{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM} Quick Willie
Redmond, abandoned warehouse Map



{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM} Rakki
Redmond, abandoned warehouse Map



{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM} Knuckles
Redmond, abandoned warehouse Map



{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM} MM
Redmond, abandoned warehouse Map



{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM} Mr. Stumbles Bumbles
Redmond, abandoned warehouse Map



{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM} Joku
Redmond, abandoned warehouse Map

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

Over Comms
"Hang loose boys, just a friendly hello from the blue guy. I'm stepping outside for a smoke, let me know if anything interesting breaks out as these folks shuffle out."

Picking up his "attitude adjuster", Knuckles heads outside to grab a smoke in the relatively clear air.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

Willie's head is ringing... maybe from the beer, maybe from the fall. He rolls over to look at what hit him, and the ... blueness ... gives him pause. What just happened? The blue guy actually looks like he didn't mean it, but that could be just a trick. Been done before. Willie decides to ask politely.

"Whatthefuck you wanna do that for, Bluebell?" He doesn't reach for the hand, but is ready to roll one way or the other if a swift boot comes.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

MM was just kicking his bike into gear as he heard the whine of the Scoot, driven way past redline in the wrong gear. He hated to hear sounds like that, horrible way to treat a bike. Just as quickly, he heard the low roar of bikes following behind. His eyes locked on to the shapes, his mind doing things with the information that still amazed him.

Bikes: Harley Davidson Scorpions, stock equipment, no upgrades detected

A smile crept across his features. Business would be humming at the chop shop tomorrow. He quickly sent a comm to his chop shop buddies at the concert.

@Bert et al: Looks like some Humanis on bikes are crashing the party. Opportunity for both fun and profit! Grab some angry metas and come meet at the front gate.

After sending this message, MM put the stand back down for his bike and got off. Searching the cargo pocket of his work jumpsuit, he took out his flashlight. A small status display sprang to life in his peripheral vision. Reaching out with his mind, he subscribed the node and mentally sent it a command. The flashlight sprang to life, motors whirring into action as the flashlight grew to the size of a quarterstaff. Meanwhile, he scanned the Resonance, the place where he was able to access the Grid, and called for help.

@Machine Sprite: These bikes here, it would be great if they had some kind of accident...make it happen!

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

Rakki shakes his head at Willie as he offers his hand. Still slightly startled by the flying through the air and the tumble he replies to Willie in engrish.

"So Sorry, So Sorry, big frucking troll smooshed in me an' me accidently land in top of you"

Rakki reeks of alcohol as he tries to help the Ork up. His words slur as speaks, the alcohol making his already poor english even worse. Rakki's blue cheeks are slightly red either from his inebriation or to the fact that he is embarrassed that he just lost his balance and bulled over someone, something that does not happen to him that often. He attempts to buy the Ork a drink, figuring that alcohol fixes every problem.

"Buy drink for you?"

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

"Hey, Bluebell, You just rang the right note!" Willie giggles at the marvelous joke he thinks he just made. Pretty smart. I gotta remember that. He reaches for the offered hand. "I'll have a pint of Crocodile Tears."

The sound of bike engines outside barely penetrates the rush and roar of the crowd, but in Willie's mind there are few sounds sweeter. Beer... or bikes. Aww, shit. What to do? What to do? He vacillates, alternately looking at the bar and the door.

"You hear the bikes outside, Bluebell?"

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

"You're fine. Go in." Joku said to yet another troll. She glared him on his way. Thankfully the larger crowd had tapered down to just the late arrivals. Most them stank horribly, but it being outside was still probably preferable to being in an enclosed space where the smell to coagulate into something far, far worse.

"Hey, ya gunna frisk me now?" said the orc in line next. Then came a screeching noise and gun fire.

The orc turned his head towards the whine of the Scoot, which gave her a quick view of it. And the pack of motorcycles behind it.

"Step aside, sir," she said firmly before starting to move away from the door herself. She stopped at the barrel of confiscated weapons and digs around in it for a second before pulling out a knife and a stun baton.

"Boss," she said over the comlink, linking the image of a flying fur ball on a scooter hurtling towards her previous location to Knuckles. "We have a problem."

Rakki looks slightly confused for a moment

{Japanese}Bluebell what the hell is a a blue bell... is this guy talking about my balls ringing his note? I don't roll that way... well there was that one time where I got tricked and she had a robo penis and she stole my underwear... focus, focus... Oh I do hear bikes that sounds like fun but nothing better than a reason to drink...

"Yes, yes Bike! but always bike, time for drink is now! Oh, an' jus' so know I no roll that way so prease stop thinking of my bluebells"

Rakki motions to the bar and begins to head over to the bar; Rakki does not stop dancing as he makes his way to the bar. Once he reaches he attempts to order two pints of Crocodile Tears and buys everyone at the bar a round of drinks.

"Woooo! 'Tender two pints of Croc'dil Tears and drinks round for ever'body! Ret's party!"

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}

Redmond, abandoned warehouse

Right behind you Joku.

The sounds of the crowd fade as his vision narrows, his world has become the bikers crashing his party. Launching forward he focuses on a flaming barrel, planting his foot and kicking through for distance towards the lead hog. His baseball bat up into his hands has he watches the barrel meet asphalt.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse, Tzebua/Mr. Stumble Bumbles

Tzebua stops his scooter gingerly in the middle of the crowd almost toppling over the top as he does, dismounting and turning around trying to get an idea of what he's up against now that he's stopped fleeing. To get a shot at his pursuers without making a horrid and unprofitable mess he raises his voice knowing it could be lost on the crowd due to the noise, distractions, and fact that it's pitch makes him sound like a children's cartoon character "Everybody get the fuck out of the way so I can light these racist bastards up!"

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:14 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

Willie raises the pint of beer to his lips, and slaps his new buddy a good one on his back in gratitude. "So, Bluebell. Whatcha called when ya ain't knockin' guys on their keester?" Despite the joy of free beer, he keeps an ear cocked towards the front door, hoping for more motor music to come his way.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:00 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse Map

It was an excellent kick. It was the kind of stuff that trid directors spend a couple hundred thousand nuyen to make happen and look realistic. At least, when they don't just say frag it and have an Awakened special effects artist do it. The barrel started high, actually passing over the head of the biker leader and the man next to him. The two of them dismount and bring their firearms up to bear in the concert's general direction. The next three guys manage to swerve around the barrel and its debris, but blow past the fence. Swearing out loud, they flip their bikes around and stop at the entry to the alley with guns out. The guy in the middle of the pack isn't quite as lucky. He hits the barrel head on and launches over the handle bars of his bike. From the crunch that his body made when it hit the ground, it's obvious that he's ghoul chow. To top things off, a wild shot from the crowd due to a weapon that Joku missed ignites the bike's fuel tank and causes it to blow sky high. Damn ex-ex. Two of the other bikers behind the unlucky one also fly off their bikes, hit the ground and proceed to ragdoll across it. Both are pretty heavily chewed up, and one doesn't look like he's going to move again short of divine intervention. The last two bikers manage to dodge around the downed bikes, but their yelps of pain betray the fact that they got hurt by the shrapnel. They manage to stop just past the alley's entryway and also dismount, guns at the ready to cause some hurt to the idiot tusker that kicked the barrel. Or, at this point, any tusker that they see.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:00 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

As Rakki is about to reply his blue ears perk up and a smirk crosses his lips.

"Sounds like concert is about get funky!"

Looking at Willie, he nods toward the sounds of gun fire.

"Sounds like fun ou' there"

Rakki begins to head toward the door as he walks towards the ruckus. Rakki pulls his hood over his head, his clothes begin to flicker and change colors as Rakki blurs into the surroundings. His heart begins to race with excitement, he walks outside just left of the doorway. Rakki watches the scene unfold, he trys to figure out the most exciting action to take.

{Japanese}This is going to be fun

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:00 AM}
Redmond, abandoned warehouse

Willie downs his beer in one, huge gulp. "Damn. A guy can't even have a quiet beer without someone interrupting!" Then he smiles. "I love interruptions like this!" He follows Rakki to the door, stopping long enough to reclaim his AK-97 from the security at the door, muscling through the growing crowd of others doing the same. It doesn't get any better than this, he thinks to himself. Bikes an' brawlin'!

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:00 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

Here I wanted a good, honest brawl but these slitches had to bring out the guns. Guns mean heat we could have avoided.
"Frag this."
Reaching into his jacket pulling as fast as he can, his thumb finding the hammer to pull it back automatically. The targeting software engaging faster than his brain can follow as the targeting reticle tracks and paints the lead bikers bread basket. He strokes the trigger, the revolver barks, tonight's winner of the door prize gets a golden BB.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:00 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

MM had started moving around to get behind the bikers when a noise came roaring into his consciousness. Looking to his left, he saw a flaming barrel of death hurtle into the midst of the bikers, sending several flying. A grin spread across his face - this was getting interesting!

And then the guns came out. This was definitely NOT interesting. Feeling exposed, MM hunkered down behind his bike for cover, trying to plan his next move. He looked for the closest bike he could feasibly steal, one preferably not close to the line of fire.

@Machine Sprite: Alright, they've already had their accident, no need to try now. See if you can hack that closest bike for me, get it started and give me control of it.

The sight of a taking fur ball did make Joku raise one blue eyebrow a bit. Clearly, he wasn't a huge threat. However, the large gang of bikers, in all their now burning glory, were still armed. On the other hand, she had no idea why a bunch of thugs would be interested in the fluffy thing. She wished her sword were closer than her distantly parked car and took a few steps closer towards the bikers.

"You!" she barked at the closest standing bikers. "Drop the guns! Now!"

Tzebua's tiny, thick fingers pull at a thin chain that runs from his belt to the left breast pocket of his fireproof tuxedo. At it's end dangles a single gold tooth. Gripping it tightly in one furred hand, he begins focusing all of his animosity on the bikers. Growling, teeth bared and hackles rising, his face contorts from comedic fluffy cuteness to pure animal brutality as he wills the burning trash, refuse, and debris amongst the bikers to rise and begin whipping through the air, obscuring their vision with fire and motion as crackling embers and broken beer bottles careen past or into them. Reflections of the flames dance in his over-sized eyes. Pointing one stubby arm at his foes and clenching the dumpy fingers there upon his hand into fist, he roars.

Or, at least he gives his best effort at roaring. The sound emitted by his small form is more of a low "Wooooo-rOOOO-woooo-rOOO!" with a few cracks in it thus giving it the general din of a pubescent boy calling out while poorly pretending to be a ghost than of a beast sounding off its rage toward an aggressor.

His head begins to ache dimly from the strain of the spell.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:10 AM} Map


Knuckles would have been right at home in the Wild Wild West. A quick draw and a boom later, and his chosen target is on the ground with a spurting hole in his chest. He's not quite done yet though, and he stands up with his shotgun pointing shakily at the tusker while he yells at the man standing next to him to get him. This is all well and fine, until some pointy eared slitch's voice rolls over him and tells him to drop his gun. For the chance to hear the voice tell him what to do again, he complies. With thoughts of beauty and light in his brain, the whirling storm of shrapnel and flaming debris is an unpleasant awakening. Cursing, he stumbles out of the cloud and drops down behind one of the cars. He yells at his compatriots to geek the mojo while he starts looking at something to steal and drive off in.

The man beside him also listens to the voice, and is stung by the whirling debris. Instead of afraid, this one charges Knuckles with a length of chain and swings hard.

The guys that blew past the party initially finish wheeling around and dismount. Listening to the boss, they take cover behind a few of the vehicles in the parking lot and get ready to unleash a storm of lead.

Another one of the bikers that heard the voice drops his light pistol, then fumbles around in his vest and proceeds to drop a Saturday Night Special as well. The stinging cloud of debris snaps him out of his reverie, and he looks around for a second before also stumbling out of the cloud towards one of his fellows' bike.

The other two bikers that're still standing take one look at the furry freak that made the cloud o' pain, one yells something about keeping the genepool clean not being worth going up against mojo, and take off on their bikes.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:10 AM}

Flexing his head to one side, Knuckles elicits a muffled 'thrunk' from his neck to loosen it up, tucking the pistol back into it's holster and regaining his double grip on the bat then moving forward to intercept the chain wielding jack-ass.

Apparently, flexing does a body good. The chain wielding jack-ass belts Knuckles solidly across the chest with his length of chain. Unfortunately, the man hadn't expected to come across anyone wearing anything that could honestly be called armor. The blow just bounces off, and a slightly panicked expression starts to steal its way into the man's eyes.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:15 AM}

Gripping the ceramic knife tightly, she dashed towards the chain-wielding thug. She aimed the blade at a hopefully soft target and stabbed hard.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:15 AM}

A smile comes across Rakki's face as he watches the fight unfold. His eyes fix on Tzebua, his smile turns to astonishment as he studies Tzebua. Eyes wide, mouth open in awe, Rakki's mind begins to race.

[Japanese] Is that a Kitsune... It must be it has powers! A Kitsune! So cool!

Rakki's excitement begins to get the best of him as he sees Tzebua levitate the debris.
"Kitsune!" Rakki exclaims with childlike excitement, and possibly blows the advantage he had of being hidden by his chameleon suit.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse Map

The humanis goon grins at Joku as he swings his arm up and parries her knife with his chain wrapped arm. "Try again, slitch!" he yells at the elf.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}

It doesn't take much effort to figure out what is going on out here. Human things are beating on metahuman things. Willie figures it's time to beat back. There's a smorgasbord of pinkies to shoot at, but one at the corner of the road and the entrance to the warehouse stands out as needing special attention.

Willie takes a moment to get him lined up, focusing his eyes to zoom in on the loser, and lets loose a burst from his AK. The vibration feels good.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

"Guess again fragger!"

Knuckles tightens his grip and tries to hit through the goon with the bat, following through and swiveling his hips like his dad taught him. The hit doesn't feel altogether solid, but it's the best he can manage at the moment.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse Map

The Humanis goon that Willie targeted is an unfortunate soul. He'd decided to pop his head up and line up a shot on the elf when three rounds were introduced to his chest. The first was slightly deflected by the armor vest he wore, but the second and third punched straight through and out the back of his body. He falls to the ground with a rather satisfying death gurgle as his lungs start filling with blood. Willie 1, Humanis 0.

Knuckles, on the other hand, isn't quite as lucky. The burly ork takes a solid swing at the chain wielding human, and whatever dark gods the Humanis must sacrifice ork children to smile on him again as he just manages to get his chain wrapped arm up and in the way of the bat. He throws a grin at Knuckles and says, "Best you got Tusker? Lemme show you how a real man does it!"

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:25 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

Joku's mouth twitched for a brief second in disappointment that her blow had been diverted in such a manner. With a quick move, readjusted her grip on the knife. This time, she was more determined to end this particular threat.

"Call me a 'slitch' again," she muttered darkly.

Rakki tries to subdue his own naturally boisterous excitement so that he doesn't lose his advantage of stealth. Having cruised through the dispersing crowd, he attempts to position himself behind the Humanis goon that's fighting with an elf. Readying his weapon, he rapidly considers a slew of potential derogatory remarks and battle cries to yell at the man once he starts swinging.

Banzai, shirimei, maybe? Something about the pointy eared one not being able to make a point as I can? This concert was such a low brow bust, I'm hoping this'll provide a superior level of recreational distraction. Otherwise it's back to drinking with my new friend. And a kitsune! Ah, ganbare kitsune!

Of course, whatever he actually yells outside of his native tongue during his attack will only be linguistically articulate to him. Head bobbing to the music blaring in his earbuds as his grip tightens on his axe's length all the while sporting a huge grin spread wide beneath his chameleon suit, he inhales with practiced control preparing for the explosive, power giving kiai that would accompany the arcing swipe soon to be heading (or even just beheading) toward his chosen foe.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

Willie grins broadly as the goon he just shot deflates and falls to the ground. One down. Look at Bluebell, gettin' all sneaky behind that other guy. Surprise, little round ear! No point swingin' my gun that way. But, hey! There's more over to the left! He begins lining up the closest of the three goons off to the left.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

Seeing the gang leader hunkered down behind cover, letting his gang take the heat while he hid in safety...this pissed MM off almost more than the fact of the gang being Humanis.

Dreks about to get real

MM ran at the gang leader, building up momentum behind his swing to deliver a massive overhead swing of his stun staff.

{Wednesday, 8/15/12, 10:12 PM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

Tzebua releases his hold over the objects he's swirling about in the air as his pursuers turned prey fall and scatter amidst some of the crowds attacks. Switching to a more direct and targeted assault that will not as easily harm his sudden comrades in arms, he turns his attention to one of the fleeing speciophobes. Deep furrows form in his snout as he focuses all his animosity and fear upon him, angrily working to will the man into flames. In his mind, he visualized what it would look like as the man's hope of egress turned to the horror of of immolation. A wicked smile plays across his face.

This is so much better than entertaining brats for a living.

He winces as pain shoots through his head from the effort of the attack. His nose dribbles a drop of blood, but he pays it no mind.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

The ganger fighting Joku and Knuckles drops as he tries to run and assist his boss. A bat to the ribs and a knife in the side will do that to a guy. The leader is completely blindsided by MM, and takes a good zap from his staff that leaves him moaning on the ground and from the stench, with empty bowels.

The rest of the gang, looking at the damage Willie managed with his AK, turn tail and run to their bikes. They mount up, quickly, and take off into the night yelling curses and threats of revenge.

The gang leader isn't going to be moving for a few minutes at least, probably longer before he's going to be fully coherent. A couple of cute ork chicas in the crowd swarm around Knuckles and Willie, oohing and aahing over the firsts physical prowess and the second's dangerous looking gun and the skills behind it. Looks like trouble's averted for the night.

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

Willie whoops in exultation. He holds the AK above his head in one hand and wraps the other arm around the sweet young thing beside him. Pulling her close, he plants a great, big kiss on her lips, smiling broadly at the rare ease with which a woman appeared on his arm. Breeder scum can come calling every day, as far as I'm concerned!

{Saturday, Sept. 21, 2072/3:15:20 AM}
Redmond, Abandoned Warehouse

While the gang leader was incapacitated, MM quickly bent down to loot the body, having shrunk his stun staff with a quick mental command and then stowed it away again.

After picking what he could off of the spazzed leader, MM stayed at a crouch to survey the scene. He wasn't sure he was ready to move just yet, with all of the heavy hitting he'd seen going on. And his chop shop buds from the concert hadn't shown themselves yet either. Maybe a quick message before leaving...

@Bert et al:Heading out - watch yourselves. Humanis's taken care of but there're other heavy players still around - dunno if they're safe or not. Maybe they're from the Grid, not sure yet...

{Tuesday, Aug. 28, 2012, 4:10 PM}
Redmond/ Abandoned Warehouse

Satisfied with the state of the ganger he torched, Tzebua wipes the blood from his snout and looks around apprehensively to see if things have truly settled down. Seeing that they have, he approaches, with a nervousness uncharacteristic of someone who had just committed to combat as he had, those who had assisted in the fight. Adjusting his bow tie and giving a weak smile that is oddly accentuated by his thick, brutal looking teeth, he walks up and waves to the orc and elf who took some of the gangers and attempts to introduce himself.

Gotta try and seem with it.

"H-hey, thanks for the help. You can call me, uh, Stumbles. If you guys'd like, I know some people who'd pay for the meat we've left lying around here. We'd split the proceeds of c-course. We'd need some transportation for the giblets though. Anyone interested?"

The grin he gives is anxious but sincere albeit possibly disturbing due to his tuxedo wearing plush doll appearance. He begins counting the bodies, intending to pile them up and cast a spell of preservation on them if his new acquaintances agree to his potentially profitable suggestion. Looking at the fragger he smoked he says, "I'm gonna go collect a souvenir. Think it over and lemme know what you guys'd like to do. I think a couple others helped off these guys as well."

He casually wobbles over to the burnt corpse of his victim and calmly begins stomping its face in to get easy access to a toothy momento of the occasion. Succeeding, he holds up the tooth and smiles to himself before pocketing it. Moving back to the gathering of accomplices, he asks, "Well, you guys know whatcha wanna do?"

Redmond/ Abandoned Warehouse

Rakki removes his hood as the fight calms down, his attention turns to Tzebua.

"Kitsune! Oh mighty Kitsune! By drink for you! Yes? we party tonight! Yes, Yes!"

Rakki insists that Tzebua come and party with him. Once he extends an invite to Tzebua, who he thinks is a kitsune, he approaches Willie.

"'ey! I still owe drink for you! we still party yes?! You not bad move!"

Rakki looks at the others who were in the fight. With a big blue smile and a twinkle in his glowing red eyes he says,

"I buy all drink! We party! name's Rakki! Nice meet all!"

Be it adrenaline or just the fact Rakki can never focus, he turns his attention back to Willie

"Oh! big big Gun! You party right? Always party after fight!"

Rakki begins to dance to the music in his ear buds. His chameleon suit now turns into a light show as he rocks out to the music.

{Tuesday, Aug. 28, 2012, 4:10 PM}
Redmond/ Abandoned Warehouse

Willie grins again, hugely. "Party and drink after fighting?? Bluebell, I love you!" He claps the big guy on the back, pulls the babe closer, and checks out the entrance to the hall. "Maybe someplace else, though, huh?"

A quarter mile or so down the street, there's a dingy looking building with a fairly steady stream of folks going in and staggering out. An ARO points out that it's The Filthy Felon Speakeasy. Looks like tonights act is a mixed-meta jazz quartet.

Tzebua's red eyes widen as he looks up at the boisterous large blue... something... with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. Despite initial anxiousness, he appreciates that anyone would not only be impressed with his magic but invite him out for drinks. He looks at the bodies, a large pile of harvestable money waiting to happen, and then back at the gathering group of others who'd together made the corpses as lifeless as they are.

Making friend is better than making a buck I guess.

"Well, if nobody's interested in taking the bodies to a ghoul, uh, reseller, I'd be glad to come along."

Rakki looks at Willie slightly confused.

{Japanese} Did he just say he loves my blue balls?

Rakki smiles wide at Willie hoping not to offend him,
"Is kay, I no roll way of gay, but am flattered."

Rakki spots The Filthy Felon Speak Easy. His Chemeleon armor still changing colors as he bobs his head to the beat bumping in his earbuds.

"To the Club!"

Rakki nods to the group and points to The Filthy Felon Speakeasy.

Willie looks at Rakki, slightly confused. "Chummer, see the babe in my arms? Figure it out!" Then, "Yeah! To the club!!" A squeeze and a kiss, and "Babe, let's have a good time tonight, on me!"

Joku raised an eyebrow at the fawning orc females. Instinctively, she started cleaning the knife before realizing it wasn't her personal one. She took a moment to at least clean off her fingerprints and drop it and the club back in the box. She did catch the comment about the ghoul run, but tact told her to ignore it. The two quickly bonding males were interesting to watch, but it was the furball that interested her more. Someone that small and that fuzzy shouldn't attract the attention of biker thugs. She slipped out of sight for a moment and towards her nearby car.

Her com buzzed to life.

Gochi, how much longer is my shift at this gig? she asked.

Good evening to you too! I was napping... came Gochi's grumbling voice. Let me check...

I'm sorry I woke you up. It was never a good idea to make Gochi too cranky.

Why are you asking me anyways? You should know your own schedule.

I just saw something very... unusual. I'd like to have time to check it out.

Mmm hmm... Yes I can see where this is leading... you need me to fake a time card again? That's twice this month you owe me.

She pulled her blade out carefully before relocking her trunk. She paused a moment.

I'll bring you Pocky.

The real stuff, not synthetic, and you've got a deal! At least he sounded more chipper.

Deal.

There was something resembling a "SQUEEEE!" on the other side of the com before she turned it off.

Properly armed, she headed back to the group to see if they'd managed any more trouble in her brief absence.

Nikoli grumps at bit at Joku heading off early before the crowd has fully cleared, but he waves her free and turns back to his underlings to finish chivvying the crowd out so he can lock the place up for the night.

The lot of you (sans MM unless he decides otherwise) head over to the Filthy Felon. Inside is a mix of metahumanity similar to what was at the concert, perhaps with a few more elves and humans in the place. Up on a low stage, more of a large raised platform, is a band consisting of a troll on tenor sax, a dwarf on a trombone, an elf playing an acoustic bass, and a human on a set of drums. Off to the side is passed out dwarf with a commlink trailing wires from it to a set of microphones. Judging by the near studio quality music being created by the band, she's obviously a sound person of some variety that's fiddling with the music to enhance it that much more.

MM: In the Humanis goon's pockets, you find his commlink (encrypted and password protected), a credstick (balance of 47 nuyen), and a slightly used condom. Bert shoots back that he got the message and understands, and you're currently still in the parking lot with your bike off and one of the Scorpions under your control. The possessions and rest of the bikes are being picked over by the concert goers, and a few fights have already started to break out.

Tzebua timidly hauls himself up an empty bar stool and sits with his small feet kicking gently in the open air and his tail stump wagging slightly. Being relatively ignorant of party scenes but with his self confidence inflated by the success of the recent fight, he squeakily asks the bartender to give him something hard without really knowing what the request will result in.

Heading towards the bar, Willie slows on occasion to get a kiss from the babe on his arm. "They call me Willie. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Rosa." She looks ahead to the others, then up into Willie's eyes. A decision is made. "Listen, I got a problem at home. There's a couple of goons that have been roughin' up a couple of stores, including my dad's. You know, protection money. I saw what you did back there, and maybe you could convince them to leave us alone. I sure would be... grateful if you could help." She hugs him a little tighter.

Willie stops, and looks up ahead at the blue giant. "Aw, Bluebell, I think this coulda been the start of a beautiful friendship." He looks at Rosa. "Why don't we head to your place to ...plan ... yeah, plan our next move."

She smiles. "OK." They turn a corner and disappear into the darkness.

She ordered one cheap drink off the menu so as to not appear any more conspicuous than her blue hair afforded her. Raising her eyebrow as Willie walked off, she nudged the drinking fur ball and dwarf.

Do we follow him? she asked over the com.

Something about meeting a desperate stranger at a bar always made her a tad suspicious, mostly because of the bad movie jokes on the topic. By her reckoning, the woman was either a con ending in Willie losing her gear, a con where she was paid to lose hers, or, by some rare happenstance, actually legit in her intentions. Either way, given the evening so far, Joku wasn't really sure what it could be. There was a small chance that should could actually decrease the thug population in the world, and that was worth the bit of extra effort.

Tzebua's sensitive nose wrinkles as he watches Willie leave with a girl. In response to the elf's inquiry, he states, with a bluntness that is odd to hear from so small a voice, "By the smell of things, I don't think you wanna follow them unless you plan on putting something in somebody or having somebody put something in you. Like, at the pelvic level." With that, he takes too big of a swig of whatever the bartender handed him. Not much of a drinker, he promptly chokes midburn causing cheap synthetic liquor to shoot out of his snout painfully. Wiping his face with a hanky he pulls from his jacket, he winces and blows his nose, his eyes watering profusely as alcohol sprays weakly from his nostrils and into the cloth.