Immortal's Club - Game Thread. Arc Five : Winter Soldier (Started, Open)

[TheIronRuler]

Tijuana

Spoiler

'What a crummy clean-up crew'.

Three dirty hobos were all tied up and blindfolded, lying on their stomachs on the scorched floor underneath, the half-collapsed wall of the motel hiding them from plain sight. Even if they were spotted none would give a rat's arse about their lives. A beat-up Mercedes was parked outside, all slick and black, blackened windows and all that espionage bollocks. They couldn't get a less conspicuous car even if they had written CIA in big black letters over a white sedan and stuck American flags everywhere.

'How's your Mexican?', Ben asked Jerry, his right hand holding his trusty colt revolver, waving it around the place, aiming it at the prisoners from time to time.

'Beunos Noche just about covers it', Jerry shot back.

'Shit', Ben mumbled, 'Guess it's up to my superior language skills'.

'Should I get the shovel then?'. Jerry grinned at Ben, who was obviously annoyed. He returned him a nasty look, 'Alright, alright, I'll wait until after you shoot them all'.

One of the prisoners flinched away at the end of Jerry's sentence. Bingo, he thought, an idea smacking right into his head. 'You see that one other there?', he pointed at the one who flinched, a scrawny teenager, 'The skinny kid'. The teen squirmed even harder, trying to get away and further backed to the wall, as if a few inches would save his life. 'Take off their blindfolds so they watch us kill him, and then we interrogate the two', Jerry smirked and Ben was about to pull back the hammer when the kid screamed in a terrifying mixture of bravery and self-preservation.

'Wait, wait, don't shoot me! I can tell you everything!'.

'Tell us your name, boy', Ben walked up to the teenager, held him under one arm and dragged him away to the scorched wall.

'E-Emil! I wwork for Papa Montezeno, I know who you are looking for... I... I can lead you there, just don't shoot me!'.

The air stood still for a moment, nothing moved, not a sound was heard. Emil could only hear his heartbeat pound at his chest, tearing through his ribs, and then suddenly two shots were fired.

'I'll get the shovel-', Jerry whispered delightfully, '-You go get the fucking shovel, that's the only thing you do here besides drive us to fucking nowhere!'.

Emil felt warm, his side getting wet by a liquid from somewhere. Benna sprawled right over him, his full weight crushing him, blood soaking him wet. Ben held the thug by the hair and flung the corpse away, back to his friend.

'So tell us, who was the Ceutan?'.

'H-he isn't rreally a Ceutan. He's Arabic, an Iraqi, but he knew his Spanish well. Papa thought calling him Ceutan would make him practically Spanish...', Emil paused, and the revolver whipped right in his face, throwing his head back, blood seeping through his closed teeth.

'Practical information, Emil'.

'He made us rich... His stuff is legendary... he calls himself the Alchemist. We've got buyers from all across the states...'

'We know, Emil. Why did you come here?'.

'To clear any evidence I-', he paused, hesitated for a moment, 'the drugs were here'.

'You're not telling us something, deary', Jerry sang out. He whistled happily when he handed Ben the shovel, and sent him off to bury the two thugs he shot dead.

'You know, I always wondered where the cops are at over here', Ben said to nobody in particular as he flung Benna corpse on his shoulder and slumped with it away.

'Probably hiding from us-', Jerry shot back.

'I was here with him... I found him here with three prostitutes and a gring- white man, he called him Johnny'.

'The plot thickens!', Ben shouted from behind the wall, the shovel hitting the dry earth right afterwards.

'Is he dead?', Jerry inquired.

Emil nodded silently. 'They were all dead. Everyone from overdose, everyone but the Ceutan. He was immune... I never seen anything like it before'.

Jerry leaned back against a mostly intact wall, feeling his service weapon tucked against his chest. He avoided using it whenever he could. Sometimes it doesn't always work the way you wanted.

'Get us to him, so we can ask him questions. That gringo he killed, well, we're here to placate his daddy'. Jerry pulled the blindfold over Emil's head, and smiled as he looked up at him. 'We won't kill you, Emil. We need you to lead us to the Ceutan'.

'Mahmod... he calls himself Mahmod'.

Ben was about to dig the second grave when the sound of sirens was blaring in the distance.

'You just had to open your blabbering mouth, didn't you?', Ben screamed at Jerry in frustration.

The cops were coming, and it seemed like the day had to end in blood.

[hr]2[/hr]

Belize, somewhere in the jungles

A convoy of vehicles were driving through the city, the immortals following Kanati's instructions. Most of them came after the hunter, only one persisted to stay in the hotel, the lich. The eye kept following then, Coyote entirely confused as to why they were headed the wrong direction.

'They're going to Tijuana', Coyote alerted Memnon, 'What's the old righteous bastard doing?'.

'Are the southerners in place?', he asked Coyote, forgetting the names of the old mesoamerican immortals.

'Last time I checked, yeah. Your girl is tracking them-', Coyote noticed a blur running behind the convoy, hiding among the people as it approached the city. 'She's fast', he muttered under his breath.

'You can't imagine how', Tut walked in their conversation. The prince was running out of things to do, and he was restlessly walking around the cave like a moron.

'I can't stand this', he complained to Memnon, 'I'm bored out of my mind!'.

'I can't begin to imagine how you spent hundreds of years as a severed head'.

Tut grunted in frustration, threw a piece of stone he was playing with on the wall opposite to him. It bounced back and hit him on the head, causing a trickle of blood to go down his temple.

'I'll be outside, washing this out'.

'Not even plumbing', Tut muttered to himself.

He was outside by the fountain, or what used to be a fountain and was now a heap of stones with a trickle of water going through them, washing out his bloody face.

'You tricked me'.

The same thing as earlier, Tut had noticed, the voices coming from nowhere in particular.

'You let the psychopath loose'.

Something vaguely familiar was present in the voice. A great big shadow descended upon Tut and jumped at him. It brought him down to the earth, pinned on his back, then pierced through his flesh. He looked down to see a golden stick going through his torso. Monkey.

He held the stick, sliding down it to the ground and landing on top of Tut.

'That wasn't the deal', he was angry, Tut could tell right away, covered with his enigmatic robe.

'The deal was you get me the knife'. Tut was hard pressed to keep his voice clear, and it crumbled into a shrill at the end. The pain was nigh unbearable.

'You set him loose, and look at what he did to me!', Sun Wukong pulled back his robes to show Tut his cut tail. 'He ate it', Sun screamed in desperation.

'I..I..', Tut had nothing to say.

'The deal is off, I paid your debt', Sun was evidently angry, yet a tinge of sadness seeped through with every swing of his mutilated tail.

'One last thing-', Tut wouldn't leave the coversation with nothing but a hole in his chest to show for it. '-Where is he?'.

'He's working for the Soviets, Tut. You've released the beast'. Sun Wukong jumped off Tut, and the staff soon followed, turning into a toothpick in his hand. 'I know what you're doing, dealing with old magic. I won't take part in it, but...', his eyes wandered off, '...I will take part in my vengeance, with or without your help'.

The wound in Tut's chest began to slowly heal itself.

I'm gathering quite the crowd...

[hr]2[/hr]

Tijuana, one hour earlier

Spoiler

'Spread out and look for anything suspicious... they should be in here. Ask for Papa Montezeno, see if you can find his men. Watch the police - they might give you something to work with. Trust me-', Kanati turned to Shenshen, 'You'll find what you're looking for here'.

The convoy of Immortals spread out, each to their own devices. The goal was clear - find Mahmod, a.k.a. 'The Ceutan' and his boss, 'Papa Motezeno'.

Little they knew that even uttering his name would bring the ire of the whole city down upon them - every lowlife owned something to the cartel, and every cop was in their pocket. The city was littered with slums, pubs, whorehouses - dealers worked in broad daylight, peddling their goods.

Off to their right, a couple of police cars were speeding past them, going somewhere. They had a meeting with some Americans to sort out.

 

[Baddamobs]

Screecher would admit: the day had taken a rather sudden turn for the dire.

The idle thoughts and worries about accidentally sleeping (possibly with more then a single person) around flew from her mind when Shenshen approached with a...oddly dressed, figure. The explanation was clear: whatever this Immortal called themselves, they knew where Mahmod was.

Screecher had glared, distrust clear in her features, at the barely clothed Immortal the entire way over to Tijuana. They had planned on finding a contact or person who could lead them to Mahmod, yes, but this seemed... suspicious. It was almost too easy; they didn't even need to step out of the hotel before they found a solid lead.

This is like the museum all over again... The ex-owl frowned at the thought. Hopefully this would end with either no one 'dying,' or at the very least actually staying dead.

She shook her head of the thought. Now was not the time to question the turn of events, after all this wasn't the first time a inexplicably good thing happened to the club, and it wouldn't be the last (despite their rarity...)

They still needed to actually find either the wayward Immortal, or at the very least the mortal drug baron he was running with. One would lead to the other, and once both had be dealt with (Mahmod for running away, and the mortal for making it so bloody hard to find him), THEN they could leave this whole nasty turn of events behind them.

Better take a little regroup with the others. Coordinating our efforts is going to make this a lot easier.

The nearest Immortal to her was Shanna, whom she was hesitant to approach for a second. Questions about her nightly activities still lingered in her mind, but she did her best to ignore the burning curiosity. This wouldn't be the most odd set up for 'debauchery' the club had been privy to; hell, not the oddest situation of this kind Screecher herself had been put through, though she mostly embarrassed about those early days.

"Let's not loudly announce our intentions to the whole city," Screecher whispered conspiratorially to Shanna. "Let's at least try and approach this with some level of tact and subtly. That's not exactly our forte, but...you get the idea." She turned to the group at large, but still spoke softly and quietly. "I suggest we ask around, say we're looking to buy some of the goods, or something. Remember that we don't who 'The Ceutan' is, just that he makes some strong shit. We try and keep our heads down, and we should fine, right?"

 

[Frission]

Shenshen was busy deciding on his next plan of action. He had ditched his Hawaiian shirt and dressed himself in something more unobtrusive, and he had also managed to hide his bow and the rest of his equipment in the sack he had slung across his shoulder. However, apart from that he was unprepared: Marco had little pull on the America's, so he would have to gather information by himself. The immortals that had accompanied him would help, but Shenshen was still in unknown territory ( for the first time in a few hundred years ). Shenshen knew very little about Tijuana, but he still was aware of the tension in the air and had a sinking feeling that he might have carelessly brought their little group to somewhere very dangerous. He just hoped that the other immortals wouldn't do anything foolish.

He looked to the rest of his group as they dispersed. Most of the other immortals had jumped at the chance to go to Tijuana except Caderyn, who was missing. The only information Shenshen was able to gather about Caderyn's disappearance was from a rather irate father back at the hotel who had been screaming about how a "little runt got his darling children drunk", then had vanished into the alleyways of Mexico City. Shenshen knew better than trying to trail the little one when he's running away from trouble so he just hoped that the Korrigan was safe wherever he was.

Shenshen's ignorance about the whole situation was irritating and the very fact that he couldn't keep track of the members of their little party was an additional source of frustration, but he was determined to change that. Shenshen turned towards the immortal next to him. The fellow was fairly mysterious and Shenshen wanted to at least know about their informant. Well Shenshen thought I might as well clear one thing up.

"I am afraid to say that I haven't properly introduced myself: My name is Shenshen of Ur. What do they call you, and why are you telling us information about Mahm- ... the alchemist?"

 

[TheIronRuler]

"I am afraid to say that I haven't properly introduced myself: My name is Shenshen of Ur. What do they call you, and why are you telling us information about Mahm- ... the alchemist?"

Kanati opened the car door and looked back at Shenshen with cold, dead eyes.

'He had poisoned enough minds and killed too many for me to bear any longer. I don't want him in my land anymore. Take him and his sin away - I don't want to deal with his kind'.

He was talking about more than just Mahmod - all of the foreigners who came to his lands, killed his people and settled in their fields. Let them all leave, all of the foreigners, away from his home. He never intended to help them in their own private war. All he wanted to do was to clean his own back-yard, so to speak.

The two were standing alongside each other, watching the rest climb out of the hotel car. Isaac was already swaying from side to side, and Lilith had that look on her face which either meant she was very excited or very tired, none could really tell, sometimes not even her.

The locals stared at Kanati as they walked by, the half-naked man standing in broad daylight seeming rather ridiculous to the other immortals.

'I give him to you, and you take him away. Sounds like a good deal', Kanati was finishing his pitch to Shenshen when he was struck down by some unseen force. He was flung back through the street into an empty building, a crumbling shed long forgotten. Inside Kanati was laying on his back, his body hanging limp, his bones shattered from the impact.

'What the fuck have you been doing, you self-righteous ****?'.

Ameretat was looking down on him with her regular sneer, ready to pommel him into submission if he decides to react.

'Let them see what they have done to my beautiful land... Let them see the corruption... Those foreigners from across the sea-', he was heaving, taking his time with his words, desperately trying for air.

'You're just a man, only the first man, not a god, Kanati. You should know when you are outmatched. All you had to do was take them to the compound. We were already waiting there for them. Why disobey us?'.

He smiled, the first time during all of her visit, and perhaps the first time in centuries.

'I do all I can to make your life miserable, wench, for it is the only satisfaction I have left in life'.

'Then you don't deserve living'.

The two stared at each other for a moment. The street outside was just reacting to what happened inside, and onlookers were approaching the scene.

'I will remember this, hunter', Ameretat threatened.

'You can't force me into the big sleep', Kanati replied, 'I still have my will'.

'There are other ways'. Just as suddenly as she appeared she was gone with the wind.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Ali kept her space from the others as they went about the town. The prospect of another adventure already drew her in to the man's proposition but he hunt of the immortal cemented it. But as they searched through the town some more, Ali found hyper self near Shenshen although he looked a bit too preoccupied to notice. How hard could it be to find someone who could cheat death? Ali pondered those questions as she followed the hunter in front of her. She was aware of what he had done in his immortal lifetime but never had she actually seen him in action.

Before Ali could strike a conversation with Shenshen there was a loud boom followed by the crumbling of a wall. The half-naked man that had lead them around was struck with a strong blow. She raised her hands to her mouth, trying to stifle the amount of dust and sand that had kicked up. Ali suppressed a cough as she tried to look for who had caused such a blow and her eyes saw a woman standing over Kanati, ready to deliver the final blow. They exchanged words but with another gale of wind, the woman was gone. Instinctively, Ali rushed to the fallen man to see if he could walk let alone be able to help them. She crouched over Kanati, trying to help him up.

"Such a warm welcome..." Ali said. "Makes me wonder who else is here and doesn't want us sniffing around. What else do you need to tell us?"

 

[TheIronRuler]

Tijuana

The hunter was laying on his back, his body broken, making every effort of breathing an agony. He spat a mouthful of blood on the dirt to his left, and looked up to see a woman standing near him, an Immortal he recognized from earlier in the hotel.

"...What else do you need to tell us?"

Kanati threw up a mixture of bile and blood from the bottom of his stomach, staining his chest with red. He coughed violently and gave up halfway through. His eyes rolled up to the heavens, his eyes searching for a sign from Allanque.

'You are not alone, looking for the Alchemist. More want him, but for different goals. Find him first'.

A crowd had gathered around them, curiously looking at the injured man, not bothering to call up the police or any emergency services.

Halfway across the city

'I'm all out of fucking bullets', Ben shouted over the sound of whizzing bullets flying off the crumbling motel wall they took for cover.

'I noticed', Jerry shot back. He raised his head a little, only to catch a glimpse of their assailants, but a speeding bullet going right past his head convinced him otherwise.

'What's your plan now?', Ben pressed his back against the wall, practically leaning on it as if he was about to take a nap. Emil was wedged between them, completely lost. He knew he would get shot if he tried to get away, but he wasn't sure which one of the two sides would shoot him dead. It was pointless to surrender - the police won't care if he was armed or not.

'Hell if I know', Jerry shouted back, trying to look at the men shooting at them from a hole in the wall and reeling away in shock when a shot went right through it.

'At least they don't have any fucking grenades'. Ben looked at Jerry in smug satisfaction.

A man in the crowd trying to kill them screamed something in Spanish, and Emil panicked. He repeated the same word, this time in English, and the two CIA agents started with their prayers at that moment. 'GRENADE', Emil screamed, turning into a little ball of flesh as he went inside in a fetal position and nestled next to the wall.

'You just had to open your blabbering mouth, didn't you?', Ben shouted at Jerry in frustration.

The grenade went wide, dropping well further and into a second nearby room, blowing everything inside to shreds. Emil squawked in pain when a piece of shrapnel hit him in his left forearm, the bone stopping it inches away from his head.

'That was close', Jerry hissed under his breath.

'Well that was just fan-fucking-tastic, what's next, rocket launchers?', Ben gave Jerry a strange look, part desperation and part excitement.

'They shouldn't have that kind of firepower', Jerry thought out loud, and then an idea smacked right into the back of his head, like it always does.

'ATF, Hold your fire', Jerry screamed at the top of his lungs, trying his hardest to be heard under the whirlpool of wheezing bullets. The barrage of lead suddenly stopped as quickly as it had began.

'You've got to be shitting me', Ben peeked around the end of the wall and saw their opposition.

'Who are you?', a gruff voice asked from the other side of the wall.

'Well, just look at the fucking car', Ben shot back, 'Who did you expect, the fucking tooth-fairy?'.

'We're CIA', Jerry winced at the light reflecting from the car windows of the ATF squad. 'And you're far away from the border', he added.

'Well, color me red and call me an injun, ain't that a treat to catch us a couple-ol-spies over here, boy!'. The accent was as stereotypical as it could be, stolen right from a kid's cartoon show. The Texan watched Jerry approach him through his shaded glasses, wearing the uniform of Mexican police.

'This was all one big misunderstanding', Jerry tried placating the men with guns.

'I knew those beaners couldn't be packing that much heat', Ben's self-satisfied grin greeted the ATF welcome party as he walked past his hiding spot. Emil was still laying on his back, clutching his bleeding arm tight.

'What are you boys doing here?', the Texan asked, motioning his men to lower their weapons. There was half a dozen of them, maybe more if you count the drivers.

'Secret mission, we're hauling a fugitive back to the states', Jerry winked at Ben, who then went around the wall and dragged Emil with him outside.

'This place 'er is a crime scene', the Texan announced triumphantly.

'I know, you shot us like-', Ben was stopped before he could shower the ATF boys with colorful language. 'There were drugs here. We're looking for a heavy hitter, the Ceutan'. The Texan motioned his men to approach the two CIA agents.

'Fucking ATF', Ben hissed under his breath.

'The Ceutan! Yes, I know him! I work for him! Yes, please, help me!', Emil was squirming in Ben's grip, trying to get away from him.

'Fucking Beaners', Ben cursed under his breath, let loose a fist at Emil's side, sending him gasping for air.

The Texan smiled, his lips stretching under his big, fat and black mustache. 'Now there, boys, you just hand over that little piece of e-vi-dence for my inspection, eh?', he motioned at Emil, a great big smile on his face. His men were approaching Ben, slowly forming a circle around him.

'Wait!', Jerry cried out, 'We can make a deal'. The Texan raised a bushy eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to the left. 'What kind of deal?', he asked, licking his lips with his rough tongue.

Thank god for corruption in the hearts of men.

Outside the Compound

'let go of me', the god of war hissed at the lord of fire, 'Let me through'.

The Lord of fire was holding the God of war in his hands, grabbing him by his shoulders and dragging him away from the road. 'We wait for our signal, and then we attack', he tried to sooth his kin, 'There are dozens of men there'.

'I've had thousands sacrificed to me every year, let me taste the blood again, damn it', he snapped at his brother, going for his eyes.

'Enough', Allanque separated the two with a single word. She was looking up at the heavens, waiting for the stars to come out. 'Your forget yourself', her eyes were wandering between the tiny clouds in the blue heavens.

'More will come', Huehueteotl called out to Huitzilopochtli. He was walking away from the others, muttering curses and tramping the occasional cactus. 'I have faith in Katani', she whispered to herself.

Inside the Compound

Mahmod was wet, and cold, and more frightened than he had been in a long, long time. Death he could handle, but he wasn't a lizard who could regrow its own limbs - and the thought of missing fingers scared him unlike any other. He was captured and thrown in a cage, placed right next to the pig sty - there he watched the swine eat and grovel in dirt, waiting for his delicious fingers. Such cruelty he did not expect from his employer.

'It'll teach you a lesson, Ceutan', a man's was voice was coming from behind him. An old, squat man, thin grey-hairs covering his scalp. He was wearing a bloody apron, a cleaver in hand.

The Butcher

Mahmod's eyes widened as the sound of his steps grew louder.

'Papa counted FOUR fingers. Which do you like the least?'. A sick laughter escaped his twisted lips.

 

[Frission]

He had poisoned enough minds and killed too many for me to bear any longer. I don't want him in my land anymore. Take him and his sin away - I don't want to deal with his kind

Shenshen nodded in what he hoped was an understanding manner. Mahmod had always been the provider of drugs in the club, but his latest foray into mortal crime was a serious matter and Shenshen was sorry that a fallout from the club had such grave consequences. Shenshen had begun to ask another question when a sudden force threw Kanati back and hit in passing Shenshen who was right next to him. He only had time to see a women.

Shenshen was partially blinded by the force and was stunned long enough that when his ears had stopped ringing the witch was long gone (For a minute he thought he was back in the trenches of the Great War). Shenshen winced at the pains he felt all over his body, but knew that now was definitely not the time to play the invalid. Shenshen swore "May the Jackals drag you to the desert" and hobbled towards the target of the attack, who was probably in even worse shape. He noted with displeasure that a crowd of onlookers were starting to congregate around the scene of carnage. Shenshen navigated his way through the circle and once he broke through he barked in Spanish "Get away! Nothing to see here! Go back to your homes!' He then turned to look at his conversation partner and paused in horror.

Their guide was a twisted and broken mess and was slightly covered with bricks and pieces of mortar. Ali was right next to him and Shenshen called out to her. "Ah Ali, thank you, how is he doing? Do you know any first aid or surgery? I felt free to packs some supplies near the car in such an eventua-" Here Shenshen made a move to point out the car, but the quick movement sent a jolt of pain through his side and was enough to bend him over in pain. He took a minute to catch his breath and see the immortals who were at the scene "Did anyone see where that witch went? I'm going after her. Isaac you're coming with me! I'll also take any other volunteers, but someone else should take care of our guide."

 

[TheIronRuler]

Off to the left, Nadi was in her own world - she had been arguing with a dealer for the last five minutes for the price on a bag of cocaine he was trying to peddle to her. When the negotiations blew up and she cursed his mother, adding to the mix the name of the alchemist who sold her the same bag for five times less - all hell broke loose. He pulled out a shiny knife and lunged at her with his hungry eyes, a collection of beat-down addicts and dealers joining the mix, surrounding her friends while eyeing the luxury cars they drove with into town not too long ago.

'They're loaded... a bunch of tourists... take what we deserve...', they were talking among themselves, encouraging each other to go for the kill. They were asking too many questions, too many demands, those foreigners who had too much money for their own good.

It was at that point the sirens blared, and several police cars pulled over, escorting a black american vehicle, which was suspiciously secretive. The officer leading the group seemed whiter than average when he climbed out of the first car, and the Texan spat a mouthful of chewing tobacco before speaking up.

'Now then, who the hell had done this to my lovely city?', he stifled a laughter, eyeing over the drug dealers. He was quick to draw his own weapon, and his men followed him. 'Well, well, well, aren't you a happy bunch...', he looked back, his two CIA pals leaving their car with a look of confusion.

'They don't understand a word, you dumb fuck', Ben snared at the Texan. He was sneaking glances at their prisoner tied up in the back.

'They're small fry, we're going for the big boys... We grab ourselves the Ceutan, and you take down the whole cartel'.

'A promotion... Your picture on the papers', Ben was reminding the Texan of some of the benefits he would surely enjoy, 'a quaint little beach home waiting for your retirement'.

 

[PlastikThief]

The day was not going quite as well as Shanna had planned. Breakfast was fine, if over-salted, but the arrival of the mostly naked man who apparently knew where Mahmod was hiding out was something of a killer for the lite holiday mood that had been developing.

Shanna, of course was right up at the front with volunteers to go on the exhibition, but it was more of a careful reluctance to trust the newcomer. A few too many deaths and near-misses these past few years had left Shanna with a sense of unease concerning anyone other than their closer friends.

The events had passed quickly after that. Disembarking in Tijuana the group was preparing to split up and search for clues as to the Alchemist's whereabouts, but not before a wild gust blew in with a woman in tow, smashing their informant through a wall, and disappearing soon after, just as the wind.

Shanna had hurried forward with Ali to tend to the man, having extensive knowledge of anatomy and medical procedures from the last 11 centuries.

"I can help this one" Shanna said to the others. "I'm probably best equipped to deal with whatever injury he's suffered." 'And if that means I can keep and eye on him and press him for information at the same time, all the better.'

Shanna grabbed one of the first-aid kits from Shensen's truck and brought it back to the guide, pulling out rubbing alcohol and gauze. They took a swig of the first, before applying it over most of the abrasions that layered the body.

With the others out of earshot or grouping to form search parties, Shanna lowered their voice and whispered into their guide's ear. "You need to tell me everything you can about why Mahmod is here and who that woman was, or I can make the healing process extremely unpleasant."

 

[Frission]

Shenshen was busy thanking Shanna and Ali for their help when he was alerted by yelling and screaming in another part of the town. A quick recount of the immortals present told him that Naditabirus was missing. This was bad. Shenshen gave a strangled "be well" to the field surgeons, yelled at Isaac to follow him then ran towards the source of the disturbance. When he arrived he saw that Naditabirus somehow managed to get surrounded by a bunch of angry drug dealers. Shenshen gave a small oath and tried to sneak up on the angry gang and make an opening for the other immortal to run. With a plan in mind Shenshen tensed his legs in preparation to jump on the nearest drug dealer, before being alerted by police sirens. Shenshen jumped back and barely missed being run over by a police car. He was dismayed to see that the local militia had joined in as well, as well as an official looking car.

They even said something about the "Ceutan" a.k.a Mahmod, and they were going to arrest him!

This was bad. He couldn't have his charges be arrested, since Marco barely had any pull in the Americas. Shenshen had also forgotten to bring a fake American police badge, so he couldn't use the old technique of dragging an immortal off to safety in the name of "arresting" them. Shenshen scrounged his pockets and found the symbols of the Turkish Police from his last foray with Jack (It was the first time anyone tried to kill him with a Kebab Stick). Apart from his weapons, everything else he had brought with him was less than useless in the current situation. Shenshen took a deep breath and tried to calm down. His new plan was to get Naditabirus out of trouble, follow the officers to Mahmod and spirit him away before the police could get to him. He would improvise the rest.

Shenshen nodded, satisfied with his new plan and slowly advanced on the circle of police officers and drug dealers.

 

[TheIronRuler]

"You need to tell me everything you can about why Mahmod is here and who that woman was, or I can make the healing process extremely unpleasant."

'I don't know, you she-devil'', Kanati pushed himself back, a spear of pain stabbing at his sides. He failed to move, instead falling back with a grunt of pain.

On the way to the Compound

What a strange woman...

Gerome wouldn't come with the rest of the group. When they've had no knowledge of what Mahmod had been doing for the past year, Gerome was still in contact with him. His friend had gone through a mental breakdown after Memnon's death, and being kicked around in the sidelines didn't help him. He had to find his own way, rediscover himself, return to his old self. Gerome knew exactly where he was, and all he waited for was an opportunity for him to slip away from the crowds and come see his old friend.

Tunisia, Sheikh's Palace, some hundreds of years ago

'Welcome to your new home'.

The knight was still wearing his armor, the sign of the Templars etched on his breastplate. He had met the Muslim Alchemist before, in Jerusalem, with Salah-a-din's forces. He was a crude, greedy and cruel man, looking out for his own interests, looting the faithful, carving up the dead for his devilish plans.

Today he was the only friend he had left. The King of Aragon had hidden many of his fellow knights, but he wouldn't work for a godless man. He found himself working for an infidel, a Muslim, a man rotten to the core who finds joy in death and drink.

'France is my home', the Templar hissed at him.

The Alchemist tilted his head slightly to the side, the left edge of his mouth twirling downwards into a disapproving half-frown. He was wearing silk embroiled with gold and jewels, fit for a Sultan or a King. Rings covered his every finger, and a heavy golden chain of office hung on his neck.

'You will be killed there. Trust me, Christian, you will soon find we are not too different from you. We can even speak your tongue. I know you will soon speak ours'.

Gerome gritted his teeth. 'I will never speak your filthy heathen words', he snarled at him like a rabid dog, 'my faith is with god, and I will not abandon him'.

'Oh, but Allah is simply our word for your God, is it not? Praise him, for he is the greatest of them all'. The two of them were a step away from each other. The Alchemist leaned forward, planting a kiss on one of the the Knight's right cheek. 'Sweet times await', he whispered.

Near the Compound

Gerome was driving a car borrowed from the hotel. His thoughts wandered to times long past. He felt warmth over his right cheek, his hand slowly feeling wetness on the surface of his skin, hiding beneath his stubble. He didn't hear from Mahmod for too long, and Gerome was getting suspicious all was not well. Besides, he had to whisk him away before that mad-dog on Marco's leash would put him in an iron box... He wouldn't allow it to happen. He wouldn't let anyone touch the Alchemist. He was all his.

Gerome pulled over before entering the dirt path to his left, leading to the compound. He left the car behind and opted for a covert approach - get in unseen and find Mahmod, warn him of what's coming and get him out before the others arrive. He had to save him - he owed him at least that.

 

[Frission]

Shenshen felt the sun bare down upon him and finally realized how unbearably how Tijuana was. It was a bad augur, a sign of madness and violence. Shenshen really hated the sun. He hoped he wasn't sweating, since it would ruin any of his attempts to look harmless and trustworthy. He went next to the nearest policemen and said in the most polite tone he could muster "Officer, my friend was waylaid by these outlaws. Could you be as kind as to let me pass so that I may accompany her away from these premises?"'

Shenshen then tried to give a reassuring smile (although it may have been a grimace), and started to regret not having brought one of the more socially skilled immortals with him.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

'I don't know, you she-devil''

"Now, now. Undue stress will no make this harder." Ali said, treating the man with some of the medical supplies that Shanna had been so kind enough to get but even with some first-aid, this man was far from okay. She treated his broken bones and cut skin but this man needed more help than what they had. What did interest Ali was why he would be targeted by such an important being. One second she was there and the next second, this man was thrown into a building. Questions started to arise in Ali's head and Shanna had already caught wind of that.

"The sooner you help us, the sooner you can get back to getting back your Mexico, alright?" Ali said concisely. Any hint of levity on her face from this morning had all but disappeared. Now was time for answers.

 

[Baddamobs]

Screecher had hardly reacted to their guide being hurtled through a concrete wall. And she had hardly reacted when they were surrounded by drug addled criminals. And hadn't even blinked when the local law enforcement had pulled up, promising to complicate things.

...Breathe, Screecher, breathe. Whatever gods are out there can't screw you up any more then they have already...

Alright, recount: Naditabirus was currently split from the group, surrounded by a circle of drug ridden criminals. The group as a whole was surrounded by a half-circle of similar criminals, the Immortal's backs to the now punctured wall. Ali and Shanna were attending their guide, while Shenshen had managed to slip past the circle before it had closed, now seemingly negotiating with the now arrived 'sheriffs.'

Screecher could only hope he was making headway, since buying enough time for the situation to stabilize (more importantly, WITHOUT letting the whole world know they were immune to shivs, knives and bats) was going to require some inelegant tactics. Screecher, as carefully as possible, lent down and grabbed a sizable piece of rubble from the wall, holding it tightly in her hand.

She scanned the number of bodies between her and Naditabirus.

...

More then she'd like: she would need the other Immortal to cooperate for this to work. She tried to catch the Immortal's eye through the crowd, while wrestling with a sudden rise in blood pumping through her. A long dormant part of her was slowly surfacing. This stand off, this thrill was familiar; this instinctive fear and threat felt similar to the museum, but was more poignant. The (barring last night) recent lack of alcohol in her system combined with the sweltering heat of the sun was bringing something back.

She felt the uncertain but determined eyes of PREY again. She could almost feel talons clenching around the rock instead of fingers, and her body felt lighter, like light avian bones filled her body instead of these cumbersome human bones-

No. No no, focus. Screecher let out a long breath, fingers- HUMAN fingers- digging into the rubble. Whatever the hell this was, this could wait.

She once again focused her gaze on Naditabirus. She could only hope she would look her way, and follow her lead, since the last thing either one of them needed was for her to do something rash...

 

[drmigit2]

Naditabirus, hours ago.

?So the plan, Olé, is for me to do what??

?Simple, puta.? The drug lord was smiling over a cuban cigar as he spoke to Naditabirus in the car. His own driver was escorting them, some african fellow Naditabirus was unfamiliar with. The car was a limousine, large enough to fit Olé and his bodyguards. Naditabirus and the man himself were behind the driver, with the others sitting behind. Notably, Vladimir himself was in the far left hand side and was staring out of a window the entire time. He occasionally glanced at Naditabirus but mostly kept quiet.

?You will stir up some shit. Based on what you have told me, anything that those fake cartel wimps may throw your way would be easy. Once you find yourself surrounded, you will disable everyone around you. Punch one of them really hard in the neck and take him to us. We will be watching you.? Olé yelled to the guards in the back and they handed him a tear gas grenade and a gas mask. The mask was high tech, in great condition and Naditabirus had to admire its craftsmanship. It was light, compact and easy enough to handle. Olé handed them to Naditabirus and chuckled. ?Pull the pin on that, and they will all be on the ground. Even any police dumb enough to fuck with the cartels.?

Naditabirus had a visible smile on her face and quickly stowed both of the items in her purse. She looked at Olé and said ?I don?t know where you got this, but damn am I happy you did. I guess it?s probably the best way to snag a quick lead on the hunt for Mahmod. Just know that if things go south, everyone except me will end up dead.?

?I wouldn?t have it any other way, you crazy *****.? Olé smashed his cigar into the tray next to him and caught the gaze of Vlad. He looked at his guard and said ?Hey, we all know she?s pretty. Don?t be embarrassed, I know I would mount her in a second!? The rest of the guards laughed while Vlad simply turned his gaze back out the window. Olé shrugged and lit up another cigar, he could see Tijuana in the distance now, they were close.

Naditabirus, Tijuana

?What the fuck do you mean this bag costs a whole grand? The kings of fucking Zanzabar snort better than this crap and they only pay five.?

Naditabirus pushed a very skinny mexican man who was eyeballing her bag. He was carrying around a ziplock baggie full of cocaine and peddling it to whomever would listen. Most people ignored his type, saps so in debt due to their drug addiction that they are forced to sell or be shot on the spot. He looked like he hadn?t eaten in weeks and was clearly not doing well in the hot Tijuana sun. ?Look? he began weakly, ?the price is the price. I can?t change it, they will notice. You either pay it or?or??

?Or what?? Naditabirus pushed the man again and smirked. ?Mahmod could get me this drivel for ten percent of what you are selling at. Don?t even pretend you have a spine.? At the mention of Mahmod, a few of the other drug dealers began to pay attention to Naditabirus. She had stayed clear of the crazy hunter guy and whatever Shen was doing. The further she stayed from him the better. Naditabirus pushed the dealer again, this time to the ground. She kicked him in the sides and continued to yell at him. ?You can?t touch me, I am from America you piece of shit. I could buy you, make you my ***** and then take your whore mother out of this country just to deport her again. You should apologize for ruining her, you lowlife. You aren?t even worth the spunk that went into your whore mother.?

At that, something in the dealer broke. He got himself up and ran away, yelling at the top of his lungs something that Naditabirus couldn?t translate. It was probably code for something. The other drug dealers began to circle Nadi and she could barely keep herself from laughing. They were all whispering what they were going to do to her, threats that could not at all compete with the brutality of the barbarians after the sacking of Rome. Frankly, some of it would be even amusing. Either way, the scrawny dealer returned saying ?That?s her, that?s the *****!?

One of the dealers looked as if he wanted to make a move, but Naditabirus flashed her colt and he backed off. There were at least six bullets packed in that gun and nobody wanted to take them. At the moment, everything stood still. That was until the cops rolled in with their flashy lights. They began to chatter among themselves as well, Screecher too was moving toward the situation, hoping to gain some ground with the Lich. Naditabirus looked at everyone around her and shrugged. She opened up her purse and said ?You assholes want what?s in here? Well I guess I can give you a little something to just walk away.? With that, she bent over, put on her gas mask and threw the canister of tear gas into the crowd.

What happened after, she really wasn?t sure of. Tear gas blinds and chokes everyone within the vicinity, and while it is more effective in closed rooms, it is used for riots with a good reason. Because everyone was so close, it was easy to gas the entire crowd, likely hitting some of the other immortals as well. She heard gunshots from somewhere, one even scratched the side of her cheek, but it closed quickly. Naditabirus fired her pistol six times in front of her, probably killing a couple people and tackled the first person standing up she could find. She punched him in the face a few times and began to drag him out of the crowd and toward the rendezvous that Olé had set up. This was going pretty well.

Vladimir

?So, you know this *****, don?t you.? Olé spoke calmly to Vladimir as they waited on the far side of town. Close enough that Naditabirus could slip out and move to their location, but far enough so that anyone who followed would quickly be lost. ?I know that look of pining, and you have it, my friend. What I want to know, is how a thug like you gets with a girl like that. Unless this is love at first sight, but you don?t really seem to be the kind to believe in it.?

Vladimir tipped his hat and said ?Look, what we have is between us. I appreciate your ability to pick up on such things, but I will not discuss this any further.? Vlad looked back down at the ground, hat hiding his face from the sun. Olé left shortly after, probably to talk to someone more willing, the guy was decent enough, talkative and secretive all at once. Had the circumstances been different, the Impaler and the Drug Lord could have been friends. But Vlad had other matters to attend to. Naditabirus was likely to start her attack soon, and when she did, he wanted to make sure she got out safely.

?I am going to scout ahead.? Vlad said to nobody as he walked away from the car and toward the town square. Olé chuckled and shouted ?Don?t take too long, private time with her can be saved for after we get our boss back!? He quickly returned to his other guards, smoke billowing from under his hat. ?That guy is funny, don?t you think so? I like him.?

The walk was simple, all roads led to the town square and Vlad heard gunshots right on que. He stood behind a building and quickly caught Naditabirus dragging a body. Whoever it was, would probably wake up soon. But there was a more pressing issue at hand. A few of the other dealers were running away from her tear gas in the same direction and while they were still disoriented, Vlad made sure with a couple pistol shots that they wouldn?t be a problem.

Naditabirus noticed Vlad with a couple smoking guns and said ?Olé doesn?t trust me enough to make it a solo mission?? To which the Impaler replied ?I don?t trust drug dealers with your safety.? Before grabbing the legs of the man Naditabirus was dragging. The rest of the walk was silent, Naditabirus could not think of anything to say to Vladimir, as she herself had not decided yet if she intended to help him dispose of the sheriff. Shen was a good man and while Vlad was great to her, she knew that he was not a good man. Entertaining, suave, but also psychotic and dangerous to those he views as disposable. Olé was in the distance and he smiled as he saw Naditabirus. ?Good job, lovebirds! I want that guy in the trunk. We have a special chair for him ready to go!"

 

[TheIronRuler]

The Compound

The stench assaulted Gerome, the combined filth of hundreds of people at the mouth of the sewer drainage pipe going inside the compound. He mumbled a toneless prayer and braved the entrance, walking in slime and human feces, making his way inside the tall walls to find his dearest friend, the Alchemist.

[hr]2[/hr]

The Butcher called in a guard with a sharp whistle. He came down the steps to the pig sty, an eager crowd following behind, waiting for the punishment at hand. He was a large african man, one of the low-ranking thugs, part-slave, part-servant, who was at the bottom of the organization. The big man stood besides the cage when the Butcher opened it with a heavy key, jumped at Mahmod and dragged him away. They were walking to the butchering table, a few strides away from the cages, hidden from the pigs by a tall plaster wall. Inside were carcasses hanging by hooks, the families of the pigs wallowing in the dirt nearby.

'Get him on the table, hold his hand steady', the Butcher ordered the guard, his tongue licking his lips in anticipation.

'The pigs will grow fat on human flesh', he heard a faint voice from the crowd.

Ben&Jerry

'Say what now?', Ben was trying his best to understand what the half-drunk, mostly-crazy man was trying to tell them.

He was holing an identification in some foreign language, clearly not English or Spanish, and saying he was from the Turkish secret service, here to intercept a suspect Kurdish terrorist.

'The plot thickens...', Jerry mumbled to himself, staring at the texan for his next move.

'What the heck are you doing over here, boy? This ain't your jurisdiction', the Texan exclaimed, knowing fully well it wasn't his either. 'Well, I ought to arrest you right now for being a spy in foreign land', he continued in his stereotypical accent, which made the situation even more absurd.

Shenshen was trying to explain himself and placate the officers, but it was no good - the Texan wouldn't give a damn about anything he said, unless it benefitted him somehow.

'Look, sheriff-', Jerry smiled at the Texan and waited for him to turn his attention away from the Turkish spy, '-We got to get there, so if you can just-'.

Kanati

"The sooner you help us, the sooner you can get back to getting back your Mexico, alright?"

'My country is gone, and so is this one. You white devils took it all from us'. Kanati could breath without difficulty now, speaking without stopping for rest. He looked angry, furious, a deep and cold hatred that ran through his veins.

'This is why I never slept... To cause you pain'.

His hand snapped up, holding the throat of Ali with intense force. It was true he was not known for his strength, but the first man, the first hunter - was a quick and cunning foe. 'I will never sleep, not until we push you back across the sea'.

Tijuana

All hell broke loose. The gas enveloped the entire square, submerging everyone in scortching pain. Everything devolved into a mist of panic, pain and violence.

You could hear gunshots fired inside. The drug dealers shot at the tourists, and incidentally also shot at the ATF agents.

A gunfight erupted in the mist.

'The fuckers shot at me', Ben ducked under the car, dragging Emil down with him.

'Get back, I can't see a thing', Jerry followed his partner, getting away from the fighting.

On the other hand, the Texan looked like a little kid on christman eve opening his presents.

'Kill those druggies', he ordered his men and ran behind his car, opening the truck and pulling out an automatic rifle, throwing it at one of his subordinates. 'Hit them at full force', he screamed with glee, holding an M-16 and spraying the whole mess in front of him, not caring at all about who he hit.

'Christ', Emil whispered under his breath, 'They're murdering everyone'.

[hr]2[/hr]

Somewhat abruptly, the hand squeezing Ali's neck tore away and disappeared. She found herself staring wide-eyed into nothing. Kanati was gone, just like that. He was being whisked away by a very angry, very troubled immortal who received orders to take care of him.

Just make him disappear, was what Memnon told her. She grabbed him, held him tight to her chest like a newborn baby, trying to shield him from the brunt of the travel. She stopped abruptly, lowering the dazed native immortal on the dust below. They were standing in the desert, some miles off Tijuana, red mountains overlooking the bloody work that was to be finished.

'You could have played nice'. Ameretat sat on a boulder a couple of feet back, her legs dangling down, happily kicking the air.

'They've ruined everything I cared about'. Kanati was still struggling, his body slowly regenrating.

'We can't afford mixed allegiances'. Ameretat considered her options. She noticed the eye watching her from above. Must be that crazy Coyote, she snapped her knuckles slowly.

We can't afford betrayals. Memnon was clear with his instructions. Kanati had to be taken down, down to the big sleep, out of this world. Bloody work indeed.

[hr]2[/hr]

Caught in the crossfire, the immortals couldn't escape their impending doom. Bulets wheezed in all directions, taking the lives of ATF agents, druggies and innocent bystanders alike. The immortals fared better than the rest.

Outside the Compound

'No', Allanque whispered, 'Please, stop', she begged the heavens. She saw it happening, she saw the foreigner grab Kanati by the throat, tear him to pieces, break his spirit, break his... everything.

The two Aztec Immortals were already going at each other. Flames danced around the arena, and old grudges returned to nest in their hearts. They remembered grievences thousands of years old, and threw insults at each other in long dead tongues. ALlanque was on her knees, sobbing quietly, awaiting the final judgement of Kanati, the last hunter of the plains.

 

[Baddamobs]

Screecher was first aware of the grating annoyance that filled her. It just HAD to be tear gas, didn't it? Naditabirus couldn't have kicked off a shit-storm with something more conventional, could she? Couldn't have just whipped out a twelve gauge and shot an authority figure: nope, had to do something that was intended to either stop chaos or start some. Honestly.

She was next aware of a bullet passing through her lung.

"Fuark!" Screecher's ability to speak coherently was nearly instantly cut short, thanks to the huge amount of blood that filled her mouth. Most from her lungs, some from her tongue when she had bit down from shock. She threw herself to the ground, covering her head as more projectiles flew over her, her impromptu weapon falling from her grip. She took a minute to look around, and cringed at the sensation of her body already fixing the wound.

The smoke was already filling out, so she couldn't see anything beyond the hole in the shack their guide had inadvertently opened. Screams filled the air, from either the dead or the dying. The horrible roar of gun fire seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. She saw a man collapse just in front of her, a his eyes staring unseeingly into the smog.

In all honesty, this was pretty light compared to some battles she'd seen. At least there was a distinct lack of axes swinging at her skull.

She could feel the skin around her body begin to bind together, and her breathing growing slowly easier. Regeneration wasn't painless, and this surface heal was just to stop her from outright dropping, but it would do. Screecher slowly struggled up to a crouch, just in time to see a figure stagger towards her. She couldn't tell what they even looked like properly, but considering they let out a shout and charged her with a knife, she was going out a limb and guess they weren't friendly.

Screecher caught the hand with the knife with a grunt, the other hand gripping the figure's shirt. Even this close, all she could make out was they must have been local, and they were pissed . They remained still for only a moment, before Screecher pivoted around them, twisting them to switch positions. The knife-wielder had only a split second to look confused, before another hail of bullets ripped through the air.

Screecher was clipped on the forearm (well, most the muscle matter was ripped off and a part of her bone went flying, but what qualified as 'clipped' was a bit skewed by Immortals), but her adversary fared far worse. Collapsing forward, the ex-owl could see their shirt being dyed red from the blood gushing from several hits. Seeing their eyes rolling back, Screecher released them from her grip, and turned to start moving towards the relative safety of the shack. Before snapping back round as her attacker threw one last strike at her head.

She had a less then a second to lament not wearing some kind of eye protection, before the knife tore a ragged path through her retina.

Screaming a hail of obscenities, Screecher yanked the blade out of the eye, and dived the side as another barrage of bullets ripped apart any who were unfortunate enough to stand in their way.

Why the hell are they firing blindly into the smoke?! Screecher would have asked this aloud, had her teeth not been clenched from the overwhelming pain in her skull. It felt like liquid fire was pumping through her brain with every heartbeat, and all she could do for a good few seconds was writhe in on the ground, hand pressed over her blind eye. Realizing those puffs of dirt were being caused by shells from an assault rifle hitting the ground right next to her, Screecher decided now would be a fantasic time to take cover.

Throwing herself forward, she crawled into the shack, rolling and flopping out onto her back, her heart racing with her uneven breath. She had been through some fights in the past, but that never stopped them from being horrible, and the injuries still stinging. The more grievous the wound, the more painful the recovery, and it took longer if they were rendered 'dead.' Right now, she was hanging by a thread, and the last thing she wanted was to wake up and find her body had been dumped in some back alley. She just needed to hold it together; maybe hold out until at least the lung healed. The eye was going to take a while, so best not to worry about that for now.

She looked around at last. Ali and Shanna were still present, though their ill dressed contact had vanished; Screecher really couldn't summon the concern for him right now.

"S-Shanna...Ali..." Screecher wheezed out, reaching her free hand out to them. Now that the adrenaline of escaping with her life (as pointless as that sounded) was starting to be dulled by the loss of blood and throbbing pain, she only just struggled into a sitting position against the wall. "Shits...hit the fan. Could really do... with getting out of here..."

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"Oh my..." Ali said as one event followed after another with bullets and tear gas filling the air along with their companion suddenly whisked away. Gunfire and screams began to fill the air but it was tame compared to the things she had seen but Ali eventually recognized the pros of not being in the middle of the firefight. She looked to Shanna and grabbed her hand before making a run for some cover. Bullets kicked up the dirt around them with the locals running around like headless chickens. One of the locals charged Ali amid the confusion but a bullet to the brain splattered Ali with the man's poor choices. Ali sighed internally as yet again, her outfit was ruined.

They reached the cover amid the chaos going on around them with Ali somewhat out of breath. It had been a while since she had properly exercised and all the partying hadn't really done her any favors. Then a raspy voice spoke out, almost drowned out by the cacophony of violence raging around them.

"Shits...hit the fan. Could really do... with getting out of here..."

Ali turned and saw a somewhat wounded Screecher against some hard cover. It took her a few moments to register that it was her but considering her particularly nasty wound in her chest, Immortals were few and hard to come by. Ali made her way to Screecher, checking the damage done to her.

"Oh my poor dear..." Ali said, looking at the wound. "You've gone and got yourself shot in the lung. I hate when that happens. And yes, I do quite agree that we should get the fuck out of here."

Ali looked around, through the tear gas and the gunfire to see some trucks parked some distance away but the immediate danger was the men using the said trucks as cover. Ali rolled her eyes at the problems mounting. She called over Shanna and Screecher, pointing at the vehicles.

"I have an idea but it would require some of us being out in the open." Ali said. "And the tear gas isn't helping either."

 

[PlastikThief]

Everything started happening very quickly. The man beneath Shanna and Ali disappeared, wrenched out of Shanna?s grip by a wind so strong that they felt the bones in their fingers wrenched in a number of wrong ways. Then screaming, gunshots, tear gas, localised urban warfare. Shanna hadn?t been in a war zone since the Russian Revolution and was severely out of practice. They were pulled from their knees by Ali and dragged further into cover. People fled past them, Shanna barely registered their existence, their eyes stinging and burning from the gas. Once relatively safe, Shanna fell to her knees and threw up.

"Shits...hit the fan. Could really do... with getting out of here..."

As Ali attended their newly joined companion, Shanna ran a quick diagnostic over their small group. They were feeling pretty queasy, and the teat gas was stinging and choking. Ali seemed mostly fine, with no obvious wounds, but she was certainly being affected by the vestiges of the gas.

Screecher however was bleeding heavily from mouth and face, her outfit thoroughly ruined. It was as Ali left to seek out an escape that Shanna noticed Screecher?s eye wound.

"I have an idea but it would require some of us being out in the open." Ali said. "And the tear gas isn't helping either."

?I?m relatively capable of stuff I suppose,? Shanna spat, straightening up, ?but Screecher won?t be doing much until we sort out these wounds. ? The Librarian peeked out at trucks the Ali has indicated. ?You point me at something to break or move and I can find a way to do it.?

 

[TheIronRuler]

The Compound

'Hold him'.

What followed was a stream of a thousand voices, the fiery cry of the desert jinn, an eternal wail of suffering. It wasn't the pain - the Alchemist had experienced his fair share under the torture of the Inquisition, it wasn't the humiliation - he had been hung off the city walls of Jerusalem twice in the past, it was the knowledge he couldn't ever reattach his finger back when the beasts had ingested it. He wasn't bestowed with the touch of gods or the blessing of the first whatever, he was merely a good chemist. He couldn't ever hope to grow it back.

The metal shined on top of his hand, the square cleaver looming up above, waiting to strike and take down his smallest of fingers. The butcher was enjoying himself with the sight of a bigger man squirming at his feet, while the guardsman felt nothing but apathy towards his prisoner. A large crowd gathered around them, witnessing the verdict of the great Papa Montezeno.

'Don't close your eyes, Ceutan', the Butcher chuckled, 'I want you to witness my work'.

The cleaver went down.

Tijuana

'Remind me why they started shooting', Jerry screamed over the loud noises around him, a gunfight already in progress in the mist nearby.

'They're the fucking ATF, that's why', Ben replied while he was reloading his revolver. Emil was already gagged, a precaution from the last time he opened his big fat mouth.

'You keep saying that-', Jerry jerked down when he heard a bullet ricochet fly at the car door he was hiding behind.

'-and I know what I'm talking about'. Ben had already crawled to the front of their car, turning on the ignition. Nothing moved. The front was shot to hell, Ben realized in anger. 'Fuck-', he turned to Jerry, '-Grab the kid, we're getting another car.

Jerry held Emil under the shoulder, half-dragging, half-lifting him away through the thin smoke to a nearby car. The Texan was leaning against it, breathing heavily, a nasty bullet wound coloring his left arm crimson. 'They're giving us quite the fight', he bellowed with excitement, reloading his AR-15 happily. Ben grabbed him before he popped up above the car and sprayed the mist some more, screaming in his ringing ears, 'Wake the fuck up! We need to get out now'.

Salvage what we can from this mess... We have to disappear, Jerry threw Emil inside the back of the car and turned to the weary Texan. 'Come with us if you want to do your job and take down the Ceutan', he pointed at the front of the car, and Ben already sat down at the driver's seat. Jerry pulled himself to the back seat and held onto Emil.

'Take down the whole cartel', The Texan screamed with enthusiasm and jumped in the car.