Michael's Meeting

[Storyteller]

Rann positions himself so he can't be seen through the door, then leans out a bit, so he can see.

He quickly ducks back in again, his back to the wall on the left of the door (the door opens out to the right).

He hisses across at you.
"Someone's coming, can't see who."

[Treyvon Johnson]

I nod, ducking behind the refrigerater, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. I nod to Rann letting him know I'm ready.

[Treyvon Johnson]

I'm hiding by the entrance into the kitchen from the house, not the outside. Unless the fridge area works better?

[Storyteller]

A man stumbles through the back door, and you're about to pull the trigger, when you realise it's Michael. Rann realises it too, and closes the back door.

Michael's face is half bloodied, round his mouth, but also near his temple, and a single bloodied bullethole adorns his shirt.

The firing outside suddenly dies down, and your cellphone cuts through it all.

[Treyvon Johnson]

"Mike..."

I rush over to him as my cell phone rings. I really need to start putting this sucker on vibrate. As I speak to Wic I pull out a chair for Mike to sit himself down then head for his fridge to get some blood.

[Storyteller]

Mike ignores the chair, remaining standing, but he accept the pack of blood you pass over, after fiddling with the lock for a moment.

"Thanks."

"This is bad, i don't know how many there are out there, but, as you may have heard, they are adequately armed. They've got her, the other one who was coming. This is bad - she's the real reason we were hear tonight, she had some information."

"Any ideas?"

[Treyvon Johnson]

I can't help but frown at this info.

"I'm on the phone with one of my boys right now. Back up, as it were. What does she look like? And is the whole place surrounded?"

I lean against the fridge as I hold the phone to my ear, relaying the relavent information to Wic. Then I remember something.

"Actually hold that thought."

I head back into the library to find what crashed through the window. I originally thought it was a grenade, or something. You can blame that on Hollywood.

[Storyteller]

"Er, black hair, striking, smokes a lot, Goodness knows why."

As you head into the hall, you can make a pretty good guess what the object was. Smoke is pouring out of the door. You can't see anything into the room.

[Smoothie]

Moved to phone thread.

[Treyvon Johnson]

I hang up with Wic, or he hangs up with me and I wave some of the smoke out of my face. Smoke bomb or some kind of knockout gas?

"Alright, I've got my people surrounding the house," I say as I walk back into the kitchen. "Your library's filled with smoke. I'd give it some time before we try to see if there's any damage done besides by the window. So what's going on?"

[Storyteller]

"Well, we can stay put here, and wait for your boys to sort something out, or make a break out the front now. Either way, this location's compromised, and we can't stay long. What do you think? Ditch now, head out the front, or wait for a clearer coast. If your guys can handle it, of course."

[Treyvon Johnson]

I take a moment to think.

"I think we should wait a few. Besides, isn't there anything here you want to try to salvage?"

Like those ritual books maybe?

[Storyteller]

Yeah, you're right. If you can hold the fort down here, i'll go and grab a few effects. If you can get your friends to give us time to get out, get them to give us an all-clear. If not, well, never mind."

He heads out of the kitchen, taking the blood pack with him.

Sorry for the delay in posting, but it's exam season again. Have a week of no exams now though, so things should be more regular

[Treyvon Johnson]

I nod and send a text to Wic.

[Can you take them or should we try to make a run for it? If run, give us the all clear and we'll head out the front.]

[Smoothie]

[we r in back, not sure nos, in neighbor's yard now, coming to ur's. can you come out back to help? diversion would be useful]

Then about a minute later:
[come out back now, quickly and quietly]