[Malevolence]

Ohanzee ponders the question. There was certainly a shortage of answers and an abundance of questions, but chances were he was trying to buy some time. If they left him, the ensuing shootout would probably be one heck of a show - with DocWagon, PCC law enforcement, and the Nately's security forces all converging on this hapless soul. His odds of survival were slim at best.


Ohanzee's face hardened. Not that he was concerned about the troll's well being. The troll and his team had come at Ohanzee and his, and they weren't pulling any punches. He'd even argue that the other team had royally hosed their comfy new ride, except for the fact that they'd already pretty much botched that in their failure to placate the younger Nately. Disturbingly, this whole scene of death and misery was little more than a minor inconvenience to their existing plans. Which meant that the plans were either really brilliant, or (more likely) borne of the worst kind of desperation where virtually anything was an improvement.


How many people were after them already? He started ticking them off: The original owners of the obelisk, the Nately's security force, chances were PCC security forces would be sniffing around after the hunters and the house, and certainly after this shootout in the early evening so close to Aspen. If Vinny discovered the fate of the hunters and their catch, then the local mob was probably interested in finding them as well. So, secret corporation, check. Local law enforcement, check. Organized crime, check again. And an unknown but powerful, likely corporate, adversary, check. The only empty box on the list was a major government, and the day was still young. And he still had no idea who these people that had just attacked them worked for.


"Ask him who he works for. If gets evasive or snarky, end him." He hadn't even finished his train of thought and the words were already out. He was already pretty sure his dreams were going to keep him from getting a decent night's rest, and so he found himself half hoping that the answer passed muster.

[Tecumseh]

The man is propped up on one elbow, his hand on the trauma patch against his neck. He holds his other arm out to Doc, both to keep him at bay but maybe - just maybe - to have his hand or arm catch a round before his face does.

"I work for the dead guys," he says. "The troll back there" - he indicates the downed troll next to the Tata - "and the elf with all the color on his face." He means the elf who shot himself in the leg. "They're not from around here. They came into town looking for local talent on short notice. I'm just a driver, just doing what they said."

Doc can't really tell what his eyes are doing behind the sunglasses, but his tone is submissive. His whole team is dead; he doesn't want to join them.

[rednblack]

Ace's internal clock is flashing red, and he can feel an old twitch in his hands.  We do not have time for this.  He grabs the shotgun from the back of the RV and circles around to the downed troll.

"Everybody in the RV.  We leave now."  He'd rather not look this man in the face right now, but if not, there's no way to tell if he's lying.  Ace levels the shotgun, and speaks quickly.  This either needs to happen now, and then they leave, or he's coming with them, and they leave.  You have three seconds, and three words.  Make 'em count, and give me something I can use.  Three . . . two . . ."

[Malevolence]

Waste of time. He's a hired gun, with no clue who he's working for, or outright lying. Either way, he has no info we can use.


"Take the glasses, leave the corpse." Ohanzee had the distinct impression the man was recording - possibly transmitting - for a third party. If so, that's the person that needs talking to.

[Tecumseh]

"My wife's pregnant," the man says.

His voice is more resigned than frightened, as if he had known his life might come to this. He's facing death bravely; no need to go out crying. Still, he doesn't want to die.

Doc's a bit of a space cadet. He registers the meaning of the words but can't read any truth or hear any emotion in the statement.

Ace is more in tune. He can't see the man's face, but the tonal inflections suggest he's telling the truth.

[rednblack]

"Take the glasses, leave the corpse." Ohanzee says.

"My wife's pregnant," the man says.

". . . one." Ace says.  He places the shot center mass, sending the man sprawling backward, and then retrieves the glasses.  He hands them to Ohanzee with a quick "Sir," drops the shotgun, takes a quick pic of the elf in warpaint, and enters the back of the Bulldog.

"Go, go, go!"

Ace keeps his eyes focused out the back window, waiting for the scene to get smaller, waiting for it to disappear. 

#

When the Bulldog has lurched forward, when the carnage has disappeared from view, and when Ace can no longer stand to look out the window, he strikes the side of the van.  And then again, and again.  His nerves are working just fine, but it's not the same.  He has exactly one memory that's unclouded of the time before.  One glimpse into who he was.  He was waist deep in water, a lake he thinks from the feeling of pebbles against his feet.  He could feel swirling against his arms as he swung them, a boy no more than eight.  The air bubbles as they clung to the hairs on his arms, the feeling of water rushing past his fingers, how the sun would peek through the treetops to warm his back.  No, it's not the same, he thinks as he strikes the van.  And there's no blood, no trace of him there, except the crater he's pounding into the GMC, just metal against metal, one giving way to the other.  He strikes again. Still no blood.  Of all the mess inside, somehow he chose the one spot that's just gray and clean.  There's a part of Ace that believes his malfunctioning, and another that thinks he's waking up.

When he's finished, Ace sits back, looks embarrassingly at the near-hole he's punched in their vehicle, and lets out a ragged breath.  "Ok, where to now?"

[Tecumseh]

[End of Chapter II. Chapter III thread here: http://forums.shadowruntabletop.com/index.php?topic=19674.0]