"I know it a bit late to ask, but here is a piar of things I'd like before I go to the next stage if we are going to continue to use this heap. Also some steel plates about an inch thick would be nice if we do keep this truck a bit longer, the walls are way to thin." Bullseye says as he hands Croaker a piece of paper. "Also if I could, I wouldn't mind having an Auto mag and 5 full magizines of ammo, while this pistol is good, just not enough ammo."

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:48am
As Croaker bent to help Firewind pick up the body of Mery Deth he should have known that Spiff would want the final word on how this was all going to go down.
Placing the dead girl’s legs back down on the examination table he turned and listened to Spiff saying nothing as the Fixer got totally into his rant.

The Nomad could not help but find it funny at how Spiff reworked the truth to fit his rant. How Croaker had “hired” a Media, how he had “fired” a gren at his head, when in truth Spiff was already past him. How the Nomad had “involved the Cops” when in truth they had involved themselves with no help from anyone. It took Croaker’s entire will power not to blow the fragger away right there and then, but another thought came to him and the Nomad knew what he would do as Spiff put forth his “options”

“So the way I see it, you got two options. You can use the help that's been laid in front of you. I can do everything I can to keep us alive and keep Biotechnica off our scent. OR, you can shoot me, like you're so longing to do and kill off one of your allies in this. I'm not your enemy here, as much as you want me to be. I'm on your side, and I'd be just as fragged on my own as you. So what's it gonna be? Do I need to get a ride out of here in order to stay alive, or are you gonna learn that alienating your friends is a bad idea."

For a few minutes Croaker let the silence in the room hang as everyone waited for him to reply. Though he had not liked it when Jack had told them how the next few days were going to go down he had decided that the best option was to go with the Mob boss’s outline and try to work with Spiff to get their butts out of this mess.
In the course of Spiff’s rant that idea had changed as Spiff showed he would only be happy as the Alpha Dog of the group. Call Croaker hard headed, call him blunt without any common sense, hell call him a pea brained idiot but to this point he had done his best to keep everyone in this group alive.

Motioning to Firewind he again picked up Mery Deth’s legs and moving outside the building transferred her body to Jack’s vehicle. With that done he finally turned to answer Spiff’s question and pick an “option”

“Option 2 without the waste of ammo”

Giving Spiff a long look to let the Fixer know that nothing between them had been resolved he once again climbed into the Van along with any who were traveling with him.
With a last look and nod to Jack he closed the van’s passenger door and gave Bullesye the go ahead to pull away.....

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:52am
(OOC: Ok I guess it’s up to each player as far as who leaves with whom. It can be said for sure that Peacekeeper is with Croaker and a good bet that so is Bullseye but that’s still Logan’s choice to make. As for the others, Firewind and Scribe that’s your call. If Sui posts any reply to Croaker's option choice the Nomad will not responed but continue as I have posted above.)

As Spiff listened to the Valley of Death remake on his phone, he muttered one word, loud enough for the alpha male to hear. "Panzy," he sniffed and began his conversation with the Reverend.

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:47am
“OK Spiff. Ya heard Jack we need the following…First, a place to crash as I don’t have the contacts and don’t know of one. Second, a new set of wheels, preferably another van, as we need to get rid of the one we have as it will be up on the cops ‘look out for list’ soon. Third, we need a resupply of ammo, grens and at least three silencers for the SMG’s that Preacher, Peacekeeper and myself are carrying.

“Think ya can handle that Fixer”

DigitalScribe gave a nod of approval. It looked to him like Croaker was going to play along for once in his forlorn life. The media cringed a little as the nomad turned towards Jack and said, “Ok Jack, thanks for the ice; we will be waiting on your call. Hopefully with Spiff’s contacts as you say we will be ready to hit the target you name. Good luck on your end.

“Ok everyone lets get rolling. The longer we’re here, the easier it is to be found. Bull’s Eye; once again your driving, so get the van started while Preacher and I transfer Merry Deth to Jack’s vehicle.”

The burly nomad then walked right up to DigitalScribe—a slight motion of Frankie’s hand based on a hunch stayed Guardian from interfering. Croaker offered his rough hand, and the media didn’t wait a second before accepting it. Friends are hard enough to come by—no use in turning down a renewed friendship when offered. The nomad surprised his friend again by turning to the large, black bodyguard and offering a thanks for covering Peacekeeper before moving towards the body of the deceased mark.

Firewind, being the closest, received simple indication that he should gather up the other end and took a step forward to do so; grateful that they were on the move again. His experience with edgerunning made him edgy anytime they hovered about one area for too long. There were way too many ways to track a person down depending on how much Euro you had on hand, and what kind of friends you could tickle for help. The medic froze at Spiff’s derisive tone.

“Buddy, buddy, buddy. I know that you're a douchebag. I'm sure everyone else here knows it too. You don't have to remind us of it at every turn." Firewind frowned at the look Spiff gave him while the fixer paused. The man’s smile was painfully stretching the ends of his face. His teeth shone in Croaker's face, reflecting the fluorescent light of the room. "Frack your greedy little hands. I don't have money to be tossing at you. I said I'd buy drinks, not the ammo you frackin' wasted at the 's******e' we just left. I ain't your frackin' lapdog sidearm sally, so **** my *** about your frackin' munitions. My crew's been up all night saving your a***s, the least you could do is say thanks. You can call me a coward 'til you're blue in the face panzy patty, but that don't make it the truth. I ain't got time for your pissing matches at every turn. Face facts bi***y betty, s***'s gotten rough and we've got to move past it."

DigitalScribe stared at Spiff in open amazement. He’d had the fixer pegged as a man of style, a playboy and a player, not some hot-headed street trash that completely ignored common sense even after direction. Hadn’t Jack just said enough was enough, everyone get along, or we’re all dead? Not that Frankie considered Springed-Heel Jack his employer, but as rough as the speech was, it was laced with good, old-fashioned common sense. Divided we fall, he’d thought after the Scotsman had finished with his berating rhetoric. He’d even seen the light go on in Croaker’s eyes and had figured everything was sweet as a lover’s embrace.

"I'd be the first one to say 'Let's step outside and settle this with a nice 1,2,3, draw,' but unlike you, I got shot saving your little girlfriend here, so I'd appreciate a little respect." Spiff didn't specify whether 'your little girlfriend' was slang for Merry Deth or a reference to Peacekeeper because it didn't matter to him. As far as he could tell, this jack*** would've shot Merry Deth himself over a nasty comment about his unit. Either of them represented the value Spiff was getting at. He flipped open his phone and pulled up the picture he had taken at the hole while he continued talking, zooming in on the corpse lying on the pavement.

"Don't pretend that I need you little *********** to survive this mess. With the cash in my pocket I was easily able to hire the equivalent of the help I actually got in getting this girl out of the hole. What was it? 4 bullets and a knock-out drug? Everything else that brought this little girl to you was me, b***h. If you don't believe me I'll pop my clip out and hand it to you, and you can take a look at the bullet in my leg. In fact, while you're down there, you can frackin'**** ** **** too! 'Cause what the frack did you do b***h? You fired an RPG straight at my head—right next to your girlfriend. You hired a frackin' media to cover the events. You apparently even got the cops involved earlier! And look at this!" Spiff raised the phone up to Croaker's face, Coyote's corpse filling the screen. "I leave one of my guys with you for five minutes and you get him shot. At least everyone that came with me is still standing here—and Firewind doesn't have a scratch on him!"

Firewind continued to frown as Spiff indicated Preacher with a nod while beginning to dial on his phone. The emotion that flooded the medic was not anger, but dread. They’d been so close to wrapping this meeting up and moving on with things. The Islander was positive Croaker was going to skin iron which would result in Spiff following suit and all of them getting killed by that calm nuke standing behind Jack…Spiff continued his tirade.

"Now I've got no problem covering a meal tomorrow so that, even without getting paid, we don't go hungry. I can call my people and see about getting us a ride at a cheap price, but I can't pay for it. When Jack can't afford your damn munitions what the frack do you think I can do? Jack might be able to get us a decent price, but I ain't got the cash to be throwing around after you killed off my armed escort." Spiff paused. "Alternatively, I might be able to find us some work that actually pays so we can get your guns and wheels, but I'm sure you'd find a reason to complain about the job or accuse me of being a coward if I did."

The fixer looked down at the number on his phone and then back up at Croaker. "So the way I see it, you got two options." Spiff motioned at the crowd around him, "You can use the help that's been laid in front of you. I can do everything I can to keep us alive and keep Biotechnica off our scent. OR, you can shoot me, like you're so longing to do and kill off one of your allies in this. I'm not your enemy here, as much as you want me to be. I'm on your side, and I'd be just as ****** be on my own as with you." Spiff sighed and pressed send on his phone lifting it to his ear. "So what's it gonna be? Do I need to get a ride out of here in order to stay alive, or are you gonna learn that alienating your friends is a bad idea."

It was very nearly comical the way Bull’s Eye piped in at this point, and DigitalScribe had to practically bite his cheeks in order not to burst out laughing at the audacity of the situation.

"I know it a bit late to ask, but there is a pair of things I'd like before I go to the next stage if we are going to continue to use this heap. Some steel plates about an inch thick would be nice if we do keep this truck a bit longer, the walls are way to thin." Bull’s Eye reached out and handed Croaker a piece of paper. "Also if I could, I wouldn't mind having an AutoMag and 5 full magazines of ammo, while this pistol is good, just not enough ammo."

The nomad’s response was classic style. With a brief nod to Firewind he picked up Merry Deth’s legs and lifted her from the floor behind the counter. The medtech quickly hoisted her up by the shoulders, throwing a curled lip Spiff’s way in the process. As they walked by the fixer, Croaker paused.

“Option two…without the waste of ammo.” He remained standing face-to-face with the man for a moment longer before carrying the body out the door. Firewind just shook his head as he made his way past, and very quickly the two of them (and the body) were in the hall.

Croaker had held his tongue, and that impressed Frankie. Jack wasn’t nearly as impressed with the whole exchange.

“You frackin’ Gomi,” Jack’s tone was tired, the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched as he brought his hand up and rubbed at the outer corners of each eye with his thumb and fingers. Peacekeeper didn’t even bother looking at Spiff as she walked out.“The both o’ ya are frackin’ gomis. I donna care wot kinda ‘istory you lads ‘ave. I donna care wot size yer plug is, an’ neither do the rest o’ the crew ‘ere.

“So, Spiff,” Jack motioned his way with a disgusted sling of his hand. “You’re runnin’ the crew, now? Got some big cohunes on ya, neh? I ‘ave t’ admit tha’ I ‘ad ya pegged fer a smart lad, but now, I’m no’ so sure.” The fixer peered around the room, quickly scanning the media, his bodyguard, the cowboy, and his own retinue. “I donna see yer muscle, Lad. As near as I can tell it jus’ walked out tha’ door.”

Jack’s hand came to bear quickly—faster than humanly possible—his fingers and thumb in the same form as a child makes when imitating a pistol; his forefinger was pointed straight at Spiff’s forehead.

“If I thought yer little kingdom was worth my time, you’d be flatlined righ’ now, Lad. All because ya los’ yer cool.”

That said, Jack “holstered” his “weapon” by sliding his hand into his jacket pocket. Without any further todo, the renowned fixer strode past Spiff and into the hall, The Piper strolling past and blowing cinnamon scented smoke in his face. The bodyguards followed right on their heels.

A low, piercing whistle cut through the air, drawing everyone’s attention to DigitalScribe, who stood with an incredulous grin on his pretty face, arms folded across his chest as he leaned back against a countertop, head shaking slightly.

“Rough night?” He chuckled as he looked up from beneath his eyebrows at Spiff. His grin was just as bright as Spiff’s had been moments earlier. “I thought you had him pegged, Gato. Guess I jumped the gun a bit on that estimation.”

The media pushed away from the counter and gave Preacher a nod. “You’d best be trailing after that bunch, Preacher. Looks like your ride’s leaving.”

Turning his attention back to Spiff, Frankie reduced his smile by a few watts. “We’ll be heading for a hotel—catch a few winks of sleep before I get to work. You’re welcome to hitch a ride, Choombatta. If there was one thing I got out of all this crap was that if we don’t find a way to work together, we’re all dead—well, you folks are all dead. I’m not exactly sure they know I’m involved just yet.” DigitalScribe leaned in and winked, whispering, “I think that’s my edge.”

With a pat to Spiff’s shoulder by the back of his knuckles, DigitalScribe strolled past Guardian and out the door, the large bodyguard remaining behind where he figured the most obvious threat remained. Once the media was out the door, Guardian followed.

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:50am

As they started to move the body of Mery Deth to Jack’s car Jaimy was all ready to finally be moving hopeful that things between her lover and Spiff would work out but the man's next words caught her by surprise. As he talked the tension rose and the young bounty hunter backed away her hand close to her gun ready to defend her man at all costs.
When finally Spiff stopped talking she knew that Croaker would responed with violence as he and this guy just did not get along, but was surprised when all he did was speak.
Her love for him in that moment was ten fold, for he had done well.
With Spiff clearly now on his own she smiled at him as they walked outside, letting him know her man had won this war of words.

When the phone rang, it didn't play 'The Valley of Death', but instead played Amazing Grace. Rev wasn't available... On top of this, as Croaker was leaving, Jack had taken the time to give him a speech of disappointment.

"You've reached The Reverend's answering service. Sing for God, child, and he'll speak free to me."

BEEP

Spiff waited, until Jack finished speaking to respond. It would've been disrespectful to Jack to do so, and he and Jack had known each other a while. Heck, in the past, Spiff had even used Jack's advice to save his own life, and Jack had lent him Piper to teach him how to handle a gun. He didn't know how to react to Jack's disappointment, but his chest was tight and his leg was aching as he listened.

When Jack had finished, Spiff pressed the 're-record your message' button and spoke into the voicemail briefly, but loud enough for Croaker, who was only just outside, to hear. "Good work tonight Rev. Meet me at the Red Lantern tomorrow at noon. Bring the rest of the crew if you can find 'em."

Digital Scribe then took the time to speak to him. "Rough night?" he said with a chuckle. "I thought you had him pegged, Gato. Guess I jumped the gun a bit on that estimation."

Spiff responded, looking out the door at Jack's crew as they left. "Me too."

"You'd best be trailing after that bunch, Preacher. Looks like your ride's leaving." Spiff turned back. He hadn't realized the netrunner hadn't left yet. As he left, Spiff didn't bother to stop him. He simply spoke to him as he walked past.

"Thanks for your help choomba." He didn't like that word, but it was the best he could think of.

Digital Scribe spoke to him again. "We'll be heading for a hotel--catch a few winks of sleep before I get to work. You're welcome to hitch a ride, Choombatta. If there was one thign I got out of all this crap was that if we don't find a way to work together, we're all dead--well, you folks are all dead. I'm not exactly sure they know I'm involved just yet." The media leaned towards Spiff and winked, "I think that's my edge."

As Digital Scribed nudged Spiff's shoulder, he returned the conversation. "I think I'll take that offer. Probably not wise to call a cab to this place right about now." Spiff put his phone away and followed Guardian out, limping.

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:50am
The weather hadn’t improved at all since they’d arrived at the college laboratory. Wind whipped at Croaker’s trench coat with a ferocity indicative of an angry child while rain stung his face. Firewind ducked his tattooed face against the driving wet and grimaced as a chill snaked its way up his spine. Merry Deth’s corpse was still scantily clad, bloody, and ghastly pale in the darkness. As though luminescent, the medtech thought grimly while the two of them hurried to Jack’s vehicle. The driver of the black SUV stepped outside, his dark clothes blending with the night as he made his way to the back hatch and opened it, the whole time eyeballing their surroundings, one hand on the submachine gun slung to his waist. Peacekeeper had followed the other two, on the heels of Bull’s Eye, but now stood at the top of the stairs, scanning the campus for any sign of trouble while the smaller of the two nomads went on to the van and slipped into the driver’s seat.

Inside the lab, Preacher gave a nod of recognition to Spiff’s words of thanks—such gratitude was precious thin in this day and age. It was an awkward emotion, and mostly ignored, especially by those with means. The solo didn’t take it for granted. Stepping into the hall, he winced in pain and thought longingly of better days when he had someone to go home to; when he didn’t leave home to make a run. Now, shot up as he was, Preacher knew he was in for a long night, and the very thought made him tired.

Pausing in the immaculate hall near the door, Preacher took a deep, rattling breath. He had hoped they’d find time for a break where Firewind could patch them all up with greater attention, but he knew from experience that the medtech had already done all he could for him. Preacher needed a hospital. Coughing a little blood into his gloved hand, the solo wiped the frothy red on his trench coat and weakly proceeded outside. He paused near Peacekeeper, watching Croaker and Firewind manipulate the body into the back of the SUV, pain wracking his body. Glancing down at the bounty hunter’s injured leg, Preacher offered a weak smile and then continued on to where Croaker was just stepping back from the large black vehicle, wiping his hands on his own clothes.

“I’m not comin’ with you pardner,” Preacher said just loud enough to break through the wind. The solo had to hold his cowboy hat on his head the weather was so violent. “I’m going to catch a cab to Crisis Medical and check myself in. Not sure I’d be much more than a liability during what you’ve got going on here in the future.”

“You heard Jack,” Keahi had his hand held in front of his face as he squinted into the storm in order to see the injured solo clearly. “You go off on your own and you’re dead.”

“Maybe. Fact is, I’m used to hidin’ from the big dog.” Preacher offered his hand to the medtech. “You done all you could for me, Firewind. I thank ya for savin’ my life.” After Keahi had shook, Preacher offered his hand to Croaker. “Good luck, Choombatta. ‘The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? Pslam one eighteen, six.”

Preacher didn’t wait for a response, but took himself immediately from the scene. He hung his head, held his hat in place despite the pain of the pressure against his skull—it helped keep him focused. Within moments, he’d rounded the corner of the building and vanished from site. By that time Jack had already returned to his vehicle and he and The Piper were being led out by another of Jack’s carload of bodyguards. Turning from the ghost of the cowboy solo, Croaker could see that the van was already started up and just waiting for he and Firewind. Peacekeeper still stood guard at the top of the stairs, and the backs of DigitalScribe, Spiff, and Guardian were visible heading off in the opposite direction from Preacher.

“I don’t like this at all,” Keahi muttered just loud enough for Croaker to hear as he climbed up into the back of the bloody van bay. The tattooed face turned to the nomad once they were all inside, Peacekeeper included. “We should have stuck together, egos be damned. Strength in numbers, ya know?” The medtech was tired. The action had died down and despite this growing feeling of impending doom as the team split up, he was finally feeling the wear and tear of the night, both emotionally and physically.

“Where to?” Bull’s Eye said as Croaker resolved the conversation with Firewind. Peacekeeper—being the best shot, and the most combat capable—had taken shotgun.

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:55am

---

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:50am
As Digital Scribed nudged Spiff's shoulder, the fixer returned to the conversation. "I think I'll take that offer. Probably not wise to call a cab to this place right about now." Spiff put his phone away and followed Guardian out, limping.

The large bodyguard paused in the hall, surveying the scene, and likely half expecting Croaker to be waiting with an ambush. After all, hadn’t he started the night protecting his charge from the large nomad, and now DigitalScribe had just invited another who’d pissed the man off into their fold. Guardian certainly didn’t consider Spiff to be someone he was in charge of protecting, but the man’s presence added another complication to be sure. When he was positive that the hall was safe Guardian motioned Scribe and Spiff out, continuing up the hall to where the exit was bathed in the soft green light of the sign bearing the same name.

“You should probably have that looked at,” Scribe said in a nonchalant tone as they made there way in Guardian’s shadow. The media made no attempt to look down at the fixer’s leg, but it was obvious what he was referring to. “I know of someone if you’ve got the cash to keep it on the low, otherwise I suggest we make a detour to the CMC (City Medical Center). You’re call, Gato.”

(OOC: no matter the decision…)

Guardian stepped into the storm like a statue of riveted steel, apparently unaffected by the torrential downpour. He stood next to Peacekeeper for a moment, eyeballing the interaction between Preacher, Croaker, and Firewind, taking in Jack and The Piper entering their black sedan, and then peering out across the back alley of the building. With a slight movement of his left hand he directed his charge to peel off to the left, and after he heard the door close behind them, he also turned and made his way quickly to the front.

They continued on to the edge of the building. Ahead of them there was a long stretch of open green, darkened by the night with barely any light from the security floods penetrating the pitch and casting a pale glow across the sloping hillside. A row of trees, dancing like marionettes on the string of an insane puppeteer, ran the length of the road at the top of the hill—the road that separated the campus from Lake Park. There, traffic flowed, and it appeared to be the party’s destination as near as Spiff could tell.

Once they’d crested the hill, arriving between two of the trees, DigitalScribe stepped forward and waved down a passing taxi. It was a fairly simple task, seeing how the taxi services prowled the campus and park for fares at all hours of the night and day. A dark red cab with black and white checkering along the frame pulled up. It was a sedan made by Nissan Chrysler, glistening with rainwater, and driven by an Indian. Scribe slipped into the back seat, Guardian into the front, leaving Spiff the passenger side of the back seat.

“Where to?” asked the cabbie, his turban was soaking wet, his shoulders and back showing the same affliction.

Scribe offered the destination and then turned his attention to Spiff while the vehicle merged with traffic. “Here’s the problem as I see it. I’m going to need a story to back up my claim. I can lead into it, and I believe I can get them to believe I’ve got something juicy, but if I don’t produce in the end I don’t make the grade.” It was obvious that the media was speaking loosely for the benefit of the cabbie. “I’ll place a call. I’m fairly certain that it’ll be my In. But to be frank, our boys in the other dorm are gonna be hard pressed to come up with anything solid without your help. Any ideas on how you’re going to support that vein?”

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 3:10am

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:50am
His final words spoken to Spiff as all moved outside were for Croaker a hard thing to do as the Nomad would have liked nothing better then to paste the Lab’s walls with the fixer’s bloody brain matter. But even Croaker knew now was not the time to settle things between the two of them and Spiff should count himself lucky that Jack or Piper hadn’t fragged him during his rant.
With Firewind’s help the Nomad and Medic moved outside the Science Labs Building with Mery Deth’s body and transferred the body to Jack’s vehicle.

As was normal for this time of year, hell all year long to be honest, the weather hadn’t improved at all since they’d arrived at the college laboratory. The wind cold, wet and a down right pain in the a** reminded Croaker of his former girlfriend Harriette’s time of the month. Nice girl, sweet and innocent at times, loved her with all his heart, great in b** but being around her during that period and you risked life or limb.

The driver of the black SUV stepped outside, his dark clothes blending with the night as he made his way to the back hatch and opened it, the whole time eyeballing their surroundings, one hand on the submachine gun slung to his waist. Peacekeeper had followed the other two, on the heels of Bull’s Eye, but now stood at the top of the stairs, scanning the campus for any sign of trouble while the smaller of the two nomads went on to the van and slipped into the driver’s seat.

With the body trunked and Bullseye, Peacekeeper already in the van and Firewind waiting on him, Croaker looked for the last of the group and found him leaning against the buildings entrance. The Nomad could tell just by the look and manor of the Solo/Netrunner that he was not coming with them even before he spoke

“I’m not comin’ with you pardner”

Preacher said just loud enough to break through the wind. The solo had to hold his cowboy hat on his head the weather was so violent.

“I’m going to catch a cab to Crisis Medical and check myself in. Not sure I’d be much more than a liability during what you’ve got going on here in the future.”

Before Croaker could answer the Medtech spoke first

“You heard Jack”

Keahi had his hand held in front of his face as he squinted into the storm in order to see the injured solo clearly.

“You go off on your own and you’re dead.”

“Maybe. Fact is, I’m used to hidin’ from the big dog.”

Preacher offered his hand to the medtech.

“You done all you could for me, Firewind. I thank ya for savin’ my life.”

After Keahi had shook, Preacher offered his hand to Croaker.

“Good luck, Choombatta. ‘The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? Pslam one eighteen, six.”

Taking Preacher’s hand in a strong grip Croaker knew that the Solo had made up his mind and nothing he could say would change it. As Preacher attempted to release his hand from Croaker’s grasp the big Nomad looked him in the eye and spoke.

“Good luck Preacher, I hope we see each other again in this life and not on the other side. If you need us for anything, call, you’ve got Peacekeepers cell.”

Releasing the man’s hand Croaker watched as Preacher without a response, holding his hat to his head moved himself down the street and away from the scene.

Croaker taking a last look around him could see that the van was already started up and just waiting for him and Firewind. Motioning to the Medtech to get in he watched the backs of DigitalScribe, Spiff, and Guardian heading off in a group in the opposite direction from Preacher.
now what the frag’s that all about Scribe and Spiff? Had he been wrong to trust the Media after all? Was he cutting some kind of backdoor deal with that a**h*** of a fixer Pushing those thoughts aside knowing that once again his paranoid nature was intruding, he climbed up into the back of the van.

“I don’t like this at all”

Keahi muttered just loud enough for Croaker to hear as the Nomad climbed up into the back of the bloody van bay. The tattooed face turned to the nomad once they were all inside, Peacekeeper included.

“We should have stuck together, egos be damned. Strength in numbers, ya know?”

The medtech was tired. The action had died down and despite this growing feeling of impending doom as the team split up; he was finally feeling the wear and tear of the night, both emotionally and physically.
Croaker in the van and as comfortable as he was going to get for the moment replied

“Firewind your right, Jack’s right, ego’s including mine be damned, and I will be the first to say I handled things in there very poorly to say the least. But after Spiff’s rant did you really think him and I were going to be able to work together? That with our unspoken dislike of the other and our war of ‘alpha dog’ we would be able to move forward on this. No I am sorry to say that right there was the problem from the start. Spiff came into this run acting as if Jack had given him the keys to the kingdom and he was now in charge well that I admit did not sit well with me but I tried to work with him until he left Peacekeeper and Guardian on that firescape and after that I could not trust him to back any of us up.”

Looking around at the others in the van he continued

“Look I got you and Preacher involved in this and it’s up to me to get us all out of this mess alive, I’m not perfect but I give a damn about keeping us alive. With Spiff it would have been for me different, as far as him getting fragged, and I could not allow his presence to cloud my judgment in any way.”

With his word’s spoken it was from Bullseye the next were said

“Where to?”

Bull’s Eye said as Croaker resolved the conversation with Firewind. Peacekeeper—being the best shot, and the most combat capable—had taken shotgun.

“Well, that my tribe brother is the million Euro buck question. The way I see it is like this first thing we need to do is dump this ride and get new wheels it’s a sure bet that its description is posted.
Second we need a crash pad until we hear back from Jack as to our target.
Third we need to do an inventory of all gear, weapons, ammo and Euro we have between us to see exactly where we stand. With Preacher gone its just the 4 of us, forget Jack and his I can’t help you crap, its up to the 4 people in this van to do whatever we have to stay alive. That means we need to combine everything we all own and we need to share contacts as well. So next question anyone got any contacts that can help us out myself I am sad to say only have Scribe and the rest are enemies. Its up to you three, any favors owed, any friends that would help us out.”??

Croaker leaned his head back against the van’s wall and awaited any postive answers.

Streets of Night City – Lower West Side – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 3:00am

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:55am
When Croaker had finished giving instruction, Bull’s Eye pulled away from the curb, and rolled the van towards the street. His hazel eyes perused the contents of their surroundings in a casual fashion, though he was really trying to register anything that might pose a threat while he considered his tribesman’s question. Friends were a precious commodity in this day and age, but Bull’s Eye had been in enough situations where friendship hadn’t accounted for much of anything to be a pessimist when it came to trusting them. As such, he’d pretty much remained a loner most of his life until joining the Tribe. Even then, he’d been abrasive, cold, and very difficult to get close to. He had been told by a prison shrink that it was a defense mechanism born from his father’s and mother’s suicides, but what’d that prick know? Bull’s Eye was cold because of the time and age: he’d adapted and there was no cracking his shell. Hell, even the events of the evening had done little to bat his eyelid. Croaker had managed his affairs as he saw fit, and Bull’s Eye had no real feelings towards any of the others with them, so had the proverbial s*** hit the fan, he’d have backed up Croaker because they were “family”. Now, he drove through the torrential current that coursed downhill between sidewalks and rolled the delivery van into traffic without even a second thought pertaining to what had just transpired.

“I know a fixer, Croaker,” he said in his gravel-filled voice. “Name’s Maverick—small time, probably won’t be able to do much for us, but if we’ve the Euro he might be able to hook us up provided I can get in touch with him. Got some boostergang connections as well, but can’t guarantee anything major there. Also have a hook up with an exec from EBM, but I don’t see how that could help us right now. Aside from that, I’ve got a little over a hundred Eb.

“Now, as far as replacin’ this barge we’ve got a couple of options: steal a new ride, in which case we’re just going to be on the radar again, get a cab—which will cost us some dough—or rent a vehicle—which will cost us more dough. What’ll it be?”

While the driver broke into uncharacteristic rhetoric, Keahi considered what he brought to the table while he shifted his bag about on his shoulder so he could access it, and crouched down next to Peacekeeper’s injured thigh. Producing a pair of scissors, he cut away at the leather around the wound, pulling it away from the injury as tenderly as he could—though with the jarring of the vehicle, it was anything but and the woman couldn’t help but hiss in pain as his thumb dug into the hole. Firewind did nothing to apologize; after all, this was the situation they were in, no matter how grim it might be.

Having cut away the leather to reveal the puffy red wound, the medtech retrieved a sanitizing wipe from his bag and quickly cleaned the implement. The whole while this was underway, he was eyeing the injury, determining the extent of the wound.

“Lucky girl,” he mumbled as he placed the scissors back in his bag and searched for the next item on the list. The small metallic box that was the medscanner came out again. This time, Keahi changed the settings a bit and began his scan. After a moment he nodded to himself and put the device away. It was then that he realized Bull’s Eye had finished.

“I’m sorry Croaker, but I’m new to the area and don’t even have the name of a hotel I can stay at. I do have about four hundred and fifty Euro in cash on me, but that’s it.” Firewind retrieved a pair of surgical grips and paused in his discussion with Croaker long enough to look up at Peacekeeper and say, “This is going to hurt a little.” Before he dug the tool into her thigh, pulling at the aggravated flesh and causing Jaimy to gasp and cry out in pain, shuddering forward while she clenched Croaker’s hand with a vengeance. After three seconds of this, Firewind produced the bullet.

“As far as the vehicle is concerned,” he continued while he found a small plastic sandwich bag in which he placed the bloody round. “I’d suggest we stay off of the radar as much as possible. If anyone has any credchips, or bank accounts, we need to leave them alone lest we find ourselves the subjects of scrutiny.” Firewind next produced a small can that appeared to be aerosol, but when he depressed the nozzle, white foam bubbled over the bullet hole. “So, unless you pay with cash, don’t go for the taxi, or rental, as much as I hate to say it.” With one hand, Keahi replaced the can of Skinfoam while he smoothed out the application with his other. Patting Peacekeeper on the thigh just below her injury he smiled, “All done.”

Night City University, Medical Education Laboratory, Science Labs Building – Lower West Side – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 2:58am

With the Preacher gone that left only the four of them and it was not a good number in Jaimy’s mind. Her thoughts shifted to Croaker like they had so many times since she had seen him at the meet. She loved him make no mistake but in truth he had been his blunt block headed self in the lab with Jack, and it could have caused Piper to kill them. It would be up to her from now on to help keep his temper and his nack for being too blunt under control. As much as she loved him she still needed to be Peacekeeper the Bounty Hunter. With that choice made her thoughts were brought back to the present with Croaker’s next words.

“Well, that my tribe brother is the million Euro buck question. The way I see it is like this first thing we need to do is dump this ride and get new wheels it’s a sure bet that its description is posted.
Second we need a crash pad until we hear back from Jack as to our target.
Third we need to do an inventory of all gear, weapons, ammo and Euro we have between us to see exactly where we stand. With Preacher gone its just the 4 of us, forget Jack and his I can’t help you crap, its up to the 4 people in this van to do whatever we have to stay alive. That means we need to combine everything we all own and we need to share contacts as well. So next question anyone got any contacts that can help us out myself I am sad to say only have Scribe and the rest are enemies. Its up to you three, any favors owed, any friends that would help us out.”??

Then Croaker’s brother chimed in

“I know a fixer, Croaker,” he said in his gravel-filled voice. “Name’s Maverick—small time, probably won’t be able to do much for us, but if we’ve the Euro he might be able to hook us up provided I can get in touch with him. Got some boostergang connections as well, but can’t guarantee anything major there. Also have a hook up with an exec from EBM, but I don’t see how that could help us right now. Aside from that, I’ve got a little over a hundred Eb.

“Now, as far as replacin’ this barge we’ve got a couple of options: steal a new ride, in which case we’re just going to be on the radar again, get a cab—which will cost us some dough—or rent a vehicle—which will cost us more dough. What’ll it be?”

Its was time for Peacekeeper to add her two cents so she did.

“I know a Solo who maybe could help us out, maybe lets us borrow a car or something he taught me guns and stuff, let me call him and see."

Her cell to her ear she made the call.

“Matt its Jaimy I need your help”

Night City – Lower West Side- March, Friday 13th, 2020, 300am
Croaker listened to the idea’s put forth by the others and right away saw a few possibilities. Jaimy had already dialed her solo friend and had that conversation started so he turned first to Firewind.

“Ok seems you have the most Euro’s so hold on to that for now lets see if Bulls Eye's contacts can help without spending that, it could come in handy if we really needed it.”

Then moving slightly to the front he spoke to Bulls Eye but made sure all could hear.

"Ok first thing we need is a place to rest and regroup
Bulls Eye you said you had a connection to a booster club which one and how good is your connect, you think we could crash at one of their safe houses. As I see it anyone looking for us hopefully will not be looking for us in among a Booster gang. Find out what their relationship to the Wild Things is and where their control zone is in relation to them we may be able to use that to our and theirs advantage. Also there’s a good chance they could get rid of this van with no trouble, so convince them if ya can”

Handing his Tribe brother the phone he took hold of the hand reaching back.

“Thanks for not bailing on us it’s been a long time with no family for me other then Peacekeeper, maybe after this is over we can see if we can find more of us.”

Letting Bulls Eye’s hand go he returned to sit at the back of the van and await the results of the phone calls in progress.....

Streets of Night City – Lower West Side – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 3:05am

**The following is posted in close collaboration with Bromern Sal. Much of it is his words**

Spiff stepped out into the rain and watched Preacher turn away from Croaker, toward the night...toward his death. He blinked; the flakes of water flicked out of his eyes. He turned quickly to Scribe, touched his shoulder and said "Hold on just a moment."

Without waiting for a response, he rushed over to Preacher's retreating form. As he approached the man from behind, he spoke, "Yeh, though I walk through the valley."

Preacher had heard the other's noisy approach and knew it wasn't danger that came on, otherwise he was sure he'd have been warned of it by those he left behind, so he'd kept on walking, trying his best to ignore the sick feeling that was climbing in his gut.

The solo couldn't help but curl his lips in a pain-filled smile at the fixer's introduction. "One way or another, pardner. Death comes hunting us, and I'd sooner be fixed up and waitin' than walkin' around with a head full of fog an' pain. What can I do fer ya?"

"Let's face facts," Spiff smiled as the man turned to him, "you're dead without us, and we're dead without you. I need some medical attention myself, and that's my first priority. Why don't we go together?" Spiff took off his sunglasses and looked the man in the eyes. "I need your help. Just hear me out. If you don't like what I have to say, I won't stop you ridin' off into the sunset."

Preacher raised his brow and hunched against the storm. In this day and age one didn't turn your back on offers from people you were already involved with.

"I'm listening..."

"Not here," Spiff replied, turning back to see if his ride was still waiting. "Ride with me to the doc and we'll talk there." Spiff needed Preacher's help desperately, but he could see the man's distress in the rain. He figured it'd be much easier to talk indoors. Plus, and this was just a small sentiment, he really wanted to make Croaker feel like an a** for leaving the guy in the dust.

"I'm not dealing with a hackjob fer this," Preacher motioned at his head though it remained covered by his bloodstained hat. "I'm goin' t' Crisis Medical, or City Medical Center, Gato. They ask questions and take credit, not cash. If that's where you're headin' I don't see no harm in sharin' a cab."

As Spiff looked over his shoulder he saw that Scribe and Guardian had apparently had enough with waiting, heading towards that long stretch of dark green freckled by the occasional tree that separated the campus from the busy street between it and Lake Park where the infamous riots took place so many years before.

Spiff looked back at Preacher and considered him for a moment, putting his glasses back on. "Fair 'nuff. If that's what it takes to get you on my side, it's a risk I'm willing to take. We'll go to Crisis."

He motioned for the netrunner to follow and pursued the retreating figures of Scribe and Guardian. Worst case, they would at least know where the cabbies would be around here. This wasn't Spiff's side of town.

"You should probably have that looked at,” Scribe said in a nonchalant tone as they made there way in Guardian’s shadow. The media made no attempt to look down at the fixer’s leg, but it was obvious what he was referring to. “I know of someone if you’ve got the cash to keep it on the low, otherwise I suggest we make a detour to the CMC (City Medical Center). You’re call, Gato.”

"I think Preacher here wants to stick with the professionals. Let's go with CMC."

As the group piled into the cab, it seemed that Scribe still had something to say, "Here’s the problem as I see it. I’m going to need a story to back up my claim. I can lead into it, and I believe I can get them to believe I’ve got something juicy, but if I don’t produce in the end I don’t make the grade.” It was obvious that the media was speaking loosely for the benefit of the cabbie. “I’ll place a call. I’m fairly certain that it’ll be my In. But to be frank, our boys in the other dorm are gonna be hard pressed to come up with anything solid without your help. Any ideas on how you’re going to support that vein?”

Spiff thought for a moment, glancing at the cabbie as he turned the wheel. "On the topic of your story. With our employer no longer in charge, I can hardly say that's a huge concern. On the other hand, keeping the info off the airwaves as long as possible could keep us and" and Spiff paused, long enough to lower his glasses and look Scribe in the face, "you off the radar." Spiff readjusted his glasses. "Now, I gotta be honest with you. I have no idea what you meant with the second part of that speech. If you're talking about finding a target, then I'm going to be putting every bit of energy I can into that from here on out. If you're still talking about the airwaves, then I'm afraid to say I don't speak that jargon well enough to get your angle."

Night City – Hari Kiri (Sushi Bar) - Thursday, March 12th, 2020, 2035hrs
The sushi bar was slow tonight but what could one expect it was a Thursday. It would be packed tomorrow night no doubt. Only a handful of patrons scattered about the tables and booths. One patron sat alone at a corner booth chosen no doubt for it’s magnificent view of the entire room. The booth’s occupant seemed to be concentrating on his food but if one looked closely enough they could see he was watching the room carefully.

The man was of asian descent with black shoulder-length hair pulled back into a single tail. His clothing was high grade leather armored, from the pants, to the long duster he wore; and all in black. His eyes were covered with black mirrored shades even in the gloom of the restaurant. Under the table, not visible to the other patrons, was a large caliber handgun resting in a long quick draw holster on his left hip. Anyone looking at him would recognize a dangerous man, a solo no doubt, one not to F*** with.

The lone dark man’s dinner consisted of a couple of tuna and octopus nigirizushi (small rice balls with the meat laying on top), a single tuna onigiri (cooked rice wrapped in nori seaweed), a bowl of Yakisoba (deep fried noodles with vegetables and ginger), and a pot of Gyohuro green tea.

A low ringing sound came from the man’s booth, he stopped eating and pulled out his cellphone, “Talk to me,” he said in a moderate sounding but low voice. He listened for several seconds then nodded to himself, “Ok.. Keep me informed.” He hung up and slipped his head back in his duster.

‘It’s got to work out soon.’ Mae thought to himself as he went back to eating. Mae Do Kwang, known on the streets as MDK, his initials but also short for Murder-Death-Kill as some people called him, was indeed a solo; at the moment an unemployed solo. The call had not been good news. He had put out the word on the street that he was looking for work. The call had been about a possible job but there had been no decision yet, so he waited. He hoped it would be too long, he still had cash but it wouldn’t last long. He would have to find work soon or starve.

He glanced up from his meal as a couple of men came in the door. Suits, corporate types, he watched them head to a private room off to the side. Corporate, now there was some work no doubt, and the pay was great too. He shook his head at the idea, he hated the Megacorps, he would rather starve then work for them, but the pay was good.

He glanced down at the top of his right wrist at the Skinwatch just beneath the skin. Seeing the time he took the last couple bites and down the last of his tea. Getting up he glanced around the room as he headed towards the register, he paid using his Credchip and giving the room one last stare before leaving he stepped out into the night. He wanted to head over to a bar down the street, a solo hangout, especially ones that were looking for work; who knew he might get lucky there.

Night City – The Afterlife Bar- Hades Room - Thursday, March 12th, 2020, 2100hrs
Entering the Hades Room he paused and scanned the room; his shaded eyes meeting most of the other men’s eye in this place. It was almost like the old vids where before a gun fight the combatants would try to psych out each other before the killing started. With all the killing talent in this room, it was inevitable that a staring contest would begin. Usually this would start a fight, but here everyone kind of expected it and knew it was a status thing, just something that had to be done.

Mae moved into the room glancing around at everyone as he moved towards an empty booth. The place had many booths against the wall, solos always wanted a wall at their back; it just made sense. Settling into the booth facing the room he grabbed the arm of the first serving girl walking by and ordered a drink. She started to complain about being manhandled but he stared at her impassively and she decided to keep her mouth shut. She was experienced and knew the ones that just might be a little over the edge; the ones that might just kill you for saying the wrong thing.

While he waited for his drink he scanned the room; activating the image enhancement in his right eye. By the time his drink arrived, he had noted all those that had a optimum angle on his position and therefore would be the most threat if anything went down.

He didn’t expect trouble here, the Afterlife bar was a place where solos came to hang out and share stories and to be in like company. Anyone starting trouble here would soon find themselves staring down the barrels of many, many guns. Probably a reason no boosters ever came in here and tried to rob it; boosters were psycho but not suicidal.

He sipped his drink and thought of the last few days; laying around his coffin motel had worn thin real quick. He got out and hit the streets when he could looking for work, hits, protection, whatever paid. His luck had not been good. There had been leads but so far nothing had panned out.

He thought of his cell phone conversation earlier today with Lightning, the Techie he had worked with in the past. He had let Light know that he was looking for a job and if the Tech had anything going to get in touch with him if he needed some protection. Lightning had said he would be in touch. That was what everyone had said.

He knew the Techie though and didn’t think the man would jerk him around; he suspected that the man was a little afraid of Mae. Lightning had seen him in action and surely had no doubt of Mae’s ability to kill and inflict pain and just because they had worked together in the past didn’t mean he was safe from the Solo’s ire. Mae kind of liked the Tech, if he liked anyone that is. He had few, what you would call friends, but he would consider Lightning to be in that exclusive group. Mae hoped something would come up, he sort of liked the idea of working with the Techie again; he was good at the Tech stuff and a solo always found that handy to have around when the chips were down.

Mae spent couple hours sitting around drinking, moving through the room and talking to a few other Solos he knew, asking about work. But at the end of the night he didn’t have anything more then when he came in. Checking the time he decided to head back to his motel before it got too late. Being out after midnight wasn’t a good thing if you didn’t have business. The local cops tended to stop people that looked like they were up to something; a lone armed man out after midnight they usually considered a prime suspect to something. He didn’t need any flak from the law right now so he thought is best to head back to his motel and get some rest; one never knew when a job might suddenly come up.


Night City – Alley off of High Street - Thursday, March 12th, 2020, 2340hrs
Leaving the Afterlife bar, he made his way up High Street in the direction of his little motel. It wasn’t nothing but a cheap coffin motel but it was what he could afford right now. He couldn’t wait to get some work and get into some better digs; speaking of which he looked up at the building he was passing by at the moment. He looked at the large well lit sign ‘Camden Court’. He knew the place by reputation; high security, high rent condos favored by Solos and Corporates. He thought he deserved that type of living and one day he would have it.

He ducked down an alley that was a shortcut to his motel, and before he had taken a dozen steps he knew he made the wrong decision. He saw them before they stepped out of the shadows, the Lowlite enhancement in his right optic gave them away. He looked them over carefully as they stepped out of the shadows and started whistling and hooting.

“What we got here?” one of the boys said. They were four boys, age 14-18 he would guess. Boosters and if he recognized the colors and tattoos they belonged to the Metal Warriors.

“I don’t know,” answered another boy, “looks like someone is lost.” He chuckled as the four boys moved to surround Mae. He scanned them for weapons, seeing they were armed only with scratchers and wearing light armored jackets. Probably use to robbing locals for petty cash.

“You best be on home boys,” Mae said softly as his right hand slung the right side of his duster back to reveal his low slung holster and heavy pistol, “before you get hurt.” He grinned slightly hoping he could scare them off as he didn’t really feel in the mood to kill kids at this hour.

The four paused seeing the gun and looked at one another, the eldest boy, probably 18 years old, yelled at the others, “GET HIM! The four boys surrounding him all rushed him at slightly different times.

Mae’s .44 Automag cleared his holster in a quick draw and fired from the hip twice at the two boys to his right. One large caliber bullet caught the first attacking boy in the gut just below his armored jacket and flung him back into garbage cans where he lay screaming. The other bullet caught the second boy square in the nose where the top of his head blossomed out in a spray of dark fluid and his nearly headless body flopped to the cold wet stone.

Mae felt something rack across the back of his duster but the puny scratcher wouldn’t penetrate his heavy armored Iron America duster. He reacted instantly to the attack by kicking backwards with a dwi chagi (back kick); the heel of his black Ruf Tred armored boot catching the boy solidly in the throat crushing his windpipe instantly and throwing him back to lie gasping for breath on the ground.

The last boy’s attack caught Mae on his bandana that hung around his neck. In the neck the scratcher might have caused some serious damage, maybe even ripped out a jugular. But the armored black bandana deflected the thin fingernail blades from doing any harm.

Mae recovered from his back kick by dropping down and performed a low bandae dollyo chagi (reverse roundhouse heel kick) sweeping the boys feet out from under him and dropping him hard on his back stunning the boy for a few seconds. Before the boy can recover Mae dropped down on his knee on the boys chest driving his knee into the boys throat. The boy struggled as the weight of the large man slowly crushed his throat cutting off his air.

The boys struggles slowly fade; Mae reached up with his left hand taking off his black mirrored shades and looked into the boys eyes with is own two chromed orbs. He continued to watch the boy, the oldest one, until he stopped moving when the sound of his neck breaking echoed down the alley.

Getting to his feet, Mae holstered his gun and looked around at the bodies; all were still now. He straightened his duster and put his shades back on as he started up the alley towards his motel. Mae didn’t feel any regrets at killing the boys, he had given them a chance and they hadn’t taken it. He figured it was best since these boys would only have went on to terrorize or kill other innocent locals. It was his public service for the day.

Night City – The Mortuary (Coffin Motel) - Thursday, March 12th, 2020, 2358hrs
He arrived back at his motel and cleaned up a bit in the rest room before heading to his ‘room’. His small coffin-like cubicle where he would sleep not far from the other poor souls like himself. Sliding into his bed he locked the door and drawing his gun he set it next to him. He lay there staring at the ceiling for a few moments. Thinking not about the boys he had just killed, but about whether tomorrow he would hear from Lightning or someone about work; this laying around was getting very boring.

Night City – The Mortuary (Coffin Motel) - Friday, March 13th, 2020, 0015hrs

(OOC: I know I took some liberties with my intro post.. especially with the combat and such.. but I figured it is mostly to get the feel of my character. I promise not to take such liberties again in this game. Let me know if you like it. )

We're dead. For a moment there it really seemed they would. Croaker and Peacekeeper came very close to falling off the thin line they were walking on. Fortunately the cowboy wasn't quite as foolish as his angered words made him. Guardian could almost see Piper and the walking guns surrounding the place blowing Scribe and himself into pieces. Sure they'd start from Croaker and his chica, but prolly wouldn't stop until they all were dead.

But it didn't go that far. The argument was thrown from one side to the other, each calling the other stupid. Sure there were plans to continue, some better than others, but still the group was arguing over petty things instead of carrying out those plans. Sadly the big black man shook his bald head and cast a worried look at his employer. Even if Spiff and Croaker and Big Jacko got their act together and would work together, would it stay that way or would they end up flatlining each other? He felt like saying this wasn't the crap he signed for, but being honest to himself, he had to admit it was. This was exactly what kept him in the money... well... sorts. Not that Guardian really cared that much for the money he was making. It was only enough to keep him alive, not turning him insanely rich. So it didn't really matter that much.

The rest of the ranting Guardian didn't listen to too closely. The guys were venting their frustration, but they probably had understood it couldn't go any further or they'd all be dead. Croaker's thanks did take him by surprise though. More because it felt like a scene from a vid or a dream in the middle of the heated situation, than the actual fact that he was being thanked. In his line of work, people tended to be happy about him carrying out the job well - for keeping them alive. So when the ace offered his hand, Frank took it, shook it and then shrugged. "You owe me nothing, bubba. Didn't do it for you."

What caught the bodyguard's attention though was Jack's move after Spiff had finished his little tirade. It took all of his will to stay his own hand and not grab the butt of his Armalite. Fortunately Jack's hand was empty and only playing a gun instead of holding one. Guardian wasn't sure though whether he'd been too sorry had it been real. He wasn't altogether happy when the media decided to take Spiff's offer, for it didn't exactly make his work easier. Still, protecting people usually wasn't easy. That was exactly why they hired him to take the bullet, wasn't it?