15

You pass by the twisted and burned remains of several mercenaries, and as time goes by, you begin to wonder if any of your companions made it out intact. The scent of charred flesh and burnt hair are overwhelming as you push open an office door to check inside. The contents of several filing cabinets have disgorged hundreds of manila folders across two heavy-looking metal desks, papers scattered manically across their surfaces and spilled over the edges. From behind one of the desks, you hear a familiar voice call out. It's Lucca.

"Who's there?" The muzzle of a gun pops out from the edge of the desk. "Answer me or you're dead, asshole!"

"It's me, Lucca," you say calmly. "Put the gun down. I haven't seen a single mortal or any of Ward's Anarchs left moving around in here."

A quick sigh of relief and Lucca rises up from behind a veritable mountain of papers, folders, and ruined computer equipment. "We had Ward on the run. Qui was sure that we had him!"

"No," Lucca says. "Bouchard and Qui had him flanked, and I was taking shots, but—you know the Rabble—fast as they are pretentious. He jumped through a window right before the blast. After that, we really weren't in any kind of shape to go after him. I couldn't think with the flames surrounding me; I didn't have much time to gather my thoughts, so I hid in here until I could think straight." She shakes her head. "We need to search for survivors and witnesses before the police get here. I'm not going to be blamed for a Masquerade breach when I've barely been back home for a month. They started this mess—shot at us and tried to destroy us. At this point, taking them out is self-defense."

She's looking more than a bit unnerved after such a close brush with final death. It's the first time in decades either of you have seen real action. but she's determined to make it through. You decide not to point out that it was technically your party who initiated the encounter; Lucca probably wouldn't appreciate the correction.