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Large Mike
There is a house, on 175th Ave, between the Woodinville Snohomish Rd and 133rd Ave. It is here that the Bleeding Edge reside. They are one of the older gangs in the area, with a prestige reaching back 6 or 7 years. They’ve seen complete rotation of membership several times, and very few can remember everyone who has come and gone.

Across the street, on the south side of 175th, reside The Losers, a mixed-race gang with no major enemies. They repel any other gangs that come to their turf, and do a little dealing, but that’s about it. West of Woodinville Rd belongs to the Hellbringers, a splinter of the Hellhounds. Just east of Bleeding Edge turf is Munk’s Skull Crushing Bad Boyz, a small gang of huge, well skilled brawlers that claim one block as their turf. There’s not much on their block, and little interest in being there, so most everyone leaves them alone. Throughout the area, claiming no turf, is a fresh thrill-gang called the lockpicks. They fancy themselves to be some kind of special ops team, but in reality, they are just a bunch of young crack B&E artists. Also, with no set territory, are the Wild Riders. The claim no turf. Or, rather, they claim anywhere they are at that exact second to be their turf. They are vicious and take no prisoners, but only if provoked. They usually clear out of wherever they are after a day or so, so they don’t get bothered much. They do have a beef with the Hellbringers, although no one really remembers what it’s about.

The Bleeding Edge has prospered well under the leadership of Prometheus. He was a huge, huge trog. He was well read, and knowledgeable, as well as one of the fiercest fighters the neighbourhood has ever seen. This morning, he sits in his high-backed chair in the living-room, unconscious.

Last night, was a great, great party. The aftermath is almost as impressive in it’s own way. The entire gang is here, mostly asleep.

Ghost, Prometheus’ second-in-command, is upstairs in his room, asleep. Mickey, an elf who was an unaffiliated squatter up until about three months ago, is curled up in a corner of the living room. Blitz has managed to clear off the couch all for himself, and softly snores away. Kake is asleep in his truck, as usual. Techie, a foul-mouthed ork, is asleep on the kitchen table, although he has his own room. Tremor, Buck Tooth, Shaman, Bruised, Widow, Trash, Tyler, Jake, and Nick are all downstairs on the dozens of bunk beds that been collectively dubbed the Barracks. As usual, Junkie is asleep in the bathtub.

All seventeen members of the Bleeding Edge are wearing, somewhere on their person, the bloody knife patch that is their symbol, and the gray and red bandanna that are their colors.

The only one awake is Mother. She is an elven girl who could be anywhere between 17 and 30-something. She is dressed in a bath robe and smoking a cigarette, scrambling enough eggs to feed everyone. It isn’t long before she wanders off to wake up Prometheus, because he likes to be awake in this part of the morning, when everyone is asleep and everything is quiet. After jostling his shoulder for a minute, she notices more blood than usual covering the front of his shirt. Lifting his head up from it’s slumped position, she sees the hole going up through his skull from the bottom of his jaw. It’s also just then that she sees his gun, with a silencer on it, laying on the floor beside his chair.

Not bothering to wake everyone up individually, she does one of the things Mother is famous for. She lets out a whistle that pierces everyone’s dreams and makes each and every single person in the fairly large house sit bolt upright. As everyone scrambles into the living room, they all see what the matter is.
Tanka
Kake manages to hear the whistle, even through the siding of his semi, somehow. He scrambles up and into some semblance of clothing and armedness. The Predator III inside a coat pocket, the survival knife in his boot, the telescoping staff carefully tucked in the lower part of a sleeve. Predator III silenced, and all four clips fully loaded and ready to go. He jumps out one of the gate exits from the trailer and takes off full speed to the origin of the whistle.

"Mother? Mother? What happened?"

He more or less stumbled into the room with Prometheus before sliding to a stop just inside of the doorway, Predator III drawn and ready.
Shadow
Ghost's eyes snap open at the srhil noise. It takes a few seconds for his mind to engage his reflexes, he rolls off the bed, clad only in boxers, hand reaching under the covers for his stun baton. Then his senses kick in and he realizes he's in no immediate danger. He hear's Kake come rushing in, when theres no sound of struggle or gunfire he surmises that what ever it is, can wait a few minutes. He slips on his cloths, denim pants and canvas shirt followed by his vest, with the large image of the bleeding edge logo on the chest. He straps on his colt and stun button and flows out the door, slipping his trench on while he does.

The stairs creak as he gets to the bottom, he takes on look at the room, their (ex) leader, sitting in the chair, a bullet where his brain used to be.

"Oh Drek."

Ghost circles the body looking to Mother for an explanation, when she shrugs her shoulders he nods.

"I didn't see this coming," he says

Ghost squats beside the body, slipping the heavy gun in his right coat pocket.

"Kake, round everybody up, were going to have problems." He says in his slightly accented voice. He rests a hand on Prometheus' shoulder, and whispers silently, "godspeed my Liege."
Tanka
"Yessir, on it."

Kake turns, takes a few steps, and bellows in the almost-lost trucker-voice.

"Hey, slotheads! Get over 'ere righ' now! Ghost's got summin' ta say... And, there's... Uh... Somethin' ya gotta see..."

The last bit he says a bit sadly and a little more quietly. He turns back around and walks over to Mother, putting a hand on her shoulder.

He looks around the room quickly to see if anything else is a bit out of place in the room, then waits for the rest of the guys.
Large Mike
Awakened by the whistle, Tremor, Buck Tooth, Techie, Shaman, Bruised, Widow, and Trash all arrive. With Blitz and Mikey having slept in the livingroom, the only people missing are Tyler, Nick, and Junkie.

There doesn't seem to be that much out of place, other than the misplaced bullet. Mother has tears running down her cheeks as she sits down in a corner and lights another smoke.

Buck Tooth, normally the loudest, most disrespectful little punk, starts bawling, trying to hide it best he can. Widow and Trash converse among themselves quietly.
Tanka
Kake closes his eyes, then remembers, finally, to put his Predator away. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, lights one up, and replaces the pack and the lighter. He quietly removes his hand from Mother's shoulder and walks over to Ghost.

"What now? No note or nothin'?"

He glances around, trying to think of anything that could've sparked the ex-leader's suicide.
Shadow
Ghost cocks his head at Kake, a dangerous fire flicker in his eyes before he squashes it. He takes a breath, and as quietly as he can he speaks to Kake, and to Kake alone.

"What suicide Omae, our leader has been murdered, in our own dos. That's what happened, and that's how it plays, soka?"

Ghost looks to mother and shakes his head side to side, and brings his forfinger to his lips.


(OOC)
Ghost squats beside the body, slipping the heavy gun in his right coat pocket.
He did this right after he came down stairs. Only Mother, Kake, and Ghost know the truth, and he wants it to stay that way.
Tanka
Kake nodded once, turned to look at the other guys, then turned back to Ghost. He spoke at barely a whisper.

"Want me ta tell 'em, or ya got somethin' planned ta say?"
Shadow
Ghost smiles at how quickly Kake picks up the bait,

"I got something planned, as soon as everyone is assembled I'll have a plan of action," Ghost rests his hand briefly on Kake's shoulder, "we play this right we might even extend our territory."

Ghost turns away steps over to Mother, "You understand it has to be this way," he whispers to her.

"He cannot be seen as weak by the other gangs, or we will be seen as weak. That," he pauses for a moment, "and it doesn't do his memory justice."
Large Mike

The only electronics in the room are a couple of lamps and an ancient, but big screen TV. There's also a telephone and someone's broken BTL rig, it's been there as long as anyone can remember.

Prometheus is a very regal looking troll. For street trash, he's about as good looking as it gets. He's clean-shaven and well kept. His clothes include a Bleeding Edge denim vest and some leather pants. He also has a motorcycle-chain for a necklace, having gotten the idea from another gang memeber. He's seated as a king on his throne, despite the slumped head.

The mood of the gathered members is one of sadness and grievance. They all loved Prometheus, he was like a big brother to everyone.
Tanka
Kake walks out to the nearest bed, or anything with covers, really, and yanks it straight off. After shaking it off a bit, he bundles it in his arms, then walks back to the room. He quietly covers Prometheus and puts his hand to his head in a salute.

"I wish ya well, wherever ya go, omae."
Fresno Bob
Roused from sleep by the whistle, he quickly covers his torso with a ripped Sex Pistols T-Shirt and jumps off his bunk, pausing to reach into his duffel bag and jam his Ceska into his back pocket. Quickly he molds his hair quickly into spikes as he runs past the broken mirror. His motorcycle boots make loud stomps as he bolts up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He appears in the living room, starting an apology for being later than the rest, but cuts it off when he sees the body.

"What the hell happened? Who did this!?"
Tanka
Kake sighs, again, after taking a long drag on his cigarette. He shakes his head as he hears the thumping of boots, signaling the late arrival. He turns just in time to see Nick come in.

"Not sure... Probably 'nother gang. Who'd do this ta us Ghost? Slottin' with our leader is like slottin' with the fraggin' Star... Now we gonna have ta show them, huh?"

Kake took another drag and walked to the far corner, flicking a few ashes off the butt of the cigarette.
Fresno Bob
Nick shakes his head.

"We'll kill 'em. We've got to...." He pauses for a moment then adds "Oi, Kake, can I bum a smoke?"
Tanka
Kake sighs, yet again. He seems to be really good at that.

"Sure. Here."

He pulls out the pack and throws it across the room, aimed at Nick, of course.

What a time ta ask fer something, neh? Eh, whatever...
Fresno Bob
Nick catches the pack, fumbling it a bit, but then pulling it close for security.

"Thanks, mate." he says, as he pulls out a cigarette, then lights it with a nearby book of matches.

"Hard to believe someone could sneak into our doss and geek 'metheus like this. Although I suppose our night of reverie helped." Nick half smiles and takes a long drag. He throws the pack to Kake, and then wipes his eyes.

"Er, its the smoke. Stings me eyes.", he adds hastily, then sniffs noticeably.
Tanka
Kake fumbled a bit with the pack, then dropped it. He sighed and bent down to pick it up slowly.

"Drek... Yeah. Question is... Who an' why?"
last_of_the_great_mikeys
Mickey glares at the scene of death and blood, his eyes going vacant for a moment as he whispers, "Oh hell! I knew we shoulda kept a couple of us sober!" He envestigates the scene pretty carefully, noting the would under his chin. He mutters "Yeah...bloody hell, somebody's gotta pay! Who's Renraku fronting now?" He looks to Ghost with a look that says he knows better...but that he'll back the play. Ghost took charge so for now Mickey'll follow his lead...but he knew. After all, it's pretty hard to shoot someone under the chin.

He points to three random members of the gang. "You three, get yer weapons and start watchin' the place! Noone gets in. The rest of ya, get yer weapons ready." He looks over to Ghost. "Got any ideas who the perps were?"
Fresno Bob
Nick puffs his cigarette, tapping the ash onto the ground, then flicks it down and grinds it out under his boot.

"Oi, Mick. Who put you in charge? I say we all vote on any actions until a leader can be decided. Although, checking out what went down sounds like a good idea."
Digital Heroin
Blitzkreig had passed out the night before in his clothes, and so, when he was roused by Mother's whistle, he grunted, rolling off of the couch and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

One of these days, you'll wake up dead...

It was one of his father's sayings. His father used to think it would intimidate him, like it was some kind of mythical threat. He had been scared of his father and his words, up until some snotnosed punk had laughed at him and explained how you couldn't wake up if you were dead. The next time his father had used the line on him, was the last time his father had spoken. He'd killed the fragger with his bare hands that night, his first taste of lifeblood.

One of these days, you'll wake up dead...

If only he knew it wouldn't be him who died. Hell, he'd still have got smashed last night anyway, just in a celebration of a friend's life. He pulls himself to his feet after a long moment, and makes his way to the room where everyone's gathered. He bullies his way past some of the smaller members, the greens, and grunts.

`What the frag's goin' on in 'ere?`

Yeah, real perceptive, ain't he?
Large Mike
Widow, a battle-scarred woman who has proven herself time and time again, stubs out her cigarette and leaves the room. She is joined by Trash, one of the brawling trogs of the group, his baseball bat swinging in it's sheath (yes, a sheath for a baseball bat) at his hip, as alwayse. They head down to the barracks, and come up not long after with the busted remains of a bunk that had been broken in a brawl a while back.

"If anyone needs us, we'll be out back making the pyre for his funural tonight."

There is a bit of muttering, and Shaman and Tremor go to join them.

Buck Tooth, who no one had noticed slip out a minute earlier walks in and, after the proper respectful pause of silence, says "The only person not right here are those four and Junkie, who's conked out in the tub again. There ain't nobody else in tha whole place. Whatever fragger did this is vanished."
Shadow
I say we all vote on any actions until a leader can be decided

"What the Fraggin Hell you think I am Nick," Ghost spins around and looks right at Nick, lifting his finger and pointing at the ganger.

"Listen up, listen good. Promo has been murdered, and my money is on The Losers, they fragged up real good and now were going to return the favor. I'll say it in small words, Ghost is in charge. Anyone got a problem with that better leave now, 'cause this aint no debate."

Ghost takes a few steps up the stairs and then turns around, making sure to be on eye level with even the biggest trog.

"Tremor, Buck Tooth, and Widow, get your weapons and get on the perimeter, we don't want a repeat, Blitz, you and Kake take Promo out back and build him a pyre, I want a fire so big the whole world will see the flames. And then, then we plan on how to make our enemies pay, no one, and I mean no one gets away with this."

Ghost ends by giving his best intimidating look to the crowd. He then hops off the steps and walks strait up to Nick,

"We going to rumble, omae?"


Digital Heroin
Before a rumble can actually break out, before Nick can actually answer to Ghost, Blitz steps up behind him, arms crossed, a serious look on his face. Deadly serious.

`Someone geeked the big man,`

He'd just caught onto it, seen it in their eyes, heard it in their words.

`Now we can stand here and fight amongst ourselves, let them win, or we can send 'em a message.`

He leans in a little, to adress Nick nice and close-like.

`You comprend, chummer?`

He looks to Ghost, and nods. He can see where the tides lie.

`I'll do as you say, but you'd best be ready to back your words with blood.`
Large Mike

Everyone goes to follow their orders, stunned into more obediance than they'd normally show, but stop as they realize what had just happened between Ghost and Nick. Even the four who'd gotten just out the door appeared suddenly, and everyone widened out into a circle around the two in anticipation of the coming conflict.

In the corner, Mother looked up, stood up, and pushed her way to ringside, despite being a little elf shouldering through trogs. Everything is deadly quiet.
Shadow
"Our honor has been tarnished Blitz, are very souls have been insulted by this shameful deed," He says, still standing directly in front of Nick, but looking up at the big troll.

"Our blades demand blood, the honor of our patron demands blood, our swords will come unsheathed and drink deeply the blood of our enemy," he turns his head back to Nick, his voice dropping a few levels, "who ever they may be."
Tanka
As Kake was going to pick up Prometheus, with the aid of Blitz, of course, he put his cigarette out on his jeans, then dropped the butt in an upper pocket of his shirt. He turned and glanced at Ghost, Nick, and the rest. He sighed, once again, and shook his head.

"'Ey, guys. Do as 'e says or we got more probs than who's leader, ya hear? We don't wanna look weak ta the other gangs out 'ere, gotta look like we should. Out fer blood. Der blood. Now eider ya wit' us er ya ain't. If ya wit' us, get on da job. If ya ain't, get the frag out before one o' us geek ya."
Grey
Jake comes crawling up the stairs, looking like death warmed over. His eyes are completely bloodshoot as he lifts his head to catch the last bits of exchange between Ghost and Nick. It takes a moment for the meaning to filter through the haze of his hangover, but as it does, Jake realizes that something big, very big, is going down.

Crawling to his feet, and finally seeing the scene layed before him, Jake looks at Ghost, half in shock.

"What do you want me to do?"
last_of_the_great_mikeys
Mickey turns his half-vacant eyes to Nick, an unreadable glare, then to Ghost, then back to Nick. His trigger finger twitches when he looks to Nick the second time...a rather weird little nervous tick he had when he was annoyed. When he spoke, his voice was (as always) deceptively soft, almost a whisper.

"The big man's dead. Ghost responded best and quickest. I merely backed him up. Dwelling on Prometheus' death could be dangerous. While Ghost dealt with the big picture, I merely occupied some fragile minds with current pragmatism. Have you an issue with my response to the situation?"

He turns his blankish eyes to Ghost and asks in his spooky monotone, "Is there an issue with this? Or do we chalk up Nick's rather rude question to justifiable shock and righteous anger?"

Though phrased as a question, his tone made it obvious that he had already decided to do so. Nick had thus far not been a threat to the gang and so deserved the benefit of the doubt.
Shadow
"Yeah Mickey, were all a little dazed. Let's get this mess cleaned up and get some order together." Ghost turns away from Nick, looking to Mother, "why don't you get us some food cooked up I think we could all use it. The rest of let's get to work and get this house put together, were going to need an inventory of everything we got, if were going up agains the Losers and Wolfe."

Taking the lead Ghosts starts picking up the mess while Promo is carted out to the backyard. After a few minutes, when he is sure the situation has calmed down he heads up stairs to his room, to be alone with his thoughs for a while. It will be at least a few hours before he comes back down.
Large Mike

Mother is solemn as she makes everyone breakfast. Due to the special occation, she sends Tremor and Shaman to go get some meat.

Everyone gathers at the long table and eats in silence. It's about noon when the pyre is finished. Trash makes a wooden stretcher and puts Prometheus on it, and then covers him with the sheet again. After this is done, everyone gathers all of their weapons and array them in the living room, loading everything and making sure that they all work properly. Everyone also pays special attention to their patches and colors, cleaning them and making sure they are properly displayed. Even mother is armed; and wearing warpaint, which is a first for her as far as anyone can tell. The only one not making themselves ready for war is Junkie, who's still crashed out in the bathtub.

By about 3 o'clock, everyone is ready to go, although the consensus seems to be that they'd like to wait until after the funeral.
Digital Heroin
Blitz looms in the background, near to the door. He's decked our not just for a fight, but for a war. His leather jacket has been dusted off, the Bleeding Edge crest airbrushed on the back clearly visible. One bandana for each of the gang's colors around each massive bicep; his boots brush polished; he's even wearing clean, albeit torn, jeans. Upon his face he wears the paint he wore when he wore as a back room fighter. The mask of black with veigns of crimson lent a demonic look to his already greusome visage. His expression was blank, lethally calm. In the belt of his jeans was tucked his Cavalier Deputy, the big revolver there more for show than anything. This wasn't going to be a turkey shoot. This was personal. This demanded a hands on approach. A heavy length of chain hung at his side, ready.

When they took to the streets. He intended to be at the vanguard. His would be the first face the Losers would see coming there way; and the last some of them would even see.
Shadow
Sitting cross legged on the floor meditating (or best he can) Ghost can hear the dinner being served, the quiet almost reserved speaking between the members. None of the usual banter or boasting, just a quiet meal, the kind you would expect at a normal house.

Ghost stood in one fluid motion and walked to the closet. Inside was his war paint. He quickly and efficiently painted a white skull over his own features giving him an eerie walking dead look. He double checked his manhunter to make sure it is loaded, triple checked his stun baton to make sure it wa charged, then headed down stairs.

He walked into the kitchen, a quick look told him most people were done eating.

"It's time."

He headed outback, to where the body of Promo rested on a huge pyre. The smell of gasoline and wood permeated the area.

Standing at the head of the pyre he waited for everyone to filter out.
Fresno Bob
Nick recoils a bit at Mickey and Ghost's anger, but just sneers and straightens his back. After the funeral he loads up all his guns and places them in his beaten Ares duffel bag, which he places on the floor next to his seat at the dinner table. When Ghost comes down, he stands up, pulls out the M-23, slides on his Armored Jacket, then slings the duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Alright 'en. Lets do this thing." He says, resting the Assault Rifle up against his shoulder.
last_of_the_great_mikeys
While Mother is preparing breakfast and a few others the pyre, Mickey waits for everyone to be otherwise occipied and distracted, hefting his wrench and smacking it into his hand. Once he has the opportunity, he heads to Prometheus' room and, without moving anything in it that cannot be easily put back in place (a token of respect), looks for a suicide note. If the others found it, Ghost might be in trouble. While hesrching, he also takes note of anything interesting or unusual for the inventory. (OOC note: When (and if) the note is found, he brings it to Ghost and tells him to read it, then get rid of it...it would do noone else any good to see.) He then gets himself cleaned up, washing and getting his clothes as clean as he can. He checks his gun and readies it in it's holster, test drawing it a few times...just in case. Right now, though, he'd rather bust heads with his makeshift club. Still, the rest of them were running on rage right now, so they would not be making nessesarily sound combat judgements. It would be up to him to provide support should any of them, in their grief, bite off more than they can chew. He looked at his pistol and wished he had something greater. He remembered the feel of an ingram smartgun, the hail of bullets it could fire. *Sigh.* Well, he'd make do with what he had.

He ate breakfast quietly, bringing his own plate into the kitchen when done. When only he and Mother were in there he looked at her with his semi-vacant gaze. "You were the first to find Prometheus. My sympathy. I should not have let my guard down last night. Someone should have been alert to danger. Perhaps then...something could have been done." He looks at her knowingly...she had to know. She found the body! His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment and he sighed before looking up at her again. "I'll help you with the dishes, so you can have some extra time to do whatever you need to do."

After breakfast is done and the places cleared, he's ready for the ceremony, a mask of stoicism masking his cold anger.
Large Mike
Widow, decked out in all of her street fighting gear, accompanies the stretcher as Bruised and Trash bear it out and onto the pyre just as it begins to get dark. They lay Promotheus on the pyre and Widow splashes a bit more gas on him, slowly and carefully.

Just then, the back gate opens. In from the alley walks a figure well known in Woodinville. His reputation for strength and violence procede him as he and six other trolls and an elf file in behind him. None of them are armed, but they are known to not need weapons. Several of the Bleeding Edge have leveled weapons at him. But tonight he's not the rabid bear the stories have made him out to be. Each member of the newcomers is as clean and well-dressed as gangers can expect to be, much as everyone here. Each of them wears a barbed, decorated chain around their neck. The lead man wears two.

He raises his hands to show he's not here to brawl.

And then, Munk speaks.

"There aren't many people that know this, but Prometheus once ran with us. He and I grew up together, before we had solidified the Skull Crushin' Bad Boys. He was everything I could hope to admire in a man. He had your back when the drek rained down, he had a plan when you were outmanned, outfought, or outsmarted. He had a hand to lend to anyone that needed it and was never cruel. He could have left the Barrens at any time and made his way in the breeder world, but his family was here. He helped me form the Bad Boys, and when he left, we retired his chain and hung it on the wall above the fireplace. I alwayse told him if he ever wanted it back, it'd be waiting for him."

He lifts the second chain from his neck and reverantly places it in Prometheus' hand.

"Tonight, he gets his chain back."

"And you boys get our help with whoever you figure did this."

Widow, sensing it was more Munk's place than hers, hands him the matches.

He offers them to Ghost, if he feels it's more his place.
Fresno Bob
Nick smiles and says "Excellent. The more the merrier, right?" Then he extends his right hand for Munk to shake.

"My name's Nick. Pleasure to have you. We're gonna go destroy the Losers after this, and your help will be appreciated."

When (If) Munk shakes his hand, he turns to the pyre and salutes.
Digital Heroin
When Munk and his crew had entered, Blitz hadn't bothered to draw a weapon, he'd just begun to stalk forward. Seven Trogs and a Daisy Eater? No fraggin' problem. He was only two strides away when Munk raised his hand, and it almost didn't stop him. One left cross to the jaw ought to tech the boy to interrupt family business. He holds though, when the Trog speaks. Fist lowering to his side, but clenched so tight each of his knuckles pop in chorus.

It's a fancy little speach, he'll grant that, but it's still just words. When Nick offers a hand and a smarmy little salute, well it's almost enough to make Blitz snap. What does he think this is, some kind of fraggin' joke?
last_of_the_great_mikeys
Mickey just stood there calmly, ready to act but giving no outward sign other than his twitching trigger finger.
Tanka
Kake, after helping Prometheus to the pyre, returns to his semi to grab his Remington 990 and the bola rounds lying next to it, as well as his Heckler and Koch HK227. He'll be spraying lead tonight, and probably cracking a few skulls while he's at it. He sat down to work the Gas Vent IV on the H&K, then made sure the Remington was fully loaded with bola rounds. He double-checked all four spare clips to make sure they were fully loaded as well. Following all of this, he silently double-checked the Shock Pads and Under Barrel Weight on the H&K. Definately gonna be spraying lead.

"Those fraggers mess wit' us... Best be prepared to get geeked..."

Kake strapped the Remington to his back and put the H&K just inside of his pants. The Predator still resided in an inner pocket, just within reach, but easily concealed. He'd go without the warpaint today. He wanted those slotheads to know what he really looked like when they died at his hands.

He stepped out of the semi and walked back to the pyre just in time to see Munk and the rest entering and give their little speech. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes again, lit one, and puffed away while listening nonchalantly.
Shadow
Ghost is about to speak when Munk walks through the gates. He stops, nods to the troll when he starts talking.

Ghost waits form him to finish, and says, "Promethius never told us that, but it's not suprising, he was all those thing to us as well. For tonight, we shall set our differences aside, and punish those who are responsible. Tonight we will have vengence!"

He nods to Munk that it is time to light him up.
Large Mike

The body burns, and everyone pays their respects, some of them relating stories as to their experiences with the big man, some of them just standing silently. Eventually, the fire burns down to nothing, leaving some bones and a bit of charred cyber. The pit dug for the pyre earlier now serves as the grave, holding the ashes of what was a living, breathing person just 24 hours ago.

With that done, everyone moves to the front of the house. The two clubhouses are on the street, several blocks down from one another. Anyone with good enough vision (percep TN# 9) can see The Losers already lined up several blocks down 175th. They obviously know to expect trouble, but that's to be expected. Everyone knows everything in a neighbourhood this small.
Tanka
Kake draws his trusty Predator and kisses it once, then repockets it. He pulls out the Telescoping Staff from his sleeve, twirls it once to send it out, then twirls it the opposite way to make sure it locks.

"You suckas gonna get it..."

He looks at Ghost and waits for the signal to move.
Digital Heroin
Blitz removes the chain from where it hangs around his belt, and levels his eyes down the street at the gathering Losers. He's settled into an eerie calm, and he wraps the chain slow loop after slow loop around a meaty hand. When he clenches his fist, the metal of the chain whines with faint protest. He's not fooling around now. He takes three slow steps forward, taking the lead, and he waits there, for the word.
last_of_the_great_mikeys
Mickey pulls out his wrench. This was gonna hurt the Losers a lot more than him. Wrong time, wrong place for them. He advanced with the rest, a part of the phalanx and waited for Ghost and the little dwarf to get it started.
Grey
Jake takes up a spot just behind and to the side of Ghost, looking ready for a fight and a chance to prove himself. He holds his Predator in his hands and loads his clip of Explosive ammo. His spiked mace hangs at his hip and his huge survival knife is stashed into his boot.

"I got yer back, Ghost. Let me know whatcha need and it'll be done."
last_of_the_great_mikeys
Mickey looks at the two Edgers on his left and the one on his right. He speaks in a slightly stronger voice than usual.

"You three *pointing to each in turn*, form a box with me. You *the one on the right* with me in the front. You other two in behind us. Any us two up front drop, you two finish. Any that get by us you two stop. Watch each other's backs."

Shadow
Ghost walks calmly out to the street and stands on the center line. The rest of the gang lining up on either side of him. He takes note of where everyone is and commits it to memory, as well as kicking in his low light vision so he can see well.

"Remember," he says loud enough for everyone to hear, "stick together, watch each others back, and keep your head."

More softly he turns his head to Blitz, "your our bruiser omae, get in as deep as you can and disrupt their lines, if you need help just holler real loud."

He unlimbers his colt in it's holster, and flips the Stun Baton, in his left hand, to the "on" position.

"Jake, stay close to me, and keep your head. Don't go running off, I am counting on you to watch my back."

When the gang is formed up the way they want, Ghost waits. He stares down range toward The Losers, willing them to make the first move. He is also trying to spot there leader, the stumpy little dwarf.
Grey
Jake gives Ghost a nod. "Don't you worry bout that, boss, I'm on it."
Fresno Bob
Nick whistles as he sets his rifle for Burst, then zooms his eyes in on a ganger, then centers the red crosshairs of his smartlink on his head, and takes aim for a for a while. He taps the trigger of his gun waiting waiting for the call to begin the fight and blast the kid's head off.

"Oi, Ghost. I got a good shot, 'ere. Can I take it?"

(OOC: I don't know what range is, but I have vision mag 3, -2 from the smartlink, -2 from the aiming (I think that's the max), and then +4 for the called shot)
Large Mike
The street lights in this part of town usually don't work. Someone, however has set up lights on this particular playing field. Tonight, The Losers defend themselves from attack by a combination of The Bleeding Edge and Munk's Skull Crushing Bad Boyz. The two groups uneasily stare each other down. Finally, the dwarf leading the Losers, a grizzled old man who seems like the streets should've eaten him a long time ago, speaks.

"I know you won't believe me, but we had nothing to do with it."

He's met simply with steely silence.

"Alright then. Let's do this."

With that word, both groups begin their bellowing and war cries. Shot after shot fires off in the time that the two groups take to rush towards each other. The sounds of bellowing thunder take down several people. A troll with barbed-wire tattooes all over his body never even gets to swing his length of pipe, as a bullet deprives him of brain-function. A sputter of bullets also puts down two of the loser's numbers, a pair of twins with tribal designs etched into their flesh.

A responding cough of a shotgun hits Jake, just to the right of Ghost, square in the chest. He drops to one knee, and is left behind in the crush op people. Screaming at the front lines, the two masses pound against one another like two cars in an intersection. Blitzkrieg, leading the frontlines of the Bleeding Edge, starts tearing through opponents, taking first a cybered orc, and then a knife-wielding human with his massive fists. He drops them, leaving them on the ground, and someone behind him finishes them off as he presses forwards.

A tribal-looking human, who had stood beside Wolfe when the armies arrayed, let's loose with a warcry and swings him machete. He is blindingly fast, and leaves deep, deep wounds in two of Munk's Boyz. Munk takes a fatherly interest and deletes the punk from existance. Nick finds himself in a bit of trouble as he's surrounded by four losers, two of whom are trolls, and all of whom seem intent on removing him from the planet. Mikey, looking over and seeing his fellow Edger in trouble, takes the heavy end of his wrench and takes down the closest of the four. This distracts them enough that Nick is able to remove another. The trolls, at this point, let out twin howls of fury, and go on sadistic rampages. Back-to-back, they thrash everything in sight that's not a loser. They draw weapons, a club and a machete, repectivly, and let loose. Buck Tooth and Tremor both feel the wrong end of a machete in their chests and drop to their knees, their realities fading to black. Shaman doesn't even see the club that turns the back of his skull to jelly. Trash steps up, trying to stop the rampage, swinging his signature baseball bat. Bruised sees what he's trying to do and steps up to help him. The four trolls face each other and do battle, only one of them surviving. Bruised lives, although he screams as his arms bends in ways it shouldn't. Using the pain to fuel his rage, he presses on. A neo-anarchist dwarf seems to be fighting dirty. He's got his spurs out and is using the confusion and his size to take out the legs of his opponents and end them once they fall under the feet of everyone else. In quick succession, he takes down Techie, one of Munk's Boyz,and Tyler before the sole elf with Munk get's his attention. The dwarf stabs the elf, who simply ignores it and literally pounces on the dwarf, tearing his throat out with his teeth. As Kake and an Orc in a nice leather jacket trade punches, Ghost finally finds Wolfe in the confusion. The two stare each other down for a second, the chaos passing them by. Unexpectedly, Wolfe lunges in with a short sword that no one had even noticed to this point. Ghost, ready for it, parries, and swings around. Wolfe turns his parry back and catches Ghost in the leg. He winces and almost falls, but not before finishing his stroke and turning most of Wolfe's neck into two parts. He burbles and falls to the ground, clutching his gaping windpipe.

With that, the fight slows down a notch. The remaining live Losers realize what has transpired, extricate themselves, and run. Those who still have guns on them, (most being dropped at some point) take shots at the retreating 6 figures. One of them drops, and the rest run on. No one has the energy to pursue more than a few yards.

The only people left standing are The Bleeding Edge and the Bad Boyz, and not all of them, either. The ground is littered with bodies, in large piles. In many cases, you have to step on them to get out of the kill-zone.

You've won, but no one will sing victory songs tonight.
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