"Well that was my idea, Blossom, Echo, anyone got another one, I'm out."

"What if," Bloodbank asks, rising from crouching and scrounging through his bag holding two items, "I was able to fashion us some masks to filter out that sewer smell. At least for a bit.”

"I don't know if the masks will work, but what about those shelters over there." Fixer nodded his head in the direction of the boxes and things forming a shelter in the alley for some wrecks unfortuante enough to have no better shelter. "For just a few credits I'm sure the residents could be persuaded to vacate and we would at least have a hidden location in which to work. It isn't perfect, but the smell will at least be tolerable."

Casino looking to the rest of the group and hearing no better ideas nodded to Fixer to lead the way.

As they approached the makeshift shelter and were confronted by its resident Fixer decided to just keep going and not wait for Casino to speak for the group.Casino looking to the rest of the group asnd hearing no better ideas nodded to Fixer to lead the way.

"Just ‘cause I don’t live in no fancy conapt don’t mean I can’t defend myself. Roll on, ‘less you want some new holes t’ breathe through.”

"Fair enough," Fixer said as he came to a halt. "I don't need any more holes and I don't think my companions do either. We do, however, need a place to work quietly for a very brief period of time. This place may not be fancy as you said, but we would like to rent it from you for an hour. No holes needed for anyone. We will give you a few credits and you just go for a walk for a while. Easy money. Easy money and nobody gets holes. What do you say?" At this Fixer holds up a few credits.
With the resident(s) of the shelter on their way down the alley and out of site those on technology duty disappeared into the shelter He turned to Casino. "Back on homeless guard duty I guess." With that he headed back up the alley a bit looking for a place where he could find a little cover and conceal himself in a way that made him look like a napping homeless person. As he did so he addressed his fellow homeless, "When they are done we still need to ditch that stuff. The sewer below may work. It looked deep and if we could find even a semi-intact box it might float 1/2 a block or more away from the entrance. The further the better.

Casino once again following Fixer’s lead did as he had finding a place to stand guard without being seen as much as possible as Blossom and the rest worked. Hopefully they’d find something to lead them to the boy they had up to this point no luck in finding. As Casino watched his mind drifted to Vegas and Ghalan hoping both were ok.

The Alley Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 3:38 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Approaching what appears to be the opening, a growling voice rolls from inside, “Just ‘cause I don’t live in no fancy conapt don’t mean I can’t defend myself. Roll on, ‘less you want some new holes t’ breathe through.”

"Fair enough," Fixer says as he comes to a halt. "I don't need any more holes and I don't think my companions do either. We do, however, need a place to work quietly for a very brief period of time. This place may not be fancy, as you said, but we would like to rent it from you for an hour. No holes needed for anyone. We will give you a few credits and you just go for a walk for a while. Easy money. Easy money and nobody gets holes. What do you say?"  At this Fixer fishes some a handful of Night City Dollars from his pocket and holds them up as bait.

Silence follows for a moment before the flap of the moldy blue tarp is pulled aside by the barrel of an older model .380 handgun. Just past the weapon, in the shadows of the makeshift tent the dirty and prematurely aged face of an Asian man with overgrown hair and shaggy black facial hair hiding most of his features. Hungry eyes flicker from the breathing mask and the kind eyes of the Techie to the wad of cash in his outstretched hand.

“Not enough,” the Asian man growls. “You’d pay more than that for a hotel room for just one hour. Here you have privacy. Fifty’ll give you a half hour.”

Thinking that the asking price might be a little high, Fixer doesn’t feel the urge to argue. Fishing some more of the brightly colored bills from his pocket, the techie offers them up. Crouching beneath the low-hanging awning, the middle-aged Asian shuffles from within his tent, pulling a moldy discolored bomber’s jacket tighter about his slight frame as he does. Snatching the money from James’ hand, the smelly little man proceeds to count it out before stuffing it deep into his oil-stained jeans pocket.

“One half-hour,” he sniffs. “Don’t touch nothin’ and don’t steal nothin’.”

Casting a ferocious bulging eye at each of them as he passes by, the street urchin makes his way back the way the party had come.

With the resident of the shelter on his way down the alley and out of sight, those on technology duty disappear inside the shelter. James “Fixer” Mathis turns to Casino and remarks, "Back on homeless guard duty, I guess."

Heading back up the alley a bit, the techie looks for a place providing at least a little cover and attempts to conceal himself in a way that makes him look like a napping homeless person. Wet biodegradable cardboard boxes, bio-plastic bags, screamsheets… whatever could be used as solid cover has been. Fixer’s resigned to creating a place upon the remnants of a box that isn’t disgusting to sit upon and pulling some other debris over him to create the ruse.

Casino once again follows Fixer’s lead, doing as he does and finding a place to stand guard without being seen while being mistaken for one of the wretches living in this corridor. As he works, he hopes that they find something to lead them to the boy they had, up to this point, no luck in finding.

Breaking into the big man’s thoughts, Fixer addresses his fellow faux homeless guard, "When they are done, we still need to ditch that stuff. The sewer below may work. It looked deep and if we could find even a semi-intact box it might float 1/2 a block or more away from the entrance. The further the better."

(OOC: Casino’s answer&hellip

As Casino keeps a close eye on their surroundings, his mind drifts to Vegas and Ghlahn, hoping both are ok.

“Oh, this is ripe,” Blossom frowns at the conditions of the damp interior. Holding her pocket flashlight in hand, she sweeps the dingy bedding and small shopping cart filled with odds and ends searching for a place to sit comfortably. “The price of a studio sure doesn’t buy what it used to.”

Twisting about and dropping her bag in the corner closest to the wall, the small woman manages to land on her buttocks with the tails of her coat beneath her, protecting her bare legs from touching anything beneath her. Setting the small, agent-sized box that she had procured from the office building on her crossed calves, Blossom retrieves one of her sets of interface wires and proceeds to connect.

“Keep that light decently covered,” Echo mutters from where she is hunching by the entrance. Peering through the gap, she scans the alleyway beyond. “Don’t want to give any reason for someone to come knocking at the door.”

Sitting between them, Bloodbank is silent as he settles in to watch.

“I’ll not need it at all right about… now,” the wardriver switches the flashlight off immediately drowning her companions in darkness.

Purple hues bleed across everything in the cramped interior as the red neon lights at the mouth of the alley penetrate the blue tarp overhead. Even with this dim light, the bulky shadows of each of the Edgers are difficult to pierce. Details are lost, motions imperceptible, and features a mask of ambiguity. Time would be a lost concept in this dreamland except for the digital clock present in the Runners optic splices. Two-minutes transform into three, three meld into five, and five drip slowly away until nearly ten minutes have passed. A tiny “harrumph” emitted by the netrunner raises hope that she’s done before she returns to her work without explanation. More minutes pass, more smells worm their way through the mask filters and cloth balaclava wrapped about the nomad’s face. Finally, at what seems to be the limit of the time they have purchased, Blossom spreads her hands wide enough to see in the mirky dark.

“All done!” she pleasantly chirps. A barely perceptible click floats through the purple air and her shadow-washed form shifts about until she’s on her booted feet hunched over. “Let’s go before we wind up with lice or something.”

Echo isn’t arguing and slips out through the flap and away from the urban tent a few paces, balaclava covered face turning towards one end of the alley and then the other.

Teaming up with the Fixer and Casino, Echo, Blossom, and Bloodbank huddle together near one of the walls.

“There are eight people from Upstairs Downstairs that were on duty the night the kid disappeared,” Blossom explains, holding up the small computer box for emphasis. “They didn’t have a log as to who worked what buildings but I was able to cross reference the security camera footage with the employee pictures and narrowed that down to three who were in the same building as Jace’s dorm. So, we’ve got three possibles. I’ve got their addresses from the employee files.”

“About frackin’ time we get some forward momentum,” Echo breathes. “Heads up. Our landlord is back.”

Rounding the corner, bathed in the sharp red hues of the light, the Asian man limps towards the group of Edgerunners. “You need any more time? Double the price for the next half hour.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 04:05 AM PST)

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Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 03:09 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

From off to Ghlahn’s front left the sound of automatic weapons fire is immediately accompanied by the high pitched ring of rounds striking metal as twenty to thirty rounds pepper the vehicles over and around him. These are followed by more of the same. Glass breaks, the vehicle covering the Corpore Steel soldier is dancing with the barrage but so’s the yellow sports next to him.

With his eyes still on the targets by the pillar, Ghlahn spots the other soldier in the area pop up and spray rounds his way with a submachine gun while more rounds come in from the left. Oil begins to drain from multiple holes in the engine block overhead spattering down on Ghlahn like dirty rain. Sparks fly and whistling bullets strike right near Alex’s head spitting fragments of cement into his combat mask like tiny bugs against a motorcycle helmet windscreen.

His situation has changed. Six seconds have passed since he started shooting and already Ghlahn feels that he may have eliminated three of the potentially eight from the fight but his left side is now definitely under siege and their reactive barrage of fire is quickly going to be replaced by a more strategic assault.

In the last 10 seconds things have gone to hell. Three of the security forces are down but that leaves perhaps five still in the fight and automatic weapon fire is shredding the car above him.  

"Last chance,” Ghlahn calls out as he shifts about to get into a better position, sparks and shards of cement flying about, “no one has died yet. You guys grab your wounded buddies and pull back and it might just stay that way."

He knows there is little chance they will take him up on the offer but he figures it can’t hurt to try.  Knowing his spot is fully compromised, Ghlahn works quickly. Angling his body he seeks to target the two agents hiding to his left behind the red skull painted car. Even in a firefight it is interesting what he notices.

Twisting about underneath his cover, the Cee-Metal man squeezes the trigger on his Colt and watches in satisfaction as the man across the hood of the black mid-size car flails backwards to fall between the vehicles and out of sight.

From approximately the eleven o’clock hour on the directional dial, automatic fire sprays the hood and grill of the gas guzzler overhead spilling oil and other fluids as well as broken and rusted metal down on Ghlahn’s back. More rounds smack into the front left paneling and blowing out the tire.

Sighting in on the next target, Ghlahn squeezes off another shot just as the man begins to drop below the hoodline, jerking his helmeted head down out of sight as his incendiary round sparks through the metal.

Silence drapes the garage and Ghlahn scans the scene for any available shots; finding none.

“You’re a right beast!” a new voice calls from up the garage a ways. “But you’re not getting out of here alive. You’ve signed your death warrant. You realize that?”

No gunfire follows the call. Just the sounds of the street below.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:09 AM PST)

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the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 5:07 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

Spotting a descent position beneath a streetlamp and in front of a semicircular building face with four stories of glass facing the street, Luther pulls over and stops the vehicle, allowing the winds of the hover turbines the settle and the jeep to slowly lower to street level.

Luther sighs. “Fine... but I find this unnecessary as I'm trying to home. Thank you, Dispatch."

<= Very well, sir. =>

Behind him, the patrol car swings its nose out towards the street for an easier departure, blues and reds still flashing, reflecting both off of the wet street and the windows of the buildings around them.

Luther rechecks his I.D. and keeps his hands on the dash so that they can be seen as well as the I.D. and waits for the officer to speak to him. Choosing to dial Hui Yin, just in case something goes south.

<= Hello? Mr. Charlie? Is that you? Why are you calling me so early? This is not cool. =>

Luther explains that he is getting pulled over and want her on the line to listen in.

<= You call me at five in the morning because you want me to listen in? I was on a beach with Pan Feng and you ruined it, Mr. Charlie. =>

In the side view mirror, Cred Stick Charlie witnesses the officer—fully armored in riot gear—approaching on the building-side.

“License and registration, please.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 5:08 AM PST)

  With the prospect of several more sec team members and an armored vehicle arriving soon, Ghalan knew he was in a tough spot.  It was possible that with a bit of luck he could defeat the entire sec team, but not the vehicle.  There was really only one choice left; escape.  On the plus side the team had ceased fire and the armored vehicle waslikely on its way up the parking garage and no longer on station below.  He slithered backwards until he reached the chain link fence behind him.  Hopefully the pause while the sec team waited for reinforcements was longer than the time needed to cut the fence.  Working quickly he attempted to burn a hole at the bottom that would alow him to slip under the fencing.  If all went well he would be able to hang from the fence and slide down the side of the garage just far enough to grab the fence below and continued downward in that manner.  If not, he would simply have to drop and hope for the best.  He could possibly die or suffer serious injury but at least he had a chance; if he held his ground he was as good as dead.  

The Alley Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 3:38 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.) Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Casino once again follows Fixer’s lead, doing as he does and finding a place to stand guard without being seen while being mistaken for one of the wretches living in this corridor. As he works, he hopes that they find something to lead them to the boy they had, up to this point, no luck in finding.
Breaking into the big man’s thoughts, Fixer addresses his fellow faux homeless guard, "When they are done, we still need to ditch that stuff. The sewer below may work. It looked deep and if we could find even a semi-intact box it might float 1/2 a block or more away from the entrance. The further the better."

Thinking on Fixers idea Casino thought it a good one but he had a second possible one also.

“Agreed, or we just leave it here. I’m sure our land lord will find a use for it.” Looking around at the area “I’m pretty sure it will disappear very quickly within the neighborhood here.”

It did not seem to long before Blossom called out

“All done! Let’s go before we wind up with lice or something.”

Echo isn’t arguing and slips out through the flap and away from the urban tent a few paces, balaclava covered face turning towards one end of the alley and then the other.

Teaming up with the Fixer and Casino, Echo, Blossom, and Bloodbank huddle together near one of the walls. As they listened Blossom revealed what she had found on the computer hard drive.

“There are eight people from Upstairs Downstairs that were on duty the night the kid disappeared,” Blossom explains, holding up the small computer box for emphasis. “They didn’t have a log as to who worked what buildings but I was able to cross reference the security camera footage with the employee pictures and narrowed that down to three who were in the same building as Jace’s dorm. So, we’ve got three possibles. I’ve got their addresses from the employee files”

“About frackin’ time we get some forward momentum,” Echo breathes. “Heads up. Our landlord is back.”

Rounding the corner, bathed in the sharp red hues of the light, the Asian man limps towards the group of Edgerunners. “You need any more time? Double the price for the next half hour.”

“No we’re done here” Casino replied to the their temporary landlord.

Moving the group away out of the homeless man’s ear shot, Casino put forth his and Fixer’s different idea’s on item disposal and waited for a general consensus of what to do with them. Give e'm to the homeless guy or dump them down the sewer, both ways would rid the group of the ill gotten gains........ 

Fixer heard Casinos plan and was ok with it, but still thought the sewer might be wiser.  "We can leave it with this guy, but he has seen us.  Assuming the company comes looking for it he can tell them a bit about us.  Not a lot, but a bit.  If it disappears somewhere - down the sewer or into the crowd, I guess, they are less likely to get any intel on us.  I'd vote sewers - they aren't going to want to go down there any more then we do."  Pausing a moment he added, "And grumpy as he might be, we'd be bringing them down for sure on the old guys head.  Might be doin' that anyway if they come to this drain, but it seems less likely."

He wouldn't push for it, but he thought the sewers were best.   But best was to move and move quickly.  "Three people?  Were any of them the woman Jace seemed to be seen talking to a lot?  That was the one person who seemed interested in getting close to him.  I'd start there, otherwise lets hit the one closest to this location and get moving."

As the group made a decision and started out Fixer couldn't help feeling the rush.  "Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of Jace's life," the thought seemed to float through his mind.  He couldn't place where the trite saying came from and it certainly wasn't poetic, but it did express the need for speed.  

Contris: Closed

Tag: Brom Sal

Goals:

Get back on the airway to the group

Pending: nothing

studying: Chinese Language

Study Chinese culture

Look into his option of identity printers later

the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 5:07 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

Spotting a descent position beneath a streetlamp and in front of a semicircular building face with four stories of glass facing the street, Luther pulls over and stops the vehicle, allowing the winds of the hover turbines the settle and the jeep to slowly lower to street level.

Luther sighs. “Fine... but I find this unnecessary as I'm trying to home. Thank you, Dispatch."

<= Very well, sir. =>

Behind him, the patrol car swings its nose out towards the street for an easier departure, blues and reds still flashing, reflecting both off of the wet street and the windows of the buildings around them.

Luther rechecks his I.D. and keeps his hands on the dash so that they can be seen as well as the I.D. and waits for the officer to speak to him. Choosing to dial Hui Yin, just in case something goes south.

<= Hello? Mr. Charlie? Is that you? Why are you calling me so early? This is not cool. =>

Luther explains that he is getting pulled over and wants her on the line to listen in.

<= You call me at five in the morning because you want me to listen in? I was on a beach with Pan Feng and you ruined it, Mr. Charlie. =>

Mr Charlie apologises then hangs up and comments to himself that good help is hard to find in a bind...

In the side view mirror, Cred Stick Charlie witnesses the officer—fully armored in riot gear—approaching on the building-side.

“License and registration, please.”

Luther complies with the officer and gives I.D. and waits....

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 5:08 AM PST)

The Alley Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 4:05 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“There are eight people from Upstairs Downstairs that were on duty the night the kid disappeared,” Blossom explains, holding up the small computer box for emphasis. “They didn’t have a log as to who worked what buildings but I was able to cross reference the security camera footage with the employee pictures and narrowed that down to three who were in the same building as Jace’s dorm. So, we’ve got three possibles. I’ve got their addresses from the employee files.”

“About frackin’ time we get some forward momentum,” Echo breathes. “Heads up. Our landlord is back.”

Rounding the corner, bathed in the sharp red hues of the light, the Asian man limps towards the group of Edgerunners. “You need any more time? Double the price for the next half hour.”

“No. We’re done here,” Casino replies to the their temporary landlord.

Moving the group away and out of the homeless man’s ear shot, Casino puts forth his and Fixer’s different ideas on item disposal and waits for a general consensus of what to do with the computers. Give them to the homeless guy or dump them down the sewer; both ways will rid the group of the ill gotten gains.

Fixer hears Casinos plan and is OK with it, but still thinks the sewer might be wiser. "We can leave it with this guy, but he has seen us. Assuming the company comes looking for it, he can tell them a bit about us. Not a lot, but a bit. If it disappears somewhere—down the sewer or into the crowd, I guess they are less likely to get any intel on us. I'd vote sewers—they aren't going to want to go down there anymore than we do." Pausing a moment he adds, "And grumpy as he might be, we'd be bringing them down for sure on the old guys head. Might be doin' that anyway if they come to this drain, but it seems less likely."

He doesn’t push for it, but he thinks the sewers are the best option. But even better is to move and move quickly.

“It’s too bad we don’t have the time to clean these—” Blossom hoists the computers up and eyes them through her heart shaped sunglasses. “—boxes. Might be able to get a decent amount of credits for them once they’re wiped. That Cred Stick Charlie might even be able to do something with the data to earn us a few more dolla’s.”

Dropping her hand back to her side, Blossom continues, “But, them’s the Fate. I’m good either way. Dump ‘em with the bum or dump ‘em in the drain. I don’t care.”

“If we give them over to him—” Echo nods in the direction of the makeshift shelter. “—and some corporate security comes lookin’ for them; they might stop their search with him. My vote is that we leave them here.”

“That’s cold,” Bloodbank answers. “Drop them in the sewer. There’s no point in putting that man’s life in jeopardy.”

“Naw,” Blossom pops her sucker from her mouth and grins mischievously. “The more I think on it, the more I like Casino’s idea. Give them over to the bum. Maybe he sells them quick and we now have a goosechase for those sardines that’ll likely come looking.”

Exasperated, Bloodbank throws his hands in the air and shakes his head. “His blood is on you lot then.”

Echo holds out her hand and the netrunner places the thin computers into it. Striding away from the group, the nomad approaches the tent calling out softly so as not to accidentally get shot. From his vantage, the medtech watches with narrowed eyes and no small amount of misgivings.

As the group makes a decision and starts out, Fixer can’t help feeling the rush. Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of Jace's life, the thought floats through his mind. He can’t place where the trite saying came from and it certainly isn’t poetic, but it does express the need for speed.

"Three people?” Fixer abruptly clarifies with the beautiful hacker. “Were any of them the woman Jace seemed to be seen talking to a lot? That was the one person who seemed interested in getting close to him. I'd start there, otherwise lets hit the one closest to this location and get moving."

“One was,” Blossom chirps. “I got her address from her file but shouldn’t we group up again? Ghlahn and Vegas could be handy.”

“At least that I can agree with,” Bloodbank mumbles from behind his combat mask.

Echo crouches, reaches forward, and deposits the computers inside the tent and then rejoins her company. “I told him he should sell them fast. Put some emphasis on the need to get rid of them. What he does from here with them is up to him.”

Taking the olive branch, Bloodbank nods to the road warrior. “Thanks,” he says.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 04:07 AM PST)

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Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 03:09 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Silence drapes the garage and Ghlahn scans the scene for any available shots; finding none.

“You’re a right beast!” a new voice calls from up the garage a ways. “But you’re not getting out of here alive. You’ve signed your death warrant. You realize that?”

No gunfire follows the call. Just the sounds of the street below.

With the prospect of several more sec team members and an armored vehicle arriving soon, Ghlahn knows he is in a tough spot. It is possible that with a bit of luck he can defeat the entire sec team, but not the vehicle, and any reinforcements that are likely on their way seals the deal. There is really only one choice left: escape.

On the plus side, the team has ceased firing and the armored vehicle is likely on its way up the parking garage and no longer on station below.

Holstering his pistol and slithering backwards until he reaches the chain link fence behind him, Ghlahn remains hopeful that the pause while the sec team waits for reinforcements is longer than the time needed to cut the fence. Swivelling about, he activates his bracer’s cutting torch and works quickly burning a hole at the bottom of the fence that will allow him to slip through.

“You still alive, Choomba?” the call from deeper in the garage is only caught because of the cyborg’s enhanced hearing. “Or did we kill you?”

If all goes well, he will be able to hang from the fence and slide down the side of the garage just far enough to grab the fence below and continue downward in that manner. If not, he will simply have to drop and hope for the best. He could possibly die or suffer serious injury but at least he has a chance; if he holds his ground, he is as good as dead in his estimation. Of course, if he doesn’t respond to the hazing they might see a need to come investigate.

(OOC: Respond or not&hellip

Melting through the last link of metal, Ghlahn grips the cut-away piece of fencing with his other hand and pulls it aside as he shuts off his torch. Grabbing his bag, the cyborg extracts himself from beneath the vehicle and crouches below the line of the trunk to sling his bag over his shoulder. Peering down, over the edge, the drop looks much greater than anticipated. Such is the nature of heights. But it isn’t the height that gives the Cee-metal pause. The APC is still parked below. It hasn’t come into the garage.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:11 AM PST)

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the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 5:08 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

Mr. Charlie apologises to Hui Yin and then hangs up, commenting quietly to himself that good help is hard to find in a bind.

In the side view mirror, Cred Stick Charlie witnesses the officer—fully armored in riot gear—approaching on the building-side.

“License and registration, please.”

Handing over his I.D., Luther complies with the officer’s request.

“Registration?” Officer Burns addresses the missing information.

Reaching over to the glove compartment, the well-dressed fixer drops the door open and leans over to peer inside.

“Careful, Mr. Hastiin,” Burns steps back, his hand resting on the grip of his service weapon. “Move slow so we don’t have any misunderstandings.”

The compartment is filled with worthless crumpled papers that are ages old showing service that has been performed by service stations with dates that are more than ten years old. There are a few pens, a single rusted crescent wrench, a couple of ratty elastic hair bands, and a Twinkie still in its package, but there’s no registration.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 5:09 AM PST)

"Yeah, you killed me.  Job well done, no need to stick around!"   Ghalan called back hoping to keep the team members at a standoff.  With his escape hole created, he lowered himself and looked down.  First he noticed it was a bit higher than he thought.  Then he saw the armored vehicle still parked below.  A curse ecaped his lips at his misfortune.  But moments later he realized that there was a lack of team members around the vehicel.  Could they have been stupid enough to dismount and enter the garage on foot?  A new plan hatched in the cree-snipers mind.  Doing his best to shimy down the side of the garage he got as low as possible and then dropped, looking for the softest possible landing spot.  If he survived the impact, he would head to the vehicle.  If the sec team was dumb enough to leave an armored vehicle unattended he saw no reason he shouldn't make use of it for his escape.

In the side view mirror, Cred Stick Charlie witnesses the officer—fully armored in riot gear—approaching on the building-side.

“License and registration, please.”

Handing over his I.D., Luther complies with the officer’s request.

“Registration?” Officer Burns addresses the missing information.

Reaching over to the glove compartment, the well-dressed fixer drops the door open and leans over to peer inside.

“Careful, Mr. Hastiin,” Burns steps back, his hand resting on the grip of his service weapon. “Move slow so we don’t have any misunderstandings.”

The compartment is filled with worthless crumpled papers that are ages old showing service that has been performed by service stations with dates that are more than ten years old. There are a few pens, a single rusted crescent wrench, a couple of ratty elastic hair bands, and a Twinkie still in its package, but there’s no registration.

"Ahhh....Officer. It's missing... the registration is missing from the glovebox, Sir" .

Luther aka Mr Hastiin wasn't very please and even more concerened that if this vehicle gets impounded what was Luther going to do?. Everyone has a price on thier heads if the child isn't found and it would only be a matter of time before all of them would be dead.

"Officer tell me what may options are Sir, All that I want to do is get home safely after a long night". " I just left the fueling station a way back and I'm just rambling, Appoligies".

Human-Perception-Check

Luther Washington - Fixer: To Perceive: 17

Things were moving again.  Fixer just wanted to breath deep and start running.  There was so much to do and so little time.  And he wasn't even exactly sure what to do and where to begin, but something needed doing.  There were 3 names and addresses on that list.  But now things were also a bit out of his area of expertise.

"Regoup?  Yeah, good idea.  We got  couple we need to look for here and hopefully some transport coming.  Lets look for the local team and get out of this alley and away from the goods."   Fixer glanced at Casino.  "You know where best to find Vegas and Glahn?"  He was ready to move.

Alley Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 4:05 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Getting an agreeing nod from Blossom he calmly watched as Echo moved away from the group calling out softly to the homeless guy so as not to accidentally get shot. Placing the stolen equiptment by the tent, yet in full view of the homeless guy and any others, she smiled and returned. The big solo knew from personal experince that as soon as the group was out of sight the comp tech would be gone in seconds.

Echo crouches, reaches forward, and deposits the computers inside the tent and then rejoins her company. “I told him he should sell them fast. Put some emphasis on the need to get rid of them. What he does from here with them is up to him.”

Taking the olive branch, Bloodbank nods to the road warrior. “Thanks,” he says.

The items placed Casino and the rest of the group walked away without looking back. Not even minutes went by before they could hear people arguing of who was who, and what now belonged to whom, the party completely forgotten.

"Three people?” Fixer abruptly clarifies with the beautiful hacker. “Were any of them the woman Jace seemed to be seen talking to a lot? That was the one person who seemed interested in getting close to him. I'd start there, otherwise lets hit the one closest to this location and get moving."

“One was,” Blossom chirps. “I got her address from her file but shouldn’t we group up again? Ghlahn and Vegas could be handy.”

“I read you let me try to contact one or both” Casino spoke as he started pulling out the two way walkie talkie.

“Vegas, what’s your status partner?”………………..

The Alley Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 4:07 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

"Three people?” Fixer abruptly clarifies with the beautiful hacker. “Were any of them the woman Jace seemed to be seen talking to a lot? That was the one person who seemed interested in getting close to him. I'd start there, otherwise lets hit the one closest to this location and get moving."

“One was,” Blossom chirps. “I got her address from her file but shouldn’t we group up again? Ghlahn and Vegas could be handy.”

“At least that I can agree with,” Bloodbank mumbles from behind his combat mask.

Echo crouches, reaches forward, and deposits the computers inside the tent and then rejoins her company. “I told him he should sell them fast. Put some emphasis on the need to get rid of them. What he does from here with them is up to him.”

Taking the olive branch, Bloodbank nods to the road warrior. “Thanks,” he says.

Things are moving again. Fixer just wants to breath deep and start running. There is so much to do and so little time. And he isn’t even exactly sure what to do and where to begin, but something needs doing. There are three names and addresses on that list. But now things are also a bit out of his area of expertise.

"Regoup? Yeah, good idea. We got a couple we need to look for here and hopefully some transport coming. Let’s look for the local team and get out of this alley and away from the goods." Fixer glances at Casino. "You know where best to find Vegas and Ghlahn?" He is ready to move.

“I read you. Let me try to contact one or both,” Casino says as he pulls out the two-way walkie-talkie.

“Vegas, what’s your status partner?”

Silence reigns for a full fifteen seconds followed by a click. “Vegas is no longer the owner of this… quaint piece of tech. If you want to come have a chat, we’ll talk about returning it to him.”

“Damn,” Bloodbank shakes his masked head slowly.

“Who the hell was that?” Blossom asks.

Grim eyes meet Casino’s as Echo’s brow furrows. He can’t see her pursed lips behind the balaclava wrapped about her head and face but the squaring of her shoulders tells him that she’ll back his play if he wants to go investigate.

“Was that the other team that Cred Stick Charlie mentioned?” the netrunner conjects in a slightly higher voice. “Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 04:08 AM PST)

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Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 03:11 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“You still alive, Choomba?” the call from deeper in the garage is only caught because of the cyborg’s enhanced hearing. “Or did we kill you?”

If all goes well, he will be able to hang from the fence and slide down the side of the garage just far enough to grab the fence below and continue downward in that manner. If not, he will simply have to drop and hope for the best. He could possibly die or suffer serious injury but at least he has a chance; if he holds his ground, he is as good as dead in his estimation. Of course, if he doesn’t respond to the hazing they might see a need to come investigate.

Melting through the last link of metal, Ghlahn grips the cutaway piece of fencing with his other hand and pulls it aside as he shuts off his torch. Grabbing his bag, the cyborg extracts himself from beneath the vehicle and crouches below the line of the trunk to sling his bag over his shoulder. Peering down, over the edge, the drop looks much greater than anticipated. Such is the nature of heights. But it isn’t the height that gives the Cee-metal pause. The APC is still parked below. It hasn’t come into the garage.

“Yeah, you killed me. Job well done, no need to stick around!" Ghlahn calls back hoping to keep the team members at a standoff. With his escape hole created, he lowers himself and looks down. First he notices it is a bit higher than he thought. Then he sees that the armored vehicle is still parked below. A curse escapes his lips at his misfortune, but moments later he realizes that there is a lack of team members around the vehicle. Could they have been stupid enough to dismount and enter the garage on foot? A new plan hatches in the CEE-sniper’s mind.

Doing his best to shimmy down the side of the garage he gets as low as possible and then drops, looking for the softest possible landing spot. A five meter drop is nothing for his cyborg legs to absorb. Spinning in his crouch, his sudden appearance from above and cat-like moves startle the passer-bys resulting in a couple of miffed words of profanity being sent his way. Ignoring the sheep, he makes a low advance on the vehicle. If the sec team is dumb enough to leave an armored vehicle unattended, he sees no reason he shouldn't make use of it for his escape.

Luck, however, is not on Ghlahn’s side today. As he rushes the vehicle, the 14.5mm turreted machine gun swivels with hissing hydraulics to focus in his direction. It appears that there is at least one crewman inside still.

Roaring, flaming hot lead spews from the rifled maw of the machine gun. Ghlahn surges on, feeling the rolling waves of hellfire pass over his head, tearing apart the cement structure behind him. Screams and panic flood the street but the focused CEE-metal soldier is only aware of the APC as his boots pound the pavement away from the threat.

The turret is at the front and the front is aligned with traffic; which is now speeding up, pulling over, or doing its best to scramble out of the way and causing more of a problem than had the drivers all just continued on course. Ghlahn is running down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, weaving and pushing people aside as he goes.

~~~ Two hundred credits to the choomba that grabs that man! ~~~

The commanding voice that echoes down the street rings out behind him. The corporate crew has just put a price on Ghlahn’s head. For now, no one seems intent on going for it and the cyborg takes full advantage, sprinting further down the street. Squealing tires pierce the frantic sounds and a quick glance over his shoulder shows Ghlahn that the APC is turning about, crashing into nearby vehicles and pushing obstructions out of the way.

A man with a hover cart covered in steel meter-by-meter crates quickly reverses the mover and backs it right in front of Ghlahn but the CEE-metal soldier leapfrogs over it and hits the ground running, his bag slamming against his back. Bursting through the chest of a hologram advert, Ghlahn slides a meter or so and changes directions, running down a narrow alley that won’t allow the APC to follow, pushing wet people out of the way, indifferent to their protests.

“Look out!” someone screams the warning at the same time as lurching rubber on cement indicates the APC has stopped in front of the same alley. Taking the hint, Ghlahn leaps and pulls himself up onto a large pipe that is at least three meters in diameter. Spotting the narrow gap between it and the wall, the sniper drops through it, hitting the pavement again just as the bullets from that insufferable machine gun turret begin tearing the alleyway apart. Rounds rip through the pipe and burst out again in front of him, behind him, and over him but the red-headed cyborg is already intent on moving further away knowing that if he stays still, he’s likely dead.

The last time he had come under fire like this was when he infiltrated the Neo-Corp, New Cell Energy Corporation. He’d made it out alive but earned a lifelong enemy in the process. A service door on the right catches, Ghlahn’s eye. Metal with interior hinges, a single crank-style handle set into a metal plate. Likely locked. A frantic scan of the surrounding wall also shows a single security camera. Peering back along the alley, he’s still got a good three hundred meters to be a target for the APC. This is his only option.

Bearing down on the door, M'harú Ghlahn uses his formidable strength to palm strike the lever handle. Pain shoot up his wrist and into his arm but he slams it again and this time the handle breaks away revealing a small crevice between the base of the lever and the metal plate. The bar bared like the arm bone of an injured man, Ghlahn strikes it one more time this time breaking the handle off completely. Taking a step back, he kicks the door inward and slips into the dimly lit, white tiled corridor, closing the door behind him.

Falling against the door, the sniper narrows his alert eyes and focuses on his new surroundings. The hall is approximately fifteen meters long before turning to the right. No doors, the floor tiles continue halfway up the wall. Most are chipped or cracked. All are ridiculously dirty with small caster wheel tracks breaking up the muck like off-road vehicle tracks in the mud. Two three meter long old-school light boxes are spaced evenly along the length of the ceiling. One has a bulb out, the lonely remaining cylindrical bulb flickering in its last throes of life.

Pushing away from the door, Ghlahn shifts his bag to a more comfortable position and begins walking confidently down the hall, rubbing his right palm and wrist but otherwise looking like he belongs there.

Depths of buildings in Night City can continue on for hundreds of flights of stairs and dismal descents in elevators and the same upwards. There are occasional landings that require ID to proceed, proof that one belongs to that level of the Integrate, but a person can stay indoors for their entire life if they are so inclined and still get all of the exercise of a diligent hiker. Though this isn’t Ghlahn’s intent, he can potentially use it to his advantage.

In his career as an edgerunner, he has occasionally found himself up against the Neo-Corps and all of their power and resources. They can bring some tough opponents into the ring and if they want you bad enough, they can use drones and constructs to hunt you down with more efficiency than squads of men. Two hundred credits to the choomba that grabs that man! The words echo in the CEE-metal soldier’s mind. Two hundred isn’t much when a soul is weighing their chances of success against their chances of failure. That’s likely why only one fool made a half-hearted attempt to stop him. That could also mean that the squad wouldn’t expend a whole lot of resources to hunt him down in the maze of one of these smart structures. Then again, he killed a number of their buddies…

His crew is on somewhere on this street level. He’s without a direct communications link… but he does have the website they were all recruited from. Perhaps he can find a way to get in touch with Vegas through the site and regroup with his team. Now within a different but similar hall, Ghlahn moves to the other side to avoid a patch of wall being repaired by the building’s core nanites. There are now doors—doors with small light fixtures over them, black and brown stains on the sickly teal faces and frames. These are most likely cheap conapts rentable by the lowest levels of the corporate world and those who work within the building. Somewhere in this structure there would be a park or lobby where he could settle for a moment. Up, down, or stay on the level he’s on and risk that sec team being bold.

People round the corner ahead of him and for a second, Ghlahn tenses up. These are the drones of the working world, however. A group of three. Two men and one woman. All caucasian and wearing business casual underneath their rain gear. They look wary and tired as they pass him by but not one of them look like they wish to engage with the combat tactically dressed red-head. This time of morning, they are either heading out to catch the public transportation they use to get to their desk jobs on time or they are just getting back. Either way, Ghlahn is fine letting them move on.

Close to fifteen minutes have passed by the time he finds a lobby with a place to sit. Square with low ceilings, the room is barely ten meters by ten meters with one wall lined by various vending machines and the opposite containing four small metal framed tables with scarred and dented surfaces, each surrounded by two or three rickety looking metal framed chairs. Perhaps they once matched each other but now some of the chairs are missing seatbacks or their seat coverings are so stained that even the disgusting table tops can’t match their petine.

Refraining from sitting and without the need to eat food, Ghlahn drops his bag onto one of the tables and pulls out his Vox Communications Personal Agent Device. He keeps his battle mask over his face for security purposes but the hand-held can be activated with a thought from his neural link. Navigating to the Dark Web, he quickly produces the website he had been recruited by Starlight from. And there it is, a message on his profile. Opening it, the CEE-Metal soldier see’s Vegas’ Frank Sinatra face appear in a video feed.

“Where you at, choomba?” the image asks, rain dripping from his fedora’s visor. “There’s one helluvah mess on the street here and it is crawling with Neo-Corp stooges. I can’t get anywhere near the garage you were hold up in. Sing me a song when you get this. We need to dance quick. The run went well but I don’t know how far ahead of the clean-up team we are. We can’t have any more delays.”

The solo glances around at surroundings Ghlahn cannot see and then frowns. “Sh*t. Looks like I get to dance with the stooges. I’ll check the site for your reply as soon as I’ve answered their questions.”

The video message ends with Vegas lowering his agent, the camera still recording for a moment; just long enough to show the approach of three sec operators.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:46 AM PST)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 5:09 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

Mr. Charlie apologizes to Hui Yin and then hangs up, commenting quietly to himself that good help is hard to find in a bind.

In the side view mirror, Cred Stick Charlie witnesses the officer—fully armored in riot gear—approaching on the building-side.

“License and registration, please.”

Handing over his I.D., Luther complies with the officer’s request.

“Registration?” Officer Burns addresses the missing information.

Reaching over to the glove compartment, the well-dressed fixer drops the door open and leans over to peer inside.

“Careful, Mr. Hastiin,” Burns steps back, his hand resting on the grip of his service weapon. “Move slow so we don’t have any misunderstandings.”

The compartment is filled with worthless crumpled papers that are ages old showing service that has been performed by service stations with dates that are more than ten years old. There are a few pens, a single rusted crescent wrench, a couple of ratty elastic hair bands, and a Twinkie still in its package, but there’s no registration.

"Ahhh… Officer. It's missing... The registration is missing from the glovebox, Sir."

Luther aka Mr. Hastiin isn’t very pleased and even more concerned. If this vehicle gets impounded what is Luther going to do? Everyone has a price on their heads if the child isn't found and it will only be a matter of time before all of them are dead in that case.

"Officer, tell me what my options are, Sir. All that I want to do is get home safely after a long night. I just left the fueling station a ways back and I'm just rambling, apologies."

“Interesting ride for someone as well-dressed as you are, Mr. Hastiin,” Officer Burns tilts his head to the side a little, but with his face completely masked by the standard issue riot combat mask his disposition is nigh unto impossible for the fixer to make out. “I would expect to find someone like you in a sedan at the very least. That is, unless you stole this piece of—”

“Oh! Wait,” Cred Stick Charlie catches sight of a small card caught in the seam of the glovebox right at the top, just out of a person’s line of sight if they aren’t bent over as he is. “I think this is it.”

Pulling out the card, the fixer feels a surge of relief wash over him. The card is, in fact, the registration. Chipped for digital verification, he holds it up and prays that the nomads have everything set up as it should be. The tech in the riot mask allows Officer Burns to scan the card visually and run it against the police database. The entire process is quick and efficient. Now the big question is whether his fake ID holds up to scrutiny.

Burns’ mask stares at the two cards for a moment longer and then he nods. “Do you know why I pulled you over, Mr. Hastiins?”

When Luther responds in the negative, the police officer continues. “You have a taillight out.”

Cred Stick Charlie knows this is a blatant lie. He checked the lights before leaving the fueling station. Officer Burns steps towards the jeep again and extends his hand to take the fake ID, retrieving a pen-sized device from his ballistics vest at the same time. That device, Luther knows, places a digital mark on the ID which, in turn, authorizes the Police Department’s bank to request a draft against the offender’s bank account. If the ID holder refuses to authorize the draft (which they can do as soon as the mark is made), the police are notified and the offender can be picked up on a warrant.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 5:11 AM PST)

Contris: Closed

Tag: Brom Sal

Goals:

• Bribing officer Burns
• Get back on the airway to the group

Pending: see below

studying: Chinese Language

Study Chinese culture

Look into his option of identity printers later

Contacting: Tomas`

Trigger: Police contact ( Stress )

Vices: 

Sex

Drugs

Goals:

1. To keep alive and recover the kid before the second team kills all of us
2. Contact Tomas and start the network

Cred Stick Charlie knows this is a blatant lie. He checked the lights before leaving the fueling station. Officer Burns steps towards the jeep again and extends his hand to take the fake ID, retrieving a pen-sized device from his ballistics vest at the same time. That device, Luther knows, places a digital mark on the ID which, in turn, authorizes the Police Department’s bank to request a draft against the offender’s bank account. If the ID holder refuses to authorize the draft (which they can do as soon as the mark is made), the police are notified and the offender can be picked up on a warrant.

" Damn it, Appoligies Officer" Luther dropped the ID inside the vehicle and asked if he could retrivive it... slowly. 

* assuming that Officer burns will be stern in a final warring, Luther will use the time to pick up the I.D. and switch it with a credit stick so that he could make a bribe as well as a smile to this officer burns. 

Ghalan ran for his life.  One hit from the auto cannon on the armored vehicel would splatter him all over the street.  A luckily places narrow alley gave him a chance to slip away and find entrance to a building.  His arm was still sotre from having to break in but pain meant he was still alive so he tried his best to ignore it.  Once he found a spot to catch his breath he tried to think of something way to contact the team.  All he had was a general sense of their last location.  It was a long shot but it was all he had so he made his towards the last place the group was together.

Alley Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 4:05 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“Vegas, what’s your status partner?”

Silence reigns for a full fifteen seconds followed by a click.

“Vegas is no longer the owner of this… quaint piece of tech. If you want to come have a chat, we’ll talk about returning it to him.”

Stunned Casino held the walkie talkie in his hand and did not say anything at first, the static like a roaring in his ear.

“Where, when?”

((Assuming they reply with such information.))

“Oh one more thing. We have the boy’s location, straight trade, agreed?”

((Again place reply here, dying to hear how they react lol))

“Damn,” Bloodbank shakes his masked head slowly.

“Who the hell was that?” Blossom asks.

Grim eyes meet Casino’s as Echo’s brow furrows. He can’t see her pursed lips behind the balaclava wrapped about her head and face but the squaring of her shoulders tells him that she’ll back his play if he wants to go investigate.

“Was that the other team that Cred Stick Charlie mentioned?” the netrunner conjects in a slightly higher voice. “Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t.”

A pause at Blossom's words the big solo looked at all of them connecting only with eyes of Echo. With a clear nod of her head, the medium aged runner knew the young girl was going with him. 

Looking to the rest he took a deep breath.

”Well looks like i’m out of this run for the time being as you heard I'm going after Vegas."

A look to each of the other members.

"None of you knew me and Vegas before this run and there is no value in you trying to help but a good chance at being dead so no bad feelings. If this is the second team working for Starlight, a fight with them will put whoever is involved on her bad side if we win. Blossom as you seem to have the most connection to her, might be best if you keep hunting the boy’s location and if you can, rescue him still. Bloodbank, you and I have never seen eye to eye and seeing as your no hard core killer, and yeah thats what it’s going to come down to, might be best if you continue with Blossom to save the kid.” Another pause as his gaze moves to Fixer.

“I’ll be honest Fixer I don’t know how to read you, but I don’t think your like Vegas, Ghlahn, and myself here, a hard core killer.”

Looking at Echo once more, then back to Fixer.

“Honestly Echo here is not like me, you all know from what happened at that ER just what kind of killer I can be as needed, but I know trying to talk her out of coming is a waste of time and she’s got combat skills that will be damn useful. Might be better if you stayed with Blossom and helped with finding the boy but I’m sure I could use your help to get Vegas back dead or alive, but not sure your willing to do what it might take, your call.……………………..

((Will react to players posts as needed))