[Salone]

Automatic fire rang out through the sewers. Lev's finger was pulled tight against the trigger of his PPsh-41, the barrel actually beginning to glow from its own heat. Dybbuk on the front line were cut down, limbs and heads suddenly shaking or snapping back as lead tore through soft and rotting flesh. Still, it didn't seem to be enough.

Lev's ears were bleeding from the constant gunfire. The skin on his left arm began to burn where his gun rested, the heat shield around the barrel beginning to fail. And with sudden silence, the gunfire stopped.

He looked almost confused as the bolt on his gun caught the end of the drum. Smoke poured from the open chamber. It took Lev precious seconds to realize that he was empty. As fast as he could, he attempted to awkwardly reload his gun. He kneeled, steadying the gun on the ground as he pushed another drum in to it. Concentrated wholly on getting back in to the fight, Lev barely noticed Dante utter the name 'Gabriel'. Unfortunately, he also failed to evade Gabriel's teeth sinking in to his neck.

Letting out an animal scream, Lev unleashed his single shotgun shell from his revolver. Pellets grazed his head and tore across his ear, the majority sinking into the head of his Dybbuk. Blood flowed openly from his wound, the gash messy from the torn flesh and muscle. In the heat of the moment he brushed off the pain, firing wildly in to the crowd of undead that was now alarmingly closer. He sprayed ammunition as he charged forward, bloodlust overtaking him. At point blank range the carnage became nothing but madness. He felt the cuts, tears, claws, and teeth sinking in to him. But he could not stop. Lev kept firing and firing. Dozens of Dybbuk fell to the ground, with always more to replace them. Soon the gunfire stopped, but Lev's screams continued on.

[Funkduder]

After about half an hour of traveling East, Michael and Altiel were tired enough to drop where they stood, but they didn't knowing that they would be either found or buried by the weather. Up ahead, there was a warehouse. "Finally! We have shelter. Let's rest here for the night," Michael suggested to his friend as he led him on. Opening the door, he found a gold mine for those in supernatural studies. It was a library. Book shelves could be seen everywhere if one were to look from the cat walk that was the only interior trait beside the walls that made the place a warehouse.
Closing the door behind him, the sound of wind ceased, but replacing it was the sound of gunfire coming from below the ground. Michael looked around, securing the immediate area, before seeing the manhole in the 'closet' at the center of the house.

[Espy]

Dante started and stared with what could only be described as utmost horror. And then--

"Gaaaaabe! Look! I got a cookie!" Dante laughs, messy black hair in a wild tangle. The three-year-old sibling looks up from the ants; his eyes gleam as he grabs for it. His brother breaks the stale cookie roughly in half, giving the larger portion to Gabriel.

"Where'd ya find it?!" demands Gabe, eyes wide. They haven't had such a delicacy in weeks.

"Shh! Not so loud! I, well...borrowed it from Mr. Tom."

"What? He gave it to you?"

"No, he didn't, ahaha..."

"What do you mea-- Ohhhhh," Gabe finishes, emanating pure admiration for Dante, the young thief.

"Someday...someday, I'll get enough money for us to get out of here! Maybe we can both get motorbikes, like Mr. Tom has! And then we won't have to live here! We can have cookies all day! And clean water! And lots of food! And new clothes!" The two young boys stare dreamily at the last few crumbs. Dante continues.

"And I promise you, we'll get out of here alive. Don't worry. You'll be safe as long as I'm here, okay?" Dante grins at Gabriel, who grins back with crumbs still on his face.


Someday...

Nothing made sense anymore. There were no Dybbuks, no humans, no nothing. In Dante's eyes, only him, Gabe, and something that was destroying his brother. Dropping his guns, his knife, and all sanity, he leapt at the attacker with a feral shriek of pure hatred.

[CupcakeDolly]

Rue kept her sword raised, but allowed the others to risk themselves at the front of the crowd. How her legs were still able to hold her weight upright she didn't know, but somehow she had come this far through the battle intact and with enough strength to keep standing.

She was eyeing the passage behind her, wondering if it would be opportune for her at the moment to escape into it, when she heard screaming. Whipping around, she glimpsed Lev just as he ran headlong into a crowd of moving corpses. Rue sighed and ran forward once more.

Cutting through bodies, stumbling over severed limbs, dodging claws and teeth - the only advantage the girl had working for her was that most of the creatures were focused on the screaming madman at the center of the crowd. With that card played, she dispatched several of them without them seeming to take notice. It didn't last long, however. Her left arm - which already had a stream of blood trickling from her exposed tattoo - felt teeth. Rue cried out and slashed the body from the head that had bitten her, and furiously reached a bloodied hand out to pull her supposed bodyguard away from the significantly smaller mob.

[Salone]

Lev grasped at the hand, his strength waning as he let her pull him free. He was a ragged mess of flesh barely held together, deep gashes adorning him plenty. His loss of blood was quickly becoming a pressing concern. During this brief respite he switched the hammer over on his revolver, trying to pull the trigger. His fingers slipped, not seeming to want to work right. His head swam as he became dizzy and confused. He managed to fire off a round in to the closest Dybbuk, barely hitting it and dropping his revolver in the process. It clattered to the floor, free of his grasp for the first time in four years. His left hand was home to a bloody hole, the stake that once occupied it driven deep in to the eye socket of a Dybbuk. To everyone but Lev, his life was fading fast.

The broken man looked confused, trying to comprehend what was happening, just before his body was once again assaulted - this time by Dante.

[CupcakeDolly]

Rue had enough trouble dragging the man to begin with. The strength in her arms was suited for wielding a sword and not much else, especially with everything she'd had to endure thus far. When Lev's shrieking was replaced by another's, Rue looked up in time for her expression to show pure exasperation before Dante landed on the man she'd been dragging.

She fell backwards, trading a couple of bruises on her back for getting further involved in another - wholly unnecessary - fight.

"Oh, for the love of - " Her bodyguard didn't seem like he would be able to withstand much more abuse, and the five lingering Dybbuk were taking advantage of the distraction to descend upon the two. Rue dived forward, separated the head from one monster, torso and legs from another, took a bite to her shoulder and rounded clumsily on her attacker, and continued on in that fashion until finally... finally, the cavern around them was silenced of the noise from the undead creatures.

With fire in her eyes, and just as much fueling her body, Rue whirled on the assassin. "That is enough!" she shouted, jumping onto the two bodies and knocking the blind man to the ground, landing on top of him with her knees on his stomach and her chest planted firmly over his face.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Finding a makeshift seat on an overturned crate, Shealtiel takes the moment to rest. Now that his adrenaline has faded, he can feel the horrible strain his magicks have imposed on him. He feels ready to pass out at any given moment. But he can't; they aren't safe, yet, not with the sounds he's hearing from below, and... yes, there are Dybbuk, dozens, all disembodied for the moment, looking for a new host.

Standing once more, he says to Michael, "I will retract my criticism of Saint Typasius. A man worthy of the title." He sounds slightly delirious with exhaustion as he comes to stand over the manhole.

Calling back over his shoulder, he tells his friend, "If you would be so kind as to catch me when I inevitably faint..." And he begins to open himself once more to Sheol, feeling a sickening cold seep through his muscles and down to the core of his bones. Trembling, he reaches out to thee agonized spirits frothing in the ether and banishes them with an expression of power -- one terrific blast of icy energy that takes everything the old man had left within him.

He collapses into Michael's arms.

[Salone]

Ignoring his body's pleas to stop, Lev slowly pulled himself up. He was at the point of living on borrowed time, yet he was oblivious to the fact. He tried to speak, his voice hoarse and weak. The wound on his neck was still bleeding freely as he force his throat to make sounds.

"We need move. Dybbuk not st-stay down long."

He took a shaky step forward, oblivious to Rue on top of Dante, or even of Dante's previous assault. His mind was completely focused on moving forward. Somewhere among the carnage, his revolver lay free.

[Espy]

Getting the wind knocked out of him for the fourth time that day, Dante lay, exhausted, face-up on the ground. Even with his 'sight' at the fullest strength it had been at for the past several days, he really didn't see much. While his muscles wouldn't listen to his brain, inside his mind, and argument was taking place between his emotions and his reasoning. He...he killed my brother! I'll kill him! I'll fucking kill him! Wait, no, there's no time right now! Come on! we need to get moving! I don't care! He killed him, for heaven's sake! Well, do you want to die here?! I -- Oh, wait, tha...

"...t's a nice view," Dante muttered, as the red outline floated into view, his usual jesting self coming into play as his mischievousness defeated both voices.

[Serra Britt]

Feenai came out of the Network induced trance to a sore body and an even more vile smell. She pointed in a direction that she hoped didn't seem random to everyone else and said in a loud tone, "This way will not only get us out of the city, and the sewers, but I just got a faint psychic message from someone up there that the Dybbuk have been banished." She was so tired, and sore, and didn't want to be down in the sewers at all anymore, that she started moving in that direction regardless of anyone following.

Remembering now that she never did eat anything, she pulled the bag of succor capsules out of her pocket, fished one out, and swallowed it quickly. She didn't even care to eat food thanks to all that happened but it was important to keep her body from whining for sustenance.

Rather than drop her Network connection entirely, she left part of her mind connected and found that she could still pay attention to her surroundings and even move under her own direction. Following the Network map of the sewer, she slowly led the way, hoping that everyone was following but wanting to get out of here as soon as possible.

She reached the opening and was happy to find there was a ladder too, as she did not want to have to rely on the people she sensed above to throw a rope down. "There are two people up there. One appears to have some psychic power and the other is unconscious. Despite that fact they might be non threatening, I think it may be best for someone more threatening than myself to go up first." She turned to address the beautiful red haired woman. "I don't wish to ask this of you but the person awake above us is a psychic so it may be best for you to go up first. I'll try to help if he tries anything with a psychic assault, and be right up behind you to talk to him if he doesn't wish to fight."

[Funkduder]

Altiel's eyes nearly glowed as he used up his power to banish the remaining Dybbuk. Michael caught the man as he fell, amazed at the power and potential he had, and laid him on the crate he was sitting on gently, so as to not let him get injured by anything else that might be coming up from the manhole. Checking his gun, Michael realized that it was damaged, and he won't be able to repair it by the time whatever arises from the ground, arises.
"Altiel may have used his power to kill the people who were firing the guns," Michael thought. "Perhaps I can make use of their death and salvage a new weapon until I can repair the laser. Perhaps I'll even find something to fix the laser down there." Michael walked over to the manhole and opened it, letting light shine down onto a group of people down below. Looking closer, Michael saw that all of them were familiar: the two girls who healed the man who stole his job, the said man, his former employer, and even the blind assassin who was looking about with a pair of green eyes.
"Well, what have we here?" Michael called down to the group.

[Salone]

Lev coughed up some of the little blood he had left, straining his neck to look upwards. He move his lips as if trying to speak, but no sound came out. He looked puzzled for a moment, then tried it again to no effect. Giving up on communication for now, he took hold of the ladder below the manhole, and attempted to hoist himself up with his one good hand. He made it past the fifth run before he body finally gave out, slipping in to unconsciousness as his body fell to the floor.

[CupcakeDolly]

Watching to be sure the man she'd pinned was no longer in a frenzy, Rue raised herself into a sitting position atop him. Her lip curled into a sneer.

"Feeling better?" Without waiting for a response, she stood, stumbling lightly as she tried to gain some balance. Her muscles ached, and blood was pouring freely from her left arm. She brought the cloak tied around her waist to her mouth and tore strips of it with her teeth and tightly wrapped her wounds as she wandered toward Lev. Finished with her makeshift bandages, she tied the remaining strips of cloth around the worst of the man's wounds, then lifted his arm over her shoulders to support his weight as they walked.

"You are becoming a real burden, I hope you know," she muttered to nobody in particular. She realized quickly that supporting the man had been a bad idea, as she hardly had enough strength to support her own weight at the moment. Luckily, it seemed like one of their group knew where they were going. When they stopped and the girl began talking, Rue raised an eyebrow. The girl was a psychic as well, but could she not differentiate between individual people? The mental patterns were obviously those of the men they'd encountered before.

Rue shrugged, knowing that she had little to fear from going first, when suddenly the cover was lifted and the Artificer from before confirmed her assessment. She allowed Lev to fall, and glanced at his body on the floor. "Somebody else will have to take care of that," she said shortly. It would be an ordeal in itself just getting up the ladder, which Rue persistently began to do.

[Espy]

Dante raised an eyebrow, got unsteadily to his feet, took a few deep breathes...and pitched forward. He caught himself before he could do a neat faceplant into the ground, found his weapons under the bodies of the Dybbuk, and turned towards what remained of Gabriel. No...it's not Gabe. And I can't mourn for him. I've done that once, and I've known since two years ago that he's dead. Dead!

Gritting his teeth, he stowed the guns and knife, then walked towards the ladder. He noticed the gunman, and his left hand went reflexively to his gun. After a moment, he dropped it, and reluctantly pulled the man up, slinging him over his right shoulder. Why the hell... "Need help?" Dante asked the struggling psychic sarcastically.

[Sage]

To Jeanne's suprise and relief, they did manage to defeat the Dybbuk, and Fee found the way out. Coming down from the high of battle, she was dismayed to find several small wounds on her body, but followed the group. She'd heal herself - and the others, as the man she had previously healed was in bad shape, AGAIN - when they were in relative safety.

Fortunately for the group, safety found them in the form of a ladder up to...somewhere. Familiar-looking men seemed to be already up there, but Jeanne wasn't particularly worried about how dangerous they could be. If they'd been of a mind to stab her in the back they would have done so already. She could see that the ladder was being used by everyone else, and her options were to stand around or pray. Considering the imminent need of healing, she decided to do the latter.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Returning groggily to consciousness, Shealtiel stirs himself from his stupor, coming to a sitting position on the edge of his crate. The bone-weariness has turned to pain now, and breathing is a labor. He'll need time to recover from this; no more reserves to call on. Any more magick will kill him, at the moment.

He watches Michael assist the red-haired psychic out off the manhole with exhausted indifference, somehow unsurprised. She seems rather worse for wear, but there's nothing he can do for her at the moment; he can barely keep himself conscious.