[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight's song breaks off and her eyes widen, then narrow. How dare that stupid fragging tusker piece of drek?! How dare he?! After what she confided about her sister, he would speak to her about loved ones so? And all because she answered his fragging question Goodnight's hand drops back to her monowhip, words of killing power rising to her lips as her free hand  curls into a clawlike shape and she starts to turn back toward Isaint, fully intent on making him eat his words, his condescension, and half the cobblestones in the catacombs. She rounds on the team, her fuschia eyes gleaming and her mind bent on murder most foul...

Only to come face to face with Natasha.

The girl looks terrified, but she stands her ground in the face of Goodnight's anger and her wide young eyes meet Goodnight's bright jeweled orbs. "Please..." she whispers, unable to make her voice louder than that timid, breathy sound. "Please don't make us see this." She looks sidelong and Goodnight follows her gaze to see her younger brother, clinging to his mother with all pretense at teenage bravado gone. Behind her, she can feel Hecate and Fortune watching her, Hecate probably ready to interfere. It wouldn't save Isaint if she were hell-bent on killing him, she thinks, but she's not ready to die over an asshole with a bug up his hoop and a superiority complex.

Slowly, she gets herself under control*, and the ugly** expression on her face relaxes into a mocking smile that she shoots over Natasha's shoulder. "Of course, darling." Goodnight coos. "Anything for you." Natasha manages a nervous smile, and Goodnight holds her arms out, embracing the other girl briefly and whispering a totally believable, "I'm sorry for scaring you. It won't happen again."*** She turns away after releasing the girl and returns to her walking, picking up her song where she left off, even as she sends Isaint another message.

<<Get. A. Fragging. Attitude. Adjustment. If you don't want an answer, then don't phrase it as a goddamn question. I don't know you from a hole in the ground, so don't expect me to read the verbal cues off your big mug. You asked. I answered. Your little barb about not being about me was unnecessary, unprofessional, inane, and condescending, and I'm just about fed up with that drek.

And after I tell you about my sister, you have the nerve to talk to me about soulless loved ones. Nice. Real classy. You know for a guy who wants to defend the innocent and protect the helpless and have his warrior's code, you're really good at punching below the belt. I suppose I shouldn't expect better, but given that I've done nothing to you that warrants a personal attack of such magnitude, I'm still a little surprised.

Thank Natasha when you get time.>>

[spoiler=Rolls]*Composure roll not to open up on Isaint in earnest: CHA 13+WIL 5 = 18d6t5: 4
**Intimidation (A general roll to see how terrifying she is. Its just a benchmark, no need to resist): CHA 13+Intim 1+Nasty Vibe = 16d6t5: 5
***Con roll (generalized fast talk/seduction,sweet nothings to get Natasha to be calm and not scared of goodnight): CHA 13+Con 5+ Glamours 1+Mentor Spirit = 21d6t5: 9[/spoiler]

[gilga]

She staggers her steps to bring her back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Solo. "No, its a hair clip." She snorts. "Yes, and I am more than passably proficient with it. You can tell because all of my bits are still in their proper place." She twirls it into a flowing series of loops before making it vanish whence it came between twist and turn, and her smile becomes apologetic. "My apologies, sir. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by its presence or my cavalier attitude toward it." She inclines her head as she looks him over, weighing his expression and body language and trying to divine what was happening behind his eyes. She had a suspicion, but she didn't want to voice it, lest it give him ideas.

"Lucky one too... " He pauses "Most never get to be skilled with such a fickle weapon." He sighs... "This weapon is the refuge of the desperate seeking power at all cost, even their own well being"
 
"Even at the cost of your own well being?" He thought, he was overwhelmed with emotions.
"A decision of a moment took 10 years to heal... even now I am not completely sane. " He feels like his mind slides into a nostalgic flashback but he fights it. "No... I do not want THAT to surface ... Do not judge me M... I was desperate"
[/color]

"I said nothing Solo... it is not me you are arguing with"


"So I used experimental technology to cut my mind into multiple fragments... why tormenting me now? "


Some other voice insides Solo's mind say.
"Why did you do so?"

"Ritual magic... I did not want to end up like my mother. I needed a different personality and a different Aura... "

"Why did you REALLY do so?"

"Just shut up abomination... go back to sleep and never wake up again."

Solo is unsure if that voice is still in there, or if it was a bad memory or a specter. M did not hear a thing... to her he was talking to himself again. He wasn't about to give up, not now.  He managed to collect his pieces. To assemble a complete personality of the fragments.  He became a whole person again. But there was this doubt, have he really assembled all the pieces? Could he leave someone out,  someone so dark that his whisper could make Solo's sanity crumble.

"I am not sorry... it was the right decision at the time."

M answered "It is okay boy... it was a long time ago." Solo took comfort in her love. When he is again aware of himself Goodnight is singing again. He likes her voice, she has the tongue of a demon. That woman is full of deadly weapons and contradictions.

Then that thought materialized, Goodnight was not herself, a trained killer willing to take a mans life with that harmless toy she was playing with. Solo took his assault rifle, he really did not want to do so, but you cannot just cut runners in half and expect retribution. His eyes were a little wet, this whole mental storm and to wake up for THAT it was too much for him. Then Natasha with a mere look kept the demon away. Scary lady was smiling again.

Solo lowered his assault rifle and looked at Fortune, he wanted to defuse this tension.  Fortune was wearing mask, his mask was unchanged -  metaphorically they all did...  but these guys were wearing actual masks... perhaps to say that it does not matter who is behind the mask.  The mask itself was their real identity... a real identity that never change.

He asked Fortune "Why did you choose these life Fortune? did you always feel so strong about concepts like the pattern or the good of humanity?... You were clearly not the silver spooned type." His eyes light with genuine curiosity.

[ScytheKnight]

Nitro has been silent for a whie now, trudging through the tunnels in silence finally he speaks. "Isain', Goo'nigh... a momen' o ye 'ime 'lease."

He waits for them to step closer, his glowing cybereyes giving each of them a long, level look before his speaks. Hi tone low and level, not betraying any anger, nor much of any other emotion. "Wha' tha fuckin' 'ell 'as go' inna you two?! We inna mi'le o' a job an tha two o' ye are a' each o'ers fuckin' throa's li'e a pai' o' fuckin' ca's inna we' sack! I though' I was bein' hire' te 'elp ou' some professi'nals, ins'ead I' wal'in' 'ere lissenin te ye two bi'chin' an squalerin' a each o'er. Now, I dunna care 'ho's righ' or wron', o' 'ho's go' tha be'er fuckin' morals or tha wor's fuckin' sob s'orry... I jus' wanna ge' ye two te shu' ye fuckin' ya's a' each o'er an wor' to'er li'e a pair o' fuckin' pros. In'ase ye bee' too bu'y te no'ice we alrea'y anno'er mem'er 'own, we canno' affor' ye two t'yin' te fuckin' kill ea' o'er! We ma'e i' ou'a 'is fuckin' 'ell 'ole ali'e an I'll fin' a figh'in pi' an' fuckin' toss ye bo' in mesself un'il ye've kno'ed enou' 'eeth outta each o'er te be sa'isfie'. Bu' un'il 'en ye bo' kee' ye fuckin' pe'ssonal shi' ou'a it!"

He gives both of them another long, level look,giving them a chance to say their piece, or at the very least agree as they walk along, his drone keeping a careful watch over the family.

[spoiler]Leadership roll to try and get Isaint and Goodnight to co-operate... nothing hard and fast, just a guideline.
Influence Skill Group 4 + Charisma 3
Leadship Test: 7d6t5 1 hit and three 1, very nearly a glitch.
ooohhhh boy. This is gonna go over like vegan take out at a ghoul gathering.[/spoiler]

[gilga]

Solo approaches Isaint, saying softly "I know it is not you, but this is getting completely unprofessional. You are risking her life man, I almost freaking shot her... I do not know your history... I have no idea what memories you make her re-live. It is probobly not even your fault, but this roller-coaster is endangering the mission and our reputation.

 Going crazy and starting to shoot each other is a bad line for our resume. See the bigger picture, we are the most dangerous thing in this place... darker than the Shedim or the spirits of the dead.... by the way, if you do not want to kill them over and over again - just hit them where they are weak - in the astral world."


 He texts Goodnight >> What was that all about... I almost shot you, you scared Natasha more than anything else in this dark place. If you continue on this path you will eventually hurt the one person that is not scenery to you. Isaint, me and M,  Fortune, and the clowns and even Natasha... we are all guests in your world. You might never see us again... 

You honestly should not care too much what we think. You have real power, no one questions that - but despite your strong personality you let a random person you meet push your bottoms. You resisted the mental manipulation you do not like magic changing your emotions... why are you so open to mundane manipulation? Resist that too!

"You should be with your family Natasha. You will be safer there"Solo say with a struggle, it is clear that saying the words pains him.

He listens to Nitro's words his heart is in the right place, they are all edgy.

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight gives Nitro a long, appraising look. There's just something about him, some nagging little detail she can't put her finger on...

Finally she nods. "You are right, of course. We should be professional. For example, I am a professional guide hired for my knowledge and ability to survive below rather than my ability to impress and mollycoddle a moralizing group of shadowrunners. I was given to understand I would be listened to rather than challenged or ignored in these matters. So consider your own advice before casting shade on me, sir." She narrows her eyes once more and as she turns away, she says, "Elsewise you might be leaving a child to the tender mercies of below."

Then she is gone, back up to the front of the pack with the Harlequins and her own dark thoughts, passing a silent Natasha, who averts her ryes. Goodnight walks ahead, hoping that something will leap out at them, just so she can vent her towering rage on the damned thing.

[ScytheKnight]

For the first time since he's joined the group there's actual expression flickering across his face, a confused muddle of anger and regret before both are overcome by the grim expression of someone ruthlessly suppressing something, his voice carries the strain of this as he retorts.

"I'e spen' se'en years t'yin' te forge' tha las' 'ime tha ha'en' te me, al'ough i' was a 'ifferen' kinna 'ell 'ole... I'm no' abou' te le' tha' 'appen a'ain."

[spoiler]Post count 83[/spoiler]

[gilga]

Solo texts Goodnight >> Let me protect Natasha, she is not safe around you. You look at her and you see your sister but she is not your sister. She is a poor girl manipulated by your charisma and charm. Don't hurt her when you only want her best.

[Aria]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~05:58, Back on Widow’s Way, London Below, London]

It is with some relief that the group find themselves once more back on the ancient Roman processional, and this close to the market it is busier with an eclectic mix of metahumanity both coming and going.  They eye the size of the group and wisely press on without trying to come closer or interact beyond those glances…

The subtle music now being played by Fortune flows ahead of you to mingle with the growing sound of a great deal of metahumanity pressed in to a small space and all trying to sell each other things at the tops of their voices.  Another refrain joins the music in the air and as the group pass out into a wider space just before the market they are greeted by the promised troupe of clowns… the other denizens of below are keeping a wary but curious distance and so there is nothing stopping the throng of masked elves in their domino garb from moving lithely to surround the small group emerging from the Way. 

There are nearly thirty of them all told, and it is clear that at least six are children or adolescents, more from their size than any measurable skill difference.   They cavort and sing in a mesmerising display of skill.  Then at some hidden signal they all stop motionless and then we a whisper of breath weapons spring to readiness…

It is Fortune who speaks…

“Before we go further, you will give back what you stole from us.  It is not for your eyes.  I do not wish to rifle through your communications but I will do so if I have to, non?”

***
_#38

[gilga]

Solo answers softly "This cannot be done now... that data was copied beyond our systems. It was sent to a professional Decker. Even if you erase any copy we locally have - that ship have already sailed. I may have been wrong to do so, and if you intend to draw blood I'll understand, but I will defend myself and it will not return what was taken away from you.
Do not wrong these people for a deed I did alone and on my own will." He politely bows.

[adamu]

Now here was a threat to Al's mellow!

It did appear, though, from Solo's tacit admission, that the hacker-wizard had indeed stolen some data from the clowns.

And at this point, Al couldn't even tell who among their number was fighting and sniping at who anymore.

All he really cared about was one thing.

He quietly set himself between the nearest mime and Mrs. Pelletiere and, shotgun hanging loose on its sling, palmed his commlink, glancing to see if they had a decent signal now that they'd about reached this wacky underzone marketplace.

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint's mask was blank and displayed nothing when he turned around to face Goodnight. Only his eyes were visible - emotionless and blank. He answered the text with his own:
<<If you have trouble understanding me, just assume I am not making fun of you or trying to insult you. This is not my mother's tongue. We can try speaking German if you want.
What I said was nothing but the truth - this was a story about my loss. And you chose to joke about it - at least that is how I understood you. Was I mistaken in that regard?
Also I was not talking about your sister. I clearly stated "IF", making this a hypothetical scenario. As far as I know, your sister still possesses her soul and her body has not been occupied by a Shedim - unlike my late fiancée. As I said: This is not about you.>>

As Nitro tried to defuse the situation, Isaint listened calmly:
"It did not escape my attention that Mel is missing. And I don't intent to kill or harm Goodnight. I appreciate your attempt to defuse this situation - but this is beyond your skill to solve."

He hadn't finished his last sentence before Solo joined them:
"I have no control but of myself. I already explained to Goodnight that there seems to be a misunderstanding. I try to express myself in a foreign language under the effect of a mood altering spell about quite complex issues. Suffice to say that it is not my intention to insult our guide.
Regarding the Shedim: Yes, but sadly my arsenal is still lacking in this regard. I plan to remedy that."

After that he turned back to Al:
"Yes, actually. Born and raised as a catholic. My moniker used to be Ice Saint after the seven saints - but as you can imagine, it took no time at all to shorten that name."

The stand off with the clowns provoked him like Al to stand to Solo's side, his rifle at the ready.

#115

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight smiles a grim little smile back Nitro and nods in acknowledgement of his point, but behind her eyes there is still that nagging feeling that she's missing something with him. Turning away from him again as they near the market, her lips move in a whispered incantation as she shores up her own capabilities, raising her speed and reflexes to utterly inhuman levels*, then checked the rest of her gear and magic for readiness.

She sees Solo's message and smothers the spurt of irritation it evokes. <<You have no idea what I see when I look at her. And while she may be scared of me, and you may not trust me, I will still protect her. She is no less safe around me than any other person here, or do you think that I hurt little girls? Anything seeking to harm her will do it over my corpse.>>

It is with a palpable sense of relief that she hears the raucous sounds of Nightside Market, all the haggling and talking and laughing and shouting in a doubledozen languages. A second later she smells it, the redolence of spices, noodles, unidentifiable- but tasty- meats and vegetables grown below, and under that the smell of sweat and oil and metal and other, stranger things, and the sounds and scents of home are enough to even keep her from snapping at Isaint's next message. She is in the middle of composing a quick reply to him, asking if he speaks French any better than English when the Harlequins appear, immediately moving out to surround the small party.

Goodnight's hand drops to yank her monowhip free but she doesn't engage it, not yet. She maneuvers around to place herself between Natasha and as many of the Harlequins as she can, however, and make sure that there's another member of the team behind Natasha rather than a murderous clown-elf. Her stance is relaxed, easy even, but there is nothing in her eyes. Nothing at all.

Slowly, she meets Hecate's eyes and shakes her head. "Don't do this." She says softly in Sperethiel. "We both have children with us. Don't expose them to this. If we must fight, let it be in single combat, or let them leave the fray. Please."**

[spoiler]*Re-quickening Increase Reflexes at Force 8, because I'll be damned if a bunch of shedim or clowns get the best of me.
**Etiquette roll against Hecate - 19d6t5: 9 Successes[/spoiler]

[adamu]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~05:58, Back on Widow’s Way, London Below, London]

Hot damn, he had a good signal.

Al looked around at all the posturing and then shrugged off his two shoulder bags and the strap that secured his shotgun, letting it all fall to the ground. He took off his brown leather jacket, revealing a yellowing wifebeater and skinny white tattooed arms. Holding it by the collar, he spread it out on the ground, outside-down, and then settled himself onto it, careful not to step on the interior lining with his Docs as he sat. He unwrapped an energy bar and tossed it past the clowns in the direction of the marketplace, yelled something in Tamasheq, and watched Spike bound after it joyfully, heedless of the mimes' drawn weapons.

He opened a second bar and stuck it between his teeth - if only it was a Lucky Strike - and started manually tapping out a message on his commlink.

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight can't resist as Al sits down. He looks so relaxed, and the sheer absurdity of it draws a fleeting grin. <<Ive met enough old hands to know that old habits can calm and focus one's skills. Here. On the house. Ill show you where to get your own once we're inside.>> A blurring flick of her wrist later, which draws more than one tense look and breath, and the cigarette case lands in front of him.

[ScytheKnight]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~05:58, Back on Widow’s Way, London Below, London]

The rigger's blue eyes flickering around as he assess the situation before suddenly grinning. His armor seems to glow for a bit before he seems to flicker...

Suddenly in his place stands another harlequin, this one wearing a split comedy/tragedy mask with blood red glowing eyes. There is one key difference between this one and the others, the outfit and form beneath it is showing a graphic depiction of what close range flechette blasts do to a metahuman body. Outfit rent, wounds and mouth dripping blood it raises it's milspec assault shotgun, with a *click* the choke reconfigures to it's wide setting as it is leveled at the tightest cluster of harlequins... irregardless of age or what is behind them.

A multitude of voices speak simultaneously from the surroundings. "Why do you bring this dance here fate-weavers? This music is for those with whom you have quarrel, and yet you have brought those who would fight with automatic weapons into the midst of innocents."

[spoiler]Creating a Trideo Hologram
Artisan 2 + Intuition 4 + Trideo Hologram specialization 2
Trideo Artisan Roll: 8d6t5 6 hits
Mental limit is 5

WHOA did not expect that kind of roll![/spoiler]