02:27:19 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln NE

Legion

Legion let his grip relax a little, easing back from the edge of blood that had confronted him. He kept his eyes on Grack, though, for a moment longer. The answers that he had might not be what the ork wanted to hear.

"Only if you forget them. Only if you forget the memory of their sacrifices."

He glanced around at the gathered warriors, his eyes gauging their reactions to this, the first of what would be many challenges.

"We've all lost people today; friends, brothers, comrades. I'm not asking you to forget them, or what they stood for."

He moved to stand beside Grack, reaching out to rest the fist of his right hand on the ork's bicep. He made eye contact with his enforcer again.

"But if we give up now, if we lay down and die, we surrender everything they fought for and believed in. I'm asking you to take that rage you feel, that hatred, and use it. Focus the power of your anger and vengeance."

He swept his eyes across the group again.

"I know some of you are thinking that I've lead two gangs that were wiped out. You're thinking that joining up with me is a ticket to suicide. I did lead the Ghurkas, and we were put down by another gang, true. But reborn of that was the Hammerpack."

Legion looked back at Grack.

"And it took four of the strongest gangs in Kingsgate to put down the Pack. Four of them against us, brother."

Legion stepped out into the street, facing to the north. His face was calm and unyielding, suffused with a purpose as simple and relentless and merciless as the elements.

"Stand with me, my brothers, and together we will make the Ravens into a force that nothing in Kingsgate can stop. Together we will rule."

02:27:25 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln NE
Grack

Talk talk talk. Master Legion was nothing if not loquacious, delusions of oratory glorifying the street-brawler reality. It sound very nice and all that, and had a capital effect on the armed urchins and raggamuffins that had answered the swordman's clarion call, but what our hero wanted to hear was how all that rarified elocution was going to translate into mountains of soyshi and rivers of synthahol.

Still, he could see that one of the gists of the speech was to forego djoto now in favor of more djoto later, a school of thought the lad understood, even if he did not completely agree with it. But shortcomings notwithstanding, the presentation had certainly had its desired effect on Young Grack, who above all things feared being al...er...displeasing the Scintillating One.

Thus it was that, having heard enough, he left Legion's side and stalked over to a curb, sat down, and turned up his music as high as it would go. To those that knew him it was a sure sign of acquiescence. He had a lot to think about, more to do, and needed some peace.

Settled in his mind that he would become an October Raven, amused at the wholly undesirable idea of being its leader, and half resolved in his heart to forgive Legion his earlier turgma on the basis of the less-now-more-later philosophy, there remained the thorny issue of his Queen.

It was a sticky wicket indeed. On the one hand, he knew his destiny was intertwined with hers at the most intimate imaginable level. But on the other, it was clear that Master Legion, the great brother/betrayer, also fancied her, and that the attraction was mutual. And, at least for the nonce, Legion was too useful to his Legend to be dispensed with lightly.

Time would pass, Gator would advise, and everyone had to sleep.

02:27:28 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln NE
Bockscar

"Word. If we're cool with the crew as is, gents, there's a nice big building that used to be a hospital down the street, I got a sucking chest wound, and our boy here don't look too good neither." Nod at Aziz. "I'm gonna be useless in a couple hours. I can help carve out some space till then."

02:27:28 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln NE
Aziz

Aziz nods back at Bockscar.

"Yeah, I'd enjoy a good lie-down..."

02:27:28 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln NE
Child

A brief break in the ass kissing occurred. Legion was speaking, and everyone must listen.
Child translated the speech into something he needed to hear.

"We've all lost people today; friends, brothers, comrades. I'm not asking you to forget them, or what they stood for."
Yes, we have lost our families, but always remember who they where.

"But if we give up now, if we lay down and die, we surrender everything they fought for and believed in. I'm asking you to take that rage you feel, that hatred, and use it. Focus the power of your anger and vengeance."
If we give up, if we die, the last memories of them die with us. Keep them alive, dont let them die again.

"I know some of you are thinking that I've lead two gangs that were wiped out. You're thinking that joining up with me is a ticket to suicide. I did lead the Ghurkas, and we were put down by another gang, true. But reborn of that was the Hammerpack." "And it took four of the strongest gangs in Kingsgate to put down the Pack. Four of them against us, brother." "Stand with me, my brothers, and together we will make the Ravens into a force that nothing in Kingsgate can stop. Together we will rule."
Third times a charm. Follow me and I will make you the princes and princesses of Kingsgate. Tougher we WILL rule.

It was a bit of oratation that could move mountains, turn the tides of battles. It was why people both respected and feared him. It was why tougher, this cluster of fuckups could be Legion.

Child looked around at the group that was gathered. 11 people versus the world. He took a long drag on the Camel to calm himself.

"What happened tonight was the smelting of steel. Kingsgate turned into a furnace and burned all of the impurities, all of the less then exceptional, all the slag of 7 gangs, and turned it into something that has the potential to be great.
What is left are the greatest minds, bodies, skills, and raw talent that this hellhole may ever see. Its up to the 11 of us, to take that lump of metal and beat it into a sword to fight, a shield to protect, and a scepter to rule. But to temper that steel, that was so painful to create, means we may have to go back into the great fire. And he's going to lead us."

Child's face had remained cold and dispassionate during his own little show. It had almost felt like he had watched someone else speaking those words in his voice.

I cant fight, but we can win. he thought.

02:29:11 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln NE

Legion watched Grack decide, wondering how accurately he was reading his enforcer. The past twenty four hours had taken a toll on them all, and it was a distinct possibility that his decision making abilities were beginning to falter. He checked left and right again, gaze traveling over the assembled gangers. Whatever happened, he had to retain the appearance that he was in perfect control of himself. He took another drag off the cigarette. Everyone he’d tasked with a job had returned, and he was curious as to what they’d found. But first things first. Legion turned back to the covey of whores still clustered nervously on the street corner. He nodded to show that he'd heard Bockscar, and agreed with his assessment.

"Good call," he began, still speaking with that dead calm voice, “We'll move here in a moment. But first someone needs to tell me what the frag happened to Badmarsh.�

02:29:11 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln NE
Felix

Standing over by Aziz, Felix quickly realized that, maybe, joining up with him in the middle of fray wasn't the wisest of calls. His puny attempt to defuse the situation by his own subtle influence had gone awry, and although he didn't feel like his mind was particularly strained, a strange lump had grown in his throat.

He had steeled himself for whatever was coming. He had ran in his mind, over and over again, that he had to do this for halo... that she needed him to be strong now, more than ever. But now, faced with the reality of what was coming, Felix could feel the fragile strings of his own determination starting to crack under the pressure. Legion, the very legend himself, was standing only a few feet away... next to something colder and darker that the young psychic had ever felt. The entire area ooze of wrath, pain, sorrow and jealousy. Every single voice, no matter how distant they sounded, cried in pain and horror. They were all scared... scared of something Felix had only felt a slight brush.

His palms started to itch with dryness. His mouth, hidden behind his breathing mask, filled itself with invisible cotton. A throbbing headache started in the back of his head, threatening to pop his eyeballs out of his skull. One of his frail and delicate hand came up and under his hood, massaging the back of his neck as he tried to hide his wince of pain.

He was well aware of where he was, and who was there. He had clearly heard Child's voice, yet, it felt like he was miles away.

Somewhere, something made a low roar.

Felix blinked a few time and the pain was gone. Everything fell silent again.

As Legion spoke, Felix instinctively looked up from under his lower hood toward him, but as soon as he saw his eyes, his own gaze bounced off and back to the ground.

The young mentalist suddenly became aware of how painfully possible it was that he might fail...

02:30:05 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Nevada

Nevada tried to ignore the thrill that ran through her with the way Legion had looked her over, she always had a weakness for the bad boys, and as far as he was concerned he was near the tops in Kingsgate. Shaking it off she watched as Grack skulked off and lost himself in his music on the curb and it allowed her to lower her guard ever so slightly.

"Marsh got sniped. Probably by the same Raider motherfuckers chasing down the bleeding Soldier Boy over there." She nodded in Bockscar’s direction before turning her eyes back on Legion. "We were headed down this way, figuring we’d short cut through one of the buildings and double back on them as Marsh took up our six and took two through the chest. Mother Teresa herself couldn’t have saved his ass."

Something flared in her eyes as she spoke, an emotional response for certain yet the specific one was much harder to ascertain. When she spoke again her eyes were as cold as her voice.

"Old medical center isn't a bad place to regroup but unless someone took his ass out, you're gonna have to make peace and show Slippy the love. He doesn't exactly take kindly to strangers if you get my drift. Doubt that's changed much even over the last few days."

02:30:10 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Bockscar

"Sniper who shot marsh was probably the same dude who shot the kid who was with Leon and I. Team of 'bout 3 with submachineguns came for us. Sniper musta come 'round the north side while we were pinned. We got 6 on the north side. They had at least 4 left."

Slow down, think for a second, then get angry. Turn, sideline to the ladies with Nevada - "Hey, which one of you got my fucking trauma patch?"

02:30:10 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Aziz

"We could just roll north, up to Losers' Destination... might be a better place to go than Evergreen. Bit of a hike, though..."

02:30:10 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE

With almost a hint of defiance, Francesca silently hands over Bockscar's trauma patch he'd tossed to them to use on Badmarsh. Maybe it would have saved Marsh if they'd used it; but they didn't, and he died and now Bockscar had it back. Worked out all right in the end. For him at any rate.

02:30:10 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE

Ink

Ink smiles at the rest of the newly forming gang. "Cool homes. I could use some shut eye. What say we get outta here and stop making our selves such nice easy targets for the Raiders or the 162s, hey ese? No one minds, the old LoCoS house is still intact. Least it was when I left. Have to cut though the Plague and Heartbreakers carving up the old turf, yo. If they figured out we all bit it."

02:30:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE

Bockscar

Get a bit pissed at the continued discussion. "Slippy doesn't have a god damn choice whether or not to take us in. There are 11 of us. All of us have guns except for Ugly and Conan and Zorro and Attila the fucking Hun over here." Point at Grack, Thumper, Legion and Aziz respectively. "If he doesn't let us in, we burn his fucking house down. If he does let us in, we can protect him from the shit storm that's gonna fucking splatter this place. And if he talks shit, I fucking shoot him. Only other idea that's worth two squirts of piss is Inkblot's over here."

Grab the patch from the bitch. Turn away from the conversation and speak low. Private beef don't need to get public. "I gave you that shit to help save your boy. Don't look at me like I pissed in your cheerios. Don't walk away with my shit. Thank you for giving it back." Motion her away.

02:30:18 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Aziz

Aziz scoffs.

"Kiramo bemek, zift! You think Slippy's the one really running that place? If you want to shove a gun in his face, go ahead and see where it gets you. And two things. One, Attila the Hun is a fucking hun. I'm Arab. And two." He reaches into his messenger bag and produces an Ingram Smartgun.

"I'm twice as armed as you are." He drops the SMG back into his bag.

02:30:20 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Bockscar

"Latakalem. Ani tichee arabi. Don't open your mouth unless you got a fucking solution. A fucking hike is retarded. Whoever the fuck "really runs" Evergreen don't live there, else they'd be something more than a fucking rumor. If they're stupid enough to come into this mess to recoup their investment, we'll be able to deal with that problem on a full fucking stomach and good night's sleep. And if we cut the wireless link on the god damn building, it'll take 'em a week before they even know we're there.

There's two worthwhile ideas on the table. Mine and Inkblot's. Don't open your mouth unless you got a better idea or you agree to one of the proposals. We're on the same side. Don't threaten me, Atilla the god damn Arab."

02:30:22 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Aziz

Aziz raises his eyebrow.

"(Arabic)So you speak my language. Respectable. I wasn't threatening you, and I'll caution you against continuing the insults. You're right, we are on the same side. (English) Anyway... Don't we have a new leader to figure this shit out for us? Legion, what's your call?"

02:30:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Nevada

Nevada shot Bockscar a dark and pointed scowl as he suggested taking out Slippy was the answer if the Troll said no to their sudden arrival.

"Hate to break it to you Soldier Boy, but you look like shit and I don't think the entire rest of our motley little crew here is ready for another fight over a place to crash. All I'm saying is you need to put your fucking gun away and take your hand off your dick long enough to hear what I'm saying... I'm not about to take a round of buckshot for you and your arrogant ass when you suggest showing up on Slippy's doorstep unannounced and hostile."

She took a deep breath of the cool night air and let it out slowly as she gathered her thoughts.

"If you don't want to hike it up to LoCoS territory fine, don't. You want another option? There's an old apartment building about 3 blocks from here, just behind the old pool hall. Should be a place to hole up but it won't have access to the goodies at Evergreen."

Leaving her suggestion floating on the wind she turned her attention away from Bockscar and towards Legion for his decision. She knew where she'd fall in the hierarchy of a group like this and it definitely wouldn't be in Legion's shoes.

02:31:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE

Legion

"HEY! Keep the fragging lid on!" Legion swiveled to face Aziz and Bockscar, a cold anger in his voice.

"It's been a rough day, but stay fraggin' frosty. We don't need to be tearing each other's throats out. There'll be a time for that, yes, for rage and vengeance. But not now."

He pointed to Nevada. "The apartment building. You lead. Thumper, Grack keep anyone off our flanks."

"Doves," he gestured towards the clutch of whores still hovering silently on the street corner, "in the middle. Ink, Bockscar, with me. Doc, Aziz, watch our backs. Let's move like we've got a purpose people."

Legion falls into place as his troops move out, a little disjointedly, but the flow would come in time. The longer he could keep them working together, the longer he could harness their emotions towards that one, solitary goal that burned furnace-like within him, the better they would be when the time came. He glanced over at Bockscar.

"Who the frag is Zorro?"

02:31:30 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Felix

Still silently standing halfway between Shade and Aziz, his eyes kept low and face hidden under his hoody, Felix's tiny voice crept out from behind his breathing mask. It sounded unsure and shaky.

As he spoke, his words came out as if they were recited from memory, like a commlink would spurt out lines of a text message.

"Stands for "fox" in Spanish. Fiction character. Nobleman and swordmaster. Johnston McCulley. 1919. The Curse of Capistrano."

02:31:30 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Grack

Hez bomb
Kill her mom
Hez attack
Throw her on her back
Hez crush
She'll feel the rush
Hez war
She'll plead for more.

Giverthehezgiverthehezgiverthehezzzzzzzzzzz!!!!

Ah, such were the enlightened strains of Darwin's Bastards, ever encouraging the tusked races to elevate their positions in society shut it.

Our restless warrior, grieved and confused, was nonetheless rapidly tiring of all the talk talk talk. He was tired, and was actually on the verge of slinking off to His World when everyone started moving. Naturally he could hear not a word that was said, but it was years since he'd needed his ears to know what Legion wanted. When he saw The Duke head off down an alley to the left, that confirmed it.

Picking up his axe and turning off his music, he loped off around the corner of a burnt out Stuffer Shack, vaulted a chain link fence and was soon making good time moving low through the shadows on the lane parallel to the Ravens' line of advance. His eyes and ears were wary, but most of all he could now feel, as he hadn't been able to earlier in the evening, the surging tendrils of power that probed every alley, every window, every darkened doorway for his foes.

02:31:30 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Ink

Ink smiled at the honour of walking with El Hefe. "It's El Zorro, little hombre. Keep an eye out on the trid some times, hefe. Dude is all up in some fool's face with some pretty nice moves. Got himself the run of this tiny old school Azzie village. Es muy macho."

The Cubano strikes a somewhat ridiculous pose as though he is holding a sword. "I would keel jou Montoya, but I'm too much of a nice guy." Finished, he falls back into step and pulls out his pistol. "This works better though."

02:33:56 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Nevada

Doc?!? Surely she hadn't been posturing and proving herself to the extent that she missed his hulking and brooding presence. Turning her head slightly she definitely caught a glimpse of his scowling face in the shadows by the hot-tempered Arab kid.

Shiiiit, he and I are gonna have some words once the dust settles…

With a slight nod of acceptance towards Legion, Nevada turned on her heel and brought her shotgun up to rest on her shoulder as she started off towards The Corner Pocket. The apartment building she had in mind was just behind the pool hall and had been up until the demise of the 8-Balls under their protection and it’s very few residents usually left the gang members the hell alone if they entered the building. She was betting her chips that the Demons hadn’t pulled their shit together enough to invade her old turf.

Never the less she kept her guard up as the led the group with a swing to her hips and a confidence in her step.

02:33:56 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Fool

Looking at Child he shrugged and fell into step with the others. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his long synthleather armored jacket he attempted to keep warm and alert. He was secretly hoping for some action. He had been to busy off getting laid to help defend the hq from whoever had attacked it and he was ready to take it out on somebody.

Taking a look around at the other people in the gang he was pretty excited. Most of them seemed to be serious hardcore mother fuckers and he was excited about becoming a part of it all. Enough of just sitting on the sidelines and only helping occasionally. Time to step up and be a player.

02:33:56 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of 124th Ave NE and 130th Ln. NE
Bockscar

Not stoked to be moving again, but do so nonetheless. Breathing a little bit easier now, condom isn't fluttering, flutter valve over the entrance wound still puffs in and out. Zorro asks who the hell Zorro is. Tiny dude #1 answers. Inkblot provides unnecessary dramatic reenactment. Must be blood loss, but I can't think of something assholeish to say.

"Didn't know all that shit. I just heard he was some stick-up kid with a sword. Take apartment, then what? I'm gonna grab one of the whores to wake me up if I look like I'm about to die. If I live through tonight I'll be alright, but it'll be 'least a week before I'm in throw-down shape again. Lookin at you, Aziz, you'll probably be down for a minute too."

"Crew of us that's down for a while can at least consolidate and reorganize our shit in the down time. Maybe work some hustles on the peeps round the house. Somebody better recon some places to move, and someone else better find out how hard-up the other assholes on the block are. We ain't gonna be the only fly-by-night motherfuckers on the block."

"Peeps gonna be waiting to see what happens. We better tell them we're around before they start making up shit to fill up the vacuum."

02:48:13 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Everyone

After Bockscar’s suggested plan, no one says anything for the rest of the trip. Each member is lost in their own thoughts as the newly christened October Ravens make their way through the turf they plan to claim as their new home.

The trip takes longer than expected. Nevada wisely decides not to push the pace, letting the wounded limp along at a rate that suits them. The distance is fairly short, and while no one is willing to show weakness, she figures it is better to not inadvertently piss anyone off by moving too quickly, especially while they’re hurt.

Upon their arrival, she is relieved to find that the apartment building is still standing, and the Steel Demons or any other gang hasn’t occupied it yet. The three story building is relatively intact, and while there are a few holes in the walls and most of the windows are shot out, it will still provide shelter and a place to rest and regroup. For now at least, it’s perfect for their needs.

The group enters a main lobby area and spreads out, making themselves as comfortable as they can in the trashed building. After a brief rest, Legion looks around at the assembled foundation of the October Ravens. Some people might have given a pep talk in this situation, tried to encourage everyone and make them feel better. Of course, those people probably weren’t from the streets. Feelings had no place here. Not now. Not with all that had happened. This was a time for focus. A time for business. For survival.

With crisp, militaristic precision, Legion begins organizing the resources at hand. Turning first to his enforcers, he sets them to securing their immediate area and the surrounding turf.

“Grack, scout this place from top to bottom. Clean house, set up any fortifications you can, clear at least two escape routes from the building, and see if there’s anything worth scavenging in here.�

“Thumper, take Ink with you and mark out the territory. Use your judgment on how far to push our boundaries, but at a minimum erase all the old gang tags in the area.�

As he says this, he watches Doc and Nevada out of the corner of his eye, gauging their reaction to hearing the news all their old gang tags will be painted over. He is unsurprised to see them unmoved. Their expressions are like stone. They have to be, to have survived this long.

“Doc, start working on getting a drug lab set up. Draw up a list of materials required and see what you can transfer from your previous setup. If at all possible, I want the lab to be in an adjacent building with a good firebreak between it and our headquarters.�

Next, the former Side Street Rollers. Although Fool had tried to distance himself somewhat from Child, his brother ganger had planted himself next to him. Seeing the two next to each other, Legion addresses them as a pair.

“Fool, Child, scavenge the immediate area and see if there’s anywhere we can set up a garage. We’re going to need vehicles and a place to work on them. The sooner we have both, the better.�

On to the walking wounded. Capable soldiers who need time to heal and get back to maximum efficiency and effectiveness.

“Bockscar, Aziz, take a couple hours and rest up. I want you two back on your feet as soon as possible. Ink, when you get back, check on them and see if you can give them any medical attention. Felix, stay with them and watch over them. If they look like they’re about to croak, wake them up and do what you can. But keep them alive.�

The young mentalist doesn’t meet Legion’s cold, dark eyes, choosing to look at the floor instead, but the bob of his hood shows his understanding.

Finally, he turns to Nevada. His eyes are full of dark lust and a smoldering desire. The thought of what he might do if he ever got his hands on her almost makes Nevada quiver with anticipation. None of what shows in his eyes is heard in his voice, as he issues her orders in the same precise, dispassionate tone he’s used with everyone else.

“You know this turf. Take the doves to Slippy’s and have them work the halls. You’re there to call the shots for them and provide security. Stay off the streets as much as possible for the time being.�

Turning to the final ganger, Legion sizes up the non-descript Asian who to this point, hadn’t said a word or done much of anything.

“I hear you’re pretty good.� It is unclear from the tone in his voice whether this is a challenge, insult, or compliment.

Shrugging his shoulders, Shade calmly answers, “Some people might say that.�

Legion nods, apparently satisfied with the response. “Don’t let me become one of the people who doesn’t. Go with the girls and keep them safe. I want them back here unharmed and in one piece.�

He doesn’t say it, but his tone carries an unmistakable message that there is one in particular he expects to return untouched. In more ways than one. Meeting his leader’s eyes, Shade nods firmly and respectfully. “I understand.�

The two of them lock eyes for a moment, then Legion turns to the assembled group. “I will remain on watch here for the people staying behind. When you get back, report in to me immediately. I want to know everything that’s happening in our new turf. Let’s get to work.�

02:48:13 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Grack

Well, Our Hero certainly had his work cut out for him, and no resources with which to do it. It was all very well, however, since if resources meant the weaklings and boy lovers Legion had now gathered about himself, he would just as soon do without. He quickly concluded that the only possible explanation for The Scintillating One's desire for him to involve himself in this organization was as some sort of test of patience.

He was much more suited to his usual habits: mostly sleeping in His World, with occasional forays into Theirs for food, synthahol, food, whores, and food. And of course emerging to drink the blood of foes as directed by management.

This new enterprise, on the other hand, showed every sign of being quite a lot of work. Scout, evict, fortify, then plan escape routes! The whole scavenging business would have to come later...as would this immediate report business.

He decided the most expedient course would be to start at the top of the building and work his way down. Halfway up the stairs he decided that with everything else he now had to think about, concentrating on the location of his enemies was far too much a bother - especially since his intention to kill or otherwise drive out anyone he found here would make anyone he found here an enemy by default in any event.

Reaching the roof, he set about his labors with a sigh, his mind filled with visions of reclining on a dank patch of sewer concrete next to a waste runoff along which magically bobbed bottles of synthbrew for him to reach out and snag out of the slime at will.

02:49:08 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Aziz

"Great... I love sitting on my ass when there's work to be done." Aziz says with a frown. He looks over at Bockscar and Felix.

"You guys got some cards or something?"

03:02:53 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Nevada

Knowing she was being sized up in more ways than one, she kept a rather relaxed stance, one hand on her hip and the other on her shotgun. Her eyes remained locked on the gang leader’s face, relishing every last message he delivered that his voice did not match. Satisfied she could manage quite well the orders she was given, Nevada nodded as much to show her acceptance as she did to shake the look Legion had given her from her mind.

She knew she was playing with fire here but before she turned to gather up the girls she gave the new gang’s leader a look of her own, admitting her interest but with some… distance behind it. She had been down that road before and wasn’t quite sure it was the one she wanted to travel this time around.

Crossing the room, she gave the trio of young women a good once over and she spent a few extra seconds holding Frankie’s gaze. It was somewhat unspoken between the two women, roles had been delegated and for now to some extent, Nevada was stepping in to fill Marsh’s vacant shoes. At least Frankie would work willingly, and hopefully have enough pull and charisma to bring Dahlia and Nyna in line if they wouldn’t go willingly.

With a quick glance over to Shade she was back to all business. There was a goal to achieve and they weren’t going to get anything done standing around in the apartment building.

“The girls’ll make better money on their backs than on their feet.� Nevada said matter-of-factly as she quirked a brow as if to ask Shade if he was waiting for an invitation to leave. Lifting her shotgun up to rest on her shoulder she threw her other arm around Frankie’s shoulder and started towards the door, not looking back but feeling the other girls fall in line with Shade bringing up the rear or the small group.

She led the group with the same cautiousness she used bringing the gang to the apartment building, taking shortcuts down alleys and through buildings to insure no one was on their tail. It didn’t take long to make it to Slippy’s domain and she led the girls inside and set them to task immediately. She walked a few paces behind them, making her presence known that she was with them as she fell in step with Shade.

“Anyone starts shit, you let me talk first. If talking gets us nowhere, then we kick ass.�

02:51:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Bockscar

To Aziz "I got some dice or some bones, if you wanna throw'em round. That's a good idea, I ain't gonna be able to sleep proper till the cram wears off. You need anything for them cuts?"

Dump ruck in the corner, fish around and pull out a small lunchbox with my dominoes and dice. Wince a bit, 'cuz my bones are dirty. Spread the dominoes and the dice in a clear area on the floor, motion to Aziz. Pull out the medkit and set it to the side.

Take off my coat and lay it down, nice, around the rucksack so the armor doesn't bunch up. Pull my knife and cut the shirt off; it's soaked through around the wounds with blood and crap. Toss it in a corner. Pull a little piece of plastic tarp I ripped off a sign the other day on the ground, and set out a hextend IV bag, iodine, bunch of alcohol swabs, and the tubing and catheter kit on it. Pull out a dented plastic box of baby wipes, for a shower.

Motion to Felix, to see if he can help. Tack the IV bag to the wall with my knife, clean off the wounds, tag the catheter into my off-side forearm and hook up the IV. Chow down a bunch of antibiotics. Give myself a whore's bath with the babywipes, fold them up in the bloodstained shirt, throw the wrappers for the medkit stuff in the pile.

"We need a fourth for bones, tho;" as I take a stab at cleaning the blood out of my armor and cleaning my rifle.

02:51:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Child

Child Felt it prudent to keep quite during the walk to the new HQ. There was a lot of little things skipping around in his head yet. Mostly just the full effect of the nights events.
He turned to Legion and started his SitRep.

"Fool and I found a place we think. Its an old oil change place up on NE 132nd Street and Totem Lake Blvd, right at the corner of the 8balls turf. Its in passable shape, but its right across the street from the Demons. Good location, bad location. Tools are going to be a serious problem though. The only thing I can think of is sending people to scavenge from the Brickhouse and SSR garages. At this point Id settle for a few spare spanners and a box of sparkplugs."

"I have an idea on how to get a few more bikes, but its going to need a truck, or a few extra people. I figure that the 405 would have had a lot of traffic in the last few hours, and Im willing to bet there are some corpses that wont be needing their ride anymore. I could make the run and call back anything I find. Or someone else could and I could bodge what we find back to life to get it back somewhere."

Child pulled his battered med kit from the bike and walked off to attend as best he could to the wounded that may have already suffered at the hands of a less skilled medic.

02:51:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Felix

When Legion spoke to him, Felix felt himself shrink in his own shoes. He couldn't see the man's face, but he definitely felt his gaze on him. The young mage would have liked to help out more than what had been asked of him, but matter of fact was he didn't really know what he could do... And taking initiative had never been one of his really strong point. For a second, he contemplated the fact he could tag along with Shade to help him watch his own back... but that would simply have given his friend one more burden to care for.

That and going along with him would go against Legion's order... something Felix didn't quite feel confident enough to go against yet.

Seeing Bockscar motion Aziz and himself to a half decent looking corner of the room, Felix dragged his tiny legs behind him, his shoes scrapping the dirty floor as he barely lifted them. Hands still buried deep in his pockets, he simply shook his head as his friend inquired about a deck of cards. All Felix had in his backpack were a few worn books, a medkit and some personal stuff. Not much to go to length with.

As Aziz sat down, wincing in pain, Felix fought against his own instincts not to help him. He knew very well that his friend wouldn't have appreciated the gesture. He'd never admit he might need help. His back turned, Felix leaned against one of the bare dilapidated walls, the cords of his raised hoodie dangling from side to side with each move he made. He watched with a cautious eye what Bockscar was doing. The man sure knew his way around a medkit, but Felix wouldn't help but wince at how rough Bockscar was not only handling objects, but his own body. With the tip of his finger, the young psychic carefully slipped his sunglasses to the tip of his nose, peering over them. Contrary to his usual demeanor, he wasn't staring at the floor anymore... but looking straight ahead. Looking straight through Bockscar. His tiny voice was barely audible from behind his breathing mask.

“You need to rest and go easy. You've lost a lot of blood, and you're apparently sporting some internal injuries. Your hearth rate is too high.�

He took a brief pause as if contemplating Bockscar's face.

"That and you're about to have a rather stiff narcotic crash."

He pushed himself off the wall and crouched down to the man's level, slipping his breathing mask off with one delicate hand and stretching the other one to catch one of the man's wrist. His touch was soft and none threatening.

“Really. You're rifle doesn't need to be cleaned now.� Felix said, his eyes still roaming Bockscar's body as if he was scanning him.

Letting go of his wrist, he gently touched him, with two fingers only, in different places, pointing out all of his injuries one by one.

“I can't say for sure what happened to you, or what you've done to patch yourself up, but you've done enough. More prodding and patching will only increase your chances of infection.�

Felix pushed down on the hood of his sweater, exposing for the first time tonight his pale features to the room's ambient light. He casted a side glance toward Aziz.

“I know what you want to do.� said Felix, matter of factly “but you need to rest right now. Those kits have done all they can for you on this day... You need to give your bodies a break.�

The young psychic pushed himself back up and blinked a few times... as if trying to refocus on something.

02:51:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Thumper

Thumper sized up his new partner. He would rather have worked with Grack, but he supposed he'd have to make some new friends. He had spent the whole walk kicking himself for nt talking at the meeting. He needed to pull rank, make sure the pack was still in charge here. Instead the conversation had walked past him.

Wires don't fucking work on everything.

"Alright cubano, let's fucking roll." He waved Ink towards the door. This was a long fucking night and he could use a goddamn break.

And a drink.

02:51:21 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Bockscar

Smile as the kid talks to me while I'm fixing my shit. "No shit, bout to have a stiff narcotic crash. Just came off a hit of 'Kazi a little while ago, and the cram I took before this shit went down will hit later tonight. Whatever. But trying to rest on that shit's a losing battle - like trying to sleep immediately after you drank 4 cups of coffee. You're exhausted as hell, but you toss and turn none the less."

As the shirt comes off and I start cleaning up the wounds, point them out to him. "Penetrating chest wound. Entrance here (point under the left arm), exit here (mid back). Lung shunt here (point to right under the left nipple, where I stabbed myself), to keep the lung from collapsing. I'm guessing I'm somewhere between a pint and a quart low, hence this (point to the IV bag). Antibiotics here. Wound clean. Biggest risk of me dying is the hole in my lung bleeding out into the lung cavity and drowning me in my own blood. I don't really know what to do about that, and I'm a little bit scared. So, I'm gonna clean my rifle, unless one of yall (gesture to include Child in the conversation) got a better fucking idea. Can't sleep. Need a fourth for bones."

Pop both mags out the rifle. Slide the grenade launcher tube and the lower receiver off. Point at Felix with the stripped-down upper receiver. "And I don't like being looked at like that. Fucking tell me first."

02:51:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Ink

Ink considers telling Legion that Grack was probably not the best choice to clear the building. But then he realizes that if el hefe wanted survivors in the building he would have sent some one else.

The Cubano turns and follows the other ork "So 'mano whats yer handle again?" He eases his pistola out of his waistband and shifts his pack to a more travel friendly place on his back.

02:51:35 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Aziz

Aziz bristles a bit at the rough treatment of Felix.

"Lay off the kid, Bocks. He's tryin' to help... been through a lot past day or so.", he says, pulling Kalila closer to himself. He uses the sheathed sword as a crutch to sit up, and he starts rummaging through his bag, frowning at his inability to find anything vaguely edible.

"As for better ideas, don't suppose anyone's got some food? I bet its been a while since any of us have seen a meal. All I got is coke and booze."

02:51:36 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Bockscar

Instant Aziz's mouth closes with his little chastisement, mine's open, but I'm talking to Felix - "I figger you know pretty well where I'm coming from, looking at my soul and shit like you are. Being scared about a fucking hole in my chest got jack shit to do with you. You think I'm being rude or threatening, tell me yourself. Let your boy back you up, don't make your boy here stick up for you in the first place."

"I got a problem with you looking all magic-type at me like that without asking. It's bad fucking manners. So I corrected them. Give me the fucking respect to do the same."

To Aziz - "Word, I'm down for grub, but I ain't got shit on hand. Somebody got a bike they could pick some up from my squat."

03:13:13 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Grack

The first filthy squatter to go over the roof screamed all the way down. And being only three floors, Our Hero was able to clearly hear the satisfying sound of his dread foe meeting the unforgiving asphalt below.

There had been a veritable camp atop the structure. Lord Grack's music was back on by then, as he could imagine no need for diplomacy in this glorious mission. Once his mighty axe had relieved the first bleary eyed adversary of his head, the others had all nearly trampled one another in their haste to evacuate. All but one. Having tossed the initial corpse over the edge, Grack had found one more sleeping. A savage kick had yielded no response, and the young warrior had wearily hefted the emaciated form, assuming him to be dead. Much to his delight however, once raised aloft, he had begun to wriggle and squeal like a pig. As he plummetted, the young lord decided this might be an extremely efficient way to clear the rest of the building, and indeed, after the trespasser had hit the ground, sounds of frantic movement could already be heard below - squatters were like cockroaches, always ready to scatter at the first sign of trouble.

It worked so well that he decided to toss at least one from each successive floor. And so it was that in the first room he came to on the third storey, he threw a cowering female, bleating baby still in her arms, directly out the window. The rest of the occupants had scattered nicely. Except for those still too young and small to walk. Naturally they followed their mother.

So effective had been this inspired tactic that our young protagonist had found no one at all after that until he arrived at the basement. This, naturally, was annoying, as there could be no gravitationally-assisted garbage disposal. What he found were a number of sick and crippled individuals. One woman, perhaps the least afflicted of the group, was frantically gathering the group's belongings and gesturing at him imploringly. She also tried to restrain a pre-adolescent boy with a knife who was determined to deter the progress of this story's main character.

Incensed by this show of impertinence, the noble Grack decided he must suffer, and impaled him through the stomach on the spring-loaded thrusting point of his weapon, dooming the child to hours of agony before expiration.

Darwin's Bastards crashing upon his royal eardrums, Grack could see the boy's lips distended in soundless screams, and the gnashing teeth of the woman as she knelt by his side. He was about to dispatch the remainder of the fell opposition, when it occurred to him that that would mean hauling them all upstairs, a thought which filled him with fatigue. And thus it was that in an entirely characteristic act of magnanimity, he grunted, "Five minutes," and watched with satisfaction as the crippled and diseased made their laborious way out of his domain.

Once again, Our Hero had stood boldly against impossible odds and emerged victorious.

Without pause, he set about the next phase of his task: securing paths of escape. Not a job he was used to, but considering how many weaklings Legion had gathered, finding paths of flight did seem a prudent precaution.

02:51:46 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Felix

As Bockscar started literally scolding him, Felix's eyes went to the floor. His left hand began to play with the edge of his sleeve, nervously pulling and tugging on it. Shoulders slumped down and forward as if he was cocooning himself Felix suddenly felt terribly bad about being himself. He didn't quite understand what Bockscar meant by looking all magic-type, but he knew something he had done had brushed the man in a wrong spot.

The first few words that came out of him mouth were stuttered.

“I...II.... I'm sorry....� he finally blurted out, his tiny voice barely carrying out of his mouth.

Felix simply didn't know how to look at people any other way. He didn't see it as looking in any way at all.... it was just something he did without thinking. It wasn't as if he was some sort of mage or spellcaster or any such nonsense. Sure, those type of people did exist. Sure, he had come across a few in his life. Some had even been his friends. But Felix himself wasn't anything like this.

“I mean... I just...� he started to blurt out, arms parting away from his body, as he still avoided Bockscar's gaze “I... I didn't mean... I'm....� he continued.

The young psychic simply couldn't put two words next to each other with them making any sense. His mouth felt dry and he felt terribly tiny in his shoes.

Felix simply stood next to Aziz, staring at the ground for a few seconds before saying anything. He knew very well Bockscar physical state, and also thought he knew what he could do to help him recover faster, but his reaction to his own “diagnostic� had made the sickly wizkid reluctant to give any more advices. After a few moments of building up some sort of courage, he finally spoke up.

“You are bleeding a bit but not enough to kill you. It will stop by itself if you rest. . You have a very small pneumothorax which might required oxygen to speed up recovery.�

His voice grew even softer and tinier, barely audible.

“I..... I can patch you up correctly if you want.......� he said, swallowing difficultly.

02:51:51 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Bockscar

Sigh a bit as the kid cringes from my reaction. Guess I pushed the kid too hard; but if the kid's been slanging for a minute like the crash used to do, his boys must've wrapped his ego in bubble wrap the whole time. Breathe out slowly and tamp down on the frustration; hold a hand out towards Aziz to forestall his inevitable reaction. Try to think of someone in my life who's talked politely - [i]Father Ron from the plague boys; fuck, that was god damn years ago[.i] - and try to copy him.

"Hey, brother, it's OK. Really. Look at me for a second." Wait for him to make eye contact.

"You don't need to apologize. You don't know me, you don't know that I'm touchy about being astrally perceived."

"Thank you. I'd like for you to patch me up correctly. You can use whatever's left in my medkit. I got some spares in my backpack too. I don't know you yet, so talk me through what you're gonna do, and I'll put my rifle here together. Maybe I'll learn something."

Nod a bit, bob my head and my speech, lock eyes and try to invite him into conversation the way I'm familiar with. "And who knows, maybe I can drop some knowledge on some real-PhD level shit, like putting a fucking rifle together; not that ignorant 'fixing pneumothrax shit'"

Try hard to show that this is normal, healthy friendly conversation; that I'm not trying to intimidate him. Start lining up the pieces for if Arab the hun decides to make this his beef.

02:53:40 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Felix

Felix didn't have to look up. He didn't need to look at Aziz to know exactly what he was thinking. He didn't need to look or even hear Bockscar to feel part of how he was feeling. In the deepest midst of his own mind, voices had already whispered it to him. It was actually rather difficult for Felix to hear the proper things in such an environment. The place oozed of sadness and desperation. It was soaked into the walls and worn out synth carpet that covered parts of the floor. It loomed in the shadows, stretching it long tendrils to lick at everyone's own mind. This place... this place was bad. It made it difficult to hear all the voices; to understand them properly. For some reason, they were starting to get a little hysterical. Somewhere, close by, horrible things were going on.

Felix did his best to concentrate on his immediate surroundings. Over the past hours, he had started to shut himself too much inside his own head, relying on extra senses to keep him up to date. He kept drifting in an out of the physical world that surrounded him.

When Bockscar asked him to look at him, it was as if something took hold of Felix. Without a single hesitation, he looked up and locked gaze with the other ganger. There was no fear in his eyes. The young wizkid didn't even seem intimidated anymore. Something whispered in his ear. He blinked a few times. His eyes became shy again, and went back to the ground... although the corners of his mouth started to slightly pull themselves in an even timid smile.

Felix chuckled to himself as Bockscar referred to astral perception. It was such a silly thing. It wasn't the first time that Felix found himself mistaken for some sort of awakened magic slinger. In his own mind, nothing could have ever been further from the truth. He wasn't a mage or anything... he was just more in tune with the world around him. The little psychic still wasn't sure what he had done... how he had looked at Bockscar any differently than he looked at anyone else... but he'd try not to do it again.

Still avoiding eye contact, kneeled on the floor next to Bockscar, and pulled the man's backpack and medkit close to him. With a soft tiny hand, he unzipped the front of his hooded sweater took it off and cleanly folded it on the floor next to himself. Even under the one size too big tshirt, it was easy to tell that the small mentat was terribly skinny and frail looking. The light filtering from the outside only accentuated his pale features and hallow eye sockets.

Unstrapping his biomonitor from his wrist, Felix gently strapped it around Bockscar's own arm. The ex-Crasher's touch had something very gentle to it, almost clinical. Pulling a small disinfectant towelette, he thoroughly cleaned his hands and pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of Bockscar's medkit, slipping them on with an ease that showed practice.

“Now... this might be a bit uncomfortable...� he started, his voice still timid, but a little more present than before.

One of his hand grabbed a little disinfectant bottle and a cotton swab.

“I'm going to make sure all your wounds are clean. We'll prevent infection from setting in.�

His eyes slowly went around Bockscar's body, as if he was looking through him.

“Your internal organs are fine....� he added in a soft distant voice, as if speaking out of a daydream.

Dabbing the swab with the content of the bottle, Felix's litte hands started to gently clean the blood and gunk away from all of Bockscar's wounds.
After a few more seconds of silence, Felix looked up from over his yellow tinted shades and toward the ganger. This time around, his eyes glowed with a happy tint, and a gentle affable smile was on his lips.

“I'm Felix by the way.�

02:55:26 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Aziz

Aziz absently watched his friend clean off Bockscar's wounds, then shifted his gaze to the clean bandages covering his numerous lacerations and bites.

Fucking ghouls... feel pretty good though, something to be said for hospitals I guess. he thought, continuing to hunt through his bag. Felix seems to be making friends. Suppose I should too, if we're gonna be October Ravens or whatever with this cat.

Aziz's hand brushes against a cardboard box in the bottom of his bag, under a clip for his Ingram, and he pulls it out to find a slightly crumpled box of Nail cigarettes.

Bismillah, smile on me today... he thinks, shutting his eyes and flipping open the cardboard box, finding four paper filters lined up like soldiers. He smiles, and places one in his mouth, then produces his zippo, pops it open, and snaps his fingers over the wheel, then lights the cigarette on the flame, and puffs happily on it.

He resumes watching Felix patch up Bockscar, and speaks up in Arabic.

"Are you from Arabia?"

02:57:26 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Bockscar

Answer Aziz's question - "La. Ani bil dar al-majari. (Nope, I'm from the barrens - lit. I'm from the house of sewage) Down the block that way. Pops was an arab. Picked it up from his side of the fam. Keep up with it on line."

Lean back and put the rifle together, reload it. Pull the heavy pistol out of the waistband, clear it, and start cleaning it.

"What brought yall down to this crew, specifically? What did yall used to do in yall's cre - and what the FUCK is going on upstairs???" As the first crash/wail/thud combination happens outside...

Stand up, throw the pistol back together quick. Pop it in the waistband and grab the rifle, yell down the hall to Legion - "Yo, that our boy doing that shit upstairs?"

06:54:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
October Ravens

When Legion started to set up the watch after people returned from their various tasks, I immediately volunteered to take first watch. I wanted to see the sun come up today, even if the thick smog in the sky told me it would be yet another miserable sun rise. I’ll be honest; I didn’t even care about that today. I was just glad to be alive, and have the nightmare of the last month behind me. At least, as far behind me as my brain would allow.

Plus, I wanted the time to think. As in, to actually process on what had been happening, specifically over the last several hours. While Nevada and I had been on our little job, all my attention had been focused on our physical security and any potential threats. I just nodded when she told me to let her do the talking and only kick ass if necessary. I could probably talk rings around most of the people down here; the only problem is they wouldn’t understand me. The way I talk tends to be fundamentally different from most of the people around here. Call it an unfortunate byproduct of having an actual education in my past.

Anyway, we didn’t talk much while we were on the job. Besides, I don’t know what there really was to say. We didn’t make small talk, she just negotiated the prices for the girls and collected the money, I stood there looking as mean as possible. Afterwards, we waited in the hall for the girls to finish their business before moving onto the next customer. Believe me, standing in a filthy hallway with the overhead lights intermittently flickering while listening to guttural grunts and moans from various guttertrash relieving their base urges on some street hookers is not conducive to either deep thought or a serious getting-to-know-you-conversation. And that’s before you add in the various shouts, screams, cries, and other sounds in the assorted symphony of misery every residence in the Barrens seems to have its own unique version of. So yeah, we just stood there in silence and waited to get the job done.

Business wasn’t that great, I guess with all the violence in the last month people had had a tough time making money. Traditionally, war is good for the economy, but I guess that doesn’t necessarily hold serve when we’re talking about a street war in the Barrens. Of course, I doubt Keynesian economics considered the impact of a war in an urban ghetto on said ghetto’s economy. Whatever, the net result was we got out of there quicker than we thought and with less money than we’d hoped. By ‘we’, I mean Nevada, because I didn’t have a freaking clue how much money we were hoping to make.

Heck, if she wasn’t there, I wouldn’t even have known what to charge. In the 410 Crash, we barely committed petty crime. We were more of a neighborhood crew of friends. Sort of. The Splintered Crash moved up to a more ‘subsistence level’ of crime, mostly to survive. I mean sure, I always knew some of the others committed more serious crimes like selling drugs and chips or stuff like that, but no one was exactly what you could call a dealer. And now here I was, pimping out girls and trying to act like it was nothing before heading ‘home’ to a group of hardened killers and psychotic wackos. How the times have changed. I’m going to hell for this, I’m sure. That is, if God’s even looking down on this part of the world. I know He’s omnipresent and all, but honestly, sometimes I kinda doubt it.

When we got back, I heard the others giving a status update to the boss.

Grack (currently number one on my list of ‘Mentally Unstable Deranged Lunatics to Keep An Eye on At All Times’) said the building was cleared, and he’d secured two escape routes from it, a back door and a fire escape. At least that’s what I think he said, he’s kind of hard to understand, due to the freaking holes in his cheeks! I admit, I feel very strongly about Grack. Then again, I think most people do.

That’s neither here nor there, but one thing I found noteworthy was apparently Bockscar had some issues with his methods. Considering said methods consisted of beheading people randomly to get everyone else to run away, then throwing anyone he could get his hands on out the window in case the others didn’t get the message, I guess I could see why a sane, rational individual just might have a problem with that approach. Whatever disagreement they had though, it didn’t seem like it really blew up into something serious. At least not yet. Probably because Bockscar figured what’s done was done, and there was no point going to war over something he couldn’t change anyway. He seems to be a coldly rational kind of guy like that. I’m just guessing though.

Ink and Thumper erased all the 8 Balls' old gang tags in the area, and for the time being at least, didn’t push our territorial claims any farther than what the old 8 Balls turf was. Probably a smart move, given that we had all of like twelve people or so.

The big troll called Doc reported that his drug lab was completely trashed. If we were going to set up a lab of our own, it would take some serious investment, and we’d have to start from scratch. Legion did not look happy about that, but he didn’t say anything, probably because there was nothing he could realistically say. He probably figured everyone else was in the same boat we were, and given the state of things I could see, he was probably right.

Apparently Bockscar, Fool, Child, Aziz, and Felix had just stayed back at the HQ to rest, a smart move in my opinion. Despite Legion’s rep as an unyielding badass, it was good to see he was a smart commander who didn’t push his troops beyond what they could realistically give. At least he hadn’t so far. It was obvious Aziz and Bockscar needed rest badly. When I got back the latter looked even more screwed up than when I left. Felix told me it was because he was coming off a Cram and Kamikaze high.

There’s a reason I never touch that stuff, and watching Bockscar’s crash was another reminder why. Who wants something that’ll juice you up only to knock you flat a little while later? Desperate times might call for desperate measures, but what if your desperate measures just make the times even more desperate? A little counterproductive, if you ask me. Not that anyone down here cares. Hell, they probably enjoy the ups and downs, if only to break the monotony.

According to Fool, he and Child had already found a potential garage site up by the Steel Demons, but didn’t want to try and get it setup yet without more backup. I hope we don’t go for it anytime soon, I think the Demons are likely to expand, and I don’t think we’re in any shape for a war right now. Then again, maybe they aren’t either.

When Nevada and I told Legion how much (or rather, how little) the girls had picked up, he got a disgusted look on his face and told her to hold onto it for now. I think he was hoping the money we pulled in would be enough to start some operations somewhere, no matter how small. Between the garage and drug lab, plus simply you know, eating, it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen. Hell, I wasn’t even sure how I was going to eat today. I filed that away under my list of things to take care of later.

I shook the thought away when Legion told us to take a few hours off, telling us he’d have more stuff for everyone to do once we’d all caught up on some badly needed rest. Then he started setting up the watch and…well, you know the rest.

So here I was, keeping a sharp eye on the mostly deserted streets and praying nothing would come up when a group of four started walking up the road towards us. I noted immediately that two of them were wearing Heartbreakers colors and the other two were sporting the Steel Demons threads. I was about to sound the alarm when they spotted me and one of the Demons raised his hands in a gesture of ‘hold on a second’. I made it real obvious I was ready to bolt at any second inside for backup and asked him what he wanted.

He started walking towards me, real slow and carefully, the other three staying a healthy distance away. It didn’t seem like he was going to try anything, so I let him approach. When he got within a reasonable speaking distance, he said, “Frosty and Tin Hat Tommie want a meeting with Legion.�

Before I could deny Legion’s presence or ask him how he knew I was working for him, he added, “People reported him moving this way, and we’ve got people in the area who saw Thumper painting over the old 8 Balls tags. Thumper wouldn’t pull that kinda drek on his own, and the only guy he answers to is Legion. We’ve seen him moving here, one of his enforcers is here, and we’ve spotted him in the area. If he’s here, you damn sure ain’t workin’ for anyone else. So if he’s not nearby, you know how to get in touch with him. Give him the message.�

I didn’t acknowledge the guy’s logic, although it was pretty rock solid. I just played it cool and asked, “Anything else you want to say?�

“Yeah. Tell him he can bring three with him. Given the way things been around here lately, weapons are cool. Frosty and Tommie will each do the same. Be at the burned out old Soybucks at the intersection of 124th Ave NE and NE 132nd St at 12:00:00. It’s right at the intersection of Heartbreaker and Steel Demon turf, plus what he’s claiming as his new turf.�

“I’ll tell him. If I see him.�

“Do that. If you don’t, they’ll have to come see him. And I don’t give a frag who he is, right now, he sure as drek don’t want that.�

I don’t bother to continue the verbal pissing match. There’s no real point. The guy turns around and heads back to his friends and the four of them walk off into the distance, back the way they came.

I head back into the building, and surprisingly people are already stirring. I guess being in a warzone makes it tough to sleep tight. I could understand that. Despite Grack’s ‘clearing’ of the building, everyone slept downstairs in the common area, maybe used to be a lobby of some type. Probably didn’t want to get separated in case the drek hit the fan. Or maybe no one trusted anyone else enough to go off on their own just yet. Either way, it was obvious as soon as I walked in that some of the others had seen my little conversation, and the boss was one of them.

“What did they want?� He cut straight to the point. So I told him. After I finished repeating the conversation verbatim, the room was silent. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were all thinking the same thing. This is going to end really good, or really bad. With no room in between. Someone had to say it, so since I was the one who delivered the message, I figured it may as well be me. “What now boss?�

06:55:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Fool

Fool was still deep in thought over what that freak Grack and apprently new crewmate had done to clear the people out of the building they were using as a HQ a few hours earlier. He had been standing there beside Child as he gave Legion their assesment of the possable locations they had found when there was all of a sudden a loud scream from above them and then a heavy thud outside. Then came more screams and then all kinds of human trash who had no desire what so ever to improve their lives running and trampling each other to get out of the building. The another long scream followed by a thud.

That was the hardest one to comprehend. Apparently that monster had tossed a woman and her baby out the window of the second story. Not even the bad guys is most of his flicks did shit like that. The man had to be purely insane but its not like Fool could complain to anybody. Better just to ignore crap like that and make sure he never does it to him. Judging from people's faces he wasnt the only one who had a problem with it.

His struggle to come to terms with this new crew and what it might entail was interrupted as Shade began talking to some people outside. After he came in and explained that he had just been talking with some representatives from the Heart Breakers and Steel Demons and repeated what they had told him, everyone was pretty much giving all their attention to him and Legion.

Fool stood up from the wall he had been resting against and pulled his knife and gun. "I'm ready to rock! I've got a knife and a gun and I am uninjured. It will throw the other gangs off by showing up with new faces and hide our strength by making them unaware of who survived from your old crew. It will be just like in that flick King of the Triads! If things go bad you know I have the motivation to take out any and every Steel Demon we come across.."

Fool stood there with his glowing neon blue eyes trying to look as confident as he could with his greasy long black hair and cruddy clothes covered in his long armored jacket that fell to his feet.

04:48:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Evergreen Hospital Medical Center
Nevada

The girls wasted no time getting to work once inside the old medical center and they did not want for customers. Girls coming to the door offering up their wares was welcomed and appreciated with a little extra cash from the Johns to avoid having to get their fix in the middle of a war zone.

There was little for Shade and Nevada to do but lean against the walls, look menacing and make small talk while they waited. The girls had a good business sense about them however and managed to keep their work short, sweet and to the point, realizing the potential extra profit in higher turnover. Unfortunately business during a major gang war is slim to none and the girls were forced to keep moving further into the complex to get paid.

The groups entrance to the complex however didn’t go unnoticed for long. While the girls were in various squats Shade and Nevada got a visit from a trio of large and unpleased looking men who were most likely on Slippy’s payroll. The trio stopped in a line across the hallway blocking any further progression of the group into the medical center.

The one in the center tried to look extra menacing as he cracked his neck and stared down Nevada. His tone held no hint or trace of friendliness as he spoke.

“Slitch you know better than to be peddling your shit in here without approval.�

Nevada just rolled her eyes and stepped up to the guy in the cheap black suit who easily had a good foot on her in height and at least another hundred pounds.

“And you should know that I’m not about to roll up in here without being sure to take care of Slippy along the way. Do I look like a fucking amateur? Besides, I can guarantee he’s not just a pretty boy on my arm for the night.� She waited for the inevitable once (or twice) over by the guy’s roving eyes and once that was complete she waited for a response. Behind her she could feel Shade move to her right side and faced off with the goons blocking their way. She could see the confident smirk on the leader’s face falter ever so slightly as Shade cracked his knuckles, the spur ports catching the flickering half-light. The lead goon nodded to no one in particular before he spoke with a hesitation that was evidence to a subvocal conversation taking place, likely with Slippy himself.

“Boss-man says the girls can work the halls while you come up to his office and make good on your promises.�

A dangerous smile played on her lips as her eyes moved off the three goons in front of them and instead moved to the hallway’s ceilings, looking for the various cameras. Once she spotted the one that they were likely being watched on she squared herself up to face it as if she was looking directly into Slippy’s face.

“I don’t work on my back anymore, I moved up the food chain. You let the girls work the halls a little while longer then I’ll send all three up to you.� She slipped her hand into her pocket and opened up her PAN wide enough for the goon’s to pick up on her number. “Then you use your sweet Matrix node to give me a call and we send someone up to pick up the girls and get them back safe.�

As if on cue, one of the doors to the left opened and Frankie stalked out and paused taking a moment to assess the situation.

The head of Slippy’s security shook his head and looked back to Nevada.

“You got balls Slitch, big ones. But the boss agrees to your terms this time. You want rights for your girls to work the halls you’re gonna have to come to a more…lucrative agreement with the boss.�

Once the goon finished delivering the message the trio faded off into the shadows of the hallway as quickly as they had appeared. She didn’t move or really breathe again till she was certain they were all gone. They waited until the other two girls were done with their current clients before collecting the cred they had managed to make and sending them up to Slippy’s suite and insuring Frankie would call her if they needed her or anyone else to get them out.

06:55:18 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket

She had been sitting off to a corner of the room, recounting the limited cred the girls had brought in and idly pissing away her downtime expecting a call from Slippy to come pick up the girls. When conversation picked up again in the main room her interest was piqued more by the mention of Frosty’s name than anything else that Shade shared with Legion and the rest of the awake crew. She spoke up before she had even gotten fully to her feet and started over towards the Raven’s leader.

“I’m in if you need it. Me and the ice bitch have history, we go back a ways.�

06:56:12 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Grack

Grack, the Magnanimous, the Munificent, the Multifarious, Masculinity Magnified, awoke with the shrieks of Genghis Fang in his ears. As usual, he had slept with the music on, allowing the sophisticated goblin rock harmonies to mix with his night visions.

Glancing around the dim room in the pre-dawn gloom, he could readily observe that something was afoot. The Asian from the boy-loving ghoul-farm was reporting to The Usurper. The weakling that fancied himself funny was making a speech. And She was there as well.

Our Hero couldn't have cared less about any of it, especially when he stood and made a discovery. There, affixed to the wall of this dilapidated hovel he'd heroically cleared the night hence, was a long shard of mirrored glass that seemed once to have been part of some larger lobby display. Now no more than a vertical strip of some eight or nine inches in width, it nonetheless reached well up on the wall, and from the right angle, young Grack could see his figure with satisfying clarity.

Aside from synthhol and whoreflesh, there were few things that gave Grack greater pleasure than viewing himself.

He stood there for a good span of seconds. Clad now only in his combat boots and khaki cargo trousers, his heavily muscled arms and torso were still caked in a thick covering of dried blood, with stains extending well down below his belt onto the fabric of his leggings. Small flocks of flies feasted on the protein bonanza, buzzing about his shoulders and head like a royal escort. He smiled to himself at the thought that the weaklings around him must assume it was the lifeblood of his foes, when in fact it was all his own, and much more than any mortal could lose and live. No need now to let these puny October Ravens he'd been tasked to protect know that he had metamorphosed into an unkillable superbeing. Nay, let their awe grow in increments of wonder as his full powers were revealed!

With a sigh of admiration bordering on lust - watch it - he gazed upon the brown skin of his shaven scalp, the uneven lettering spelling WOLS LLIK across his forehead, the fabulous array of starlike gems and jewels springing from the flesh of his nostrils and huge pointed ears, the proud tusks that bespoke his noble robustus bloodline, and the windows to his ferocity carved lovingly into his face.

Picking his armored black jacket up from the floor, he gave it a violent shake to loose the throngs of six-legged guardians that were wont to reside there, and in doing so he could not help but swell with pride at the URUK-HAI inscription brilliantly embroidered into the leather across the back, silhouettes of the band's members in metalwork beneath. Shugging the covering on over his blood-crusted flesh, he headed for the door without a glance back, raw guitars and the Khan's double drum set pounding at his eardrums. It was time to find something to eat.

03:10:15 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Ink

Ink had checked the injured 'manos on his and Thumper's return. But finding that the little dude Felix had cleaned the oozers and taped the bleeders meant he had less work to do. He grunted a "good work" at the pale-ass homie and went to find a place to sack out for awhile.

06:55:18 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket

Ink woke when Shade had returned. The Cubano listened to the Asian man speaking.

"Shit, homes they just pissed, cause we're all still breathing. Hefe I don't like this three hombres thing. Jou want somebody keeping eyes on jou from behind?"

06:56:07 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Legion

"Now? Now we rest. Then we'll go see what Frosty and Tin Hat want. Shade, you and Thumper and Doc will roll with me to the meeting so crash out for the time being. Be ready to roll at eleven. Aziz, if you and Bockscar are up to it at the time, I want you a block away as a quick reaction force. I don't plan on trouble but sometimes trouble has other plans." Legion ran a hand through his hair and took a breath, a sudden weariness showing on his face. He would need to sleep soon. He glanced over at Nevada.

"Sweetmeat, get those girls back out on the streets as soon as they're rested. Right now they're our only income. Take what we've got and lay on for some food and water for us all. Spend it all. If I find out you've got sticky fingers, well, you don't need eyes to fuck."

He pointed to his enforcer. "Grack, you've got the watch until I'm up in four hours. Then it'll be your turn to sleep. Ink, roll with the doves next time over to Slippy's and see if you can't drum up some business. Put the word out that you've got a new office and you'll be taking orders for custom designs. If you need supplies, we'll get 'em for you tomorrow or the day after. Fool, take Child and recon the situation with the bikes. Do not go into the Steel Demon's turf. They're still looking for a fight."

He glanced around at his gathered soldiers. "That goes for everyone. I know it's not our way to run from a fight, but we're all in strung out shape. The time will come when we can run roughshod over this turf again, but not just yet. So stay frosty and stay small."

He swept his gaze across the assembled before hefting his sword over his shoulder.

"If no one's got anything else, I'm going to take a nap."

07:11:31 Saturday, 01 November 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Legion

With a glance, Legion could tell that Grack was still enraptured by his music and mindless of his upcoming responsibilities. Knowing his enforcer, he would likely seek food and then sleep himself. Flipping open his commlink, Legion repeated his instructions to Grack via text, something that would hang in the AR in front of his enforcer and remind him in case he kept getting distracted. He glanced around one last time before heading towards the stairs.

Legion took the stairs carefully, mindful of his wound. The stitches were holding, which was good. In a couple of days he should be back to something resembling working order. Until that time, though, he would have to be careful. Moving down the second floor hall, he picked a room without fire escape access, and who's window was still mostly boarded over.

Closing the door, he drew his sword and propped the sheath against the door so that anyone trying to enter would cause it to fall and clatter. Resting the naked blade of his sword on his shoulder, he held his hand in one of the narrow beams of sunlight, watching the motes of dust dance in response to the disturbance. Already he could feel the lethargy that came with sunrise, the rust and ache in his bones inspired by the daylight.

"This is the law," he whispered aloud. "The purpose of fighting is to win. There is no possible victory in defense. The sword is more important than the shield and skill is more important than either. The final weapon is the brain. All else is supplemental."

Closing his hand into a fist, he turned to the darkest corner he could find. Leaning back against the wall, he lay his sword on the floor next to him, close at hand. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing. He was asleep in minutes.

06:54:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Temporary Gang HQ: Apartment Building behind The Corner Pocket
Thumper

Thumper's ears perked up at the mention of his name through a wall. His always turned his earbuds to maximum before sleeping. He rested with his eyes shut, ready to ambush anyone who strayed too close. He knew that when he'd started to sleep there were a few pieces of wood laying to his right, some shards of glass by the windows at the front of the building and his scavenged bat at his left.

It sounded more like negotiations than a scuffle. That made him happy, even if he wasn't able to go back to sleep, he was comfortable slouching against the wall even though the short, ragged stubble of his homemade buzz cut got stuck in the cracking, yellow drywall.

He waited there, cracking his jaw and biding his time. He'd done much much the same thing before sleeping, letting the talkative Cuban chatter away and clean tags while he wandered around this corner of the barrens. Truth be told he'd had his sound filter set up to dim the chatter so he could focus on upcoming fights. Thumper was getting more irritable by the second and, as much as he wanted to speak with Ink, he didn't want to wind up shattering the tatoo artist's skull.

He'd crashed almost immediately upon return, not even concerning himself with Grack's location. He needed to get his head together, to fight the pressure building between his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He figured sleeping would help, it had, a little.

He snapped his eyes open as Legion passed himself another assignment and found the predawn light dazzling and painful. His stomach growled and he suppressed a belch as he nodded his assent.

He compsed himself for a moment before composing a message and sending it to Nevada

<<Thumper@Nevada: Why don't you squeeze some synthahol into that food budget. For morale.>>

He grinned and winked as she turned to look at him before closing his eyes and settling in for another few hours of shuteye.