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[adamu]

Sunday 4th August, 2075; Puyallup Barrens

Al noted the ork's advice on staying safe in the Crime Mall. The Crime Mall. What in blazes was the world coming to?

It was an easy drive, compared to the day before - no need to navigate as he followed the Rover, and the occasional thrown brick or bottle was nothing to worry about now that he was off the bike and into his new truck.

He stayed silent for a while, studying the people he saw as they passed. Just as he had the previous day, he focused on the little ones. A few times he was tempted to just stop and see if there were any, maybe just one, he might be able to give some help to. Just a little cred, or something from his medkit. But each time he remembered that he wasn't on his own here. Seemed they were supposed to be providing protection, and he could hardly do that if he was dismounted on the sidewalk, giving little kids money to buy drugs with.

It wasn't too long before they could see their destination a ways off in the distance.

"So how long ya been with the Mechanicals?"

[Aria]

[Sunday 4th August, 2075; Puyallup Barrens]

Cam was watching the trio of Gold Dragon gangers that were paying an undue amount of attention to their little convoy when Mrs Gear suddenly slammed on the brakes, pushing him painfully into the seat restraints. Looking through the windshield with some disbelief he sees the cackling form of Spindle...now what the hell is he doing out here? The gaunt figure gestured imperiously towards an alleyway off to the left and disappeared into it...disappeared completely in fact...

<<@Convoy [Cam]: I've just seen a manifestation of Spindle heading into that alley. Seems like he wants us to investigate. As he took the trouble to manifest I guess we should check it out! Stay alert, there are Gold Dragon gangers lurking too... >>

[adamu]

Sunday, 4th August, 2075; Puyallup Barrens, Gold Dragon turf

Al slowed the Gaz to a crawl when the lead vehicle thirty meters ahead ground to a stop. He didn't know what a Spindle was, but he knew the girlie-dressing smoke-free patrol was calling the shots on this outing, so he swung the truck around to face the mouth of the alley and flipped on his brights.

Climbing down from the cab, he pulled out his Defiance, strap over one shoulder, and pumped in a round loud enough for the Gold Dragon punks to get the point.

Then he took a good hard look down the alley while lighting up a fresh Lucky and waiting for Frizzen or Cam to call the play.

[DeltaJuliet]

Sunday, 4th August, 2075; Puyallup Barrens, en route to the Mechanicals base

Sketch Doe was in trouble.

She leaned against the side of a building, eyes closing for a moment. It hurt to walk. It hurt to breathe. And worst of all, there seemed to have been some kind of restructuring in the days since she'd gone to ground -- this block, which should have been relatively abandoned, was suddenly crawling with Gold Dragons. If she wasn't careful, they'd catch her and take her stuff, and then she'd have no way to bargain for treatment. If she were really unlucky, they'd recognize her. Who knew that lieutenant would be so touchy about one measly credstick?

With a sigh, Sketch pushed herself off the wall and edged closer to the mouth of her alleyway. She was already dangerously close to the main road, which would definitely contain people she did not want to meet with her arm all twisted and wrong. The Dragons' presence had forced her much nearer than she'd meant to come, and now she was stuck, a rat-girl in a trap. The thought made panic rise in her throat. Every inch of her wanted to turn tail and make for her dark safe warm little den, but even if she made it that far again, the food cache had run out two days ago.

And then this morning, her coughs had started bringing up blood, and she'd known she couldn't wait any longer. She could stay in her hole and die, or get caught by Dragons and probably die, or make it to the Mechanicals compound and only maybe die. They had food and medicine, everyone knew it. Magic, even. And she had a little bit of money, plus the suit, all hidden in a cache where no one but her would ever find it. If she died, they got nothing. Maybe that would be enough. Rat, if you ever had a trick stashed away for a rainy day, now would be the time...

The watchful eyes on the back of her neck itched and prickled. Sketch looked frantically around the alley, eyes wide. There were vehicles silhouetted against the mouth of the alleyway, people getting out of them. Sketch's breathing came fast and shallow. She couldn't go back the way she'd come -- there were Gold Dragons that way. There were too many people to run through, three or four, and she couldn't run anyway. The alley was empty, with nowhere to hide. Stuck. Cornered. How had she not noticed she was walking right into a trap?

Sketch drew her pistol slowly with her clumsy right hand. She backed herself against the closest wall, as though that would do any good. They couldn't have known she was there. Maybe they wouldn't see her. Maybe they'd just go away.

Shakily, she pointed the muzzle of the gun towards the alley entrance, trying to calm her breathing.

[adamu]

Sunday, 4th August, 2075; Puyallup Barrens, Gold Dragon turf

The alley was mostly empty, and with the truck's high-beams sweeping away the shadows, Al didn't have much trouble spotting the lone girl pointing a handgun in his general direction.

He dropped the muzzle of his shotgun toward the ground - he'd be damned if he was going to shoot one of these scared street kids, and she was pretty near too small a target to hit anyway. He toggled his eyes onto wireless and routed a picture of her through his comm as a reply back to the group Cam had just signalled them on.

Wary of the three gangers on their six, he kept his right hand on the grip of his lowered weapon. Taking a single step forward, he pinched his cigarette between his left thumb and forefinger - feeling Mrs. Gear's scornful gaze - and pulled deeply. Blew the smoke out his nose.

"Li'l missy, ya best put away yer firearm. No point in tryin' ta shoot ol' Al…hell don't want me, an' heaven is full. So why'n'cha step out here - yer lookin' a mite the worse fer wear."

[Drace]

[Early Afternoon August 4th 2075; Puyallup]

@Cam <<Text Based Message-- Spindle? Your sure? Either way I'll investigate with Al, let us know if any Dragons come by and look like they will start trouble. When did they move this close to our compound, their turf use to end a few blocks from here?>>

Getting out of the truck behind Al, Frizzen cycles his sight to thermographic and back, taking in the heat registering of the young woman infront of him and Al. He starts the image link and sends it as a direct feed to Cam back in the Rover.

@Cam <<Audio-Got an injured lil' waif here omae, she looks familiar ish... May have seen her on a patrol near tha border of tha compounds area. She ain't lookin' too sheen. Also noticed mo' dragons at the other side of the Alley. Nothin'so far bu' takin safeties off.>>

The smartlink in his sights goes on, set to have Al and the injured girl as friendlies, their shapes outlined in green to limit chances of friendly fire as he puts the bangers on the other side on as targets, the safety on his smg clicking off as he holds the weapon and prepares for any drek to hit the air rotor.

Hey Al, maybe we should get tha chica in tha truck? May be a bi' safa. We ain't got no beef wid tha dragons right now but we ain't on no real good terms ya know?

He then looks at the injured girl in the alley, lowering his smg slightly as he gestures towards her, his augmented eyes whirling and his body having a slight twitchiness to it as his wired reflexes come on-line.

Chica, na sure who ya are bu' a seem ta be in a drek shape ya know? We on tha way to tha mall, bu' if ya wanna ride wid us dere we can bring ya back to our place, we got a soup kitchen and a clinic where ya can grab a bite an' get checked out. Wadya say? Ya might wanna say quick now too, cause while da' mechanicals don't have problem wid your mates down tha street, they may no' like us lingerin here.

[Drace]

[Afternoon, August 4th 2075; Tribal Compound, Puyallup]

Waking from a cold sweat, Bandit quickly dresses, giving his face and body a quick wipe down from a wet tag before redoing his face paint with the ashes left from the wood, paper and zen residue in the brazier.

Quickly dressing, he climbs his way up to the top entrance for his den, opening up the hatch door into the vehicle workshop above. After securing the latch and lock on it, he quickly scurries towards the kitchen.

Making himself a quick breakfast, lunch really, he sits by himself, mumbling and talking to the air around him, all the while keeping an eye in the others in the room, looking for any comical reaction to his momentary faux insanity.

Once done his meal he makes his way to the clinic and after quickly washing his hands and insuring his hat is properly secured, he gets to work helping out, providing first aid treatment followed by magical healing for more recent injuries, and doing triage for those with older or more serious conditions.

[Aria]

[Sunday 4th August, 2075; Puyallup Barrens]

Cam looked back at their woebegone passenger. He did vaguely recognise her underneath the blood, she must have been hanging around the perimeter for a bit. They'd filled her full of pain killers and she would be able to rest in the Rover while they checked out the mall. With their security active Cam had no trouble leaving her inside, she wouldn't be able to abscond with their transport without the codes.

<<@Convoy [Cam]: Nearly there everyone, we'll park to the south and pay whoever owns that bit of turf today to watch the wheels while we're inside... >>

[adamu]

[Sunday 4th August, 2075; Puyallup Barrens]

Al pulled in next to the Rover and together with One-Ork-Arsenal-Frizzen dismounted in the south lot. Glanced in at the girl they'd picked up, and something about her sorry state reminded him he as going to miss his appointment at Victor's Vintage & Venlar. Only took him a minute to reset it for the next day.

Keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings as girlie-boy negotiated with some local banditos for the safety of their rides, he noted a lot of traffic in and out and around the place. Various vendors operating outside the place from makeshift stalls or the backs of cars. And a whole lot of guns around. With no pawns to play nanny-state, men were left to be men, stand up for themselves, see to their own justice. Reminded him of Lagos, and he liked it.

But it meant staying sharp. Wouldn't want his good friend Mrs. Gear to end up snatched and sold for ghoul-chow. Nope, couldn't have that, he chuckled to himself as he lit up a fresh Lucky in front of her.

He took up the rear as the group made their way through the exterior market - he saw a lot of food and handicrafts, various scavenged goods, but nothing he was here for. Reckoned the good stuff was all inside, and that all this secondary commerce made an excellent screen to any sort of raids by the man.

As they made their way into the building proper, his senses tingled, and the voodoo gods started whispering to him of danger around every corner. A whole damned world of thieves and murderers - a wonder there was any sort of order to it at all. One eye on his charges and one peeled for some decent ammo, he followed his new hippie friends deeper inside.

[Drace]

[Early Afternoon August 4th 2075; Tribal Compound, Puyallup]

After Ensuring the smoothie was alive for his own sake, Frizzen moves to point for the group, smg drawn and his hand on the grip, but held in a non threatening way. Just happens to be a way that still shows he is packing heavy and ready to use it if needed.

As they entered the mall proper, he set his PAN from silent to active, opening his ARO program folder and quickly putting his advertisement for gun repair, maintenance and modification up into the shops AR space as well as a neon and chrome text bubble beside him.

"Guess it's time we get ta work? We gettin' a table set up and sell tha drek first o' we gonna do some shopping o' a bit a both? Have a table set up win summa uz dere and tha rest out shoppin' cause wouldn' mind settin' up fo a bit ya wait for chummer a and cholos ta pick there hardware up?" he asks the others of the tribe near him.

While waiting for a response and walking through the crowded mall he sets his commlink's browse to search for AROs with set criterias; Motorcycles, guns, explosives, cyber

[adamu]

[Sunday 4th August, 2075; Crime Mall]

As the little group clustered to listen to Frizzen and decide how to proceed, Al sat down on the fake-marble edge of what had once been a decorative fountain but was now drained and housed a tent with a sign advertising various exotic pharmaceuticals. He could see the whole group, which he reckoned was what he was supposed to be doing.

Once they'd decided what to do, he called out, "Yo, Friz baby, this is a right cavernous ol' place. An' I don't see no infermation counter. Ya think ya could see yer way to pointin' ol' Al to the ammo department?"

[Drace]

[Early Afternoon August 4th 2075; Crime mall, Puyallup]

"Course chummer. Got a gun runna I know tha' works outta here sometimes. Imma meetin' him lata but I can give ya the skinny on him null sheen. Jus' tell him I sent ya. He goes by Mule."

Frizzen then quickly goes and starts to flick his fingers in the air a moment.

@Al<<Data message sent-- Contents: ARO - Mules "bang-bang" supplies. Location attached for ARO origination point>>

He then quickly flicks his own ARO searches too the side minimized, keeping several interesting ones for perusing later.

[Aria]

[Early afternoon, Sunday 4th August, 2075; The Crime Mall]

The place is electric, humming with commerce in a hundred different languages, dialects and hand gestures. Three stories of commercial heaven, if what you are looking for is shadier than Lofwyr’s secrets, apart from the food that is (well some of that is probably shady too). Smells assault the senses, fragrant meats, exotic spices, oh, and the smell of too much unwashed humanity. Gangers are rubbing shoulders with mobsters, shadowrunners, corp slummers, everyone is equal here and it is neutral ground where colours might buy you trouble but shouldn’t buy you a knife between the shoulder blades.

The Mechanicals stake their claim and begin to peddle their wares. The steampunk tinkering flying off the shelves, clearly known for its quality.

Cam yelled across at Frizzen and Al “We’ve got this here if you want to go and do your own thing for a bit…see you back here in an hour or so?”

Kettle was in fine form with Steamer beside her. Mrs Gear sloped off to look for whatever she was after on their little jaunt. Cam settled back behind their impromptu stall, sword and pistol readily visible, and relaxed, as much as he intended to in this place anyway...

[Drace]

[Early Afternoon August 4th 2075; Crime mall, Puyallup]

Nodding towards Cam, Frizzen looks over to Al and smiles, "I'll take ya too him how abouts? Got ta drop somma his drek off I was working on, a few of his toys got a fragged up by some slitch smuggla who couldn't drive ta save his life. Meet ya all back here in an hour den, if drek happens jus' shoot a message soka?".

With that he leads off towards more of the center of the mall, taking a flight of stairs that had once been a working escalator up to the second floor. "Ta answa ya question I been wid tha Mechanicals fo' round a year. Maybe mo' or less. Na too sure really. Use ta do my own thing as hired muscle before Rollin' wid dem after they saw what I could do to a gun. And befo' tha' was in tha Crush. Bu' tha drek was a different life ya kno? Got tha hell outta Redmond befo' I ended up like tha rest of my family and crew.".

Quickly scanning the crowd, Frizzen spots his contact a few meters da way, past a few repurposed stores and in the middle of a walkway spanning two distant sides of the mall. "Mule's da smoothie between tha two orks and tha troll dere, the one wearin' tha Beret and smokin tha cigar. Good enough guy, pays good for work to be sure tho, and honest. Well as honest as a gun runna and deala can be."

[adamu]

[Sunday 4th August, 2075; The Crime Mall]

Al watched in silent dismay as the ork did the finger dance. Al hated the finger dance. It was everything wrong with the world since he’d gotten back. But Friz was good people, and he thanked him with a smile, a nod, and a thumbs up as he pulled out his commlink and routed the info to his screen. The data wasn’t really designed to be read flat, but Al figured it would be enough to get him from point A to B.

Then girlie boy relieved them of security duty and Frizzen offered to make an introduction. Sometimes you got lucky. Things would go a hell of a lot better with a face-to-face recommendation than just a “Hey my guy said to be nice to me.”

On the way there, he listened to some of the ork’s story. Good stuff, making smart choices, pulling yourself up by the bootstraps. The hefty armorer went up a notch in the little human’s eyes.

Introductions made, Al addressed the cigar-smoking gun dealer. “Alouicious Harlan Guthrie, an’ very pleased ta make yer acquaintance, I’m sure. Reckon I’m runnin’ a tad low on ammo fer this baby” - indicating his Defiance - “along with her little sister Remmie Nine-Fifty back home. An’ ol’ Al couldn’t help thinkin’, long as I’m stockin’ up, why not go fer the good stuff, and Friz here sez you are the man ta see. Lookin’ fer armor piercin’ an’ ‘splodin’ types fer both, if’n ya got em, ‘long with standard buckshot.”

[adamu]

[Sunday 4th August, 2075; The Crime Mall]

Mule more than matched all that Frizzen had said of him, and soon Al had purchased enough small boxes of shells he had to beg a bag from the man, which earned him a "whaddaya think I am, a supermarket?" look.

But Al didn't notice. As he'd been inspecting wares, asking Frizzen for opinions, and haggling prices, he'd been gradually noticing that not everyone in this place was street trash, nor even wearing street fashion. There were plenty in nicer attire. Some even in suits. And most of those with bulges under them. And some of those were worn by hard-looking men with a distinct Mediterranean cast to their complexions.

And as he slotted his cred, he reflected on the idea that, neutral ground or not, this whole place was surrounded by a world of not-neutral ground, and that perhaps it was time to skedaddle.

And if he wanted a safe place to go home to, perhaps he'd best not skedaddle in the company of his hosts.

Not looking directly at his ork friend, Al said, "It occurs that, this bein' the Crime Mall an' all, an' the good ol' cosa nostra bein', well, a crime sorta family, that there might be some o' that family here sometimes. They might even be here today. In fact, purty shore they are. Whatcha reckon, ol' Al take off separate-like while y'all finish yer shoppin', make shore I'm not followed back to the compound?"

[Drace]

[Early Afternoon August 4th 2075; Crime mall, Puyallup]

"Ya no worries Holmes. Ya take care of ya self on tha ride back and ya be fine. Catch ya lata", Frizzen says before he starts to unload several SMGs, shotguns and handguns from his dufflebag and leaving them on "Mule"'s table and receiving a dufflebag in return. Knowing he can trust Mule to have not screwed him over, he slings it over his shoulder before receiving a few more guns for the Gun Runner for repairs and modification. "S'a pleasa doin box wid ya chumma, keep ya self safe now.".

He quickly walks further into the mall stopping every so often to look around at different stalls until he sees one of the shops he had tagged earlier. Walking inside he smiles and sees a list of cyber and bioware for sale. "Whatcha got doc?"

[adamu]

[Sunday 4th August, 2075; The Crime Mall]

Avoiding the cluster of suits on the vestibule to his left, Al took the first opportunity to go down a level and then headed for an exit on a course that took him nowhere near where the Mechanicals had set up shop. He made his way through the mongrel crowds using every bit of tradecraft he'd learned through his careful study of trid action shows, ascertaining beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not being tailed.

Once outside, he hiked around the building to where the rides were. Still intact, presumably under the watchful eyes of whatever punks girlie-boy had paid for protection. Climbing into the Gaz and tossing his bag of shells onto the passenger seat, he was careful not to even glance into the Rover at the girl they'd picked up. And off he went.

Although he was positive no one was following him, he figured the best way to make sure it didn't even matter would be to simply not go back for a few days. He'd changed the water bowls and let some rats loose into the terrariums that morning - they'd be fine for weeks if need be. Again choosing a route that took him nowhere near the compound, he headed north into the city.

[Drace]

[Early Afternoon August 4th 2075; Crime mall, Puyallup]

Frizzen had spent longer than he would have liked talking with Dr. Oversturn. Not that she wasn't pleasant to talk to, or even more so to look at, but he did want to look at some more things before he was supposed to get back. Though he doubted he had the nuyen for much more. He had settled for some very, very slick ware.

Alpha-ware aluminum bone lacing. Hell all his drek was fraggin' used. This was the primo stuff right here. Cost him all of his savings almost too, just to get the stuff reserved for him to get it installed tomorrow. But damn would it be worth it. Who knows maybe he would upgrade his eyes someday, the occasional twitch was finally starting to bother him. Just replace the eyes themselves, the insides were mostly transferable.

He stopped along the way back to Cam and the others to chit chat with a few Crush he recognized, catching up on news from Redmond and people he once knew, picking up the odd weapon to fix or attach drek too pro bono. He may not roll with them anymore but he knew they were once family and he still had the odd twinge of loyalty.

As he got back to the rest of the Mechanicals he couldn't keep his drek-eating grin off his face. "Hola chummers, biz good?

[Aria]

[Early afternoon, Sunday 4th August, 2075; The Crime Mall]

Cam nodded at Frizzen "Looks like we're about done here. Mrs Gear has done a roaring trade. Kettle and Steamer are off getting some bits and pieces and then we can go and check on the waif we picked up on the way in..."

He stood, stretched the kinks out of his back and settled the sabre on his hip just as Kettle stumbled back into the group. At first she appeared drunk but the hair falling in her eyes didn’t conceal the growing bruise across the side of her face or the matted blood over her ear.

"Kettle? Where’s Steamer? What happened…?”

“Someone jumped us on the mid level. I managed to get away but they grabbed Steamer. I didn’t get a good look at them but someone up there will have…” she trailed off as she tried to stifle sobs…

"Shit! Frizzen, stay with Kettle, I’ll get Mrs Gear back to the vehicles and shut her in, then we’ll go up there and find out what the hell is going on. Where’d that ugly bastard Al get to? He was with you wasn’t he? ”

[Drace]

[Early Afternoon August 4th 2075; Crime mall, Puyallup]

Having quickly filled his bag and then another with weapons needing repair and modification, as well as different armoured jackets, vests and clothing, he hands the bags and the rest of the gear going with Cam to the ride.

"He saw some "family" men chillin and doing dere shoppin and decided to skidaddle befo dey recognized 'im. Or associated 'im wid us. Take care on ya way dere chumma, we don' know drek tha' this bout. I'll stay frosty here wid Kettle."

With that Frizzen sits the girl down and the sound of the safeties on the assorted weapons can be barely heard as he palms one of his Jazz poppers.

"Drek you k? And Wha' exactly happened to Steamer n youz?"

[Drace]

[Afternoon, August 4th 2075; Tribal Compound, Puyallup]

Bandit sighs as he lifts his heads. Two broken ribs on the street teen sitting infront of him. An infected devil rat bite on the left arm of an elderly lady earlier. Today was being as tedious as usual, though atleast the dwarf teen had a good story about the ribs.

Diving in a dumpster with some of the others of his "crew", essentially a congregation of teenagers and kids from the streets squating in a broken down duplex just a bit past the compound. They had been doing their best for a few weeks to bring in any useable garbage and salvage, essentially taking everything not nailed down, then coming back for the nailed down items, and then a third time for the nails, and trading it to the tribe. Most of it became scrap metal or used by members for pet projects, but the odd gem showed up. H-Jack, one of the industrial gear heads who worked on the different systems had found a near functioning industrial diesel engine and some solar cells he was able to rig up and fix. Generally though, the teens brought in just enough to have the nuyen to keep themselves afloat in cheap booze and chips.

It seems though that the industrial dumpster outside an abandoned chemical waste facility had flipped and partly pinned the youth. Thankfully he wasn't fully crushed, but from what Bandit could tell, there was definitely several cracked ribs and a flail segment on the left side giving him paradoxical breathing.

After bandaging and pressuring the flail chest segment, the shaman gave two pain killers and moved on to the next patient, taking care of all the serious matters before he could go back and check up on previous patients.

[Drace]

[Afternoon, August 4th 2075; Tribal Compound, Puyallup]
Deck Settings (Attack: 3 Sleaze: 6(7) Firewall: 5 Data Processing: 5)
Programs running: VM, Exploit, Baby Monitor, Sneak, stealth

It had been 3 days now that Revenant had been coming by the compound, bumming rides off of truckers and transients passing through the motel he was flopped at.

This time though he had packed up a bag with all of his gear, and decided that it was time to secure lodging closer to the compound if he was to try and get to know these Tribals and discover the matrix tribe in their midst and why his old mentor gave him their name.

He had set up a doss in an abandoned office just a few buildings down the street from the "compound" proper, claiming a former executive office with attached private bathroom, essentially just a toilet and a broken sink, and a supply closet.

The closet he had turned into a bedroom, unfurling a bedroll that took up most of the floorspace, his belongings fitting into the empty shelves above for when he slept, otherwise everything he owned he carried upon himself. The office proper he had started to convert into a living space and hopefully soon, a workshop. A desk still say in the room, all the metal stripped off for scrap and pushed to one edge with a semi stable office chair, while a faux leather sectional couch that had definitely seen better days was in the room, facing the center where previous residents had presumably had some sort of entertainment system, be it a paid "dancer", chip station or simple a table long gone to hold their synth-ahol and paint thinners.

The neighbors were friendly, the other three offices on his floor had their walls removed and were being used by an extended family of orks, while the other 4 floors were filled with other squatters, mentally unstable people and others just trying to make it by.

Packing his gear up Revenant left the "office" as he had taken to calling it and made his way down the stairs to the ground floor and eventually to the kitchen. Having a full meal quick, he soon made his way past a few faces he was starting to get to know and into the clinic.

Waiting in queue for a a good hour, Revenant finally had a chance to talk to one of the two staff there, the ork woman who also happened to be one of the leaders of the tribe from what he had discerned.

[color="#00FFFF"]"Excuse me Oyl, I was wondering if you had anymore antibiotics? My infection should pass within the week but I am going to run out before then, just need two more days worth.

As well, you wouldn't happen to know anyone who would be able to procure me certain programs for this would you?" [color]

Deciding it was best to be blunt, he takes the Cyberdeck out of its case to quickly show her.

[adamu]

[1354, August 4th, 2075; Crime Mall, Puyallup]

"OhFriztheyjustcameoutofnowhereandthenhewasgonewegottacatchemcomeon."

The slight elf was pulling at the big ork's arm, but it was clear she had no idea even what direction she was coaxing him in, probably couldn't even see properly, with the swelling under one eye and tears filling both. He didn't move and in a few moments she'd exhausted herself and collapsed to the ground.

Poor kids, they hadn't had a chance. Steamer was a big ork, but not really hard. Like her, he was an artsy type. Her, she hadn't even had her friend's size to fall back on, just a reedy flower of a steampunkette, all velvet and lace, the bits of metal flash all for show with no go. She'd always just laughed amusedly whenever Friz had invited her to weapons practice.

Now a member of their tribe had been taken, and she was their only lead.

Slowly - precious seconds ticking by - her breathing slowed. Without having to be prompted, she realized she'd have to slow down and be as helpful as she could.

"We were just walking along on the mid-level. Both of us had our hands full with hot bowls of ramen. And then right out of the shadows something big appeared and pulled a black bag over Steamie's head. He tried to struggle, but two more guys appeared and got hold of him. I threw my ramen into the face of one of them as they tried to get away with him and then I started yelling for the cops." She made a sound then, and it was hard to tell if it was laughing or sobbing. "Can you believe that, I tried calling a cop…here in the fucking crime mall. Well once the guy - they were all smoothies, I think - once he wiped the soup out of his face he came over and gave me this" - she pointed at the swelling on her face - "and i fell down. Things went black, and when I got back up - got back up by myself, there were dozens of people all around, but they didn't even stop their biz - when I got back up I could see them working him through the crowd. I started to go after them, and then someone hit me hard in the head. When I woke up, my 'link and all my cred were gone. And so was he."

Then she reached into her bodice and pulled out a long brass chain with something heavy at the end. "I found this, though. You know he always wore it. Frizzen, he's one of us. I don't think I was out for very long. He could still be here somewhere, fighting for his life. We have to go after him. We have to go right now!"

[Aria]

[1354, August 4th, 2075; Crime Mall, Puyallup]

<<@Frizzen [Cam]: The waif we picked up earlier is slowly turning blue! I've got to get her back to Oyl before we have a corpse on our hands. Stick with Kettle and see what you can find out about Steamer. I'll send help your way as soon as I can but it would be worth looking out for friendlies in the crowd, there are some around here who owe us! I'm sorry to have to bail but I can't leave Mrs Gear to drive her home. Briar is running matrix overwatch at the moment, she can spare some time to look over your shoulders if you need tech support. Talk to you soon. Luck!>>