilos a week, which is rather more than the 'proverbial pound of flesh'.

"There will be other complexities too, but we'll get to those in time."

She looks around to see if anyone has any questions, assensing them to gauge their reactions to the situation.

"Ohanzee, we should probably maintain our astral overwatch scheme. Do you want first watch or second?"

[Malevolence]

Why didn't he see it? The creatures should have looked wrong. Sam's wound should have looked wrong. But they hadn't. Maybe he just didn't look hard enough. Maybe if he'd tended to the wound sooner.


A thousand maybes, and yet logically he knew there was nothing he could have done. Try as he might, he still could not discern Katsina's condition by looking at her aura. But knowing that didn't help his mood.


As the firelight waned, the group stood vigil over the felled troll. It had been hours since he had confirmed that he had no magic, no spirit power, that could help their friend. It was still unbelievable to see Sam succumb to anything - he had been a rock, an unstoppable force, an immovable object. All of these things - fearless, stoic. And the invisibly small disease had finally done what bullets and car crashes had failed to do - bring the giant man low. He worried with the rest of the team as Doc worked to keep him alive. The odds of survival were slim, the odds of fighting off the disease even worse. Ohanzee could see, when he specifically looked for it, the nannies struggle valiantly to defend against the invading disease, but struggle as they might, their failure was soon evident. The Infection came on like a storm, hammering against the meager defenses of the nanites like tidal waves crashing down on a coastal village.


After hours of sweaty-palmed hand-wringing, Doc and Katsina confirm their worst fears. "It's too late".


And now the real worrying began. The troll lived, but the Infection had won. Doc provided details on what physical changes they could expect, but what of Sam? What of the friend that had bled with them for the entirety of the short days since they'd first stirred in that overturned van? Would he still be there? Was the technological infection the reason they had forgotten their past, the reason they were who they were now? With the nanotech gone, who would remain? Of course, Katsina was free of the nannies too, and she still claimed to suffer from amnesia, so it is just as likely that the artifact was to blame. After the results of the tests the Atlantean Foundation had run, it seemed the safer bet. This was not the way he wanted to find the answer to that question.


Vampires he knew - not just because they had had one amongst them for as long as they could remember, but because they were much more well documented by the media. Whatever memories he still had deep in his mind of the time before the obelisk (he was almost sure now that that was the cause of their memory loss), they had some rudimentary information about vampires. They were, as a rule, bad, but they were still rational, feeling metahumans. Fomóraig were completely alien to him. Were they angry, aggressive beasts like those that had attacked them? Or were they more in control of themselves, mostly like their previous selves aside from their new abilities, weaknesses, and hunger?


Doc says that the transformation will be complete in 20 hours, and Katsina mentions her intent to guide him. They seem to know what she is talking about, and so it seems that with proper care and guidance, he might be the same old Sam they have known, just in a new body. Ohanzee sends a prayer up into the cold, cloudy sky to the Great Spirit. We could not save his body, but please, I beg of you, save his soul.


When Katsina asks which shift he'd prefer, he volunteers for the first shift. He couldn't sleep now if he wanted to, so he may as well put his restlessness to use. No one brings up the issue of the burner phones, and Ohanzee doesn't care to think about it now either. One crisis at a time if you can help it.

[Poindexter]

"Okay, no more ...  Moneriviridae, otherwise known ... vomit, fecal mater, sweat, saliva or any other ... can do to help him  ... his own body ... fight the infection ...  If either of you ... extremely tough ... into a coma "

We love making snow angels. Andrei and I. He's a few years younger than I am, but this is the first winter he's been old enough to run around and play with me. He doesn't make snowballs very well; They tend to disintegrate into powder before they reach their target. He's not patient enough to make a snowman, and he gets frightened on the sled, but we make snow angels for hours. He giggles while he kicks his legs and flails his arms, his laughter filling the mountain air around their tiny, isolated home. Mother calls them from the porch, as it's starting to get dark. "Okay, no more horseplay! Time to come inside!"

"Okay, no more Mr nice guy!" Even as big as I am nowadays, Dad's always been bigger, and he's always lorded it over the whole family. This is the first time he's ever hit me though. And he hits hard. And repeatedly. Mother cries, but even through the entire beating, I can't tell if she's crying cause of the beating or cause of what I am. I try to shield my face, but that only enrages him further. He knocks my hand away and breaks my left horn with his enormous hands. The pain is excruciating. "Moneriviridae, otherwise known as an abomination!"

College life is incredible. I had no idea how sheltered I'd been my whole life. Parties like these are only the tip of the iceberg, too. "Moneriviridae, otherwise known as Stigma. I can think of a lot of uses for a man of your size." is how the fashionably dressed ork gentleman introduces himself. Something about the way he's dressed, the way he carries himself, as though he owns the whole world. Something about the confidence, the unapologetic frankness about him draws me to him in a sense. We talk for a few minutes and I'm even more enchanted with his entire persona. I want to be this man. He looks me deep in the eyes and says, "Consume me. Flesh, mind, organs, vomit, fecal mater, sweat, saliva or any other substance which may give you sustenance."

"And if you get any vomit, fecal mater, sweat, saliva or any other foul thing on your body I will kill you." He punctuates each item on the list with a hefty swing from that cruel right fist of his. Between punches, I look up at him, bleeding from my lip and cheek wondering if I'll ever be big enough to kill him one day. He just keeps on screaming. Mom tries to calm him down, but he screams at her too. "Dammit, don't you get it?! This is the only thing we can do to help him!"

This is one of the more dangerous trails he could ever hit with the snowmobile. At least Sammy is here. He's only known Sammy for a couple weeks since the cool ork with the funny accent moved into the school district. "C'mon, it's my own body! Yours too!" He says as he guns it uphill and starts the run. It's cold and it's dark and I'm already exhausted, but I follow after him. Even though I'm terrified, I'm more exited to try it out. Maybe fifteen minutes of zigzagging though trees and rocks at high speeds in the pitch black, save the headlights later, we come across a small clearing and slow down for a moment to see the sights. There's a dead man here, smashed up against a rock with his snowmobile. Took the turn too fast, it seems. Probably only been here a week or two. Now, the fear is winning the competition. This isn't fun anymore. I'm going back. Pointing at the wreckage, I call out to Sammy. "What about his own body, huh?" Sammy looks sad and disappointed in me. "I'm sorry dude. I can't do this. I'm going home. See ya at school."

"...and further tissue damage by the body's immune cells and the chemicals, called cytokines, they release to fight the infection. The result can be impaired nutrient absorption, excessive water and mineral loss through the stools due to..." God! This knowitall just drones on and on. I hate this school anyways. Who the hell even still dresses like that. There's only like 5 other kids, and they're all rich kid human corpers who hate me even though I could kick all their asses. I don't even get why I'm the only little kid in a class full of adults, but it's pretty damn intimidating. I don't know if they notice I'm just a scared little kid yet, but sooner or later they're gonna. Two of the other kids start passing notes back and forth. I know they're about me cause they keep looking at me. Finally teacher sees them and says, "If either of you have anything you'd like to share, you can read it out loud to the class." Oh God, please no?! Everyone is going to laugh at me when they hear it.

"If either of you ever see eachother again, it will be a cold day in hell." Dad doesn't speak angrily or even with any emotion at all. he just sits in his chair, reading his news in his stupid ARO that looks like an old timey newspaper, sipping his tea and speaks like the cold hearted asshole he is. My heart is breaking. I'm never going to see my best friend ever again. If I weren't certain he'd beat me for it, I'd cry. It's all I want to do. "You've got to be extremely tough about this, boy. And you'd damn well better."

[rednblack]

It's the worst kind of helplessness.  Ace stands at the outskirts of the group, and at first there are things to do.  Calm Chino for one, who after his initial outburst sits looking off into space.  And Ace did what he could to keep the fire fed while Katsina and Ohanzee doted on Sam, but that work didn't do much to calm Ace's thoughts.  If he hadn't been so agitated about the commlink, if he wasn't at the very moment of the attack questioning Sam's combat leadership, would he have reacted faster?  After dropping the first one, could he have gotten to Sam a moment earlier to wrap up the monster's legs, staying him long enough for Sam to put in his killing blow? 

I am malfunctioning, Ace thinks.  This questioning, these feelings of guilt reduce his effectiveness, and the team is not in clear.  Camp is not a safe place, but he's practically tripping over himself keeping the fire going, and he can't seem to focus on his surroundings.  He tries to run an internal diagnostics of the situation.  The periphery is trapped, they have their weapons close, but those things come from the trees.  And then Sam.  Back to Sam, how he might die, or perhaps worse become like one of them. 

Katsina's words that she can help guide Sam should he turn makes Ace feel better about the prospect of keeping Sam in some sense, but it also means that she doesn't hold out much hope for him beating the infection outright.  Half a second.  That's all Ace would've needed.  It's all he had to delayed for them to be in this mess.  He was too worried about conserving ammo, and now his friend is in a comma.  And then there was the commlink to consider.  He doubted Katsina, Doc, or Chino would take a look at it right now, distracted as they were, but this is not how Ace would like them to find out.  Ace also decides that he won't have the chance to slip the commlink back out of Sam's pocket, so he decides that he'll have to let it lay for now.  If Sam lives, they can have that talk, but he won't deprive Sam of the right of bringing it to them himself.  If . . . the other, then Ace will tell them before they make their next move.

Forcing his brain to focus, at least now he has a plan, Ace makes one last check of the perimeter and finds that their astral overwatch has been decided.  "Wake me if you need another set of eyes," he says.  "I'm going to sleep, or try to anyway."

[Tecumseh]

Katsina nods to Ohanzee, then heads to the van to turn in. She crawls into the front seat normally occupied by Sam. Tilting the seat back, she wraps herself in a blanket to ward off the chill that rushes in every time the door opens, then takes off her mask. She feels better with the mask on, like a safety blanket, but it's still a challenge to sleep in.

Closing her eyes, her thoughts turn to Hecate. Goddess, please guide us.

She tries to squeeze her memory for any recollection of her own conversion, seeking some clue that might ease Sam's transition. She remembers... darkness? Does she really remember darkness or is that the memory of nothing? Darkness... then a light. Well that's all terribly symbolic and completely quotidian as it happens every time you open your eyes, she thinks to herself.

It's not hard to fall asleep, or at least not as hard as she might have feared. Maybe, just maybe, there's something in the back of her head that tells her that she got through this, so others can too. Sam was bigger and tougher and she wasn't the least bit concerned for him physically. His psyche was the more concerning point. Would he become feral - she recalls the deranged look on his face as he carried the bomb to the obelisk in the overturned RV - or would he retain a sense of restraint? Would he even remember how to operate the bomb?

Asleep, she dreams, then remembers the dream when she wakes up to roll over. A party. I can't even remember having been to a party. I must have at some point... right? But I have no memories of parties. I can conceive of what a party is and what goes on at them, but have no personal reference points. Then back to sleep.

Another dream. A coupling in bed. Ecstatic. She wakes up again, wonders where that came from. A feeding? A rush of essence? She clears her mind then resumes her sleep.


Outside, Ohanzee can do little but sit next to the fire and watch Doc's medkit monitor Sam's vital signs. The story on the astral mirrors the tale told by the beeping electronic device. The infection creeps through Sam, branching down every capillary and extending out to every pore. It's not hard to see and he wonders why he never noticed it in Katsina, or the Sasquatches. They must have training, he realizes. Probably helps with the hunt.

Chino grabs a case of beer and wanders off on his own. Are the nanites compelling him to drink like that, or is he trying to drown the pain of Sam's transformation? Or is he a reckless BTL addict who is trying to numb the pain of not being able to slot a chip right now? He lashes out in the distance, knocking over trees or breaking rocks when they get in his way. Ohanzee and Diamondback keep tabs on him, Diamondback checking and doublechecking to see if Chino is a threat and, if so, is he edible?

Ohanzee and Diamondback keep watch all night, throwing wood on the fire to ward away the frozen night air. Diamondback comes to Ohanzee as dawn begins to break in the east.

Shaman, my time is nigh. Command me or releassssse me.

[Zweiblumen]

Watching as Sam looses his battle against the infection and slips into a coma, Doc sees that it's almost a release for the giant.  While in the coma his body is disconnected from his mind.  The infection rages and tears apart Sam's body, rebuilding it in its own image, and meanwhile his consciousness is blissfully unaware of whats happening.  Existing in a dream state, removed from this temporal plane.

Doc is releaved that the team has the resources to help make Sam's transition more comfortable.  Knowing the only thing he can do to help his colleague is to repair the wounds created by the tranformation so that when he awakens he'll only have to deal with his new state and not healing the damage as well, Doc sets to keeping the biomonitor and medkit up.  Resigned to the circumstances, Doc starts to look at the situation more objectively.  Analzying what's happening to the nanites, how they react.  Watching what happens to Sam's implants and bioware.  Fascinated by the destructive capacity of the infection as it tears through the host body.  Doc takes notes on the pathologies of the event and quickly looses track of time.  He fails to notice the way Ace is pacing and looking so distraught.  Completely fails to be aware of Chino going off on another rampage destroying the army of snowmen he had spent the previous hour creating.  Again, something that failed to make it into Doc's consciouness.  Ohanzee trades off watch with Katsina, and the only reason Doc realizes this is because they both come to check on their commrade.  It's a good thing he's not needed for a watch during the night as he would have completely missed it.

A small part of his mind reminds him that his companions might be distrubed by his cold analysis and entrancement with the process, but that barely makes it into the consious level of thought.  He knows he'll have to make an effort to be more personable in the future.

[Malevolence]

Ohanzee's watch passed in relative uneventfulness. "Uneventful". The whole thing was one big "event". Saying that the was uneventful was a little like saying that the ambulance ride to the hospital during a heart attack was "uneventful". But it was, at least, free of surprises. No attacks, no sudden revelations. Just the utterly predictable, and utterly devastating, course of the retrovirus as it consumed Sam's body and reworked into something else.


Sam's groans and breathing punctuated the otherwise silent watch. Doc administered aid - applying ice to cool the fever, wiping away the troll's voluminous sweat, and then keeping him hydrated. At some point, the sweat turned to a caustic substance that disintegrated the rags that Doc was using and so Doc simply stopped wiping it away. Ohanzee took over for Doc frequently, but the Decker never seemed to leave Sam's side for long. Ohanzee doubted he even slept, but Doc assured him he was fine. Cat naps, perhaps? Or maybe the night passed in such a blur that Ohanzee lost track of time and the Doc really did get longer bouts of sleep. All he knew was that whenever he looked in on Sam, Doc was there as well or had asked him to watch Sam while he went to get more ice or blankets, or wring out the rags of sweat, or whatever.

Diamondback was a critical part of the guard shift as Ohanzee's focus for anything other than Sam was fleeting. At dawn, the spirit departs with Ohanzee's blessing, though Ohanzee is sure the spirit is slightly irked to have been kept so long, and for such a comparatively boring task. Some spirits prefer the calm, others prefer the thrill of battle. It was fortunate that your mood often affected your summoning so that you often ended up with a spirit whose prediliction matched the circumstance. Diamondback had been summoned into the heat of battle, and so was predisposed to it. Watch duty was not it's forte, but it performed dutifully and admirably. Ohanzee offered up a small handful of his reagents as thanks before the spirit went and the large snake seemed pleased.

Doc was adamant that Ohanzee not touch Sam, for risk of infection. The wound on Sam's abdomen closed shortly before Ohanzee's shift ended, though Doc assured him it was simply part of the transformation - Sam would not have the rapid regeneration that Katsina enjoyed. He supposed that was a good thing considering the troll's extensive cyber and bioware, but still. He also looked in on the disease's progression on the astral every so often, and when he went to wake Katsina for her shift, the troll was as mundane as Doc or Ace. Six hours later, when he awoke for breakfast - again, "awoke" being an inappropriate choice of words - the troll was Awakened, though he still slept restlessly. He had also taken to muttering the odd phrase, sometimes in English, sometimes in Russian, and occasionally calling out in wordless yells.


By now, the physical changes were readily apparent - his fingernails were now long claws, his arms and legs were longer, and his skin was now visibly calcified and uneven looking almost like small barnacles had grown all over his body. And the excretions were also visible, covering every inch in a glistening sheen. How will we get him into the van? And still the practical part of his mind provided the uncaring thought: how will I be able to save my security deposit?


He caught Ace's eye here and there, wondering if he would broach the subject of the burner phones. After a non-productive night of sleep and the constant pattern of standing near Sam, realizing there was nothing to be done, leaving the camp to find something to do, finding that nothing seemed important as Sam lay unconscious and changing, then heading back to stand near Sam and repeat the process, Ohanzee felt he would finally welcome the conversation about the burners. Ace may have sensed this, and shook his head every time Ohanzee looked his way expectantly. Finally they were alone for a few moments out of ear shot of the rest of the team and Ace elaborated that he felt that Sam should be given the opportunity to bring up the topic with the others. As much as Ohanzee might have welcomed the distraction, he agreed with the logic. Sam deserved that much, and he might need something like that to take his mind off of his other worries.


 By the time the second night rolled around, Ohanzee was fidgety as a Jazz addict. He had to keep his mind and hands busy and so he threw himself into doing every little task he could think of. He backseat drove as Doc did Matrix recon until the human simply dropped into VR so he wouldn't have to deal with him. Even so, Ohanzee sent a steady stream of messages demanding status updates. He had trouble focusing enough to stay in the astral for long and then suddenly he had focus, and threw himself into astral reconnaissance. Later he found out that Doc had snuck him some mild drugs - a relaxant and a depressant he guessed - to help calm his nerves.

[rednblack]

Ace wakes to the surprise of having slept.  He'll take it.  He stumbles outside to see the fire still going strong and checks on Sam before doing anything else.  He looks . . . monstrous, like something out of a gory low-budget trid, or a Halloween costume.  The sheen to his skin makes him look plastic, and the protrusions are uneven in a disturbing fashion.  Doc explains some of what's happening with a shrug, and Ace tries to focus on the fact that the chest wound has closed.  That's a good sign, right? 

Ace gives Doc a pat on the shoulder, and goes to find a tree to relieve himself by.  "No, no, no, not there," Chino says, just getting up himself.  Ace can't imagine a world where a statement like that would serious, and continues with this Ares Survivalist when Chino adds, "Look, omae, you know how dogs mark their territory?"  Ace nods.  "Well, so does pretty much everything else.  Things that can hurt us out here, probably don't really wanna.  With exceptions," Chino adds, casting a downcast glance at Doc and Sam.  "But all night I've been drinking and marking camp for us, and right now, you're already standing in Chino territory.  You want to help, you can go south of the van.  I haven't been there yet, wiz?"

Ace shrugs, and does as Chino suggests.  With the number of bottles around the campsite, it doesn't seem as though Chino was exaggerating the extent of his progress already.  This is a new one on me.  Astral security, physical security, and now chemical security.

After breakfast, everyone seems restless and agitated.  Ohanzee is hounding Doc, Chino, having already chopped enough wood to last them another day, maybe two, is just pacing around, and while Katsina is being rather still after the end of her shift, she doesn't seem in top form.  It occurs to Ace that they haven't talked much since getting here, and he approaches a little awkwardly, asks how things with Sam look, since she's been there and all before.  "Hey, I know Sam was going to feed you, and we never got to around to that before.  You've got to be hungry.  I know that Sam was going to be able to take care of you better than the rest of us can, due to his size, but we need you at full strength.  You, umm, you want to eat something?  I'll be fine, and we can figure out another method when we decide on our approach to the DIMR."

After, Ace expresses an interest in returning to scene of the fight.  Chino, still with a residual anger for the position that Sam is in, jumps right in.  Ace also asks Ohanzee if he'd like to go, given how restless the dwarf looks.  When it's all settled, Ace heads out with the group, trying to find the bodies of the downed critters in the light of day.

[Zweiblumen]

As dawn approaches, Doc takes a moment to setup the satalite uplink so he can compare his notes with published studies on Fomóraig and HMHVV Strain II.  It's as if he thinks he can find some cure that no one else has now that he's got a patient in front of him.  The pace he works at is feverish, obsessive.  At one point, Ace comes up and puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him down and Doc just freezes.  He's been working through the night burying any emotions or worries under the pretense of working.  Nothing he's doing is going to change Sam's situation, he just feels he has to try something, anything to try and make a difference.  Finally, after the team has breakfast, Doc admits defeat.  Head low, he takes Katsina's spot in the van and crashes into unconsciousness.
His sleep is fitfull and restless.  Dreams, more like nightmares, continue to plague him.  Scenes from the chip where he and Chino slaughter the gun runners for fun, images of him killing the decker during the artifact run.  Nanites running through changing the way he thinks, magic draining away his memories.  Personality and memory fading from his conciousness.  Shadows of Alzheimer's haunting him.  And finally, Sam coming to devour him for not being able to save him.

He wakes with a start and stares around to see only Kat watching carefully over Sam.  He quietly begins to weep in the van hoping no one sees his breakdown.

[Malevolence]

At Ace's invitation, Ohanzee practically falls over himself to accept. Even with a few days of growth on his face, his untempered excitement and diminutive size bear a strong resemblance to a small child that just got invited to go to the candy store. On the trek out to the site, Ohanzee is mostly quiet, but every few minutes says "I should see if Doc found anything" and sends him a message. It escapes his notice that all of Doc's replies follow a pattern, generated by simple instructions that Doc had provided his agent in order to blow off the little dwarf. Eventually, to Doc's (agent's) great relief, the party passes out of comms range of the camp and Ohanzee has nothing but the scenery to distract him, though he checks for signal about every 30 seconds.

Considering his constant hounding of Doc, one would think that he'd be less irritated when Ace keeps him on task with questions about what he sees on the astral, especially since without that guidance, Ohanzee's wandering thoughts would have prevented him from keeping up astral overwatch. But his agitation overcomes his logic, and he grumbles and makes snarky comments even as he dutifully shifts his perception to the astral to provide updates.

[rednblack]

Great, Ace thinks walking, trying to keep his eyes peeled for invisible monsters that may jump from the trees.  I've got a chip-head and astral overwatch who's spending more time watching his link than the mojo.  Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.  Still, good to be out, get away from camp, and have something to do.

<<@Ohanzee [Ace] How's the astral looking?>> Ace comms, thinking the dwarf might not be paying enough attention to hear him if he spoke.

"Same as the last time you asked," Ohanzee answers.  "Trees are still living.  The snow's still not."

Ace is careful to point out where the tripwires and snares are located, but he's worried about the dwarf, as distracted as he is, and tries to lead so that Ohanzee will simply follow in his footsteps a few meters behind.  It seems to work out ok.  Chino, meanwhile, doesn't talk much, but whenever he sees a nice mound of snow, he gives it good kick.  The snow shoes diminish the effect quite a bit, but there's still a nice burst of powder when he does so.

When Ace thinks they're near the spot, he alerts Chino, so the ork can start tracking, and Ace looks to the trees, seeing if he can spot broken branches or other tell-tale symbols of last night's combat.