"Actually, Reptile, maybe you should keep that fulla hard ammo, in case some shit goes down. Sue...nice boomer. You get that at S-Mart? Hmm, maybe I should bring my SMG.", Nick says, loading his pockets and belt with ammo.


"Oh, and uh- Widow, you talking 'bout Mickey, or just in general?", Nick adds. He sets his shotgun down and looks at her.

"'Cause I happen think Mickey'll do a fine job. His brain's a little burnt, but he's got organizational skills, thats for sure."

Ricks stops and looks Widow over. "Besides, if you got something to say, say it, don't mumble it like a bitch."

Nick changes his gaze to Ricks.

"Until you're in the gang, don't talk to members like that. Theres some gangs that would have just shot you for that."

Nick looks back to Widow.

"But the man's got a point."

"Well, two things. Firstly," Widow pulls a gun on Ricks and squeezes the trigger twice.

Nick yelps and pulls his gun out of his belt, then jumps behind something that would block bullets.

Widow, as quick as lighting, blows a quite large hole in Ricks's leg, judging by the amount of blood, quite possibly severing a major artery. At that point, everything gets a bit wierd. Despite the fact that you know exactly where Ricks is, he seems very difficult to see, like when you stand up to fast and your vision tunnels down, except it tunnels out Ricks, and not much else.

Widow, with icewater in her viens and nerves made of temepered steel, simply hooks the cord that had been woven through one of her jacket chains, and was connected to her Predator into her head, and takes another shot. Your not sure if she hits or misses, but you don't hear any screaming from where Ricks was, so you presume it's a miss.

From behind Kake, a voice sounds, "Hey babe, sorry, alright? Nick is right, I shouldn't have spoke like that and I'm sorry. You already gut wounded me, call it even?"

Widow cooly ignored him and holsters her weapon, but keeps the smartlink connected. "And secondly, I'll say whatever I want however I fucking well please, and if anyone has a problem with it, they can try and shoot me dead right now."

A few words can be heard, "FUCK that hurts, man!", followed up by some very deep breathing as Ricks tries to block the pain out of his mind.

Sue lets out a low whistle, "Betcha didn't see that coming. Did ya, magic man?". He keeps his right hand perfectly still at his side but doesn't move the left. Which, coincidentaly is still holding the boomstick thats resting on his shoulder.

"Fuck no I didn't see that shit! What ever happened to a fucking eye for an eye! That chick almost took a life for a few fucking words man!"

He takes another deep breath and seems to be calming down a bit now.

Blitz trundles on up behind Widow, squad car door over his back, chain hanging from his belt, one hand holding a Ruger Thunderbolt, one of the pair he'd had. Sue'd wanted one, he'd figured he'd lend one to 'em for the shit that was about to go down.

Then, of course, he'd seen the shooting. And damn good shooting it was. Hell, he knew Widow was supposed to be some kinda good, but not that good.

`Widow's got her right to speak, anyone that wants to try and shoot her, you'd better be ready to deal with me after.`

Damned if it didn't stir the blood seein' a gal handle the iron like that.

Down boy, don't want to present her a bigger target than the dwarf's leg..

Blitz just draws close, and up to his full height. He had respect for Ricks, for the healing he'd rendered upon him, but he'd have to have done something to draw that response.

About a minute later, Ricks appears again, sitting on the ground and rubbing his leg. He watches Widow out of the corner of his eye, half expecting her to attack again. Slowly he stands up and stretches his leg out and flexing it.

"Damn that is gunna itch like crazy for a while..."

A drek eating grin crosses over Blitz's features.

`It's good for the soul, 'sides, you do good work little man.`

Sue laughs out loud and sheaths the shotgun, "Damn it good to run with a gang again."

He forgotten that feeling. The Soul men wouldn't have left Ricks alive if they felt insulted like that...

Watching the scene unfold, Mickey decides to let it run it's course. Widow is a full fledged member and is taking care of her own drek. Ricks, while potentially a valuable Edger, has yet to earn his colours. Once the scene has calmed he looks at Ricks. "I assume you can deal with your wound the same way you did with Blitz?" Then he turns his attention to Widow. "Shall we deal with this in private or do you prefer everyone to see?" His eyes have narrowed dangerously and his half vacant stare seems extremely focused. On her. This doesn't have to be violent, but if it becomes so, he intends to be the one who's still standing when the dust settles.

"I don't know how you feel like dealing with it, but I'd rather not be worrying about how well I can trust the guy at my back. Let's do it now."

"Now, hmmm? Well, then...don't you think it might have been wiser to give the rest of us a little warning in case your bullet went right through him and ricocheted, hitting one of us? Not to mention the lack of honour in essentially ambushing a potential Edger when we need more members? Yes, killing the applicants will work wonders for recruiting. Also, he's a mage. He may have spirits on call. Ever seen a spirit go on a rampage after the death of the conjuring wizard? Not a happy thought. What say you put away the gun, not shoot any Bleeding Edge applicants except in self defence and save the aggression for the opponents we have been hired to do damage to?"

His voice is calm and even the whole time, but his usually vacant eyes have a remarkable focus, especially noticable since it happens so rarely.

<Rambling thougts> If Renraku has subverted her then she dies today! An example must be set...frag! No spray cans! Frag! Frag! Frag! Blood! Yes, I can use her own blood to make the circle and slash! What can I use for the "R?" A red "R" just won't do...

Nick pokes his head up from behind the wrecked car he jumped behind, Warhawk still in hand.

"For god's sake, listen to Mickey!"

Widow cocks her head to the side a bit and cracks half a smile. "That's cute. But I ain't taking no shit from no punk-assed bitch I've ever met before. He hasn't even earned colors yet, even with you handing them out like fucking candy. You're lucky I didn't finish him off."

She strolls over to Mickey, taking the full measure of him, up and down, and gets right up into his face, within inches. (She rolls three successes on an intimidation test here.) She makes a sudden movement, and watches Mickey (presumably) twitch to respond. She turns away, walking back to where she was standing before.

Sue smiles broadly and nudges Blitz, "She's pretty tough, neh? 5 on Widow, waddaya say?"

Nick spins the cylinder on his Warhawk. He briefly contemplates blowing Widow's head off. A .44 mag EX round to the skull would drop her like a brick. But then he'd probably have to shoot Mother and Girl, too. He might do it anyway, as events warrant.

Whatever. Shit, no guts no glory, I should do something., Nick thinks

"Widow...Mickey...Fucking shit! Both of you bitches! Now is not the time to fucking argue about little kid shit like this. We don't need shit like this stacking up the body count of friendlies already attached to our gang. We lost eight guys two days ago, one yesterday, and today, we got fucking kicked out of our doss by a fuckload of keen to kill monkies with guns! Now, if you two fuckers want, I'll set up a Circle of Death so you can get your aggression out.", Nick shouts, keeping his gun up where he can quickly ready it. If Widow reaches for her gun, or something else warranting death, Nick'll shoot her in the head.

Blitz was going to let it slide, street honor and all. Two people square off, you let 'em deal. Someone he knew once compared it to Highlanders or some drek, oddball guy, knew programming better than most deckers, but never jacked in, carried a sword around all the time. Now though, the stakes were getting higher. He grunts, and steps forward.

`Alright, enough. Last thing we need's another one of our own dead 'cause of egos. Anyone here wants to shoot, it'd better be me you're shooting.`

Suprisingly, he's calm when he says it. He's not angry, he just doesn't want this going down right now.

Reptile steps back a bit and watches what happens carefully, ready to dodge any shot that would, for some reason, be aimed at him.
Even though he's ready in case of danger, all this is extremely amusing to him and he exhibits a large nasty-looking smile.

"I call yor bet, Sue. 5 on Mickey. He's gotta be thougher than the girl."

"Deal. I'd give ya m'hand on it but I might need it here in a second."

After hearing Nick and seeing his body language, Sue sublty flexes the fingers of his right hand and begins to consider thowing the bet he just made.

[edited for RPing...and to remove that famn sig]

Reptile starts laughing at what Sue said, but abruptly stops.

In his amusement, Reptile has not really paid attention to what Nick and Blitz had been saying. Judging by the very serious look on everyone's face and Nick's angry stare, he figured that laughing and chatting were not the best ideas he'd had.

These people take this thing so seriously! I hope no one is really gonna get killed...

"Kids, stop it now. Widow has point, same like Mickey. And so does Blitz, that's for sure.

Widow is a veteran of the gang and deserves proper R-E-S-P-E-C-T (*), we have been handling out colors like candies without testing them, we can't kill new candidates the first time they fumble, and this is not the time for this kind of discussion."


OOC:
(*) Said very much like a certain song.

Widow chuckles, arms folded across her chest. "Well, shall we go bust some heads, or we just gonna stare at each other all day?"

"I'm with her. Lets go get dirty."

Ricks gets a wicked grin and says, "I got an idea if you guys are up for it... I could get all the guys in the house to come outside into the open. All I'd have to do is walk inside, chat with the leader for a sec and I'm sure I can convince them that they all need to go for a ride on their bikes or somethin'. Just give me a sec to do a little scouting around right now and I'll be ready to go. Ummm... I'm showing you guys some trust going into the Astral and all, so make sure no one kills me while I'm out of my body, right?"

Widow chuckles softly.

"Well, lets put it this way, I wouldn't take hostile actions toward me, or yer gunna have a mighty pissed off City spirit to deal with... Be back in a few."

Ricks lays back and closes his eyes. He instructs the Spirit to Guard his body and then zooms off through the Astral, trying to locate the building in question.

Ricks feels a sickening wrenching motion as his astral form frees itself of his body. They world around is blurry and mostly dark, but the gathered crowd of the bleeding egde stands out brightly.

It's difficult to find addresses and whatnot on the astral, because painted words and letters don't give off an astral signature. Ricks tries his damnedest to find the place, but the new and unfamiliar neighbourhood throws him for a loop. Finally, after nearly a half-hour of searching, he finds the house that, to the best of his knowledge, should be the address they were given.

Still a little uncertain about the accuracy of his house-hunting, he takes a peek inside. What was once and industrial office of some kind, possibly a lawyers office or somesuch, has been turned into a flophouse. A quick scan reveals a handful of living figures, and one dead one curled up in a corner. They are in various states of repose. Some are sitting at a desk, playing cards, some are asleep on mattresses layed out on the floor. One is chipped deep into his own world. The group seems to exclusivly humans sized and shaped. The chipped out one looks like he's magically active, but somehow, Ricks doubts that he's being seen.

Also, everywhere there seems to be guns. Every flat surface holds a pistol or shotgun. There's no telling what make or model they are, but there's plenty of them.

Nick slides over the hood of the car, then uncocks the Warhawk and puts it back in his belt.

"Ok, no hard feelings...no permanent damage.", he says, picking his shotgun back up. He then heads over to the semi. As he passes Painkiller, he says quietly to him.

"I don't recall handing any fucking colors out, I just recall taking some new applicants. Widow may be a veteran, but you aren't, so watch it."

He continues into the semi and brings his bike out the back.

"Alright then, if we're doing this thing we should decide who's riding with who in what."

Blitz eases up a tiny bit, and grunts.

`I've got my bike, can still handle that. If someone needs a ride, I can provide it.`

He's looking to Widow when he says that, the offer pretty much exclusivly for her.

Widow catches Blitz's meaning and cracks a feral smile. "I appreciate it, big guy, but I'm not signed up for this one. Maybe another time, eh? Maybe take Girl?"

After quite a while, Ricks eyes open back up and he slowly stands.

"Holy shit they got a lot of hardware! Every fuckin' table in the place is covered with guns. We're gunna have to go about this in a smart way. They got one mage with em, but he was chipped out while I was there, so I should be able to deal with him, no problem. I've got a few ideas on how I can reduce their ability to use the guns though. I can have a spirit confuse them all, then you guys come in and have at it."

"Oh.. and uhh.. I'm gunna need a ride."

"Colours have not been handed out unless there was a family connection. Neither Ricks nor Reptile have been accepted yet. Painkiller was due to his blood. Yellow earned her way in when she took an unnessesary risk on behalf of Nick and myself. Now, dear Widow, this can go two ways. One, you calm down and show respect and restraint so that Reptile and Ricks have the opportunity to earn their place, go on the run and earn glory and nuyen for the Bleeding Edge. Two, we can throw down." His voice deepens and softens, almost like the affectionate tone of a lover if there wasn't an edge of malice in it. "You know what I am like in a fight. Do you really wish to "wake the bear?"" His manner and voice make him seem anxious, as if he would relish a fight. His eyes lock on hers and do not waver.

"Third, you can realize I'm not a runner anymore, and I'll take care of some shit on this end. If you don't like that idea, then yeah, let's throw down."

"This job is a run. There is no third option." He still doesn't waver. If he gave ground at all now, he'd get eaten alive by the rest. He would let her choose to fight or not, either suiting his purposes. He would simply follow through on that choice.

Widow considers a moment. "Well, if it's between killing you to defend my values or killing someone for money, the choice is obvious. I don't kill for money anymore." Her eyes narrow a bit. "So, guns or knives?"

She made the choice. He would set the terms. "Bare hands." That's all the warning she gets. He stalks closer, turning his side to face her front and present a smaller striking target. His weight shifts to the balls of his feet, ready to pivot for protection or to add force to a blow. His hands are open, his knees bent. Widow is faster than him. This he knows. His vision starts to turn red, his temples throbbing as the battle rage fills him. Yes! This was his purpose...war! He advanced with a turn of his body, his arm flailing in a lazy looking roundhouse as he tried to step inside her guard and catch her with his elbow. He was ready to spin back to avoid or roll with her counterattack or to follow through with a spinning knee. In his corp days he had learned the corporate style...a strange mix of muy thai and aikido that had been labelled by the company Renraku Multiform Personal Defence Training...but all the employees called it "Renrakato." He was pretty good at it, too, having achieved his golden sash...the equivelant of Karate's second black belt. None of this ran through his head, though...all his mind was pure rage!

As the exchange between Mickey and Widow goes on, Nick shakes his head, then looks at Sue.

"Hey man...you still got that smoke behind your ear?"

Casually, with a malicious grin, Painkiller faces Nick.

"Chummer, I've been an Edge way before most people here joined. I've been working with some people, but once an Edge always an Edge, comprende? But if anyone of you kids dares to call me Gramps, I'll hang him with his own guts."

Sue looks at Nick for a second, "yeah..." he reaches up pulls the cigarette from behind his ear. His hand comes down slowly but ends up on the butt of the preditor. Sue looks from side to side as if to say, which one?

Ricks opens up his senses to the Astral and checks out the two combatants.

Reptile finds that everything is as it should be. A good fight lets everyone know whose the boss and who has the right to speak up or not. On top of that this one is gonna be fun to watch, melees that don't include trolls or orks always last longer. He sees Mickey doing some nice moves. These 5 are mine, he thinks with a grin.

Widow seems a bit freaked by something she's not perfectly proficient in. Knives, fine. Guns, excellent. But fists? Everyone she used to run with considered fists to... pussy. But now, here she was, having to rely on them.

Mickey's first roundhouse she ducked easily, but the straight punch is was masking caught here completely off guard, crushing her nose with a wet pop. The pain instantly welled up in her eyes, blinding her. A sharp move in the wrong direction, distracted by the nose was all it took for Mickey catch her arm the wrong way and almost certainly break it.

She grinned to herself. Maybe this boy has something in him after all. She trusted her blind flailings here, hoping that something would connect. To her surprise, something did. Judging by the feel under her fist and the noise that came out of the body she was latched on to, she probably hit a kidney. If she was lucky, he would be limping and pissing blood for a month. That thought comforted her as, somehow, she was now on the ground, her face landing on Mickey's boot. She laughed a bit to herself. She loved a good fight.

She noticed the feeling of hovering on the brink of conciousness, and decided that if she was going to have a word, this would be it.

Purposly spraying the blood from her mouth and nose all over Mickey's pants, she let out a few gasping words. "You're still a punk bitch, but you're the punk bitch in charge, now. Girl, Lori, let's go."

Silently, Girl and Mother lifted the now uncouncious Widow from the ground. Bishop didn't think twice about helping, and Diablo didn't think twice about going with Bishop. Beast, however, hovered indecicivly between the crowd and Widow's crew. Finally, he stopped figiting, staying with the rest of the Edgers.

Girl gave a small mock-salute, although obviously putting some meaning into it, and they dragged Widow away, turning to walk down the street and out of the lives of the Bleeding Edge.

The fog lifted from his brain as the rush of combat filled him. There was nothing but the rage and need to pound his foe. The kidney shot shocked him out of that. He grunted and coughed up something liquidy, but didn't stop. A quick flick of his leg and a twist of his torso sent her hammerlocked form to the ground. He was tempted, sorely tempted, to smash his heel down on her neck. His foot lifts for the action...and the pain in his side makes him set it down. He takes a step back as she spits her epitaph onto his pants., his arm guarding his sensitive side. He watched Mother and girl help her up. Then he saw them start to walk away, the little salute their farewell. He sucked up the pain in his side. Now he had to deal with the Bleeding Edge.


"It does not have to be this way. Honour has been settled. Your place is here. Your home, your family is the Bleeding Edge. I know things have not gone well since Prometheus was taken from us. Now we have the opportunity to take a step foreward, to advance and rise again, phoenix from the flames. Be a part of it. Stay with us."

Blitz watches the whole exchange with a detatched eye. It's natural for him, eerily so, to assess the skill of combatants in a fight. Unarmed, he could destroy either of them, but that was the extent of his worth as a combatant. Then again, by the time someone got a gun out, he was in range to break them in half nine times out of ten.

`We've got work to be doin'`

He says as Widow is brought away. He'd have to talk to her after, sort things out.

Widow tries to moan something in reply, but is unable to put together coherent words. Instead, Mother translates. "We'll talk after she's healed up some."

Mickey nods at Mother, accepting this for now, then turns to the business at hand whuile holding his side with one hand. Alpha and Gamma did not work so good last time, so he decides to try something else a little less extreme.

"Allright Run Team, that's those of you going on this run, check in when you arrive at the location before you start the havok. Nick, that's your job. When all is done, check in again. If I do not get a check in call within an hour of when you should have arrived or an hour after the havok starts, then I will send another team to assess the situation and aid any who need it. Run Team, move out."

He turns his attention to the rest of the Bleeding Edge. "The rest of us, the Home team, let's go inside and do what needs to be done. Anything that's useless or garbage is to be removed and burned. Anyone who is not an Edger is to be given the choice of joining or leaving. This is now Bleeding Edge property. Any who wish to remain here will have to become an applicant. If those who will not join resist, use whatever means nessesary to get them out. Any potential applicants are to be brought to the main entrance for me to deal with. Home team, let's move in!"