Mission Aftermath

"Aaagh, my face...God..." Legs touched the scorched, blackened swath of charred skin that covered the better part of the right side of her face. She tried feebly to heal it magically, but could only convince the edges to close in about half an inch before she felt exhaustion overcome her. "God damn them, my face..." She fell to her knees on the highway's shoulder, gripping the guardrail to keep herself upright.

Behind her were the burning, twisted remains of the team's van. The gas tank's eruption had blown out the back completely, severing one of the doors at the hinges. Helen and Sturmdrang had managed to claw their way out after Legs and were standing a few feet away, bleeding freely but still alive, looking down the highway as though they could catch sight of the other shadowrunner van.

"They killed Pretty Boy," Helen whispered. She tossed her dark hair back, revealing pointed ears, and clutched at her right shoulder. Blood oozed between her fingers. "That fragging elf killed Pretty Boy. Ripped right through his vest."

"His own damn fault," Sturmdrang rumbled. The dwarf pulled the cracked goggles off his face, revealing the mirrored eye-shields behind them. "It's what you get for bringing gloves to a gunfight. Screw him and the elf that dusted 'im. I wanna piece of that scrawny ork bastard that shot me up."

"If I hadn't been driving I'd've given him something to reckon with. Don't like shooting blind."

Sturmdrang laughed, rolling the cigar in his teeth as he evaluated the damage to the goggles. "Who does? Besides, what could you do if Martha hardly fazed him?"

Helen grimaced. "I can think of a few things." She popped her neck and sighed. " ...Mr. Johnson isn't going to like this."

"Those sons of bitches."

Helen and Sturmdrang looked at each other, then to Legs, their attention drawn by the raw venom in her voice. After a tense beat Helen stepped forward, extending a hand cautiously. "Legs? You all right?"

The magician's features, half beautiful and half horribly burned, were twisted into a horrific snarl that only emphasized the grotesquerie of the dichotomy. "They fragged up our run. They killed Pretty Boy. And then they called up a fire spirit in the gas tank."

Helen's eyes widened. "Shit. Is that what happened?"

"Yeah. That's what happened. It's all over the astral plane, I could see it blind. And when I get my hands on that mage, they're going to fucking die." Legs hauled herself to her feet and wheeled on Helen and Sturmdrang, her blonde hair flying, scorched flesh livid in the moonlight. "BECAUSE THEY SCARRED MY FACE!"