Vegas decided to take another stroll around the outskirts of the dance floor as he consulted his Agent for any update as to when Starlight would be making the delivery of their requested items?

"Give me a sec," Blossom grunts. Pulling the satchel of nanodust off her shoulder, she dumps out about five kilos of the powder and pulls out one of her mindcores. "Want to leave these guys a present,"

Bloodbank stopped and stood back to allow her to work her technological magic. A little apprehensively, he glanced back towards the gate where the guards were making quick progress towards opening it. The Medtech hesitated a moment before moving the guard off of his holster, allowing for quick access to his handgun if needed. His reluctance to participate in a fire fight unless absolutely necessary, and the desire to keep his hands free in case one of his comrades was injured kept the weapon in it's customary place on his right hip, however.

Glahn apparently had none of the same reservations and Bloodbank watched him fire his weapon into the leg of the guard entering the access codes into the keypad. The ring of Glahn's gunshot, the smell of gunpowder, and the screams of the injured guard brought unsuccessfully suppressed memories to Bloodbanks mind and he was surprised to find that he was gripping the handle of his holstered pistol and was painfully clenching his jaw.

He was jerked out of his unpleasant reminiscing by an unnatural voice grumbling, "Security Team."

Impressed by the large, dangerous beast, Bloodbank glanced over to the Security Team to see their reactions. They seemed unfazed, as they stepped into the tunnel and turned their weapons on the technological terror.

"Go, Bloodbank," Echo ordered, stepping between him and the Security Team. "Get her gone!"

With another quick glance at the imposing Security Force standing beside the train that they had rode in on, Bloodbank turned to Blossom, who was just about to hope off the platform and onto the tracks. Bloodbank moved to follow her until the image of the train, bound to leave the station in their direction at any moment, came unbidden to mind.

"Wait!" he called out, realizing his almost error and barely catching Blossom by her arm before she dropped down. "The train. It'll be coming this way."

He offered her a small, bemused smile, as he began helping her move forward quickly again, completely forgetting for a moment that his face was hidden behind his mask.

OOC: I'm not sure if I'm allowed to change my actions from last round or this round, but I just wanted to say I'm fine with NOT jumping down into the tracks. Either way, I'll let you sort that out Brom.

Ghlahn saw his bullet slam into the security team member but was not pleased that the man managed to open the gate. Moments later a Hellhound raced towards the security team. "That should slow them a bit." he thought. "Never can have too much slowing though." Ghlahn sent one more round towards the security team and then followed the others.

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:30 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)

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

"Look Vegas," Casino attempts to emphasize his position. "I never said we hook up at the school. Hell, by the time the grens and taser get here, they should be done with that. After we are all back together as a group, then we can think about tracking Dauntless down for some more information. For all we know they got the info we need and we are missing out on the pay day. So, again I say better odds in numbers."

Vegas doesn't even acknowledge his partner's concern. He peers down at his drink for a moment before releasing it with a slight push away from him causing the glass tumbler to slide forward half an inch on the table. Rising abruptly, he reaches into his suit breast pocket and retrieves his agent as he rises from the table. Casino and Fixer look on as the suited solo removes himself from the table without any further comments and proceeds to stroll around the edge of the dance floor.

The agent's screen showed a frustrating lack of information from Starlight. A quick flick of his finger causes a Net connection box to open from the bottom left corner. The link to the site accessed, Vegas thumbs through the navigation until he achieves the messaging center. It is impossible for the agent to pick up his voice commands over the volume of music the club-goers are reveling in. Everything needs to be manually accessed. The message sent to Starlight is succinct.

ETA?
"You need to rethink your place in the pecking order, tonto." Words barely spoken above the song being delivered by the hologram on stage drifted over Vegas' shoulder.

Calm permeates the solo's chest. Synthetically created baby blues jump quickly from the agent's screen to the previously known positions of the club's visible sec-team. While the bouncers had taken notice of the interaction there has been no need for them to intercede and they are already in positions that allow quick and effective action should they need to take it.

Vegas turns with an exaggerated ponderance and looks slightly down at the face of one of the greasers. A flick of his eyes towards the table they had all been located at reveals that the group of them have vacated and are nowhere to be seen. Returning his gaze to the man confronting him, Vegas evaluates him.
(OOC: Check your PM, Hammer.)

At the table, Casino and Fixer are both lost in their own thoughts and miss the interaction.

(OOC: Both of you have failed your Awareness/Notice checks.)

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

The Train | Night City Integrate | Midcity into High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:28 AM PST | Combat Phase 2
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)

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

"Sixty meters and I might need that bag back, Echo!" Blossom called out as she turns from transferring her bag of tricks to the nomad. "Don't be too far behind."

Echo stares after the Hellhound for a moment. Turning away from the combat erupting back the way they came, the leather-clad young woman answers.

"Don't worry, chicka, I'm on your six", Echo declares, using a term of endearment for the netrunner that hadn't left her lips since she was around her clan. With the netrunner's heavy weighty bag over her left shoulder, the nomad shifts and rolls her right shoulder allowing her H&K MP2020 submachine gun to fall free from the concealment of her mottled duster and into her right hand in one synchronous move.

With another quick glance at the imposing Security Force standing beside the train that they had rode in on, Bloodbank turns back to Blossom--who is just about to hop off the platform and onto the tracks. Moving to follow her, the image of the train bound to leave the station in their direction at any moment comes unbidden to mind.

"Wait!" he calls out, realizing the potential error he reaches out to stop the wardriver from the possibly fatal error of dropping from the walkway onto the tracks. "The train. It'll be coming this way."

Having already moved near the edge of the walkway, Blossom winces a little and immediately corrects her trajectory while allowing the medtech to cradle her in his right arm and support some of her weight. The two move at a half-jog, half-run further down the tunnel.

Semi-automatic gunfire erupted once again, echoing through the tunnel just as the train's horn blows uniting into a blaring, roaring scream and drowning out the quieter sound of the impacting rounds into the metal body of the Hellhound construct.

Ghlahn--moving quickly after his companions--twists his body and fires his second round towards the security team. NuCybe enhancements immediately focus his eye reticle on the sec-team leader and through the cybernetic link with his brain and nervous system, bring his smartgun in line with the target. The trigger pulls easily under his trained reflexes and the weapon recoils as the armor-piercing incendiary round leaves the barrel. The next moment in time is caught in the solo's mind as the team leader's head is thrown back from the impact. The bullet penetrates the helmet's facemask and drives itself into the man's forehead. Green chemical fire shoots backward out of the wound and immediately cauterizes and fries the injury. But the damage is done. The team lead falls backward, carried by the momentum of the impacting bullet, and into the body of his team mate fouling up the man's potential for retaliation while forcing him to catch the officer.

Behind the Hellhound lashes out at the other lead sec-team member, but the man arches his back enough to avoid the metal claws and levels his submachine gun at the beast, firing off a three-round burst that sends rounds into the chest of the construct.

(End 2nd Combat Phase)

Having been shot in the leg, the fallen sec-team member fights through the pain and fires his weapon past his front positioned ally sending three rounds into the front, left haunch of the shimmering metal body. But the construct is still standing and the battle rages on.

Vegas was relying upon the Rat Pack Bouncers to eliminate the threat of the aggressive Greaser who was obviously trying to provoke the Dapper Solo into a violent confrontation.

A broad smile was his first response, followed by both of his arms slowly stretching away from his body in a non-threatening manner, the palms of his hands facing outwards, as his arms slowly rose upwards in the hopes that the Bouncers would understand that Vegas was surrendering to their authority should things get dicey with the mouthy Greaser.

Then the Frank Sinatra look-alike broke his personal silence with a Frank Sinatra tune:


When You're Smiling [link to Frank Sinatra]


"When you're smilin', when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you
When you're laughin', when you're laughin'
The sun comes shinin' through

But when you're cryin', you bring on the rain
So stop your sighin', be happy again
Keep on smilin', 'cause when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you

When you're smilin', when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you
When you're laughin', when you're laughin'
That sun comes shinin' through

But when you're cryin', you bring on the rain
So stop your sighin', be happy again
Keep on smilin', 'cause when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you"

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:31 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 need to rethink your place in the pecking order, tonto." Words barely spoken above the song being delivered by the hologram on stage drifted over Vegas' shoulder.

A broad smile presents itself as Vegas' initial response, followed by both of his arms slowly stretching away from his body in a non-threatening manner, the palms of his hands facing outwards as his arms slowly rise upwards. The words to what the sculpted solo hoped would be a song to defuse the situation rolls easily from his lips. The performance is average; not something that Vegas would necessarily consider his best, but it most certainly would have entertained a crowd.

"When you're smilin', when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you
When you're laughin', when you're laughin'
The sun comes shinin' through,"

"Seguir cantando niño bonito," The gang-banger sniffed. He folds his arms across his chest with a slow, heavily articulated movement.

"But when you're cryin', you bring on the rain
So stop your sighin', be happy again,"

"We'll be waiting outside for you, hombre," the slightly smaller man sneers.

"Keep on smilin', 'cause when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you,"


"Veremos cuánto tiempo se mantiene el canto." Tossing his head upwards in a sharp nod, an exaggerated frown on his slim face, the Grease Monkey spreads his arms wide away from his body and backs away with his right shoulder dipped a little and a slight posturing to his step.

"When you're smilin', when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you
When you're laughin', when you're laughin'
That sun comes shinin' through,"
Turning abruptly at four steps, the tattooed gang member strides towards the door. It's at this point that Fixer and Casino both notice the end of the exchange; at least the Grease Monkey walking away towards the door. Fixer can follow the progress made by the ganger without much effort, but Casino would need to turn completely in the booth and look over his shoulder in order to do so.

"But when you're cryin', you bring on the rain
So stop your sighin', be happy again
Keep on smilin', 'cause when you're smilin'
The whole world smiles with you."

Vegas finishes the song momentarily triumphant in having avoided conflict within the confines of his favorite joint. But what lies in wait outside is another matter.

Once more Ghlahn sent a bullet towards the security team and watched as his targets head snapped back. Most likely it was a killing shot. With little time to waste, he continued to follow his companions. They were encumbered and he was not so keeping up was not a problem. He quickly caught up and then turned and took aim again. As long as they were being followed he did not feel safe. "Keep moving. I'll keep them busy and clear our six."

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:31 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) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deep in conversation with Vegas and Fixer, Casino was not happy when his partner just got up and moved back into the crowd once more. Shaking his head he turned to Fixer feeling the need to apologize for his and Vegas‘s seemingly unprofessional behavior.

"Sorry about this Vegas and I are normally on the same page. However there are times when we do disagree, and this is one of them. In the end it all works itself out."

((Figure a response from Vesper))

Turning back to the crowded dance/club floor Casino caught the last bit of conversation between one of the greasers and Vegas and watched as the ganger moved out the door. His last gaze as he looked at Vegas once again as he headed out the door one of hatred.

~Crap~ Casino thought to himself that was not good. The rather large solo may not have heard the greasers heated words but he could guess the gest of the content. Leaving the club was going to be trouble. ~Damn it where was Starlight?~ Waiting around for her and the extra gear was looking to be a disadvantage if they had to fight their way out on the street.

~Sighing~ Casino got to his feet.

"Fixer wait here for Vegas. Once he gets back here tell him I went to talk to the club's manager" Leaving his SMG behind once more he started across the dance floor.

Knowing a gunfight within the club was a very bad thing as far as the club's public image, hence the heavy security, one such fight outside he thought would be just as bad and he hoped the club sec would see it too. If he could get access through the club's manager, who knew him and Vegas quite well as regulars, to another way out other then the front or back doors, a gunfight could possibly be avoided. If not then maybe he could possibly get the club's sec force as back-up in any heated confrontation outside of the club to protect the building itself from damage .

As the big solo moved towards the club offices he could only hope he had read the Manager/Owner right.

Vegas noted that the clock is ticking down towards a confrontation with the Greasers, but it was still imperative that they receive the delivery from Starlight, before proceeding any further.

The Dapper Solo was counting upon his partner Casino to know what to do in this situation, especially since they were stuck in the Rat Pack Night Club on account of Casino ordering Grenades and Vegas ordering the Taser, in addition to Vegas' own way of searching for clues as to the possible whereabouts of the missing boy.

Vegas was also counting on Vesper to do his part, along with the Security at the Rat Pack to do their part to cover their assets in the face of a possible gunfight outside the Club, which probably would not be such good advertisement for the Rat Packers or Club business in the near future.

He looked once again at his Agent, awaiting word from Starlight regarding the delivery of the ordered goods, while continuing to mingle among the Rat Packers, in hopes of someone emerging from the woodwork with information that would help the trio fulfill their contract or give them yet another unknown clue as to what to do before the break of day.

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:32 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)

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

"Sorry about this. Vegas and I are normally on the same page. However, there are times when we do disagree, and this is one of them. In the end it all works itself out," the large man explains with chagrin. The techie shrugs noncommittally.

Casino was starting to doubt that this little jaunt to the Rat Pack had been a good idea, especially as he caught the tail end of the interaction between Vegas and the Grease Monkey. His mind works quickly towards a possible solution.

"Fixer," the leather-clad solo sighs. "Wait here for Vegas. Once he gets back here tell him I went to talk to the club's manager." Just for good measure, Casino slides his SMG non-threateningly across the table into his companion's care and strides purposefully away.

The manager's office was behind the bar. Casino and Vegas had never actually been inside, but they know the night manager's name. Isabel Campbell is a strong-willed woman who understands customer service. Suspicions about that the Rat Pack is actually owned by a mega-corp and that Isabel is a flunky, but no one has dared voice that opinion to her face. Casino's hope is that she's been apprised of the situation and wishes to avoid potential bad media by helping them out the back. So far, the team of solos' interaction with Ms. Campbell had been pure fluff—the type of engagement that warranted nothing more than passing mutual respect and subsequent friendliness. This move really is a gamble.

"Hello there, Mr. Casino," A large polynesian in a zoot suit with his hair pulled back in a warrior's ponytail greets Casino at the bar. "What can I do for you?

(OOC: Casino's request to speak with the boss,)

"Sure thing," the block of Island muscle smiles broadly. "Just a sec."

He turns and catches the other bartender's attention with a wave of his white towel. "I'll be back. Just gotta see if the boss is available for Mr. Casino here."

Having informed his companion, the man turns and approaches the door to Isabel's office. He presses the security panel's touch screen and speaks into the receiving plate. He nods, nods again, and then returns to Casino's position at the bar.

"She'll be out in a moment. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?"

(OOC: Casino's response.)

Fixer turns his attention to Vegas, now finding it easier to watch his progression as he's moved back into the techie's line of sight. The suited solo is intent on socializing, or so it would seem. He occasionally checks his agent which is held tightly in his left hand, but otherwise is making the rounds as though he's a big ticket item. For all Fixer knows, he is.

A response finally ticks up on the agent's screen. 5m is all it says, but the agent automatically offers Vegas the options to start a timer, set an alarm, or respond with a canned, predetermined message or a custom message.

Back at the bar, Casino waits patiently for only a few moments before the door swings open and a tall woman with darker, mediterranean coloring opens and steps through the office door. She wears a zoot suit herself, rich purple with white stripes and a fedora that matches with a white, silk band about the cap. Her curly black hair is loose about her shoulders and dangles to just above the SmartFabric® hanky currently alternating through a complementary array of colors to that of her suit. Her white blouse is also silk, the color of the expensive pearls wrapped about her throat. Of average height, Isabel Campbell is nonetheless an imposing figure of command, power, and beauty.

"Mr. Casino," she smiles brilliantly and places her finely manicured hands on the bartop as she reaches him. "It's a pleasure to see you again. What can I do for you?"

(OOC: Casino's request,)

Concern creases her otherwise smooth brow. "That Vegas," she affects a small twittering laugh. "A bit of fun and suddenly what could have been fireworks turns into a firefight.

"Tell you what—since I like you boys so much—I'll be happy to see you out the back, but," she pauses and leans in drawing Casino forward with a wiggle of her finger. "You two will owe me."

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

The Train | Night City Integrate | Midcity into High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:28 AM PST | Combat Phase 2
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)

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

Horn sounding, the train jumps forward and begins to accelerate. The raucous is nearly enough to drown out the sound of gunfire as more shots are taken at the Hellhound. Ghlahn and Echo, casting glances back at the enemy, see sparks fly from the ceiling just a few meters behind them as the errant rounds find purchase.

Pain subsiding a bit, Blossom tucks her head down and continues to rely a bit on Bloodbank's strength to help her along. Just a little longer and she knows she'll be able to push through any remaining pain, but for the time being, she's dependent.

Once again, the reticle comes into focus in M'harú Ghlahn's eye and settles red on the chest of the sec-team member behind the fallen headshot. The weapon recoils from the shot, but Ghlahn's wrist strength keeps it steady. Whether from luck, or an awareness of something coming his way, the sec-team member shifts just enough to avoid being shot by the deadly solo. Milliseconds later the hellhound construct lunges forward and slashes across the left thigh of the same team member. Cloth remnants fly, and the man twists slightly, but otherwise retains his footing.

Pulling himself back to one leg, the sec-team agent Ghlahn had shot in the thigh levels his SMG at the hellhound and pounds its body with lead followed almost immediately by another volley of rounds from his team mate. The flaming construct shrugs through the damage without experiencing pain.

"Keep moving," Ghlahn commands. "I'll keep them busy and clear our six."

Bloodbank, Echo, and Blossom comply without argument. Whether they agree with shooting security team members or not, the actions Blossom and Ghlahn have taken worked. The team that was immediately following them has been stopped.

(OOC: End Combat Phase 2)

Blossom winced a little as she hobbled forward, leaning heavily on Bloodbank. She spared a look back to see how her pet was faring. Impressive, she smiled. She didn't use the program much... the cost was a bit prohibitive. Yet, each time she brought that dog online, it performed better than spec.

Stay focused, Chica! she chided, bringing herself back to the present. Still a long ways to go and no telling what's ahead.
OOC: Blossom is continuing her movement forward as quick as she can without injuring herself.

"Sorry about this Vegas and I are normally on the same page. However there are times when we do disagree, and this is one of them. In the end it all works itself out."

"No problem here," Fixer replied back. "Prefer the loneliness myself. Relationships have always found a way to bite me back."

Was not but a moment later when Fixer turned his head and noticed the Greaser stride away Vegas and back out the door. Mayhap this would turn into a night of firefights after all. His nerves were starting to get to him; his breathing and heart rate quickened a little bit, and he could notice a little bit of feeling leave his fingers. His body was preparing itself a small bit for the even.

"Fixer," the leather-clad solo sighs. "Wait here for Vegas. Once he gets back here tell him I went to talk to the club's manager." Just for good measure, Casino slides his SMG non-threateningly across the table into his companion's care and strides purposefully away.

"Now alone in a place I know nothing about," were the words he muttered as both of his 'companions' were now out and about. One to make what was perhaps a business call and the other out and about socializing with those that called themselves his 'fans'. His frustration peeked a bit as he tapped the side of his jacket to ensure himself that his UZI was still there.

(OOC: Okay, sorry for the absence but now settled in with net back up.)

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:37 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) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hello there, Mr. Casino," A large Polynesian in a zoot suit with his hair pulled back in a warrior's ponytail greets Casino at the bar. "What can I do for you?

"Hi Moene, If she's available and will see me, I'd like to talk to Miss Campbell about a personal matter."

"Sure thing," the block of Island muscle smiles broadly. "Just a sec."

He turns and catches the other bartender's attention with a wave of his white towel. "I'll be back. Just gotta see if the boss is available for Mr. Casino here."

Having informed his companion, the man turns and approaches the door to Isabel's office. He presses the security panel's touch screen and speaks into the receiving plate. He nods, nods again, and then returns to Casino's position at the bar.

"She'll be out in a moment. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?"

"No thanks I still have one at my table. Thanks of course for the offer"

Casino waited patiently for only a few moments before the door swings open and a tall woman with darker, Mediterranean coloring steps through the office door. She wears a zoot suit herself, rich purple with white stripes and a fedora that matches with a white, silk band about the cap. Her curly black hair is loose about her shoulders and dangles to just above the SmartFabric® hanky currently alternating through a complementary array of colors to that of her suit. Her white blouse is also silk, the color of the expensive pearls wrapped about her throat. Of average height, Isabel Campbell is nonetheless an imposing figure of command, power, and beauty.

"Mr. Casino," she smiles brilliantly and places her finely manicured hands on the barhop as she reaches him. "It's a pleasure to see you again. What can I do for you?"

Taking her hand Casino kisses it lightly as a gentleman would. "Vegas and I seem to have a problem. It looks like a gang of intellectually challenged boosters calling themselves The Grease Monkeys is upset over Vegas, being Vegas, and his dance with one of their female companions. Upset enough, from the way her 'boyfriend?' just confronted Vegas before leaving the club, to ambush us on the street outside. Normally I would not give a s*** and just kill them however Vegas and I are on an op and too much exposure is bad for business both yours and ours. Last thing I want Vegas and I to do, is be the cause of a firefight right outside the entrance to your club, Miss Campbell. Like I said it be bad for business to have the police snooping around as to the cause of it. Be better I'm hoping to get your help in getting myself, Vegas and our friend out of here on the sly and take care of these idiots if it comes to that on our own terms."

Concern creases her otherwise smooth brow. "That Vegas," she affects a small twittering laugh. "A bit of fun and suddenly what could have been fireworks turns into a firefight."

"Tell you what—since I like you boys so much—I'll be happy to see you out the back, but," she pauses and leans in drawing Casino forward with a wiggle of her finger. "You two will owe me."

A smile of understanding crossing his face Casino gives a slight bow to acknowledge the new debt.

"We are just waiting for some op gear to be dropped off then we are all yours Miss Campbell. Once it gets here I'll grab Vegas and our friend and return here to Moene know. Thank you for the help it's a debt I personally if need be will be happy to fulfill" Taking her hand once more he kisses it again while looking into her eyes, letting her know without words his attraction to her. Then with a nod to Moene he walks slowly back to join Fixer and Vegas at the table.

"Ok Campbell's gonna sneak us out the back to avoid those booster idiots once Starlight drops off the gear. With those boosters gunning for us now really is not the time to go searching these streets for Dog. I say we link up with the rest, find out what they found, then if needed we come back here with better numbers and find Dog and find out what he may know. Agreed?"

Vegas continued to cruise the perimeter of the dance floor, greeting and exchanging conversation with any Rat Packer who was inclined to do so.

Periodically checking his Agent for any updates regarding the delivery from Starlight, the Frank Sinatra look-alike made his way around the ballroom and bar, until he was satisfied that any additional information to be gleaned from the crowd of Rat Packers had been obtained, before casually making his way back towards Casino and Fixer.