Jimmy stuffs his helmet down over his head and kicks the hog into life. He guns it a few times to clean out the gunk and heads out onto the road, letting the wind in his face clear his mind; unconsciously he heads to Our Lady of the Immaculate Awakening.
Lighting a votive and Jimmy prays silently to himself for forgiveness in the coming days. He knows this isn't right, but there aren't any other options.
His obligations of faith complete, he heads back out onto the road.
All too soon he is left alone on the street in front of his flop; making use of the handicap ramp and the elevator, Jimmy wrangles his bike into the only safe parking spot in the neighborhood, his apartment.
Setting the turkey pan underneath the bike he goes about the daily niceties, shower, shave, wash the clothes, pray the flavor dispenser isn't out of "I can't believe it's not artificial meat substitute flavoring'.

Once he has something resembling dinner in his gullet, he heads into the living room as starts working on the piece he has going, making use of debris found around the block Jimmy has the rough shape of a Madonna figure taking form.
Jimmy falls asleep on the couch, next to the phone.

Sid leaves a message that explains what happened and how he needs a truck in brief terms, and then flips his phone shut.

"Eh. Wonder where he is?", he says aloud. He looks in his fridge for something to eat, and finds a quarter eaten soy burger, and a bottle of Aztec-cola. He goes back to the table and begins to eat.

He finishes and goes into his living room space, and sits down on the couch next to Jill.

"So when did you say this person was coming with BTLs? It might be nice to supplement our income."

"Coupla hours. I thought you said you had another idea, though."

"Yeah, but, like I said, extra money can't hurt. And if I can't contact Nick for whatever reason, we'll need something. Hold that thought.", Sid says.

He takes out his phone and calls Gino.

"Yeah, Gino. This is Sid. Turns out you might have to get a truck. You might not, then again, but I'm just forewarning you in case I can't get one."

Left alone in the bar, Gino was sad. His sadness made him drink a lot. And the vapors made him very angry. His anger was directed at his former employer, but in all truth he was angry with himself. I could of done better, he thought. Maybe I said or did something wrong. It's often small details that make someone hate you. Maybe I did a bad job at driving too. But I don't think so, I mean, the jobs were always done efficiently and I never had accidents and the like. Sure, I got some tickets but the company never paid for it anyways. If only I knew how to go back and do better and get my job back... *sob* Man, I'm so miserable, I wish I would be in the mafia like cousin Jimmy or working for a big corp like Jenny, that way I would be rich and all the women would come to me... But I'm miserable and the miserable have to pay to get what they want, yet they don't have any money to spend, well not anymore... *sob*

Some young idiot dressed in leather and weargin metal chains approached, accompanied by two girls and two guys, and said: "Are you gonna stay on that bench of mine all night, old drunkard, or are you gonna let me and my buddies here sit down at once, shitty midget?" He just had time to yell a good old "f*** you punk!" before he was pushed on the floor hardly and laughed at loudly by at least a dozen people in the bar.

He was left paralysed by this sudden attack and didn't know what to do first, yet rage rapidly burst in his chest. It took him several seconds to gather his senses and his strenght and to get up to face his opponent. They were still laughing when he took by the collar the punk who pushed him - and who was now seated on Gino's stool - and punched him in the face! A big melee emerged from this and Gino ended up on the sidestep, his face and his hands equally bleeding.

Now happy and sad at the same time, the aggressivity gone with the anger, Gino went back home and got some sleep, hoping for a phone call that could put his life back in place in the following morning. Nothing like a good night of drinking and fighting to put a man's spirit back up, he thought as he fell asleep with a bruised smile on his face.

Gino wakes up with a bad hangover and sore pain. He makes himself some soycaf while listening to his messages. "Yeah, Gino. This is Sid. Turns out you might have to get a truck. You might not, then again, but I'm just forewarning you in case I can't get one."

Gino calls Sid right after the soycaf had made his mind more clear. "Hey Sid. What's up? I can get ourselves a truck, but we'll have to steal it. Maybe we could get one through other means .. or maybe we better just wait for Nick. Anyways, where do we all meet to finish our plans before we do it?"

Several hours later, while Sid and Jenny are watching reruns of Down the Tubes, possibly the most racist show on television, there's a heavy and startling knock on the door.

Opening it, Cid sees a skinny, short elf with a shaved head and six feet of muscle behind him, who's obviously seen his tattoo artist to often, as every inch of his visible skin is marred from scarification.

"I'm Vicious, and this is my associate Dogmeat. How much can you sell in a day?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't doubt it.", Sid says, smiling slightly. His grin fades and he adds.

"I wouldn't know. I've never tried before.", he adds. "I could probably move a bit. I'm a charming guy when I have to be."

"I'mma leave you 300 yen worth. Average markup means you should be able to get 1000 yen outta selling them on the pavement side. You throw me my 300, and then we'll talk. Don't make me send Dogmeat after you. Deal?"

"Yeah, sounds good.", Sid says. He takes out his credstick and slots 300 to him. He shuts the door fter they leave and lets out a sigh as he slumps down on the couch, box of BTLs in hand.

"You know these guys?", he asks, one eyebrow raised. He shakes his head, then turns back to the trid and says.

"I think we need to get a gun."

Sid calls back Gino.

"Yeah, man...my cousin got messed up pretty bad in a fight today, or something. You'll need to get us a truck."

"Ok, I think I'd be able to do that, but we should all gather and discuss eveything. We could meet at a bar and get a private room. Then we could talk business between all of us, if you know what I mean."

Johnny emerges from the Matrix after cleaning up his tracks with a smile on his face. Four for four. The records had been altered, he'd scouted their target, secured a stashing spot, and he'd delayed the pick-up. Well, in theory at least. He cracks open a highly caffinated drink and puts in a call to everyone, to let them know everything's solid on his end.