Down in the Gutter: IC, Surviving to See Tomorrow is Goal #1 Options

[rob]

00:18:14 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Just north of intersection of 128th and Vineyard, to the intersection of an alley off Vineyard near 142 Ln.
Bockscar

Feeling pain under the Kamikaze is a wierd sensation; like you know it's there, but you have to remind yourself what it is. As I get round the corner and hide for a second, I can feel it in my lungs; my breaths are shallow and when I think about it I can feel the tightness in my chest. The condom duct-taped to the knife hole isn't rising and falling much, so I peel up a corner of the tape, scratch the scabs open, and dig around the hole a bit till I feel the hot gust of air and frothy blood from the hole. Tack it back down.

Get up, move down vineyard and across an alley toward 142nd lane, heading west towards 124th. Move about 100 yards, fast, but not sprinting. Occasionally check behind me for pursuit.

Near the 142nd lane opening of the alley, huddle myself in behind a trashcan and point my rifle back towards the last intersection. Queue up a couple tasks on my commlink - a simple freq-scan through the RF signal scanner in my pocket and a bunch of effort analyzing Leon's commlink.

In the name of god, the compassionate, the merciful, let this mother-f****r still be logged in.

[Fresno Bob]

00:25:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Roaming up 132rd Ave. in Splintered Crash turf
Aziz

Aziz sucked in a ragged breath, and let it out with a near audible groan, and rises back up to his feet, using Kalila as a crutch.

"Only place I can think of is Lossky Destry... Northwest of here... on the edge of Raider Nation's turf.", he says quietly, before his injuries bring him down to his knees again with a wince. He holds himself still there for a few moments, breathing hard.

"I can make the jog though, don't worry 'bout me.", he says finally, his voice tense. "I just don't... think we... uh... we can move Halo in her condition."

You should lie down right now That would be best for you., a voice in Aziz's head pipes up. He shakes his head slowly, staring down at the ground between his hands, currently busy preventing his top half from slumping down onto the pavement.

Yeah, wouldn't a nap feel great?, another chimes in. Aziz coughs and looks back up at his two mates.

Sorry brain... tempting idea, but I can't go soft right now..., he thinks, and uses Kalila to bring himself shakily to his feet again.

"Don't worry Felix, Halo's not gonna die on my watch. We'll get her patched up, we'll find who tried to grease her, and we'll kill him nice and slow. But we need to get gone first.", he says, nodding at Shade.

"Unless Felix knows a better place, we've got a stroll ahead of us. You think you can carry Halo out of here?"

[adamu]

00:15:50 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Behind ruined building off of 124th Place NE
Grack

"When I saw the UV fuckers with bite marks that you weren't still stuck to, I thought you were a fucking goner," said the aptly named Thumper.

"Magic can't fight hez," was the noble Grack's laconic reply. He was of course overjoyed to see the other ork, easily his most dear friend in the world, indeed almost a soulmate, but his mind was suddenly troubled by what the apparent survival of this troll might mean to plans he had long harbored for another member of the 8-Balls. The thought of his tender schemes being thwarted filled his impetuous young mind with the desire to blind the troll with acid and then see how many blocks his intestines would stretch. But now was not the most propitious timing.

So he gave a polite nod and said, "Cerri of my cerri..." to the 8-Ball, and then said, "Come, victory party at Plastic Sushi. A glory night. A night of conquest and legends." And he headed back south. Within a few meters, Broken Tusk had resumed it soothing choruses in Our Hero's rawhide eardrums.

[Vegas]

00:16:07 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Headed South down 126th Ave NE approaching NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

With every step away from Badmarsh the panic subsided and the anger returned, echoing in each step with her boots. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure the girls were in line behind her, catching Frankie's eyes for an instant before she sent a nasty glare in Badmarsh’s direction. She cursed and muttered softly to herself as she forced her head back in the game. Actions that were once routine in her past now conflicted with the newfound “ganger mentality� and lifestyle she’d been living for the last two plus years.

She forced herself to put any friction that she was feeling behind her as she “led� them South and West with Badmarsh hissing out changes in their choice of path along the way. There would be time later to have words with the group, to hash the shit out, but that would only come assuming they stayed alive and made it to their destination. Wherever the fuck that was.

[Unarmed]

00:16:11 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Behind ruined building off of 124th Place NE
Doc

Doc nodded sarcastically at the disgusting newcomer. He trailed half a step behind the two orks as they headed south out of the alleyway. He had a thought, a premonition almost. Tonight was going to be an important night, more important even than the two that had preceeded it. If you want to survive in the streets you need to have two things: skills, and friends. It's not enough to just be strong. Doc still had the skills, but he was short on friends at this very moment. So far, it looked like it was going to be a night of meeting people. Doc hated meeting people. It was always so awkward and it was always easier to just tell someone to frag off than to try and make nice. Unfortunately, Doc realised that he could use these people. Thumper seemed like a decent sort, too. Grack was fucking repulsive, but a lot of people would say the same about Doc's face. I guess it's time to attempt to make nice, buddy. Not too nice, though.

"Hey Thumper, your buddy stinks. Does he bathe in sewage or something?"

Doc's grin was intended to show that it was just a joke. Somehow, he doubted that it was getting across. Fuck, just give me someone to punch in face.

[rob]

00:18:14 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Hidden behind a trashcan, alley off Vineyard near 142 Ln.
Bockscar

Bingo!!!!!!!! The light flashes in my vision that Leon's link is open. Immediately slave it to the big commlink and dump every f*****g trace of data that the sucker has on there to a holding directory. I'll sort out the good stuff versus the porno later.

As I'm dumping the data, another feed pops up showing me a signal hit nearby - really close, within 100m, and not on the Raiders side. This is like Christmas... Pull up Leon's directory and scan the node - some Hammerpack dude named Badmarsh.

Compose a brief text to Bamarsh in my brain and then route it through Leon's commlink - <<@Badmarsh [Leon] - This is Leon's cousin. Moving back from the flank at 128th and Vineyard. 2 Friendly KIA - Leon and some kid. I am WIA. 3 Raider KIA, at least 3 Raider WIA/Probably KIA. Probably being pursued. Moving to your position. Acknowledge.>>

Keep the sniffer listening for signal traffic while I wait for some sort of response. Pain in the rear that I gotta keep leon's worthless 'link on; hope these kids know how to communicate.

[yoippari]

00:02:40 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – heading north on NE 124th St between Ne 137th Pl & NE 138th Pl Kingsgate, Seattle, UCAS
Trojan

Trojan takes a hard right onto 124th St, too hard of a turn, he should have slowed down a bit more but the hope for clear streets overrides his common sense as he goes up the slight incline that obscures whatever is over the crest. Not one block later he hears a sharp noise that forces itself over the sound of the motorcycle's exhaust and through his helmet. BANG.

[Mister Juan]

00:26:09 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Roaming up 132rd Ave. in Splintered Crash turf
Felix

Fresh tears barely dry on his cheeks. Felix sniffed hard. Even with the breathing mask on, the air kept getting stuck somewhere in his throat. His body kept shaking up from his toes to his ears, running up his spin in a cold shiver. He was relieved that both Halo and Aziz were still alive... but he still dreaded what might be coming for them. Halo was barely hanging on. She was stable, but far from being out of the woods. Aziz was on his two feet... which was a god damn miracle concerning what Felix could see. But that also didn't mean a whole lot. Infection could very well kill him in the next few days... not to say that if they got caught out in the open by any hostiles... they wouldn't stand a chance.

Still crouched next to Halo, who's helmet he had removed, Felix kept gently brushing her hair, biting his lower lip under his mask.

There was just no way they could stay here. She need a real place to rest. Somewhere she would be safe... and there was no way the could carry her on one of the bikes.

Felix's clouded green eyes went from the girl he loved toward his two friends. Lossky's place was the only real medical care facility in Kingsgate. Sure, the young mage knew his way around a medkit, and could take care of a lot of bumps and bruises... but there was no way in hell he could do anything more for Halo.

"Aziz's right... we need to get her to the clinic. It's further than I would wish, but I can't think of any other place..."

[pragma]

00:16:25 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Ruined building off of 124th Pl. NE
Thumper

It was a bit of an awkward joke, but Grack wasn't listening and Thumper wasn't offended. Time to retaliate.

"Actually, I think he does. But you don't smell to good either big guy -- stink of kerosene and body odor."

He was just warming up. Doc's mildly aggravated stare only egged him on.

"Word on the street is that you need sticks of deodorant this big around," he said holding up his table leg. "Good thing you know how to cook, otherwise you'd be one high, dry and stinky motherfucker."

He jokingly punched Grack on the shoulder. "I mean what good's a drug lab if you can't use it to make fucking corp R&D anti-stink sticks.. Be calling you 'Doctor Aztech-Folgers-Colgate-Armandhammer' in no time fucking flat."

Grack eyed the situation and barked a polite, well as polite as he got, laugh in response as the trio of bruisers rounded the corner of the apartment and spied Plastic Sushi.

[Unarmed]

00:16:32 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 124th Pl. NE - Near Plastic Sushi
Doc

If Doc's social intuition was correct, which it seldom was, then Thumper was actually reacting well to the taunting of his friend. Despite being pretty piss poor at making friends, Doc was actually decent at insulting people.

"Hey asshole, what you're smelling is just my fragging troll man musk. Besides, your mother seems to like it fine."

Unfortunately, Doc had forgotten, or more likely was never taught the number one rule of good-natured ribbing involving an ork: never mention their mothers.

Up ahead, Doc's cybereyes spotted a skinny human he didn't remember seeing before standing outside of Plastic Sushi. The man carried himself like a solider, but at the same time with an air of command that was unmistakable. Doc was relatively sure that the man they were heading towards was none other than Legion himself.

[grendel]

00:18:34 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place, Kingsgate, Seattle, UCAS
Legion

Legion blew a stream of smoke into the night sky, grimacing as the act of exhaling sucked at the lips of his wound. Grack and Thumper were headed his way across the street with the 8-Baller in tow. Legion didn't recognize the troll, but that meant little. It remained to be seen how useful he could be, balanced against the greater resources that trolls consumed. As the trio approached, he stepped off the curb, offering the last cigarette in his stolen pack to the troll.

"Smoke?"

[pragma]

00:18:35 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Ruined building off of 124th Pl. NE
Thumper

The mother comment shut him up. She was a bitch, he guessed. Thumper had a confusing relationship with the woman. But he liked this game to much to be kept off balance by the statement.

"Yeah, sure. All I'm saying is that your 'man musk' is a lethal fucking weapon. You could kill a seagull at 20 yards just by airing out your pits."

As the group pulled even with Legion and a smoke was proffered to Doc, Thumper assumed the silent, almost deferential pose he invariably found himself taking around Legion. It wasn't intentional, it just felt right to shut up and listen to what the man had to say.

He eyed Doc expectantly.

[Unarmed]

00:18:41 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Doc

Doc was caught off guard by the offer of the cigarette. He had heard many things said about Legion, but had never heard his name and the word generous mentioned in the same breath. In the past, the offer of a cigarette would have given Doc pause to think about the situation, but since the first explosion that resulted in the loss of his hand and his facial scarring, he couldn't get smoke and fire that close to his face without feeling very uneasy. Of course, he doubted the gangers around him would think too fondly of that explanation. He looked down at the pack Legion was still holding in his direction.

"Nah man. Had to give those things up. Can't be smoking in the lab, you know?"

[adamu]

00:18:41 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place

Grack

Mildly surprised that Master Legion was still alone when the brave trio arrived back at the sushi shop, Grack faded into a nearby alley to watch what his leader would do with the prisoner he and Thumper had captured. Torture was, of course, the best way to deal with rivals, but he was not surprised to see the invitation to a social smoke - Legion would surely toy with the interfering troll before the coup de grace.

From his vantage point lurking deep in the shadows, he could see the others talking but it could not possibly be as interesting as the spirited requiem now filling his ears. Of course, young Grack was enough at ease with his masculinity that he would never hesitate to openly express his feelings for his cerri once they all gathered for the victory festivities, but the polite thing to do would be to await more arrivals before formally commencing the celebratories, and for now he was most content simply to wait and watch.

Oh yes, dear reader, make no mistake - our Grack did so love to wait and watch.

[HeySparky]

00:19:02 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Headed to the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142 Ln
Badmarsh

Badmarsh squints and moves ahead, taking cover and scanning the area ahead before waving the girls ahead. The new girl stalks forward glaring at him as she passes, shotgun held easily. He grins wolfishly at her as she passes. A promise of rewards for her continued good behavior. The 'fuck off' in her eyes need not be vocalized. His face blanks as she looks away and down the street. Gonna need to play it lightly with this one. Even more willful than Frankie.

Badmarsh calls a halt as Leon's comm blinks on with a message. looks into the distance with a 'what-the-fuck?' expression. The voice isn't Leon's. It's that cousin of his. What the fuck's he... The crisp transmission ends. Leon... dead? ...fucking Nation. A growl resonates in the young man's chest.

<<@Leon [Badmarsh] Hold up, Soldier Boy. Try that in English. >>

[Konsaki]

00:03:25 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – heading north on NE 124th St between Ne 137th Pl & NE 138th Pl Kingsgate, Seattle, UCAS
Trojan

Just after hearing what he thought was his bike backfiring, the dwarven rider heard something skip off the top of his helmet, like he had scraped a tree twig on it. Considering the situation at hand, he easily figured out that it was no backfire but true gunfire. Someone was shooting at him and wasn’t that bad of a shot to skip a round of his brain bucket! Ducking his small frame down on his bike just a little more, Trojan revved the 4-stroke as open as it would go, hoping to leave behind whoever it was that wanted him dead.
A tuff of asphalt kicked up to his right around five meters ahead of him a second later. The sound of the round got to him just in enough time for his enhanced reflexes to react. The ganger’s face a mix between a sneer, a grin and a frown, he only thanked whatever it was up there that kept him alive so far. Then a third shot rang out…

Pain washed over his face as he struggled to keep his eyes open, failure wasn’t an option. Water pored from his tear ducts as muscles strained to balance his off-centered bike, the pain wrecking havoc with his mind. Barely registering the error in the course his bike was taking, Trojan wrenched his handlebars over to the left, a last ditch effort to avoid ramming straight on into a parked Chevy 4x4.

Luck may favor the bold and the reckless, but it is also a double edged sword. The tumbling dwarf now knew this all too well as his body rolled along the street; an after effect of clipping the trucks oversized left mirror. From inside his helmet, he knew enough to try and tuck his arms close to himself as Trojan saw flashes of the city lights reflected off the thick clouds above and then flashes of darkness before he finally rolled to a stop next to his skittering bike.
Lying on his back, he opened his eyes to look up at the clouds which were rolling and tumbling themselves, as if mocking the lone rider…

[Konsaki]

00:16:53 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 124th St between 132nd St and 133rd Pl
Fool

Eyeing the ravaged carcass that lay before him, Fool could only think about how much he wanted to get out of this area before something did the same thing to him. Sparing a glance at his commlink to read the location his brother in arms was at, if he could call him that, the human ganger made his way north; making sure to continue looking into any dark hiding place for things that go bump in the night.
Speaking lightly and less nervous as he moved away from the gruesome scene, he spoke into his comm with a slight grin in his voice, though it didn’t exactly show on his face, “Roger, roger. I’ll make my way towards your position. Keep your comm on. If you don’t see or hear from me in roughly 10 minutes forget about me and just look after yourself.�

Scanning the long stretch of the NE 132nd St, the male saw little to no movement, and the movement he did see were random scraps of paper or cloth rolling around in the wind as it blew down the empty war torn road. Taking a deep breath, he bolted across as fast as his leg could carry him, reaching the other side and continuing to run until his lungs gave in and he slowed to a slight trot down an alleyway that ran between 133rd Pl and the 132nd.
Things were quiet, at least near him, he thought as Fool could hear the sounds of gunfire in different directions in far off places. They sounded like someone taking small firecrackers and lighting them off at different intervals to explode randomly, but he knew them for what they really were and wasn’t fooled one bit. It just was one more thing to keep the poor guy on his toes tonight and keep sleep from him.

Up ahead the sight of the 124th was clear in his eyes, easily recognized by the ganger though it looked just like the 132nd. As he made his way to the end of the alleyway, Fool poked his head around the corner to view the area with his blue cyber eyes. Southbound, the street was clear of anything suspicious. As he scanned north though, he barely saw a pair of women sneaking up the street, their colors giving themselves away as the ‘ones who break hearts’.
Sliding farther into the shadows, the wandering ganger wondered where they were headed and scanned farther north. Not seeing anything, he looked back to the red and pink wearing vixens to see them fade into the blackness of an alley on the east side of the 124th.

[rob]

00:19:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Moving west on NE 142nd Lane towards 126th.
Bockscar

Well, that sure counts as acknowledgment, at least; if Leon's commlink has the range to scan him I know he's close, too.

<<@Badmarsh [Leon]: Raiders killed Leon and some kid who was with him. I'm shot in the lung. I'm at 142nd and Vineyard, movin' down 142nd to the drag. Raiders ain't far behind, and they probably want a word with me.>>

Ain't seen nothin' down the alley, so it's time to scoot. Lever myself up and scoot down the alley to where it opens on to 142nd lane. Peek around the corner towards the north, then scoot around it real quick so my ass ain't pointin' at the Raiders. Move west down 142nd, hangin' low and to the right.

Now we gotta find this mofo... hope I can remember which one he is...

[Abbandon]

00:19:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of NE 124th Ave and NE 132nd St
Fool

Fool let out a long sigh. He would have loved to have followed those two heartbreakers. They might have been heading into that alley on business in which case he wouldnt have had any problem watching and if the were alone he might have been able to take advantage of the situation, if he could have seperated them..

But the little green blob in his AR vision that showed the location of Child was to the south a ways. Somewhere along the hapazard path he was following he had veered off course. His lungs had stopped gasping for air now just in time to hopefully make the short trip to the south.

Flipping to thermo he scanned the surrouning area for any signs of people hiding out in the windows, he saw none and switched back to lowlight. It was now or never. Scampering out of the alley he had been hiding is he was about to begin his run to the south when the roar of motorcycle engines and headlight beams could be seen coming from the east of NE 132nd St. Fool quickly returned to the alley and watched as four hellhounds rumbled through the very intersection he was planning on heading towards.. As the last bike passed sparks were flying from the chains it was dragging. Chains that were attached to what looked like a person. Fool shivered and then headed out again.

The trek to the intersection was quick, finding Child wasnt that much harder. As he approached an alley he could see a bike parked in an alleymatching the description Child had given him. Bathed in shadows it probably wouldnt be very visable from the streets unless you knew what you were looking for. Further down was Child hunkered down by the corner of a house. Minus his Rollers jacket he was still in those dirty black flats and flannel shirt and combat boots. Child looked up at Fool with one of those glazed over looks like he was busy doing something in AR. Fool just nodded and slunk down next to him against the wall.

"Whatcha doing?"

[WinterRat1]

00:30:14Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Shade

Shade doesn't say anything during the discussion. If Aziz was less fragged up or Felix wasn't so distraught, it would be pretty obvious to them his mind was elsewhere.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Shade's mind was wandering, his focus detached from the problem at hand. Not from a lack of concern though. Far from it. The main thing on his mind right now was saving Halo and making sure Aziz would pull through too.

No, his dilemma lay not in the problem, but the solution. He had one neither of the others could possibly know about, but what it would cost them, cost him, was what weighed heaviest on his mind.

He sighed. In the end, it really was a no-brainer. Halo's life came first. All other issues could wait until that was taken care of. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled it as Felix admitted he couldn't think of anywhere better than the Lossky clinic.

"I can."

"Say what?" Aziz over up at him, pain clouding his eyes.

"I said, I can think of a better place to take Halo."

"Really? Where?" The excitement in Felix's voice was obvious. As far as he was concerned, anything to help Halo was a good thing. It was obvious the young mage was clinging to a sliver of hope that Halo would be ok, and Shade couldn't bear to let his little buddy down.

"Overlake Medical Research Center, over on 116th Ave NE."

"116th Ave...Shade you get whacked in the head too hard when you escaped from the 162s? That's over in Bellevue! How the hell are supposed to get her in there?" Aziz demanded.

Shade looked at him and calmly answered, "I know someone who works there. She can get us in, get Halo treated, and between the two of us we can cover up what I assume is Halo's lack of a SIN."

He gestures to the unconscious biker. "Look at her. She's practically gone already. For her to even have a chance of pulling through, we'll be living on a wing and a prayer. You want to trust Lossky-Destry to deliver on that prayer?"

No one says anything. Even if Lossky-Destry was the best clinic in Kingsgate, that still wasn't saying a whole lot. After all, there was more than one reason it was nicknamed the 'Losers Destination Clinic.'

Pressing on, Shade continues, "Even after she regains consciousness, there's a real chance she'll need replacement limbs, cloned if at all possible, cybered if not. Will they have those treatment options available? What about rehab? From what I see, there's possible spinal or nerve damage, extensive tissue damage, maybe brain damage, and who knows what else? Any of those issues and more could easily require rehabilitation, especially if we want her to have any chance of regaining her previous motor coordination. No fragging way she'll get that anywhere but a real hospital."

He pauses, then adds, "And come on. Even crippled, you think Destry would think twice about taking some of his payment in trade off of Halo? Is that the kind of guy we want to entrust her to? She needs a real hospital, with real doctors, real facilities, real equipment, the whole nine yards. The only place I can think of she'll get all that is Overlake. All we need to do is steal a car to transport us and get her over there in one piece. Unless you guys have any better ideas? But me, I say this is no time to screw around. Forget Lossky-Destry and let's take her to a hospital actually worth the name."

Of course, in his presentation there was one big problem he left unmentioned. Obvious too. Yeah, he had an answer for that problem as well, but he wanted someone else to bring it up first. As much as family meant to him, he wanted to see how much it meant to everyone else. Sometimes, you had to know where everyone stood with each other. This was one of those times.

[WinterRat1]

00:19:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place

Legion's unexpected generosity may have surprised Doc, but the troll would have to wait to find out the human's response to his refusal of the cigarette.

Before anyone could say anything else, a loud laugh drew their attention. Swaggering up 124th Ave NE was a group of five that could have been the poster children for diversity. At least, the poster children for a gangbanging group of metahumans whose claim to diversity was accepting any race willing to pound the drek out of a human.

An elf, dwarf, two orks, and a troll, all wearing Black Plague colors, were strutting up into Hammerpack territory as if it were nothing, like they were out for a relaxing stroll.

It was intentional, of course. With the war's climactic battles drawing to a close, it was time for the survivors to start grasping for the spoils of war. Making one's presence known, claiming new turf and redrawing the lines of demarcation were standard practice for any gang after a war, and with the apparent destruction of the Hammerpack, it looked like the Black Plague was finally deciding to move north of 140th St.

Spotting the group of four about thirty meters away, it was obvious from the Plaguers; comments they didn't actually identify who they were talking to. They simply wanted to make their presence felt.

"Hey, you fraggers better clear the streets! Ain't too safe in these parts right now!"

"Yeah, this is Black Plague turf, jus so's ya knows!"

"Hammerpack's fraggin' finished!"

"Long live the Plague!"

So far it seemed they hadn't made Legion as a human yet, or else they probably wouldn't be so friendly. Then again, who said they were walking over to be friendly?

[Vegas]

00:19:47 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

Bockscar didn’t have to wait long to see if he could remember just who Badmarsh was.

As Nevada cautiously approached the corner where 142nd Ln met up with where 126th ended, she paused behind the corner of one of the buildings and focused her attention around the corner where she couldn’t get a good visual. She heard footsteps, and as soon as everyone behind her came to a stop and the steps continued, her shotgun leveled out at her waist and she glanced over her shoulder and caught Badmarsh’s eyes as she subvocalized.

<<@Badmarsh [Nevada]: Footsteps. Around the corner. One possibly more.>>

She held herself still as could be, putting herself between the girls and the corner of the building, pushing each of them back flat against the wall. Her finger rested feather-light on the trigger of the shotgun.

Breathe.

[Fresno Bob]

00:32:23 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Aziz

Aziz blinked a few times, sorting out the myriad information and thoughts generated in response in his head. Shade was right, Halo was injured critically. Hell, so was he. And he knew without a doubt Shade had nothing but the best intentions. But the road to hell, and all that.

"So... your plan is to steal a car, stick Halo in it, drive all four of us south... through Touristville, into Bellevue, and get us into a hospital.", he says, laughing. He steadies himself on Felix's shoulder as a fit of wet coughs overtake him, then transition into more laughter.

"Heh... you show me the car, and then we'll talk."

[rob]

00:19:48 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

This is nice and quiet; not like the chip stars say when the monster's about to jump out, but safe quiet. The echoes of gunshots blocks away are a bad case of somebody else's problem. Might change in 5 seconds, but I'm cool with it for now.

Huff and puff down 142nd. Pause in a doorway and check back behind me. Collect my breath a little. Pain in the ass having to stop every 30 yards, but it reminds me to check behind.

Get up to the intersection at 126th... He should be close..., crouch down at the corner. Pop the predator into my hand and a quick peek round the corner with it -

And now the barrel of my pistol and the barrel of a shotgun are pointing at each other, not 5 cm away. I'm sure I shoulda looked at who's carrying the gun, but I've already ducked my body as far back as I can. Thank god for smartlink cameras.

"Whad'up... Badmarsh here?"

[rob]

Double post.