[OOC: Backposting a bit]

Coyote spoke quickly into his cell to his friend, "Lobo, I need to you to come through for me, bro. Five minutes I may be flatlining, got me?"

He paused for a moment, looked at the roof where he had spotted the ganger earlier. "Listen, Lobo, I need help and fast, yo. I got a couple of gangers on the roof over my head that need to disappear. Sooner the better. >>Coyote gives Lobo the coordinates<< Do what you can, yo! I'll see you on the flip."

Coyote jammed his cell back in his pocket and made his way over to Croaker and Preacherman, eyes trained on the roof over head. Croaker was on his cell when he arrived, and mexican trained his ears to listen into the conversation. He whispered to Preacherman, "He finally calling in the heavy firepower? We're gonna see a lotta lead soon, si!?"

[OOC: When Croaker is finished on the phone]

Coyote looked the leader of the pack, Croaker, up and down and the man put away his cell. "You got more help coming, si?! That'll be good. I think them hawkeyes >>indicating the gangers on the roof<< starting to get hungry, get me? I'm surprised you and me both don't got a bullet through the skull yet. I don't know what they are waiting for."

"What's our next step, yo? This place got a back door?"

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:52am
“No need to worry about Peacekeeper Frankie she is not aware of this call, look if you can get a hold of one or two extra runners, we could use the firepower. Do this for me, Frankie, and you’ll get your story, I will get the girl, and then we will go our separate ways without having to look over our shoulder wondering which one of us kills the other first. So, we got a deal?” Croaker’s voice sounded tired and strained to Preacher, and what he was saying to whoever was on the other side wasn’t promising, but the solo couldn’t focus on that right now. He was too busy trying to decide which side of the street he wanted to die on.

A ways away, Coyote made a final plea to Lobo, “Listen, Lobo, I need help and fast, yo. I got a couple of gangers on the roof over my head that need to disappear. Sooner the better. >>Coyote gives Lobo the coordinates<< Do what you can, yo! I'll see you on the flip."

It was desperate. He knew that what Lobo had said was likely true. They’d been through too much together for the other man to just dismiss the seriousness of the situation. Jogging across to where the other two were crouched, Coyote could still see the crouched form of the ganger on the roof. The man hadn’t moved, but he was certainly facing their direction, and he had a rifle in hand—what kind, Coyote couldn’t say, but a rifle’s range definitely covered their position. The only thing to their advantage right now was the rain.

“Ok Frankie, ever hear of a place called the Hole. Well that’s where those Runners you got and I are at right now. We are on a side street across from it and need to get across said street, but its got guards on the roof covering all access. If we try to cross we get fragged and that’s no good for anyone. So there’s the deal how long will it take you to get here?” Croaker continued the conversation, barely sparing Coyote a glance as he came up on him. To the ganger, it appeared that the nomad had a bug up his butt. There were definite sparks shot his way as he drew up to the others.

“I know where the Hole is, Choomba,” DigitalScribe said over the line. “I gotta know why you’re going in before I commit myself. I’ve also got to have assurances that you aren’t going to try and ice me, or my employees—that is, you or anyone else in your party; and that goes double for Peacekeeper. You give me these assurances and I’ll give you an answer.”
"You got more help coming, si?! That'll be good. I think them hawkeyes >>indicating the gangers on the roof<< starting to get hungry, get me? I'm surprised you and me both don't got a bullet through the skull yet. I don't know what they are waiting for.

"What's our next step, yo? This place got a back door?"

Preacher gave Coyote a shake of the head that sent droplets of water cascading in various directions from the brim of his hat. “Haven’t seen no back door, but we can’t get close enough to determine that one exists. What’s that eagle eye of yours tell us?”


The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

Coyote looked at Preacher and then the roof once more. "Yo, you don't see that ganger with the long range yet?"

[OOC: Pause for Preacher's response]

"I'm suggesting strongly we limbo our asses outta here quick like... before one of us finds a reddot on our heads. Bossman, what's the plan?"

[OOC: Is there any cover at all around here? Dumpster, garbage can, cars?]

Spiff had a thousand things flying through his head as he went up those long flights of stairs. Unfortunately, his adrenaline was pumping his brain so quickly he could hardly grasp any of them. But as he looked about, at ganger, after ganger, after ganger, he was truly concerned. The more guys this 'Stallion' had under him, the more leadership skills he had. No one could run this army on skill with a sidearm alone. This guy was good, and that spelled bad things for all three of them that were walking to his office. As he scanned the features and elaborate weapons, his mind scanned possible plans to get out of this, with girl in hand. Spiff knew what he had told Elizabeth, and was slowly finding out how much of it she had told her gang. He'd have to bank on it, but their lack of knowledge that he was coming, implied that she hadn't said everything. He desperately needed that to be the case.

As he approached the top floor and even more heavily armed gangers appeared in front of him. Oh great, he's not limited to loser druggies either. Spiff's mind was finally collapsing on a plan. His suit would have been a nice touch, but having no time to change, he had to put up with the appearance at hand. He had to count on Stallion knowing very little up front, and pray that he wasn't as quick on the draw as Spiff. If he managed it, there was a chance that they could still walk out of here with a bird in hand, and no bullet holes. He glanced at his phone as he entered the room, being escorted by Dawn to Stallion's quarters. He knew it was time for the Reverend to have some info and he almost wished that he hadn't told him not to call. Spiff could use the interruption in his latest idea, but he still had to go through with it. He flipped the phone open and closed, open and closed, as they entered the negotiation room so-to-speak. And he was turned quickly to his targets.

Spiff was not at all surprised and easily guessed Stallion as the one with the horse tattoo, but was somewhat stunned to see the bird so out in the open and an easy grab. He knew who she was, and it was almost time to grab her. Finally, Stallion spoke.

“So,” He drew the word out in a gravel-filled voice as the three approached the couches, Dawn stepping off to their right side and folding her arms across her small chest. “You’re the heroes that let Liz know ‘bout our trouble brewin’?”

"Yes," Spiff replied vaguely, flipping his phone open and turning his back to Stallion. It was an obvious power-play, and Spiff knew it. He needed to ensure that this guy took him seriously if he was going to get out of here alive. He clicked on Reverend's number and put the phone to his ear, stepping away from the group. He was counting on the other two to be his eyes as he took this vital risk. Just don't do anything stupid his mind pattered as the ringtone shuddered in his ear. As the Reverend picked up, with his usual intro, Spiff spouted off immediately, "Tell me something I want to hear."

When he heard the Reverend's voice after his initial statement, he made a point of widening his eyes blatantly. He couldn't let his voice change with the way the Rev had been acting tonight, but perhaps facial expressions should be enough. After all, this guy ran things like Spiff did. He knew you had to keep it cool over the phone. No need to inspire panic when there's no hope. As the conversation continued, Spiff made a deliberate point of glancing back at the girl on the sofa, his eyes still wide with shock, his head shivering in fear, false as it may be.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:52am
“I know where the Hole is, Choomba,” DigitalScribe said over the line. “I gotta know why you’re going in before I commit myself. I’ve also got to have assurances that you aren’t going to try and ice me, or my employees—that is, you or anyone else in your party; and that goes double for Peacekeeper. You give me these assurances and I’ll give you an answer.”
“Well Frankie I can’t vouch for Peacekeeper, only for myself and those with me right now. But I will promise you this, if you don’t help us out, Peacekeeper, with no help from me, for sure will hunt you down and kill you. This way she may be willing to leave you alone, so it’s really your call Choomba
(OOC: Ok Brom I posted this to at least try and find out if Frankie's gonna help or not so we can move on to how to cross the street.)

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:52am
“Well Frankie I can’t vouch for Peacekeeper, only for myself and those with me right now. But I will promise you this if you don’t help us out, Peacekeeper for sure will hunt you down and kill you. This way she may be willing to leave you alone, so it’s really your call Choomba
As Croaker heard Frankie’s non-committal reply, he had finally had enough. Realizing calling the Media/once friend had been a mistake he spoke.

“Ok Frankie you want a story I can get you a story but only after its all said and done. But if thats not good enough for you so be it. Unless there's anything else you want to say to me I guess this is goodbye and oh one more thing I will be sure to give Peacekeeper your hello.”

As Croaker closed the flip on his cell phone he noticed Coyote looking him over.

"You got more help coming, si?! That'll be good. I think them hawkeyes” The ganger indicating the Wild Thing lookouts on the roof “Are starting to get hungry, get me? I'm surprised you and me both don't have a bullet through the skull yet. I don't know what they are waiting for. What's our next step, yo? This place got a back door?"

With Coyote’s thought that the 3 of them had been seen but for some reason not attacked Croaker knew crossing the street here was death waiting.
Somehow in all the sneaking around the directions had turned on him and they were not where he thought they needed to be, but it was too late now to do anything other then play the hand they had been dealt.

“Ok we gotta move east then south and try to cross the street somewhere down there out of sight of them sentries but we need to get 1 of us on this roof as high guard. Lets try to find a fire escape for this building and get someone lifted up there to act as a sniper, Coyote as you’ve got the best eyes it seems that would be your job can you do that.”

Awaiting Coyoto’s answer Croaker got ready to make a second call....

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Preacher gave a quick nod as he glanced back the direction Croaker had indicated. South meant taking them out of range of the sentry’s vision (hopefully) and crossing the street at an easier local. The problem, as the solo saw it, was that it would mean a good two to five minutes where those inside the building would be left to their own devices… not that they really weren’t anyway what with the lot of them outside and out of range to help without getting a hole blown through their skulls. Then there was the suggestion of putting one of them on the rooftop of the apartment building they were on, another couple of minutes at best to accomplish that. Still, Croaker was calling the shots. He had been from the moment Preacher had joined and so long as the solo’s life wasn’t put in too serious jeopardy he was good following orders. He, too, waited on Coyote’s response. If the nomad wanted to spend the time hoofin’ all over the city while the rest of the team was indoors there wasn’t much Preacher could do, or say, about it.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The play was priceless. It was a pissing match of undeniable blatancy. Spiff was making his move and trusting to Peacekeeper and Firewind to watch his back. They were in Stallion’s house, the gang leader was armed and had bodyguards within a wink of an eye away, and the three of them would have to fight a horde of heavily-armed boosters who were sober and serious in order to get out. There was only one answer to the question of, “How dare he?” and that was that he must have a huge set of balls.

Firewind and Peacekeeper caught the show though. While Spiff had his back turned they witnessed Stallion’s face turn an ugly shade of red quicker than a two dollar whore turned a trick. His hand started over towards his piece, but Merry Deth stalled him with a hand on his thigh and a quick word in his ear where her painted lips touched his lobe for just a second… a second that surely sent a tingle down his spine.

The phone conversation was brief, but informative. “Tell me something I want to hear.”

”I’ve sent you the schematics on the Hole, boss. I’ve looked at ‘em and I think the man’d be in the top floor, penthouse suite. That’s likely where he and Queen Mary would be. Boss… Boss, you there?”
“You’re obviously a busy cat,” Stallion’s voice broke in on the conversation. His amusement was evident and it occurred to everyone there that he’d seen through Spiff’s bluff. “But I got no time to play at games. If what Elizabeth has said you told her is true, I got to get my troops ready for a fight tonight. ‘Course, it was awful nice of you to come down here in person to check up on things. I ain’t about to turn away free Chooh, understand? So why don’t you three just make yourselves comfortable and tell me how it is you came about this data. I want to know everything you do, and pronto. You may even say that your very lives depend on it… seeing how the lot o’ you be sitting in my house when it’s about to get attacked, ya know? So sing, li’l bird. You don’t have all night.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
“Ok Frankie you want a story I can get you a story but only after its all said and done. But if thats not good enough for you so be it. Unless there's anything else you want to say to me I guess this is goodbye and oh one more thing I will be sure to give Peacekeeper your hello.”
DigitalScribe slowly closed his phone and stared out into the rain for a moment. He wasn’t concerned so much about Peacekeeper; not with Guardian around. Those other two he’d hired tonight had been small fish compared to the big black bodyguard, and the media was going to go into debt if he had to in order to keep the man around until this conflict with Croaker and Peacekeeper was resolved. He gave a slightly frustrated shake of his head and coughed as quietly as he could into his hand. The nomad had always been stubborn, and rarely could see the bigger picture, but Frankie thought for certain that reminding him of the debt he owed the media would be enough to calm his fires. Croaker was many things, but DigitalScribe had always thought him honorable.

“Damn!” Frankie rolled over to his belly again and scooted up to the edge. “Fraq!” His bright blue eyes scanned the rooftop once more, then turned to Guardian. “It’s going down, Choomba. That was Croaker on the line there, and he’s feeling desperate or he wouldn’t have called again.” Turning back to the building he pointed at the fire escape. It was closer than the building and would be an easy landing pad from their location. Of course, it’d be noisier than hitting the rooftop, but beggars couldn’t be choosers… or something like that. “We got to get over there and quick.”

At Guardian’s questioning stare Frankie sighed. “OK, so I got a soft spot for people I care about, even if they want to put holes in me that don’t belong there. Not to mention that the only way this story is going to pay off is if we’re getting the footage, neh? So, we back up to there,” he pointed over his right shoulder, the left still bearing the shoulder camera, “and get a runnin’ start. Then, we’re flying like the eagle to the sea… only not so far. You get the drift. The sentries are still at their posts so we’ll have to move quick. See that large cooling unit? We’ll have to sprint to that and dig in to stay outta their frame. You good with this?”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - 12:53am “Mother frackin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Lobo snapped his cell phone shut and closed his eyes for a moment, his left hand slicking his long, black hair back on his head.

“That don’t sound good.” There were two other men in the van. One was a smallish Caucasian with a receding hairline and a thick mustache. He wore glasses, a white button up shirt, and brown slacks. He had a Glock 30 machine pistol strapped to his waist and he chain-smoked mint-flavored cigarettes as though they were the very air he breathed. The other man was of average build, black-skinned, with shorter hair in a wire-like dreadlock spread. He was wearing an armored Gibson jacket that looked like it had been through hell and back, Gibson jeans, and Ruftread boots. He had a Nova 757 CityHunter in a bulky shoulder rig and it was he who had spoken.

“No, it ain’t frackin’ good.” Lobo opened his eyes and took charge. “All right, we gotta light a fire, boys. Coyote is in trouble an’ says that if we don’t come up with some way to help him out he could get greased.”

“Damn,” the skinny white fellow muttered as he turned back to the console sitting against the wall of the van. “What kind of help does he need?”

“He’s got some high-eyes lookin’ to smoke him.”

“The nearest unit is five-minutes—“

“I know that! I frackin’ told him as much! What else we got Masterson?”

“Um…” The smaller man quickly punched through a few relays on his computer. The screen highlighting every active unit within the city grid. A couple more tags and it’d focused on their area.

“There!” the black man pointed over his shoulder. “That’s an AV, no?”

“We can’t commandeer an AV!”

“Like hell we can’t,” Lobo growled. “We’re frackin’ S.IN., Choombatta. If they got it in the air, we got it on the way. Rip, call it in.” Lobo relayed the coordinates Coyote had given him and the black man snatched up a radio mic from the desk he was leaning against.

“Unit A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha, come in, over.”

There was a moment static, then the speaker crackled to life. ”Unit A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha here. Who’s this? Over.”
“This is unit S-I-N-Two-Delta-India-Juliet. We got a ten-one-oh-eight in progress. Can you assist? Over.”

“Affirmative. What’s your twenty? Over.”
Rip gave Lobo a smile as he relayed the coordinates. “Code three, A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha, code three. Do not fire unless ordered, though. Don’t want to run the risk of an unnecessary DB. Just hoping that the sight o’ you will clear the air a bit. Over.”

“Affirmative. Enroute. Over.”
“Well,” Lobo sat back against the seat he occupied and sighed. “Coyote can’t say we don’t frackin’ got his six.”

“You know there’ll be a s***-load of paperwork to fill out when we get back.” Masterson sounded as though they were in all sorts of trouble as he lit up another smoke.

“Yeah,” Lobo grinned. “But you got that covered, right? You can process that trash right from your pretty little box, neh? So we’ll be able to call it a night as soon as Coyote’s free an’ clear.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - 12:55am

Spiff felt the pressure as he picked up the phone to play it right. His mind was a bit rattled, and it probably played into his failure to be convincing. As the Reverend responded, his mind drifted to his escape plan.

”I’ve sent you the schematics on the Hole, boss. I’ve looked at ‘em and I think the man’d be in the top floor, penthouse suite. That’s likely where he and Queen Mary would be. Boss..."

“You’re obviously a busy cat,” Stallion’s voice broke in on the conversation. Spiff was caught off guard, and it wass too much for him all at once, so he flicked on his recorder to hear Stallion's statement while he responded to Rev.

"Boss, you there?”

"Ok, thanks for the heads up. I'll call you back." The goal was to appear as though he was deliberately ignoring Stallion as he spoke over him, but the words still got to Spiff, they just didn't make sense immediately. So, he paused for a moment, replaying them and appearing to be in thought about the phone call, clicking the phone closed and looking at the cover, certainly there would be a message on it from Reverend with the schematics if he had sent them.

“But I got no time to play at games. If what Elizabeth has said you told her is true, I got to get my troops ready for a fight tonight. ‘Course, it was awful nice of you to come down here in person to check up on things. I ain’t about to turn away free Chooh, understand? So why don’t you three just make yourselves comfortable and tell me how it is you came about this data. I want to know everything you do, and pronto. You may even say that your very lives depend on it… seeing how the lot o’ you be sitting in my house when it’s about to get attacked, ya know? So sing, li’l bird. You don’t have all night.” He was bothered that his bluff hadn't worked, but Spiff was never one to give up. It appeared that the power-play wasn't working, so he had to switch gears, and he knew right where to go. Information was his game, and he played it well. When it came to info, Spiff had more, and Stallion was about to get hung out to dry. He dropped his phone into his pocket and turned back to Stallion, matching the ganger's demeanor. He was flustered, for sure, and frustrated by this ganger's overconfidence. It was a release of all the emotions of the evening in one livid facial expression.

"Shut up, gato. I didn't come here for some silly reward, and I sure as hell ain't tellin' you what I do. If Elizabeth weren't as retarded as you, this place might be better prepared for this. You fracking dumb-ass! They're not coming for you, or for the Wild Things. They're after one thing. And when it comes to 'li'l birds' their target takes the cake."

He looked directly at Queen Mary, certain that Stallion would be, at the very least, shocked. "Mi'lady," Spiff bowed gracefully. "It appears that they are after you, Queen Mary. Moreover," Spiff looked back at Stallion as he stood up straight. "We aren't talking about the small-time gangs you all crush every day. As I told Elizabeth and she obviously didn't relay to you, these boys are much higher on the totem pole than myself."

Spiff closed his eyes for a second, calming himself down, growing serene. "Now for the bad news." He glanced at Dawn and back to the two on the sofa, "As you can easily guess, I'm not a fighter. I'm not here to back you up, because, honestly, there's no hope for that. I brought these two," Spiff motioned to the two beside him, "to assist in assuring Queen Mary's safety. We've got a set of wheels that can be out front in one phone call, and they're much more low key than your neon gang-banger rides."

Spiff sighed, he knew he needed to clarify the phone call. So it was simply a matter of following the plan as he had devised it. "The call I just made was to find out how close they are. They've already killed one of your boys with a mohawk and they know where she is now. The time to leave is now, and we don't have time to 'make ourselves comfortable'."

It was wet and cold. He was wet and cold, and Guardian knew DigitalScribe would be no better. And the wait was starting to get on their nerves as well. Nothing had happened for a while since the people crossing the street had disappeared inside the Hole. Peacekeeper had been amongst the trio, so the two observers knew well that something was going on. And they were hurting to know...

Frank had long ago assessed their chances of entering the building across without getting killed in the process, and with their current gear and firepower the odds came pretty close to zero. He'd already considered what DS suggested and ruled it out as a certain suicide. Despite his occupation, the bald black man had no tendencies for such things...

“We could jump over there,” DigitalScribe offered. “You could take out the opposition and… ah, hell! Who’m I kidding? That won’t work. Besides, we’re impartial observers. Impartial observers can’t go around shooting the subjects… with guns that is. Frack!

Frack!

Frack!”

“You don’t wanna take out those guys on the roof and we jump across, do you Guardian?” DigitalScribe sighed at the ridiculous nature of the question and went back to watching.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Guardian couldn't help a quiet chuckle. Never taking his eyes from the ganger guards, the bodyguard replied in a dry voice. "I wouldn't mind taking them out, no. But it just happens that my knee hurts so bad, that I probably couldn't make the jump." Frank shook his head slightly and carried on. "Seriously though, bro. Even if I had a snipe and a scope, I probably couldn't drop them all before they'd fill us with holes. And the jump... In a jump suit and and a pair of Nikes, maybe. In wet leather, forget it."

About to continue, Guardian was cut off by an old rock ballad. Seemed he wasn't the only one with a soft spot for ancient music. But Kansas didn't make him smile, on the contrary it made his enhanced vision leap at the nearest Wild Thing on the roof across the drop. If the guards would spot them now, they'd certainly shoot first and forget about asking afterwards. Fortunately the media was able to quiet his handset down before they did.

While watching the rooftop, Frank listened closely as DS went on with the call. His employer called the other end Rich and mentioned Peacekeeper, so it was easy to recognize the caller as Croaker - the dude Guardian been hired to protect the media from. Apparently the "enemy" now wanted to meet up, but the media wasn't taking the bite. If it was a ruse to get close to DS and kill him, it wasn't a very good one. And what Frankie had told him about Croaker, Guardian was fairly certain the man was not that stupid. But it wasn't his call whether to meet up or not. He could only listen and wait.

“Damn!” Frankie rolled over to his belly again and scooted up to the edge. “Fraq!” His bright blue eyes scanned the rooftop once more, then turned to Guardian. “It’s going down, Choomba. That was Croaker on the line there, and he’s feeling desperate or he wouldn’t have called again.” Turning back to the building he pointed at the fire escape. It was closer than the building and would be an easy landing pad from their location. Of course, it’d be noisier than hitting the rooftop, but beggars couldn’t be choosers… or something like that. “We got to get over there and quick.”

At Guardian’s questioning stare Frankie sighed. “OK, so I got a soft spot for people I care about, even if they want to put holes in me that don’t belong there. Not to mention that the only way this story is going to pay off is if we’re getting the footage, neh? So, we back up to there,” he pointed over his right shoulder, the left still bearing the shoulder camera, “and get a runnin’ start. Then, we’re flying like the eagle to the sea… only not so far. You get the drift. The sentries are still at their posts so we’ll have to move quick. See that large cooling unit? We’ll have to sprint to that and dig in to stay outta their frame. You good with this?”

Frank kept staring at his current boss for a couple of more secs before replying. "You serious about this, choomba? Are you armed and able to give me some cover if needed?" Already pushing himself slowly backwards and away from the edge, Guardian felt good about the decision despite the obvious danger. At least they were moving now and moving meant getting warm. "Just remember I'm not a soldier... But I'll do what it takes to keep you alive."

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OOC: Ok. Finally posted I have. Sorry for my absence and any mistakes in the post. No time to read it through now. Will check it later.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Coyote paused while he considered the suggestion. The rain had added to the slick look of his long, black hair and he stroked his thin beard as he squinted at the building they stood next to. He kept glancing back towards the Hole while he deliberated until he finally shook his head.

“No,” he said with a deepening of his near perpetual scowl. “I ain’t trying to be difficult, Hombre, but I don’t have the range t’ do no one no good from the top of that.” He reached around his back and gave his hardware a pat. “Purely gama corta, mi amigo. If ya know what I mean.”

Preacher held up his hands and shook his head preemptively. “I got nothin’ that shoots distance either, Choomba.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The room hung silent for a moment after Spiff made his speech. It was heavy, like a Georgia thunderstorm in midsummer. The thunder rumbling outside was like the angry growl of a caged beast… and quite suddenly, it was released.

“You lyin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Stallion’s hand darted for his gun as he rose from his seat, murder in his eyes.

Dawn was caught flat-footed as her boss leapt from his seat, but Peacekeeper and Firewind weren’t. The room was suddenly a flurry, and it’d be seconds before Stallion’s bodyguards burst into the room as they had a bit of distance to cover.

Everything was moving much slower for the enhanced bounty hunter. She saw Stallion’s muscles tense beneath his armored jeans as he began to scream at them and knew he was coming to his feet. The bunching of his shoulders told her that he planned on skinning steel, so, naturally, she went for her piece and in a fluid motion that belied the natural motion of the human body, Peacekeeper had produced the .44 Automag. She was already wired for it and the targeting scope in her right eye quickly spun the crosshairs to bead on the ganger’s head. He’d just finished yelling “son-of-a-“ when her weapon went off. It kicked in her small hands, but years of experience held it steady. She’d already determined that the ganger was armored underneath his skin and she placed the dual-purpose round right between the man’s eyes. It was a beautiful shot and in the breadth of a nanosecond, Peacekeeper had forced the Wild Things to find a new leader.

Stallion had risen to the occasion in time to get ripped from his feet and thrown over backwards. His right hand flung away from his body and cast his weapon across the room as his feet slipped out from underneath him. He ended his momentum with his lower back stretched out over the back of the couch.

It’d happened faster than most could have thought possible, but Firewind had been on edge ever since he’d climbed in that van. He, too, was boosted, as any combat doc should be, and as the woman on the other side of Spiff moved so gracefully and quickly, Keahi was producing his weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dawn moving as if through heavy water, her hands inching towards her weapons. In front of him, Merry Deth was also moving as though slowed by a motion frame, reaching for her weapon. Spiff stood between Firewind and Peacekeeper, cellphone still in his hand, slightly behind their position as he’d turned and stepped away to place his fateful call.

(OOC: It is Firewind’s turn. Merry Deth’s moving fast too, faster than Spiff, but Spiff is moving faster than Dawn. Yes… the monkey feces has hit the spinning blades despite Spiff’s use of luck. Can’t beat an exploding ten plus another ten unless you roll the same thing. Sorry Spiff, and good luck choombattas.)

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
"You serious about this, choomba? Are you armed and able to give me some cover if needed?" Already pushing himself slowly backwards and away from the edge, Guardian felt good about the decision despite the obvious danger. At least they were moving now and moving meant getting warm. "Just remember I'm not a soldier... But I'll do what it takes to keep you alive."

“I’ll be honest here, Guardian,” DigitalScribe said with a worried glance back over the edge before he started to move back away from it alongside his bodyguard. “I’ve got heat, but I’m no soldier either.”

The words weren’t meant to be a pep talk, just honest. It was always best to be honest in the face of death as far as Frankie was concerned; and here, well, death just about stank up the place.

When the two men were back far enough Frankie had a thought. “I guess if we aim for the other side of the fire escape, should we jump short, we’ll hit the fire escape instead of falling to our deaths. But if we make it, then we’ll be that much better off.”

It was unnecessary as an observation went, but the comment brought a sense of ease to the situation for DigitalScribe. It wasn’t that he was afraid of conflict. He’d been in many a firefight. No, this was more of a combination of the thrill of the hunt coming to conclusion and the fact that he was sure they were going to have to face off against Croaker and Peacekeeper when all was said and done. He hadn’t yet decided how he was going to deal with that little pickle.

“Ready?”

DigitalScribe’s boot scraped gravel as he took off at full speed towards the ledge. The weight of his wet clothes was something he was very aware of, and the bouncing shoulder rig he wore was something that he found himself worrying about more than he should have. Within moments he was airborne, bits of gravel and water cascading from his feet, his arms spinning in a windmill fashion to keep him upright. The alley sped by underneath and before he wanted it to, the descent was upon him.

Guardian was hot on his heels and the rush of air washed his wet face just as quickly as he passed over the urban gorge. He had been right about the extra weight of the wet gear, but he compensated, and soon found himself falling towards the roof of the Hole.

The toe of his boot caught the cement rim of the rooftop and DigitalScribe felt it slip almost immediately. His heart leapt into his throat, his hands went out in front of him, and the dark gravel of the roof rushed up to meet his face. The small pebbles tore into the soft flesh of his palms, the weight of his momentum pushing his chest into the surface and the air from his lungs at the impact. He bounced, half-rolled, and then struck the rooftop again with a heavy groan. His vision burst into a billion small speckles of light and his mind was washed over by a wave of numbness.

Guardian landed easily and slid to right himself. To his left, he felt more than saw, his employer bite it hard against the rooftop, and then the audible grunt and smack of DigitalScribe’s body hitting gravel rang out to him clear as a bell. They were closer to the ganger on the southwest corner of the building, and it was to this location that told Guardian that the man had heard something. The shadow was rising up and turning towards them, his rifle coming to bear.

(OOC: Guardian has initiative, but DigitalScribe is stunned, so he’s on his own this round).

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am

Guardian shrugged. Hell, money had made a decision and if money said he was going to jump, then he was. No sense to fight it. He'd known from the start that signing up with the vid-jockey would be dangerous - it always was. It just wasn't this kind of danger he'd had in mind.

Frank threw a glance at his employer. DigitalScribe seemed fairly confident and very much like a man wasn't born yesterday. The shoulder rig had seen better days and so had the media's other gear and the man too, but hell... with acid raining down from the heavens and all, who hadn't?

The big, black leather covered bodyguard took another look at the gap between the two buildings. Five meters, maybe a bit more. Not too bad unless he slipped on runway. He'd make it, but would Frankie?

DS apparently read his mind, but had an idea. “I guess if we aim for the other side of the fire escape, should we jump short, we’ll hit the fire escape instead of falling to our deaths. But if we make it, then we’ll be that much better off.”

Nodding, Guardian could see his point. "Aye, it'll make a helluva lot more noise, but I'd take that over falling any day." With a wolfish grin, he wiped his dark bald head dry with one hand and checked the holster of his handgun with the other. "Just remember, bro - I ain't no Spidey or Superman, if you fall, you fall. I'm not jumpin' after you."

"Ready?", Frank had no time to reply before Scribe was on his way. Though his start was quite slow, the media managed to gather enough speed and place his jump well enough to make it across. It was a close call and his landing was far from perfect and both looked and sounded painful, but he was a big boy and would live... at least a few seconds more.

Guardian didn't wait to see if DS had really hurt himself or not, but braced his powerful legs on the rooftop and launched himself to a quick sprint. Eight steps, maybe ten was all he had, but despite the wet leather he was wearing and the hardware he was carrying, the huge form of the black bodyguard sailed easily across the drop. And his landing made DS look just like the media-freek he was.

Still no time to check on his boss, Frank did the only thing he could, drew his huge, linked Armalite. As soon as the semi-automatic left its holster, it became an extension of Guardian's arm. He didn't have to think about holding the gun right or how much ammo he had left in the clip. His neural processor did the work for him. To him, it was like his hand could spit bullets...

And soon it would have to, for the shadow which was the nearest guard, was already closing in. The Armalite rose to meed the spot where the Wild Thin's head would be. It would be a risky shot, but at this range, Frank was willing to take it. The guards were packed with body armor and there was no telling whether his heavy 44's would be strong enough to penetrate the vest and still be lethal.

A funny thought entered Frank's twisted mind as he stopped breathing and prepared to squeeze the trigger. If I pull this off, I must ask DS to add a "Headshot!" into the vid.
After the initial shots, the other guards would come running in with their rifles blazing. Frank would need to be quicker than them, so while waiting for the first target to make his day, he popped up the Sandevistan. It would take a while to kick in and wouldn't last for long, but he could only hope that the fight wouldn't either.

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OOC: Attack plan 1: Initiate speedware and put a bullet through the guard's brain. Plan 2: Put a bullet through his heart. Defensive plan: Hmm.. If things turn ugly, the fire escape is near and hopefully Frank & Frankie can use it to escape.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Preacher held up his hands and shook his head preemptively. “I got nothin’ that shoots distance either, Choomba.”

It was as though the announcement of their ineptitude had opened the doors for trouble. From the direction of the Hole the three men heard the sounds of gunfire. Some of it sounded like high caliber handguns, but there was also automatic weapon’s fire as well. It was a quick spattering that they heard and then it was followed up by calls from the roof. The action was going down, but it wasn’t coming from inside. It was coming from the rooftop!

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Firewind was a special breed of medical. He hadn’t taken his education as a way off the Streets, but instead, he’d been forced to embrace the way of life due to unfortunate circumstances. These circumstances had led him to seek combat instruction from a reclusive solo and it was to this mentor that the medtech now attributed his calm reaction and quick thinking. He’d come along to sedate Merry Deth, and that was what he was going to do. He could see she was reaching behind her, see that she had a wild, frantic look in her beautiful eyes as she slowly rose from the couch Peacekeeper had just put Stallion over, and he instinctively knew that if she achieved a weapon their mission would be a complete failure.

It started slow in his mind, the rocking forward onto the balls of his feet, but the momentum built and Keahi quickly found himself clearing the distance between him and Queen Merry. His right hand had first darted towards his Baretta, but he’d altered its course to jam it into his pocket and was already producing the airhypo he’d prepared. The sedative wasn’t the most powerful knock out drug, but it should work.

Leaping over the coffee table Firewind landed on the couch with his right leg pressed shin against her thighs and his left forearm against her collarbones slamming her back against the couch and trapping her right arm behind her back. He could feel her arch her back, her hips twisting beneath him like a frantic lover. It was an attempt to knock him off, but it was unsuccessful. He weighed more and he was already inching his way into a decent grapple. It wasn’t a sure thing, but he was close, the airhypo held out away from her body so she couldn’t use her left hand to knock it free.

From overhead the sounds of muffled gunfire could be heard over the patterned slapping of rain on the windows.

(Spiff’s action… please, everyone remember to post your offensive and defensive strategy so I can just move us through this.)

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
The motion was as smooth as French chocolate silk on a glamvid model’s body. Guardian hit the graveled roof and as he was rising up from the forced crouch of his landing, he produced the chipped .44. Straight-armed and with only a slight turn of the head, the large bodyguard snapped off a single round and watched, satisfied, as the ganger’s head disappeared in a spray of black against the tumultuous night sky. The rifle that the man held vanished in the shadows as did his body.

Guardian knew that the party wasn’t over though. There will still three vipers in this pit and as he was turning to face the other parallel to his position he hear the sound of a three round burst fill the night and braced for impact while still training his weapon in that direction, the crosshairs in his eye jumping across the jagged scenery to square up on the shadowy form spewing fire from the mouth of his rifle. There was the sound of metal being struck somewhere nearby; dull thunks into the rooftop that registered within Guardian’s head as near misses. Nothing struck true and DigitalScribe was slowly pushing himself up from his crash landing, but this was a peripheral knowledge for the bodyguard brought to him through his training alone. His focus was on the immediate danger in the street punk.

The crosshairs blinked red for a brief moment and Guardian snapped off his second shot. The shadow that was the ganger spun about in a near 360° before collapsing to the rooftop, his weapon dropping harmlessly to the gravel.

Two down and Guardian knew it wasn’t over. At least DigitalScribe seemed to have recovered from his crashlanding. The media was on his knees and sucking in deep breaths, both hands on his thighs as he tried to push himself up. There were cries coming from the front of the building, but no sign of the gangers yet. Guardian had seconds maybe before the battle continued. At least the media wasn’t out of it, and Guardian saw that the green light was on the camera. Maybe the whole crazy scenario had just been caught on video…

“Get…” Frankie staggered to his feet and began stumbling towards the relative cover that the cooling ducts would provide as he produced a Sternmeyer from underneath his overcoat. He was still sucking air. He’d had the breath knocked clean out of him.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am
(For those of you following the timeline, this is still the first combat phase. Only Guardian has taken two actions. Everyone else has taken one. Pretty impressive shooting Guardian.)

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
As Croaker hit the preset speed dial to Bullseye, the stillness of the night was shattered by the sound of gunfire coming from the roof of the Hole.
Clear it was to the Nomad that the time for caution was over and the three of them would have to act fast.

“Bullseye we need you at the front of the hole fast, cover the main door, we are going in.”

The phone shut and thrust into a pocket Croaker turned and began to move towards the rear door of the Hole.

“Ok Preacher cover Coyote and I as we cross the street and hit the rear door, then we will cover you. We need to get inside the hole and get to the others.”

We that said the big Nomad began to cross the street....

Coyote waited on this lead guy that his mark, Spiff, had attached him to... and the ganger was none too happy about how things were shaping. Time to go home and crack open a can... His mind reviewed the pics of the ganger on the roof with the serious piece of milspec hardware. this s*** ain't worth it.
Croaker pulled out his cell again.Who's he calling now?! We gotta move in quick or all his hombres are gonna be dea...
Two shots rang out from the rooftop.

Croaker made his move and, whether he liked it out not, Coyote needed to play the part now more than ever. Let's hope the man can shoot.
Coyote made to follow after Croaker, "Time to spread some lead."

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
He was poised on the edge anyway. When that gunfire erupted the response was quick; the hand thrust into his jacket pocket producing the phone; the thumb hitting the preprogrammed speed-dial he’d set up shortly after Bullseye had sauntered into the bar.

“Bullseye, we need you at the front of the Hole fast! Cover the main door, we are going in!”

Bullseye had been sitting quietly in the driver’s seat of the van, his booted feet up on the dash, gazing groggily out the window at the driving rain. He’d been contemplating the turn of events this night, the reunion with his clansman, the twists where that forceful doll Peacekeeper came into the picture. Things weren’t the same as they were the last time Bullseye had seen Croaker. Of course, then they’d been family, but still not much more than acquaintances. Bullseye had driven the big rigs, the mega trucks containing the scop dispensers, and Croaker had a junior seat on the council of elders, was a warrior among the family, and had a voice. Now, fate had pushed the two men together. The last two free members of the tribe. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that when his sounded it took him by surprise.

“Damn!” Bullseye fumbled with the small device as he ripped it from his pocket, his boots sounding off of the steel floor of the van as he righted himself. The words sounding in his ears were quick, blunt, like a pusher’s bullet through the skull. “Damn!” he said again as the sound of disconnect clicked in his ear. Croaker hadn’t even given him time to find out what was going on. He was going in blind.

Sparking the ignition, Bullseye floored the accelerator and jogged onto the street. The bump nearly sent him onto one butt cheek, but he quickly righted himself. He was used to this. These were his kinds of vehicles. Some people preferred those small urban crawlers: sedans, sports cars, but not Bullseye. He was a freighter and he was used to the long pull on the oversized wheel to make that turn. The feeling of power revving underneath him as the engine was strained to meet the need. The headlights of oncoming cars glaring off the water-streaked windscreen, the wipers struggling to push the waterfall aside, his adrenaline pulsing.

Back on the street, Croaker quickly turned and gave further instructions as he dropped his borrowed cell back into his pocket. “Ok, Preacher, cover Coyote and I as we cross the street and hit the rear door, then we’ll cover you. We need to get inside the Hole and get to the others.”

Preacher wasn’t keen on the idea of running the few hundred yards to the Hole while a firefight ensued, but he had signed on and he gave a brief nod while Coyote said, “Time to spread some lead.”

“And we went to war against Bera king of Sodom, Birsha king of Gomorrah, Shinab king of Admah, Shemeber king of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela (that is, Zoar),” Preacher muttered under his breath as the two men rushed into the street, weapons held high. “Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

Rolling his shoulders, Preacher brought his submachine gun to hand. Readying the weapon with a quick jerk, he climbed up over the cement and into the soft earth of the planter box. Dropping his shoulder to the tree truck, the man in black raised the H&K MPK2020 to his shoulder and used his thumb to switch to a three round burst. Squinting into the rain he scanned the rooftop through the leaves that threatened to obstruct his view as the wind blew them about in a wild dance. The guard that Coyote had eluded to was no where to be seen. Dropping to his knee, Preacher panned over to the opposite corner. The guard was strangely absent there as well.

Splashing through the water Croaker scanned the rooftop as well, his newly acquired H&K MPK-11 with its attached M-205 grenade launcher held at ready. He was full on expecting to be waltzing through a rain of hot lead by now, but in scrutinizing the area where Coyote had said the guard had perched, Croaker saw nothing by rain.

The MiniUzi was his weapon of choice for the mad rush assault. Coyote ran after the crazy nomad and prayed he’d live through whatever happened next. He too noticed that the rooftop was bare, but he also noticed the flurry of shadows on the other side of the golden-lit windows. Something was definitely going down inside… but hadn’t the gunfire he heard been loud enough to be outside? He seriously doubted he’d have heard the gunfire all that clearly had it originated from inside.

Overhead more shots were fired confirming that the gun fight was taking place outside, but almost immediately afterward, the men on the street heard the muffled sounds of gunfire coming from inside.

Hitting the southern wall of the Hole, Croaker put his back to the wall and scanned overhead as well as either side. He saw no one. Coyote followed suite, ending up on the west side of Croaker, putting the east corner to the nomad’s left shoulder.

With the two in position, Preacher took off from his perch at a sprint.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Spiff was no slouch when it came to handling his Mark II. He was a man of the Street and had learned long ago that trouble came at you quick. When face-to-face with powerdealers and brokers on a daily basis, one had to be prepared for anything. That’s why he’d outfitted himself with speedholsters. That’s why when the lead started flying, he was only a mere second behind the others in response time. That’s why he was able to pup his Mark II from the holster on his waist, underneath his coat, and bring it to bear on Dawn faster than she was able to rip her weapons free from her waistline. That’s why he felt confident bringing the weapon to bear on her forehead. That’s why the bullet that tore free of the barrel put a fine hole in her forehead two inches above the left eye socket, the air behind her head suddenly adrift with small particles of blood and brain matter.

Dawn’s eyes widened at the same time as her mouth opened in a silent scream, her arms swept outwards as though trying to keep her balanced. Then, she fell like a tree freshly lumbered, straight back to hit the polished floor with a sickening thud.

“I’ve got Tiny and Slim,” Peacekeeper said calmly as she spun sharply on her heel and quickly glided over to the wall by the hall they’d surely be coming down any second. She braced herself there, using the wall for partial cover.

Merry Deth must have had enough. Firewind was rolling to put more weight on her, trying to secure her left arm when he felt her arm come up over the top of his shoulder and grip his jacket. It was impressive the way she used his own weight against him as she rolled her hips and pulled. He shifted, forced off of her lap and onto his right knee, his balance precariously compromised. His plan for a clean, easy administration of the drug was quickly coming apart and he was forced to discard any thought of wrapping her up in a hold. This little princess had been through some martial arts courses at daddy’s expense. Keahi was sure of it. There was nothing left for it. The medtech knew instinctively that she’d probably beat the living hell out of him if he gave her the chance. The fear that had been in her eyes was gone now, replaced by a fierce determination.

Firewind slammed his right hand down towards her bared neck with the intention of putting that airhypo to her flesh no matter what. Only problem was, his forearm was caught up on hers as she deftly blocked his attempt, pushing his arm into the couch. He was close enough to smell the mint of her gum on her breath. Had this been a lover he could have kissed her, but instead he saw a small trickle of blood forming up in her left nostril.

Spiff glanced briefly at Peacekeeper as she bolted to cover the impending assault on their position—that’s exactly what he was going to suggest! Hopping over the inert form of Dawn, he nearly slid in the blood pooling under her head as he hit the other side of the doorframe and gave that deadly woman opposite him a nod as if to say, “I’ve got your back.” As if she needed it…

“Hurry up Firewind!” Peacekeeper called back. “They’re here.” The bounty hunter’s weapon popped off another shot. That was one thing she could rely on. These weren’t trained soldiers. They were street punks pretending at organized crime and they proved their ineptitude when the two, huge guards came rushing around the corner of the hall with military-spec hardware in hand. Her first shot ripped through the skull of the biggest—the one with the Mohawk from before. He continued his momentum forward, but in the form of a thrown sack of potatoes, his body sliding up against the wall to lie still. Her second shot went for one of the twins, another head shot, and he went down just as quickly.

Gritting his teeth against Peacekeepers order, Firewind desperately tried to get past Merry Deth’s defenses, trying to pump her full of the drug only to find that she’d knocked his hand aside once more.

Spiff expertly took aim with his Mark II and lined up with the bobbing head of the second big man. His first shot was just as clean, striking the skull where he heard the responding “ting-thunk” of his round penetrating the metal of an armored headplate. The man’s head jerked back and he stumbled, falling and sliding on the slick floor. The fixer’s second shot was nearly too high, but still managed to catch the man in the top portion of his forehead as he fell. The third time Spiff squeezed the trigger he’d already compensated and his round found the eye socket.

There was one more rushing them: the other twin, and he was yelling in rage as he fired his weapon, full auto towards the room. Can’t account much for brains when dealing with boosters, as demonstrated by full auto in an enclosed space. Both Spiff and Peacekeeper tried rolling out of the way, hoping the walls would be enough to protect them from the onslaught and that they’d move quick enough. They weren’t. They’d been finishing up their shots and the bodies of the dead had been falling when the man had opened fire. As they were twisting to get out of the way the drywall popped around them and Spiff felt the impact of bullets against his duster. Then very real pain burst up his right leg and his leg was kicked out from underneath him causing him to slide a little down the wall.

Still standing he glanced over at Peacekeeper. Her face was white, but she returned his questioning gaze with a determined nod.

Hearing the hell erupting behind him, Keahi tried desperately to force the drug on the little woman, but she redirected his arm again. At least he had her on the defensive.

Peacekeeper spun back into the doorway and popped off another couple of shots just as Spiff followed suite. The fixer watched as the big man’s head cocked back with the impact, but to his horror, the ganger continued forward, yelling his rage, his blonde hair soaked through with his own blood. Spiff wasn’t going to take any more chances with this monster. He lined up and fired off three more rounds straight for the man’s head. All three struck true and this time, the man stumbled to the floor and slid up to their feet.

“You hurt?” Peacekeeper growled as she popped her clip and checked her load.

Spiff knew he was, but he hadn’t assessed the wound yet. “Nothin’ major,” he managed though the pain in his leg was intense.

That’s when Firewind growled like a feral animal and pushed with all of his might past Merry Deth’s defenses, finding purchase on her neck. He depressed the button and grinned as her eyes widened. He knew she was feeling the effects of the drug coursing into her system.

“You bastard,” her warm breath tickled his lips. He felt her go limp in his arms and knew that the sedative had taken hold.

“She’s down!” he called back over his shoulder.

From the hall, Spiff and Peacekeeper could hear the faint calls of the other gangers as they approached. They were once again forced into a situation where they had mere seconds to make some pretty heavy decisions.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
Following the media’s lead, Frank made his way to the little bit of cover they had. Shoulder-to-shoulder with his employer, the bodyguard asked, “You broke?”

“Nope,” DigitalScribe drew in a deep breath. “Just embarrassed.”

From below them, the sounds of gunfire could be heard. “It’s definitely hit the fan,” the media said just as Guardian spotted the approaching sentry. He wasn’t taking any chances, and just as smooth as before, he raised his weapon to bear and pulled the trigger twice. The man disappeared into the black shadows, and Guardian was confident he’d killed him.

“See the other one?” Guardian whispered, craning his neck to peer past Frankie’s arms where the media held his weapon up close to his chest. There was a pause and then DigitalScribe said, “Yup.”

The camera turned just as Frankie did, catching the media popping off his shots. He hadn’t been as confident as his bodyguard in his ability to hit such a small target as the head; hoping to hit anything, he’d gone for main mass. The man fell backward, his arms flailing about as he vanished from view.

“Holy… I hit him,” Frankie breathed in awe at his own luck and then quickly turned back to peer at the bodyguard. “I frackin’ hit him!”

The minor victory was short-lived as the media realized the grave situation they were in. He had some decisions to make, and he needed to make them quickly. There was roof access to the interior, but that would likely lead right into the thick of it, and while Frankie wasn’t adverse to being in the thick of it for the story, if he had a choice to film it from a safer position, he was for the alternative. That left only the fire escape.

“Let’s see what we see through the windows, big guy,” The media was up and moving before Frank could protest.

Dropping to the fire escape as quietly as he could, Frankie made his way to the stairs and, weapon in hand, camera following his gaze, moved to the top story where he could get a good look in through the window. There, he saw a scene of death and carnage. He recognized Firewind; after all, he’d turned the man on to the job. There was Peacekeeper too, but he wasn’t sure who the last standing man was.

“This is where it is happening, Guardian,” Frankie said in a hushed tone as his camera zoomed in on Peacekeeper’s face, then panned over to the man he didn’t know, and back to Firewind, who was extracting himself from the arms of a woman DigitalScribe couldn’t see very well due to the couch. He also recorded the grotesquely draped form of the ganger, and the other woman who’s upper body jutted out from behind another couch just enough for him to see. Through the door he saw the bloodbath on the other side as well. All of it caught on digital recording. He was confident in their position due to the light inside the room reflecting off the windows. No one inside would be able to tell there was anyone crouching outside, and in the darkness outside, he seriously doubted that they’d be able to make him out all that well anyway.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am