Troy taps Knuckles on the shoulder nodding toward the racks of soykay. The hydraulic jacks kick in and propel Troy from behind cover to Aisle 13.

Rob slows down to a walk on the wet floor, looking around to see if anybody is about to attack him. Three down, how many more to go? Hearing someone demanding a credstick from aisle 5 (soap and stuff) he heads that way. At least one, it seems.

Turning around the corner, both he and the would-be robber are startled to see each other at such a short distance. Did he have to stand right behind the corner?

Rob, who at least expected the other man, reacts the fraction of a second faster and gets his shot off first.
The soft bullet flattens against the other's chest, forcing the air out of his lungs and pushing him back by about a metre.

Still on his feet, the ganger regains his breath and returns fire at Rob, who hasn't even time to think about dodging. The solid round hits Rob in the left arm, who hardly seems to notice the hit.

He fires another shot at the robber, hitting his right shin this time. On the slippery ground, the man can't help but stumble and then fall backwards into a woman with a child - his intended victims, who try to get out of the way but stand no chance of doing so quickly enough. Crashing down in one thrashing and wriggling heap, the three manage to knock bottles of soap off the shelves, some of which break open and douse them in slippery cleanlyness.

A small trickle of blood runs down Rob's left arm and starts to slowly drip onto the floor.
Civies. And a kid to boot. And I'm hit. Wounded even. Thanks for nothing, ballistic underwear.
Looking at the mess he mumbles "civies".

The buzz-cut haired man straightens from feeling the hard to see, beeping body. Magic he thinks. Might be getting ready to explode, too. He turns and looks along the frozen food cases in the direction of the lower numbered aisles and sees the glowing barrier blocking off the magazine section. More magic that way. He turns some more and heads back down the aisle he was in.

John Stone approached the gap between Aisles 9 and 10 with wariness, checking for people in other aisles. He spotted a buzz-cut man wearing the gangs colors and toting a shotgun approaching the gap from Aisle 8. He considered filling that aisle with lead from full auto fire of the weapon in his left hand and a couple of shots from the one in his right, decided that could be a lethal mistake if the guy just happened to wear the wrong colored coat tonight, and decided on a less mortal action.

Habetis bona deum, Homo praesumitur bonus donec probetur malus I speak the foreign words, feeling the background count rise from the blood spilled here tonight, the terror it aroused, and to some extent, the magic being used. I send the bolt of mana at the unsuspecting man and this time I feel the magic flow through my body with little resistance.

On the other side of the gap between aisles, the buzz cut man falls to the floor with a grunt, his free out-stretched arm sweeping a slew of electronic products off the shelf and to the floor with him.

Troy looks up upon hearing a body fall.

"Clear?" he yells and waits for a reply.

John Stone hears, "Clear?" and says, "I don't think so!" as he walks down the gap between the rows of Aisles toward the side of the building sporting windows. If it was clear, I would have felt my spirit depart that was finished with its last service. Which reminds me I better summon another while I have the chance.

I look ahead through the window into the domain of a dark and stormy night. Quit thinking of that beagle typing on his dog house. You better concentrate, dammit! I think and say, "Aut viam inveniam aut faciam aqua pura." I feel the mana building and shape it to my will. Shortly, an undine hovers near me in astral space.

Rob points his gun at the wriggling mess before him.
Shoot? And if I hit the kid or the mom? An eye won't care I'm using gel rounds...
Talk.
"Listen punk; three of your friends are already down; wanna join 'em?"
After a short pause to let this sink in, he continues.
"Now, slide over your gun, stay down and let the fine lady and her offspring get away from you and you'll make it out alive."
Upon seeing the resignation in the ganger's eyes, Rob let's out an almost imperceptible "Good choice."

Upon hearing the voice an aisle or so over call for a surrender and relate the knowledge that three of the persons friends are down, John Stone makes the guess that he is referring to gang mambers.

"I've seen four down," John says. "The howling shaman up front." Stone continues to look around as he walks, talking in short snippets. "The mage taking Mr. Nick to the back." "The guy with the katana." "An older guy with a buzz cut and shotgun." "I've also got a customer down at 8 and frozen food." "I had spirits conceal non-gang members." "Also saw a couple of my spirits attack the "Prince"." "Is he down?"

You hear Mr. Nick over the stores public adrress sytem, the stress in his voice makes you wonder how he overcame his fear to even be addressing you. "I can't see everything from the store camera, but I don't see any of the gang that attacked us still on their feet, except for the one in..." There is a bit of a pause, then he continues, drawing out the first word, "Aaiisle 5, maybe? Johnny says he doesn't see anyone in our back room. Wanda, please, be quiet, dear. It looks like it might be over."

There is something in hearing Mr, Nick's voice that seems to transform the store far more powerfully than his words have any right to do. Maybe the hope that it instills that the attack might be over, and you seem to have survived the mayhem.

Just when the woman in Aisle 5 seems to have screamed herself hoarse, the tornado like spirit appears behind her in the aisle. The next sound is Spike getting knocked back along the shelves and raking them as he falls, pulling down the bottled douches, then the tampons from the next shelf down and finally the feminine hygein pads from the last shelf onto himself. The Woman slowly turns to look in fear at the tall funnel cloud, slowly drawing a deep breath. Surprisingly, the tornado looking spirit seems to bow to her and then move away toward Aisle 6.

Upon hearing Mr. Nick say it looks like the gang is down and reminding him they may be in places other than the store floor, John Stone directs his spirits. Those of you attacking the gang robbing the store, he flashes a mental image of the gang's colors and emblem, be sure to look for the enemy in the back rooms of this building as well as around its exterior and parking lot. If you find no more, I thank you for your service and consider it finished. You did a fine job.

Troy lowers the barrel of his pistol, pointing towards the floor, but keeping a firm grip. He starts to cautiously move towards the security room, looking carefully before stepping around any aisles.

"Anyone see any more out front?", he asks in a conversational tone. "Just going to check that Mr Nick's alright."

And see if those cameras have an easily erased record function...

Sphinx scans the store intently, looking for any active enemies.

"Think they're all down!"

John Stone reaches his mind out to his spirits. If the are no more gang members standing, I thank you, and you may quit concealing us.

I notice what is on the shelves of the Aisle I am by instead of searching for people who would slice, stab or put bullets into my carcass. A dwarf walks right past me and grabs a medkit, turns and introduces himself with an extended hand. I holster my heavy pistol and take his hand. I almost stammer as I say, "I go by Rocky" I listen to him as he asks if anyone else is hurt. As I grab the most expensive, complete medkit I see, I say, "Yeah. There's a guy in the next aisle over that looks like he got hit pretty bad. I was just grabbing this," I wiggle the medkit, "and heading that way," and circle back around to Aisle 8. I stop at the buzz cut man I downed, holster the machine pistol and pick up his shotgun in the event he gains consciousness, think about it for a second and surreptitiously pull a credstick and car keys from his pocket as I search for other weapons. Heading to the man sprawled at the end of the aisle, a clever thought enters my mind, and when I get to the end of the aisle I look through the front windows and summon an undine.

When it appears before me in astral space I tell it, go to the shaman in front of the entry doors, then the mage by the doors to the back room and then any of the other gang members (I give it a mental image of the gangs colors and symbol) and take any magic items or keys they may have and wait for me with them at my car. As you do this, conceal yourself, your actions and any thing you take.

After the all-clear is sounded, Knuckles returns his backup pistol to the holster in his lower back, and walks back to where he had dropped his coat earlier. Tying his blue bandana around his head, he picks up the soiled coat and lets it drip dry a bit before putting it back on. He retrieves his main pistol, thinks "Will have to clean this bastard before I can use it again", ejects the clip and unchambers the round. The unloaded pistol returns to the sidearm holster, the round returns to the clip, and the fully loaded clip finds its way into his left pocket.

Surveying the surroundings, Knuckles stands over the fallen Japanese fighter and produces two pieces of copper to place over his eyes. He whispers, "Rest in peace, may this provide you passage to the other side."

Turning his attention to the KO'd woman, he picks her up and carries her towards the front. Stopping at the counter, he addresses Wanda, "How much for the Fizzygoo I dropped back there?"

Sphinx drops the barrier spell in front of him and watches the bones fade into nonexistence. He jogs down Area K to the severely injured man. He quickly checks the man's vitals. Satisfied that the man isn't about to die, he lightly slaps the man's face as he drops the armor spell.

"Oy chum, next time try to dodge. Want me to heal you up here or is there a doctor you'd prefer to go to?"

To the rest of the store Sphinx yells, "Anyone in need of immediate medical treatment, come to the frozen food section."

John Stone comes up behind the giant elf, notices the spell being dropped, and hears the black man ask the guy that is down if he wants healed here or a preferred doctor.

"I snagged the best medkit they had," I say as I hold out the medkit. "If you are planning on using magic to heal him, I'd wait until we get him out of here because there's some background count that won't help."

I hold out my hand and say, "You may call me Rocky. Just another night at the Stuffer Shack, huh? I usually only run into stuff like this when I'm out trying to get my laundry washed." I realize I am feeling the after-effects of the adrenalin surge and quit talking.

Rob looks at the kid and repeats the question "Am I a shadowrunner? Do you think that's the kind of question that elicits a clear response? The kind of question you should be asking of someone who holds a big gun?"
Before the kid can press the matter, a spirit materialises, attacks the ganger and vanishes again.
Rob points the gun at the point where the spirit was just a second ago and yells:
"Frag! Hey, that guy's already surrendered! You, ah whatever you are! Frag!"
Note to self: get some info on how this drek actually works. Can you talk to these .... things?
Bending down, Rob checks his prisoner's pulse, relieved to find him alive but unconscious.
"Magic!" He looks at the kid and continues "Now listen to your mom and leave, that's no business for kids."
6 shots, that's 18 nuyen for unpaid getting-shot-at work. Turning into some kind of charity, chummer?
He holsters his heavy pistol, takes the ganger's gun, stuffs it into his belt and proceeds to pat the unconscious man down, looking for valuables.

Next he grabs a blottle of bleach, pours it all over the few drops of his blood that hit the floor, grabs a second bottle of the stuff, walks the few steps over to the medkits, grabs one, takes off his jacket and starts to work on his left arm.
When a man who fought the gangers as well walks in to get a medkit, Rob stops his treatment, offers his hand and says "Nice work, chummer. Name's Rob. Anybody seriously wounded?"

"Nice to meet you, Rocky. Yeah, you never know these days. One moment I'm looking at vintage comic books mags and the next this place is chock full of gangers and mojo." Looking at Rocky, he continues "So, who're you getting the medkit for? Somebody I should look at once i've got this little hole taped over? I'm no doctor by far, but maybe I can help."

Sphinx takes Rocky's hand and shakes it. "Sphinx. This guy is going to be out for a while, I'll need to get him someplace more... clean before healing him. I don't suppose you have a vehicle we could use? I'd rather not carry him onto the bus, it might attract some negative attention."

Standing up and stretching, Sphinx checks out the rest of the 'Shack. "Would be best to take anyone in need of treatment with us as well. I'm a decent enough medic, but working in here won't make things any easier."

Mr. Nick comes up behind Wanda, bends and takes the shotgun from the "Prince" and places it well out of the downed ganger's reach.

Mr. Nick asks, "Wanda?" trying to get her to quit screaming and pay attention, then shouts, "Wanda!" The girl is finally somewhat silent. Mr. Nick suggests, "Why don't you go back to the break room?" He takes her by the shoulders, turns her in the right direction and gives her a little nudge.

Mr. Nick looks at the ork asking about paying for a spilled drink and shakes his head in disbelief. "No. No, don't worry about it. It's complimentary," he says, then bends to the PA microphone and announces, "Stuffer Shack is sorry for any inconvenience you may have experienced. To show its gratitude to its loyal customers, all orders are free of charge for the next 2 minutes. Lone Star has been notified and we at Stuffer Shack would not want to further inconvenience our vigilant shoppers any further. Thank you for shopping at Stuffer Shack and be sure to check out next weeks special on frozen confections."

Well, that one set of keys I snagged looked like it had a Bulldog keychain John "Rocky" Stone thinks. And if it isn't out there, I can go ahead and try to load him in my car. "Sure, I have a vehicle. I'm not sure how much room I'm going to have. Any plan on where to take him? This is Rob," Stone motions to Rob. He sounds like he knows a bit about using a medkit, but he needs worked on himself first.

"I was in here to get an umbrella, among other things. I think they have some plastic items we could use like a tarp and curtain an area off somewhere if it comes to that. Stuff like tablecloths, ponchos, maybe actual tarps. I think we should probably kind of wrap him in plastic so he doesn't leave blood all over the place and give the Star reason to look for leaking bodies. Maybe even splash any blood with some bleach so they don't astrally track us. Maybe I can get Mr. Nick to hit it with a mop, too, before Lone Star arrives."

Stone hears Mr. Nicks announcement, smiles and says, "Looks like everything's on the house for the next couple of minutes."

Sphinx nods to Rob. "Nice to meet you. I'm pretty handy with a medkit myself. I can take a look at you later if necessary." Turning back to Rocky he says, "I suppose if worst comes to worst we could take the poor chum back to my place. Let me grab some things to sterilize the place."

Sphinx gets up and makes a quick trip through the store, grabbing as many chemicals as he can. He also picks up a decent amount of food and drinking alcohol. As an afterthought he follows Rocky's suggestion and grabs something to be used as a tarp. After fitting as much as he can into his jacket and various grocery bags, he makes his way back to Rocky and Rob. "Think I got what we'll need to take him with us."

"Thanks... <squints> Nick, much appreciated."

Looking back at the rest of the store, Knuckles overhears Sphinx talking about medical attention. In an overly-loud voice, to make sure anyone can hear, he announces:

"I have a friend of mine who is a doc, she lives just down the street from here. I am sure she wouldn't mind the work, if you are interested. It is where I have gotten most of my work done in the past, real discrete."

Setting Zany on the counter for a moment, Knuckles pops open his wrist-phone and speed dials Sarah "Wagon" Murphy.

"Hey doc, sorry if I disturbed you, but drek hit the fan down here at the SS, and I have a few mates that could use a little of your attention... Few cuts and scrapes, though one got fragged pretty hard, no ones shrieking about it so I think he's stable. Yeah, we'll be down in just a few."

Rob nods at the mention of a doctor. "Yeah we'd better get him some help soon. And although I'm not badly hit, can't hurt to have a pro look at my arm." He'll help carry Tinker outside and then ask "Anybody's got a another van handy?" Holding up a set of keys, he continues "It seems I just won a new motorcycle and I'd hate to leave either it or my own here for the star to admire."

John "Rocky" Stone goes back down Aisle 8, moving in what looks like double time. I grab the toaster talker by the collar of his armored jacket, drag him to the front of the store, and let go of him near the corner of the check-out counter. I go over to the mage and quickly search his body for magic items, keys, cred, weapons and valuables and use the spirit I'm channeling's concealment power on them. Next over to the shaman and the same. I go out the doors and hit the buttons on the keys I found and a GMC Bulldog right up front flashes its lights. I open its doors, throw in the bag of weapons and the bag of medkits and supplies, then quickly go around the side of the building to my car, get whatever the undine collected for me, pocket the knife, stow the rest and any remaining loot I found in the car, and set Grid Guide to take it to the Tacoma Hilton parking lot.

I go back inside and down Aisle 1, grab a respirator or two, then cut over to Aisle 4, grab a couple rolls of Duct tape, and head for the front of the store. I hand a roll of tape to Mr. Nick and say, "You might want to bind their arms and legs in case they come around before help arrives. I'd hate to think you became a hostage after we leave but before the Star arrives. Thanks for the free stuff." I then start binding the gang members with tape, searching them as I go.

I hear someone ask about a van, and I say, "There's one right in front. The doors are open and waiting."

Rob nods at Troy "Thanks mate." He searches the key and fob for a manufacturer logo (Suzuki) and then the parking lot for bikes that fit the bill. Having found an Aurora that accepts the key, he commences to push it over to and into the Bulldog. Rob then walks over to his Harley, starts it up, rides it slowly over to the van and parks it there.
Walking back into the store, he stuffs the magazines he'd looked at earlier into his jacket, zips it shut, nods at Mr. Nick and asks "Everybody ready for the ride?"
All in all a rather good evening. A pred; a dumb one but still a good gun. A nice bike. Does Debs even do bikes? And a story for 'sis.

Knuckles places Zany on the floor, and hurries back to grab Slicerdicer. After hauling him to the recently formed 'gang pile', he assists Nick in binding up some of the gangers before grabbing his keys and heading outside to lead the caravan to his doc's residence. Hopping on his BMW, giving a kick to start, he looks back to see if the others are ready. When ready, he starts down the street towards the doc's house.

"I'm going have a quick look at the camera, if anyone wants to give me a hand."

Troy's pauses and his face goes slack for a moment. A channel opens, routed from his brain, through the neural interface at the top of his leg and down into the control deck. Quick look through the sensors to see no undesirables are nearby. Assuming not, a swift mental command:

Mr Van. Disengage rear and side door locks. Engage full lock on manual drive controls.

"If we're heading to the doc's, I can take a crowd... Mines the red Bison, doors are unlocked."

Pop a window showing the sensor output... keep an eye on who goes in or out.

As I see the ork bring the former katana weilder over Rocky reaches into a pocket and hand him the set of keys I took off the girl. "I figure you earned this."

Soon after, I see the other ork that double tapped the mage and hand him the set of keys I took off that gang member. "You earned these," I say and add, "can't ride more than one at a time anyway. Even if I could ride."

Rocky assenses the gang as they are being bound. I easily distinguish the magical from the mundane, but I see something that disturbs me and makes me worry for Mr. Nick when we leave. I wish there was more than duct tape to bind them with. I go back to the medical supplies and grab half a dozen low rating Tranq Patches. I look at the large selection of slap patches and stuff my pockets until filled with the most expensive of each type.

I go back to the check-out counter and tell Mr. Nick, "If it looks like they are coming around, hit 'em with one of these." I give the Tranq patches to him. "I'd have Johnny help you watch them because," I point them out as I describe them, "this one and this one are magically active, and these guys look like they may have spurs or razors embedded in them."

I don't like the fear and trepidation I see on his face. "Don't worry but I'm going to have a spirit stay with you and keep an eye on them until you say he can go. I'd appreciate that being before Lone Star notices him."

I command the last service from the big sylph spirit. Use your psychokinesis power to attack any of the gang (mental image and point to them) that regains cosciusness until Mr. Nick says you can go. <Points to Mr. Nick.> Thank you for your help.

Knuckles looks over the keys Rocky gave him. He thinks to himself:

"Would rather ride a BMW than push a Harley... can't ride both bikes anyways"

"Keys in the Harley out here if anyone's interested. Feel free to help yourself"

Knuckles goes out to search the bike for anything that might be worth keeping, puts the key in the ignition, and walks to his bike.

When it looks like everybody has mounted up, Knuckles start leading the small convoy through the dark and story streets of Tacoma.

Graffiti appears and disappears in the periphery of the headlight beams.

Kick the Khan!
Khan ROOLZ!!!

Harlequin wuz here

Mentally wrestling with two vehciles in the rain is tough work... in one of the quiet moments Troy catches sight of the graffiti through the flurry of wiper blades.

Harlequin? Isn't that some sorta olden days clown? Wonder what that means?

The thought is pushed from his brain as a powerful gust of wind catches the Bulldog full on the side.

Ah, the lovely and famous Seattle weather.
Hmm, what should I do with the Suzuki? Rob ponders ..sure it's a nice bike WHOA!
Seeing the warning lights of the autonav lighting up, Rob barely avoids getting hit by a suicidal cab. When he's gotten clear of the car he pats the fuel cylinder of his Harley. You're right, I'll sell it and give you some upgrades, baby.
Rob accelerates, overtakes the cab that cut him off and gets back in line with the convoy. A Convoy, a group of people. Not the worst crew. Come to think of it, these gangers didn't stand a chance back there. Maybe some of them are competition? Colleagues?
With a thin smile Rob mumbles to himself "Now this will be interesting.".

The ork on the motorcycle led off followed by a van, then a Bison, then another van with another motorcycle bringing up the rear. John "Rocky" Stone was in the second van, hauling a load of stolen motorcycles.

I wonder if seeing this guy cast this healing spell is worth as much as this load of bikes and van. I could turn off anywhere down through here and just go my own good way. Definitely worth a good deal of cred.

I balance these thoughts with others. These guys seemed friendly enough, not too bloodthirsty, either. When it comes to that, I think I was responsible for more real damage than the others. Not that often you leave the opposition without anyone dead. Most runs I've been on had their share of gratuitous violence. It almost seems like runners these days are all psychopaths. These guys are a nice change. I wonder if they're in the biz. Or want to be? Or are already a part of a regular crew?

Maybe I should split off. A bird in hand and all that. Then I think of how someone I trusted had betrayed me.

A sudden turn yanks me out of my reverie. The wheels on one side jump the curb and almost jars the wheel from my grip. I quickly adjust, too quickly I realize and drop the movement power, over adjust and fish tail the van. I get it straightened out with a jerky motion and think, you'd think the streets would be slippery enough to avoid jerking like that. I wonder if anybody noticed? Glad I've still got that Guard power up. That could have left a nasty mark.

Knuckles pulls up first, and motions for the other vehicles to be parked along the street, so that the driveway could be used for unloading the wounded. He pulls his bike up alongside the garage, and shakes some water drops off his coat before knocking on the door.

After Sarah answers the door, he proceeds to say "Thanks for helping us out on such short notice, doc. Some gangers decided to jump the SS down the street, didnt realize what hit them. The fragged one is in the van, I can help them get him downstairs for you."

Knuckles then heads to the van in the driveway to assist in moving Tinker to the lab in the basement.

John "Rocky" Stone sees the ork who led the way park and direct people to parking spaces. Good, it looks like he's saving an easy spot for me. I head for the nice, wide open space by the driveway, when suddenly, the ork waves me off. I manhandle the wheel trying to avoid running him down as he steps in the drive to make his point clear that I am not to park there. I barely get the vehicle under control as I cross over the street and knock over some garbage cans opposite the driveway, bringing the van to a lurching, jerking stop. I jump out quickly thinking any landing you walk away from... and acting like that was exactly how I meant to park and go to help get the wounded inside.

Troy parks both his vans, taking care not to jostle his own vehicle with the injured guy in it.

Wow. A hottie dwarf doctor. This day just keeps getting better.

He mentally orders his van to open up and moves to lend a hand moving Tinker to the docs 'Slicing Room'.

Knuckles and Troy quickly move Tinker to the basement and let the doc get to work.

To Troy, Knuckles says "By the way, I'm Hugh. My mates call me 'Knuckles' as you may have guessed back at the SS. Thanks for the assist back there, lucky this was all I got."

Conciousness comes and goes for Tinker as he's transported from the scene of a robbery gone right to a flat table in a clinically clean room. Every once and a while the dwarf in scrubs soothing storkes his forehead as she pulls bits of lead and ceramic fragments out of his body.

As the good Samaritans work to get the injured out of the rain and down the stairs, they can hear sirens approaching. A few blocks away, the majority of the wailing vehicles sound like they are headed for the vacated Stuffer Shack. However, from the Doppler effect, it sounds like one is headed to your location.

How could they know we came this way?

There is a collective sigh of relief when the DocWagon ambulance turns onto the street.

Sarah is busy tending to the unconscious man who has been laid out an a short table that makes you think of Japanese dining. The clink of a bloody slug dropping into a stainless steel bowl jars you back to the seriousness of the situation. Another slug gets pulled from the man, the forceps holding it held for a closer look and then it joins the first with another clink. "Both bullets looked intact. He's lucky," Sarah says.

The next thing you know, a pair of paramedics are joining Sarah in the makeshift operating room. "You going to take him away now that the hard part is over?" Sarah asks them.

They look at each other, then shrug. One of them says, "I don't really want to carry him up those stairs on a gurney. We were just doing our job, ma'am. He's lucky to have such good friends to get him treated so quickly. Too bad they didn't know we were on the way and could have saved themselves some trouble."

The other one adds, "We were kind of wondering if it was going to be another one of those eviscerated joygirls that have been getting hit around here. All in all, I'm glad it was just some poor slag with a sucking chest wound. Those girls... The memory of those bodies is going to haunt me the rest of my life." He visibly shudders.

Arriving last, Rob parks his chopper next to the others' vehicles and follows them inside. What's her name? Sarrah? Could be my sister if she'd gone on the wild side like me. Her office is a lot nicer, I must admit.

Inside he drops his wet jacket over a radiator, looks for some coffee and then leans against the wall, half watching the doc do her job, half reading one of the comic books he'd taken from the Stuffer Shack. As the paramedics come in, he glances up, grins and goes back to leafing through his comic.

Rob straightens and any remaining trace of a smile vanishes from his face, when the EMTs mention the brutally killed joygirls.

A shocked DocWagon paramedic? Must have been really bad. Or he's still a rookie.

He walks over to one of them and says "Sorry, chummer. What was that about joygirls being attacked in the vicinity?"

Why do you ask? You're no longer a bounty hunter. So what? I have to look away?

Earlier - to Knuckles. "Good to meet ya Knuckles. I'm Troy... If anyone needs thanks for the assist, it's you... Think I'd have been in deep drek if you hadn't been there. I owe you one!" After a few reflective seconds "You know that gang? Think we're gonna get more trouble from 'em?"


Later - to the paramedic. "Eviscerated Joygirls... More than one?" Troy lets out a sad sigh "Jeez, I don't envy your job mate. Take it they're different from the usual crimewave round here?"

Knuckles, to Troy, "Cant say that I recognized them, but it seems they were after the 'Shack, and we just got in the way. I'd be surprised any of them might recognize us, but I'll let my boys know to be on the lookout, just the same."

At the sound of "Eviscerated Joygirls...", Knuckles grabs his phone and calls Rachel, a street-walking friend of his, immediately to see if she is alright.

Rob says, "Sorry, chummer. What was that about joygirls being attacked in the vicinity?"

The paramedic answers, "Yeah, I was wondering all the way over here if it was going to be another joygirl call. That's what we've, well DocWagon, have been getting in this area for about a week. I know the records list the patient as male, but when the details in the file are as sketchy as his, sometimes the records are wrong, and after all, it's just one character. You know, an M or an F. Then there's the wise guys who put a Y in there, but those are almost all guys."

The paramedic is rambling now. "Eviscerated Joygirls... More than one?" Troy tries to get him back on subject and lets out a sad sigh "Jeez, I don't envy your job mate. Take it they're different from the usual crime wave round here?"

"Well, yeah. Their mostly the same, it's like whoever is doing them is doing an autopsy or something, but from the bruising and blood you can tell the person was still alive when they were getting dissected. That's the biggest difference. I mean sometimes the victim gets unlucky and survives a lot of mutilation. Maybe just luck, or bad luck. But these victims were all alive through about the whole ordeal. Luck like that should buy a lottery ticket or not go out on a night like this 'cause lightning's going to get 'em."

Knuckles grabs his phone and calls Rachel, a street-walking friend of his, immediately to see if she is alright.

"Knuckles," Rachel answers, "I'm so glad you called. Me and the girls might have a job for you." She goes on to explain about the recent murders to members of her profession in the area she works. How Lone Star has stepped up their presence throughout Tacoma, but how even though the bodies have turned up across Tacoma all the girls regular corners were in a 15 block area, and Lone Star isn't paying those 15 blocks the attention it deserves.

"Anyways," Rachel says, "I figure me and some of the girls could hire you and yours to find the guy. I mean, we could hire bodyguards to watch us, but that could get into big nuyen if they don't stop this guy soon. I figure if me and some of the girls payed you what we'd pay a bodyguard for a week, it would make it worth your while to get this freak."

Sarah interrupts the talk about hacked up women. "Who's paying for this guy, anyway? I don't suppose DocWagon wants to reimburse me for all the expense they saved?"

"Sorry, ma'am," the first paramedic says, taps his partner and signals with a nod of his head that they should go. And that quick, Sarah gets rid of the paramedics.

"He's going to need cared for and, watched and rest for about the next week," Sarah points out. "I can put him up here with my other patient." Sarah does a quick mental calculation. "Call it an even thousand nuyen for the surgery and the recovery, unless he requires something more than ordinary." She looks expectantly at the group gathered around.

As everyone seems to be examining either their footwear or the ceiling tiles, Rocky looks around and says, "I guess I can cover that, but it just about taps me out." When Rocky becomes the new focus of just about everyones attention, he explains, "Just nobody complain about me getting my nuyen back for this when I sell some of the gangs stuff. As far as that goes, Sarah, would you be interested in some medical supplies instead of nuyen?"

"That's good of you Rocky, I've got a mate who'd be interested in the vehicles if you want an introduction?"

Sarah seems happy with the medical supplies offer saying, "Feel free to come back anytime."

"Thanks for the invite," Rocky replies, "but if I do, I hope it's a situation like this; where I'm helping the wounded and not a customer."

About everyone comes around and let's him know how to contact them for when he's completed converting the swag to nuyen.

In response to Troy's offer, "I'd appreciate the help unloading this stuff," Rocky says. Thinking back to his ride over he adds, "I think I'll even let you do the driving."

Rocky looks over the assembly of people and can't help thinking this could make a nice shadowrunning team. He decides to see if the group intends to extend their easy alliance by asking, "Anyone thinking of looking into these joygirl attacks? We could try to find someone to foot the bill. Maybe Lone Star would pay a reward, or maybe we could see if some of the pimps or girls want to put up some nuyen to catch the guy. As far as that goes, maybe even the Mafia or Yakuza would put up some nuyen." Rocky gives a little laugh, "If we got real lucky, maybe they would all kick in some cred."

As people start discussing his suggestion, Rocky approaches Sphinx. "Have you got any use for a spirit focus? If not, I can probably get a good price for it and give you the cred."

Rob listens intently to what the paramedic has to say about the killings.
Now that's strange. Wouldn't at least the pimps look out for their 'investments'?
"hmm"

A thousand? Guess I still owe 'sis something for that other time...

To Rocky "Yeah, if you've got the contacts, go ahead and sell 'em" Rob hands him a key and a paper business card. "Here's a number. Just leave a message when the sale's done."

Aren't we in a trusty mood tonight?

...

After Rocky's proposal Rob flashes a smile "Getting paid to bust some murderous bastard's ass? Sounds just like my old job. If there's some cred in it, I'll bite. Let's get some intel."

Walking off into a corner, Rob opens his wristphone, dials a number from memory and, after a sort pause, leaves a message. "Hoi, big boy. I was shocked to hear about the way joygirls are being treated in Tacoma these days. You don't happen to know something about that, do you? Why don't we meet and talk about the old times? The usual spot, the usual time, yadda, yadda."

Come on, you nosy bugger; if your colleagues are not looking into this; I bet you do

"No probs on the driving, don't want to trash the merchandise!"

"Hell, I'd be happy chasing crazy slashers round. If someones gonna pay, then it's the good type of public service?"

Troy fishes out his earpiece phone and joins in the cellphone party that seems to be starting.

"Oi. Larry. How ya doing? Got a good story and some bikes you might be interested in?"

Tinker hears his rescuers discussing their future in the other room. Groaning as he attempts to sit up in the bed, "If anyone would grab my cyberdeck from my truck, I could use the 'trix to start narrowing down you guy's hunting area."

Troy Hustles off to fetch the deck. Removes any of his own junk from Tinkers ride. Then locks it up.

"Hey man, good to see you up and about! I'm Troy. You sure you're up to that, you have been leaking a bit lately?"

Troy hands over the deck and Tinkers keys.