Jester steps in and smiles at Haven. Then takes a seat in the nearest chair.

Not too bad omae. Not too bad. Thanks for the invite. Now what this all about gents?

He looks expentantly at Haven, then Claymore.

From where he is sitting, Claymore gives Jester a small wave, his mouth at that moment too full of Nuk'em Nuggets to speak.

"Well, Johnny came by earlier and mentioned that you would be magical back-up for the job that we are supposed to be doing for Greenie tomorrow, but he didn't seem really well informed and then he left in kind of a rush. I was hoping you might know more about what is going on. I really hate going blind into any kind of situation that might involve bullets or especially magic flying about. Also, just thought I would let you know I'll be there and see if there is anything you need from me specifically."

As he talks, Haven walks back over to his place on the bench and sits down cross-legged again.

Jester nods his head in understanding. Then looks to Claymore.

What about you? And don't just repeat my question. He says with a grin.

Returning the grin, Claymore tosses the half-empty stuffer package on the table, then leans back and fishes out a cigarette.

"Seems Greenie is goin' out of his way t' purposely keep me outta the loop on this one."

He touches the flame from his Zippo to the tip of the nicstik, inhaling a lungful of smoke before continuing.

"Jus' don't feel right t' me."

Chester nods with a short "Hmm.." Now understanding why they asked him to come.

I should've guessed.

You ever think it might be for your own good? Or ours? Im not a big fan of Green either. But you ain't exactly keen on social calls either Clay. Listen, do me a favor. Don't treat me like a kid, okay? No one ever has, and I dont need you two pussy-footin' around the bush, tryin to trick me into sayin somethin I shouldn't.
He stands up out of his seat.
Johny didn't give me much info either, but I'm betting he intended it to stay private. So why don't we start over and you two can begin telling me why I should be the one who spills the beans here?
He looks back at Claymore.
Who told you about this anyway?

He glances at Haven.
And they say I have a big mouth.

Claymore rolls his eyes dramatically.

"There's quite a diff'rence between 'don't tell nobody' and 'don't tell Claymore'."

The elf takes another drag on his smoke, rising to his feet when the mage leaves his seat.

"I didn't try t' trick you into anythin'. An' I ain't seein' where I'm treatin' you like a child. I been straight with you right from the start."

Claymore shrugs his shoulders.

"But if you don't wanna be civil ..."

Jester cocks his head. Then takes a long look at Claymore. He takes a moment to consider his odds and then waves him off with one hand.

Step off big man, I ain't lookin for a fight. We're family. I just want to know what you want with me.

He drops his gaze. Then again...
Then back up again. If you'd prefer, I can be very uncivilized when I need to..

The gunslinger's eyes narrow, and he unconsciously adjusts his center of balance.

"Fightin' never even crossed my mind. That don't mean I ain't ready though. Bring it on if that's what you want."

Chester smiles wickedly from ear to ear, amd sits back down in his chair. Then kicks his feet up.

Take a seat, meat. Johny didn't say anything about not tellin you. If he would have, Id say. And Im sure he told me the same old drek he told Haven here. So, Ill ask one more time. What is it that you want to know?

Having had some experience dealing with spellslingers, Claymore was not quite ready to let his guard down just yet, despite Jester's seemingly relaxed posture. Grabbing the bottle of Cactus Juice from the table, he perches lightly on the arm of the chair and steadily eyes the other elf as he takes a swallow of tequila.

"T' be honest, I dunno. I heard 'bout this little venture from someone even before talkin' t' Haven, and part o' what I heard was that Lucifer was quite specific 'bout not wantin' me t' know shit."

He pauses, taking a long drag on his cigarette and slowly exhaling the smoke. Finally, the elf shrugs and smoothly slides his frame down to lounge in the chair, leg once again draped over the armrest.

"That tends t' get my attention."

"And since Claymore and me have been in some nasty, sticky situations before, and I trust him with my life. I didn't really care that someone told me to keep quiet. So I told him what little I knew about the whole thing, and let him know that Johnny was here, though evidently Clay just scares the hell out of him or something because he lit out of here quick once he showed up. I just wanted us to put our heads together and try to figure out what this thing may be."

Haven hops up and heads to get a soda from the fridge and adds almost as an afterthought "Oh, by the way, my security system tends to not like it when people start brawling in the middle of my garage, so if it's just posturing, or if you guys just want a round of fisticuffs, well... whatever, but if someone launches a bullet or a powerbolt, I can't be held responsible for the reaction of the systems here."

Haven takes a long drink from his generic "Root Beer" brand root beer, and says "Just saying."

Haven looks slightly bewildered.

"Damn, guys, I know I was being subtle, but surely you don't need to take this long to work through what I said. Or is it just that I actually got in the middle of this? I mean, I may not be a brawler, but I won't let family fight over nothing in my own damn house. Anyway, all I know about this gig, Jester, is that there will be driving and it needs to done without anyone "getting in the way" not sure if that means guns blazing, smuggling or both, but considering the magical back-up ala you, I'm guessing at least a little of the former. Meeting tomorrow at the Squat, at 10'. Do you have anymore information at all? That's pretty vague. I figured I would come loaded for bear in my girl Keisha, and bring the bike just in case it is more run than gun. Is there anything you need me to bring or make for you specifically? I'm pretty well equipped as far as anything vehicle, chemical, or armory-wise that doesn't require a factory, so if it isn't too complex I may be able to hammer it out for you by tomorrow. Same goes for you, Clay if you plan on tagging along. Oh, also, do you know if it's just the two, or three as it may be, of us or if anyone else will be there?"

Johny gave me the same song and dance. Just asked if I had a bike and to meet at the Squat tommorow at 10. Id be magical support. Kinda made me nervous, but at the same time, who's dumb enough to attack a mage head on. He glances towards Claymore and grins.
I plan to bring my Predator, I suppose one more couldn't hurt. Maybe an armored jacket too, if you got it. If you wanna take a look at my bike, that's fine, but I'm sure she'll hold.

Couldn't hurt to ask...
He looks back to Claymore.
Why do you think Lucifer's tryin to keep you out of this one?

"That's what I'm tryin' t' find out."

Claymore dumps the butt of his smoke in one of the empty beer cans on the table beside him, then takes another swig of tequila.

"Me 'n' Greenie don' see eye t' eye on a lot o' things. But with our hist'ry, for him t' be so fuckin' worried 'bout keepin' me in the dark, it makes me think has somethin' t' do with the Spikes."

"That's the only conclusion I've been able to draw from the available information as well. The last few times I've interacted with the Spikes it hasn't gone well for them, so I won't mind if we have to go through them to get something done. I just hope it isn't any kind of dealing or testing like what happened to you guys last time, Clay.

Haven finishes off his root beer and crushes the can, then goes and grabs a ginger ale from the fridge.

You don't think Lucifer's makin deals with em, do ya? Like a mutual thing? What a fuckin disgrace that would be.

Claymore just shrugs, the idea by no means a new one to him.

"Lucifer does what's best for Lucifer! Anythin' or anyone else is secondary ... at best."

Jester crosses his arms and considers this a moment.

Perhaps, but I'd still rather see it to beleive it. No way would something like that fly. Not with any of The Ancients, anyhow.

"Don't kid yourself."

Claymore eyes the bottle in his hand, then takes one more swallow before depositing it on the table and pulling a fresh cigarette from his pack.

"Yeah, kind of like the thing with Vixen, I think if it is happening the few people who see the evidence of it are either firmly on his side and don't care or are able to talk themselves out of believing what they saw."

Haven shakes his head and slugs back the rest of his ginger ale, letting off a belch at the end, and grabbing himself a beer in the hopes of numbing the subject material a little bit.

The gunslinger frowns at the memory, his hand unconsciously moving to stroke his thigh. This time though, instead of following the tiger striping, his fingers seem to be tracing a line only he can see.

"Slitch almos' ruined my bes' leathers!'

Jester leans against the counter and crosses his arms.
Well, I've had fun guys, with all this conspiricy theory and all. But I gotta head home. Gen..er..Angel, is freakin out, makin crazy rants about an angry spirit. Which is fraggin impossible, nothin gets past my wards. Not without me knowin, anyhow.

He makes his way to the door. He opens and turns to Claymore.
I hope you make it tommorow man. Jester gives a half smile then makes his way to his bike.

Claymore's eyes widen slightly in surprise. He watches as Jester makes his way to the door, barely managing a nod in response to the mage's parting words. As the door closes, he slumps back into the chair and looks over at Haven.

"That was ... not very productive."

Haven shakes his head and finishes off his only beer of the night.

"Not at all. Apparently Lucifer is keeping this all very close to his chest. Well.... you have any idea what you are going to do about it?"

The elven ganger exhales a lungful of bluish-gray smoke.

"A couple ..."

Claymore reaches over to retrieve the half-empty bottle.

"I'd love t' jus' show up for the meet. The look on Greenie's face would be priceless. But ..."

He pauses, taking a swallow of tequila while he considers his next words.

"But that prob'ly wouldn't end up bein' all that productive either. Might be better idea t' follow along all ninja-like."

Taking another drag on his cigarette, he looks over at Haven inquiringly.

"You got anythin' round here that'd help?"

"Well, yes and no. I don't have anything that will make you invisible. I'm no mage. However, we could stealth RFID tag me and you could track that, or I could just subscribe you to my commlink and let you see the feed from my eyes or both. There are other things I could whip up, but just about everything I can think of wouldn't be ready by time for the meet."

Claymore nods.

"That's 'xactly the kinda stuff I was thinkin' 'bout. I ain't aimin' t' actually be invisible, just outta sight."

He pauses momentarily to take another swig from the bottle of Cactus Juice.

"I jus' ain't too big on all that fuckin' techie crap. What kinda range we talkin' 'bout?"

Haven closes his eyes and brings up the specs on his tags.

"The tags only have a maximum range of about 40 meters, but my commlink has a 10 kilometer range, I don't know about yours and that is what we would use to link the eye feed."

Looking down at the NeoNET Watchman strapped to his left wrist, Claymore shrugs.

"Ain't had any complaints. Even from Binary, and she can be a fuckin' picky slitch. Won't be needin' ten K anyway."

Haven nods.

"Even at stock, that should be more than adequate, though I must say, you would be surprised how often a 10k range is called for in my line of work."

Without warning, Claymore launches himself from the chair, only to pause and stretch his arms wide and roll his shoulders.

"Let's go scan the rave. Sure t' be some answers there. Besides, you need t' get out more."

As he slips his arms into the leather jacket, he continues on in a slightly lower tone, almost a stage whisper.

"Maybe even get yourself laid."

"Just because I don't troll the younger candidates doesn't mean I don't do quite well for myself, thank you. Hell, we are both generally sober enough to remember the experience.

Haven strolls over and pulls his coat off of a hook by the door, shakes it out briefly and slips it on. Checking to make sure his Browning and his telescoping staff are still in place, he mentally rolls the doors up and slips onto his bike, and waits for Claymore to make it out of range before peeling off and keying his system to shut the place down, lock up, and arm itself.

Seattle - Tarislar - The Squat - 2122 -April 11, 2071

The Squat us a buzz the next evening, gangers roaming about the large building, toking and joking, enjoying another night on the edge of survival, tempered with all the synthahol and chips you could need to add a happy hue to an otherwise miserable world.

There are very few Ancients in the garage for some reason however. Johnny California is getting some dozen riders organized, getting everything in order discretely. the gathered gangers talking quiet but excitedly about the night ahead.

Chester leans up against his bike lightly with his hands in his coat pockets. He's just a tad nervous about this job.

Alright Chester my man, keep focus. This is your chance to get noticed around here. Just dont fuck up omea.

He glances around at the people around him. He nods and says hello to passerby's. But keeps to himself unless he's aproached.

A few of the other Ancients give non chalant nods in reply, except for those that have met Chester before and know he's a mage. The looks they give are more wary. Looking around, it takes Chester a few minutes to realize that no one's really organizing this crew. Even Johnny seems anxious, as if he's waiting for something.

Chester apoaches Johny.

Hey Johny my man. Whens this goin down? We waitin on Lucifer?

The street rave was a waste of time. Not to say that Claymore doesn't take the opportunity to indulge in the abundance of party favors, but he makes no progress in his search for answers.

The next day proves to be no better, and evening finds the elf idly riding his green and black Harley through the familiar streets of Tarislar, still trying to decide on a course of action. As the night deepens though, Claymore's meandering route unconsciously circles closer and closer to the Squat. At the sight of the ganger hangout, the elf shrugs to himself, happy enough to let fate take the decision from his hands.

Just after nine-thirty, the gunslinger slowly rolls the big Scorpion into the garage.

Johnny shrugs as he needlessly makes adustments to an SMG.

Waitin' on a few more heads to show up for one. Not everyone's here yet, but s'no biggie. We got time. We're also waitin' on Pinn. He's in charge of the show tonight.

Chester's seen Pinn more than a few times, although never met him personaly. The bald elf is built more like an ork, bald, and a serious bruiser. He's a tattoo artist that sports a lot of his own work as well.

Pinn? Damn, what the hell we tryin to pull tonight? Not that I dont mind the action omea. Chester smiles.
But Johny, I gotta ask you a serious question. Somethin kinda piked my attention last night...

Hope you're listening Juno. This is about as family as I get...

Why doesn't Lucifer want Claymore in on this? I mean, we could always use the muscle. I know the guys a hot head, but c'mon man, how many of us can keep our cool? A few words hit my ears and all sorts of questions sprung up. Just thought Id ask someone who seems to know everything. Chester give a friendly slug to Jonhy's shoulder. I was just curious is all.

That's easy omae.'Cause Claymore's a self centered prick. Allhe cares about is what he wants. He doesn't listen to anyone else about anything, and that ain't the kinda guy you want watching your back.

Johnny grunts as he shoulders an assault rifle, and leans into Chester.
Claymore's big bitch with Green Lucifer is that his chica got killed by the Spike's, and Green didn't roll the whole damn gang out to kill the trogs. Like the Spike's 've never killed anyone else, ya' know? But when it's Claymore's girl, all of a sudden everyone's supposed ta' get all up in arms. Seriously, if it was so easy as to roll out all the Ancients and wipe the Spikes out. We'd lose at least half the gang. And it ain't like the Spikes don't have any allies. We wouldn't be fighting only them. Gangs are like countries, only smaller. It ain't like it's just us two. But no, that don't matter to Claymore. Because one more girl gets geeked, fifty more should throw themselves on the Spikes. 'Cause that's gonna work.

Seriously, Claymore's a nut. Remember that. He ain't gonna be happy until you're sacrificing yourself for him.

Johnny looks up from their little chat as Claymore rolls into the garage.

Ahhhh fuck.

Chester listens closely and turns to see whats made Jonhy curse.

God damn it... I didn't actually think he'd show. He turns back to Jonhy with a sigh. What you wanna do about this omea?

Johnny looks about ready to throw his hands in the air.

Fuck 'em It's Pinn's problem now.

Good call. Listen Jonhy...
Chester looks around for a moment then moves in closer to Johny as if he's trying to keep quiet about something.

You think Slide's gonna be in on this one this one too...? Cuz...you know. The extra muscle I was talkin about before...Ya dig omea?

Pulling the Harley to a stop next to several other choppers, Claymore kills the engine and slings his leg over the gas tank. Instead of approaching the others though, he merely leans back against the bike, content to wait and see how things play out.

Johnny shrugs, replying to Chester, but keeping his eyes on Claymore.
Couldn't say omae. She ain't riding with us anyway, but who really knows with that gillete, ya' know?

A minute later, Pinn walks into the garage. The big elf looks around as he walks towards his bike, wearing an armored jacket open with no sirt beneath, showing his tats. He's carrying an assault shotgun, sporting a full barrel clip underneath. Pinn checks over his bike, going through a last minute check of his own gear before turning his attention to his crew.

Chester looks on as he waits for Pinn to speak. He isnt gonna be the one to cause that akward pre-meet interuption of the big, giant, pissed off elf.

The gunslinger can't help but grin at Johnny's obvious discomfort, and maintains eye contact with the other elf until Pinn makes his entrance. As the big ganger checks his gear, Claymore casually looks around, taking note of both who was actually present and their collective firepower.

His own preparations were completed hours ago, but now he fights down the almost irresistible urge to reassuringly run his fingers over the assorted weaponry covering his body. Along with his ever-present, glossy black Predators in their dual shoulder holster, a combat rig now holds a couple of others strapped to his thighs, as well as a big revolver that almost covers the entire crotch area of his black and green leopard print leather pants. Claymore is tempted to pull out the pair of submachine guns that are stowed in the Scorpion's saddle bags, but decides just to leave them where they are for the moment.

After checking throgh his gear, Pinn turns to Johnny, the two men talking for a moment. Johnny's voice is low, talking quietly whole Pinn answers in a normal, level tone

All here?

*mumblemuble*

OK. And?

*mumble*

So? Get the rest together.

Green didn't want him here. Said he'd make too much noise.


[color=salmon] If we're gonna have to make noise, then we might as well have someone real good at it then, shouldn't we?

Johnny throws his hands up in frustration. Pinn walks away from the elf, walking past a few other gangers, and straight up to Claymore. The elf's face is neutral, his eyes unreadable behind his black shades.

Are you gonna be a problem for me tonight Claymore?

Claymore smiles as he listens to the exchange between the two gangers. Emerald eyes sparkling with amusement, he shrugs casually in response to Pinn's question.

"Wasn't plannin' on it."