2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:00 PM, August 2nd, 2075

"Three Awakened lunáticos from different Corps all working together? That don't sound good at all... or the fact that we just popped a few AAA employees regardless of their extra-curriculars." Jack said. "I certainly hope it doesn't have anything to do with our actual gig, the last thing we need is to mix the Corps into this clusterfrag."

Turning back to the topic at hand, Jack said, "Getting there in advance would be the way to go, but how long do you think you could pull off sitting in there? We don't have any way of knowing how long it's going to be until he gets there. It could be days..."

Pondering for a moment, Jack pulled out his commlink and send off a quick message. "I just let our mysterious matrix benefactor that Truck isn't going to be a problem anymore. I'd also like to get a hold of Ramirez and give him an update. Oh yeah, Overkill?" Jack asked, withdrawing a few items from his cargo pocket, "Do you have a few baggies I can have?" Jack looked oddly at his ten fingered hand, of which only five were actually attached.

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:01 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Overkill points distractedly toward the kitchen, "Second drawer on the right. What do you need them for... oh. Yes. Those." He grimaces slightly.

"To answer your question, Grease, I do not believe that anyone tell through a view of the Matrix what you are seeing. So, you will just have to act like you are experiencing something....unusual."

Down the street from the Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack wandered over to the kitchen and opened the indicated drawer. He dropped a pair of bags on the counter next to a high-grade espresso machine. The ork separated the severed digits and placed the four belonging to the people who wanted to kill him in one bag and the other, along with the lock of hair, into another. Tucking the filled bags back into his jacket, the ork cleaned up the area, not wanting to be seen as a discourteous guest.

"I'm not sure about the rest of you, but I wouldn't mind cleaning up a bit and getting some sleep." The ork's clothes had dried a little bit, but remained fairly damp from wading through the lake, not to mention the mud and blood that marred his jacket and pants. Fortunately, his black armor jacket didn't really show the latter very well. "The footage we got of Stinger was time-stamped 10PM, so about 26 hours ago. Since my source said Lynx hates addicts, I'd be willing to bet Stinger can't do this too regularly without raising suspicions, so I'd guess we won't see him there tonight." Anticipating Grease's objections to perceived inactivity, Jack continued. "With that said, it wouldn't be a bad idea to do some recon of the place. If Grease can pull off acting like a junkie, something I am sure you can manage amigo, it would help if we do have to go in to collect him. Think you can handle that with limited back-up?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grease nods. "I can handle a few junkies. If I can sneak a gun in, even more so. If someone were to sit out in the car to keep an eye out, even better." Cracking his knuckles, he addresses the other two. "I'm already pretty dirty; about 20 minutes with my disguise kit and I can get appropriately junky. Even if Stinger doesn't show I want to know what the inside of that house looks like, if we have to make a move tomorrow night instead. Trust me on this; he's not going to want to go too long between doses of his medicine. Either of you want to tag along? It'd work well to have one of you drive the cab to drop me off."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 PM, August 2nd, 2075

"On second thought, I'll go with you." Jack interjected before Amy or Overkill could respond. Someone's got to keep an eye on this guy... the ork thought to himself. "That way Amy can get a decent night's sleep and be able to check on Sam and Kevin early in the morning. Overkill's already home and can stay here and search the Matrix for additional leads, maybe find that device that was receiving the signals from that van or check for and erase any tags from the gear we recovered."

"As long as we're not there too long, I don't think it will be too much of a problem. I won't even have to change clothes yet." The ork pauses before concluding, "I'm going to grab the duffle bag if no one objects, I'm carrying a lot of ordnance right now that I'd rather not be visible."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 AM, August 2nd, 2075

While Jack goes out to grab the duffel bag, Grease starts working on his ensemble. Taking items he had selected earlier from the disguise kit, he starts to add a long, brown beard speckled with grey to his face. The steel wool he grabbed earlier shows it's purpose, as he scratches his arms and face with it, causing him to bleed slightly. He looks around until he finds Overkill's couch, and with an apologetic look opens the cushions and takes out the material; lining the inside of his jacket with it.

"Insulation. I'd use newspaper, but you seem like the type to get it over the trid. I'll get it back when we're done."

Continuing, he completes his look with a hat, which he tucks most of his hair into. "Now all I need is a shopping cart."

He takes a small pistol out of his gear bag and tries to figure out a way to conceal it in the folds of his clothes. He's able to do so, but it's clear it won't be easy to access; it will take him a minute to be able to bring the weapon to bear.

"Here, try this instead." Jack produces a streetline special from his ordinance bag, checking it by reflex to make sure there isn't a round in the chamber when it hands it over to Grease. "It goes better with the look anyhow, and it's loaded for bear."

Grease nods his thanks, removes the larger pistol and conceals the saturday night special in his lower back, with Overkill helping to make sure it isn't visible.

"OK; let's go do some drugs!"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:05 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack stowed his helmet, the Colt, the remaining Flash Bang, the spare magazines, and his HK in the duffle bag and zipped it up. Once they arrived on site, he would relocate the SMG underneath the driver's seat of the vehicle. He wished he had brought his glasses with him, but that couldn't be helped at the moment. If need be, he'd just put on his helmet. He'd seen cab drivers wear weirder drek before...

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 PM, August 2nd, 2075

The taxi came to a smooth stop a few blocks away from the chip house, letting Grease out so he could head the rest of the way on foot. Jack drove the taxi around the corner, leaving Grease to shamble along, really selling the disguise of a decrepit BTL user. Jack reached his parking spot and gently pressed on the brake, but the pedal went straight to the floor, snapping his head forward with a crack against the steering wheel. Iho de la puta!, Jack swore to himself and looked for Grease, but the rigger was already out of sight. If a car could be said to idle smugly, Grease's taxi was doing just that.

Grease mentally reached out to his Fly Spy, the drone dropping quickly from the sky and landing on his hand. He pocketed the small drone, and continued on his way. Grease approached the corner where the Zombies were standing, the street toughs packing heavy pistols, and with a shotgun leaning against a nearby car. Grease blends in well with the rest of the street trash shambling around like the gang's namesake.

Approaching the door, he the gang members look him over and let him pass. He reaches the reinforced front door, and a metal slot slides open. He looks around surreptitiously, noting a camera over the door.

A low pitched voice comes from inside "What'cha want, Keebler? We gots it all, Trips, Moods, Dreamchips, cough up the 'yen and we're shiny."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 PM, August 2nd, 2075

Grabbing his helmet from the duffle bag in the back seat, Jack secured it to his head. He needed to keep his eyes and lines of communication open. Trying to tap messages back and forth to Grease using a tiny commlink wasn't going to cut it. Once the trode net in his helmet had synched with his commlink, he pulled the SMG out of the bag and shoved it under the front seat, ready to rock and roll as needed.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Alright amigo, lay it on thick>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Scratching at his arm, Grease's eyes dart around rapidly. "What do YOU want man? I'm thinking a moodie." "Nah, Let's be someone else! I want to be a firetruck!" "No; you picked last time! I want something mellow, this cram is making the bugs go crazy."
He settles into incoherent mumbling, weighing the various pros and cons, and eventually looks up at the metal slot, eyes somewhat lucid. "We want a moodie... RED preferably." he adds after, a clear compromise.

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 PM, August 2nd, 2075

The guard inside, clearly used to dealing with the mad ravings of his customers, simply says, "We got what you need, 50 , lets see the cred."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

"Yeah, yeah, we got it, we got it. Here it is, let us in!" Grease checks the counter on his credstick, makes sure it's an appropriately low amount and slides it through the door.

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

A hand reaches up and takes the credstick, and after a moment the slot slams closed. The door opens several seconds later, and a large human with a shaved head opens the appears. "Come on in, Keebler, your creds good for now."

He hands the credstick back to the elf, and Grease enters a small mud room that has been converted into a kill box. Metal lines the walls, and another reinforced door stands opposite him with yet another slot in it. The guard has him stand against the wall.

He gives Grease a quick pat down, pausing at the hold out pistol, and then laughs. He pulls back his leathers, and at his hip is a Roomsweeper, the handle embossed with the bloody eye symbol of his game. "You can keep that pussy gun, you just make sure it stays back there. You cause any trouble and you are one dead Keebler." He gives a nod, and the inner door opens, revealing another Zombie member, this one a girl, but only slightly smaller than her counterpart. She holds a Remington over one shoulder, and waves Grease to come inside.

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:35 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grease stumbles by the woman, talking to himself in the same sing-song voice, but keeping a keen eye out for details. He passes a bathroom to the right, and has to fight down the urge to gag from the smell, as it seems that none of the Zombies have any plumbing skills.

He looks around, and pretends to be confused, until the woman propels him to the left, past the dining room and toward another Zombie, this one a stout dwarf, a mohawk standing 8 inches tall at the least off the top of his head. Originally brown in color, it seems now a swirl of violets and greens. The girl calls out "Mood chip for the Keebler here." There is a brief barked order from the human that Grease didn't catch, and then the girl says, "Nothing violent."

Grease moves to the dwarf, who punches in a combination into a safe, shielding the keypad from Grease's vision, and then opens it. He pulls out a box of chips, perhaps 50 altogether, and inspects them. "'Ere ya go. Fix you right up that will." He holds out the chip to Grease.

Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 12:40 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grease takes the chip and stumbles upstairs, emerging at the top of the stairs. Standing on the breezeway is yet another Zombie, and he directs him toward the bedroom to the left. Grease nods and goes into the bedroom, nearly tripping over several prostrate forms, their bodies rigid as their sim modules lock down their motor functions while they are in VR. He looks around and finds an empty spot halfway across the floor, slides his chip in most of the way, and then lays down, trying to mimic the other people around him.

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 12:15AM, August 2nd, 2075

Soon after Grease and Jack leave, Overkill yawns. "I don't know about you, Liebschen, but I am tired. you are more than welcome to stay on my couch." The elven decker picks up Overkill and moves behind the partition where his bed is. "Gute Nacht."

Amy nods, and says, "Good night. Hopefully they will be back soon." She lays down on the couch, which is surprisingly comfortable, and takes off her shoes. Plugging her ear buds in, just in case anyone has to reach her, she puts her head down and tries to get some sleep.

Chip House, 1:15 AM, August 2nd, 2075

This was a terrible idea. He had been lying on the floor for about 30 minutes now. One of the men next to him had clearly lost control of his bodily functions, and the smell was overwhelming. The place was crawling with insects, and since he was supposed to be in VR, he couldn't very well move to shoo them away. I wonder how long these things are supposed to last? So far none of the men who were in here when he had laid down had moved at all, so he figured he was safe for now.

He sighed quietly, willing himself not to slap at the ant crossing the bridge of his nose, and continued to wait.

Chip House, 1:15 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Waiting was always a large part of most jobs, but that didn't mean he had to like it. The combination of his current roommates, the cram in his blood, and the large number of insects made Grease twitch and scratch in a manner that was convincingly like he was high on his mood chip.

I wonder what I could sell this thing for? They're probably ripping me off.. Of course, if I got the rest in the safe..

With nothing better to do, Grease starts casually browsing the Matrix for new car parts, and sends Jack a quick message.

<<@Jack [Grease]: 3 downstairs, 1 up. Mostly packing sawed offs. Smells to high heaven in here. Let me know if you see anything out there.>>

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:15 AM, August 2nd, 2075

I hope this is worth it... Jack thought to himself as the minutes slowly ticked away. He hadn't heard anything from Grease for some time, but figured the elf was either maintaining strict communication discipline or went ahead and went whole hog on his cover, availing himself of the BTL chip he purchased. The ork figured either situation was equally likely.

This part of the Warrens was particularly run-down, although that didn't seem unusual given that it boasted a chip house. A few less-savory representatives of Sixth World humanity had taken an interest in the car, but they quickly found something else to occupy their time with when they saw the glowering ork in the driver's seat. The HK-227 rested close by, stored under the driver's seat for quick retrieval if the ork's handsome face wasn't enough to deter interest.

Jack had meant to grab Ramirez's burner comm from Overkill before leaving, but had forgotten to ask for it. Now that they had their first confirmed take-down of one of the suspects involved in the killing, he thought it important to update the Johnson and explain the situation. On top of that, Mary needed official protection and Ramirez was the only Star that Jack currently trusted with her safety.

Jack's image link lit up indicating their was an incoming text. Checking it, he responded to Grease.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Considering what we just got done with, that place has got to be disgusting. Nothing to report here. Thanks for the intel>>

Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Some of the men who had been there already start to get up, moving ward the door, shuffling along. Grease winces as one steps on his ankle, and follows the movement with this eyes. Blinking, he sees a familiar form come to the top of the staircase. Stinger turns to the Zombie on the Breezeway, a credstick changes hands, and he is moved along to the room on the other side of the breezeway from Grease.

Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Keeping his eyes mostly closed, Grease's heart starts to race. One of the main problems with his style of improvisation was that he often didn't think ahead to what the outcome would be, if everything went according to "plan". Still, this was what he was waiting for, and the time to act would be soon.

Using his DNI so he didn't have to move, Grease sent another quick message out.

<<@Jack[Grease]: Just saw him enter the room across the hall from me. There's a balcony between us, but he's in the front bedroom, on the right side from the street. I've got a couple of plays here, but I'd hear your thoughts before I acted on any of them.>>

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Aw drek... Jack thought as he read through Grease's message. The ork hadn't really thought Stinger would show up here so soon and had privately hoped Grease's desire for an impromptu reconnaissance would be just that. Naturally, fate wasn't on his side.

<<@Grease [JustJack] I wouldn't make any stupid moves in a house full of armed gangers, amigo. What are you thinking?>>

Jack reached back into the backseat and grabbed his weapons. Looking through the duffel bag, he realized he hadn't brought any of his non-lethal ammunition. The plan for that evening hadn't called for any. Frag, frag, frag, frag...

The Chip House, 1:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Realizing he had limited options considering he had a pistol with barely enough bullets for all the people he'd need to shoot, Grease dismissed the more violent approaches.

<<@Jack [Grease]: No drek. Not a lot of options. You didn't see him come in? I figure I can either run a con on him to get him alone, or we try to nab him on the street. Either way there's a risk involved. I could go with the 'ole, "Let's pool our 'yen, see if they give us a discount" and get buddy-buddy with him. Maybe he walks out with me. I could also offer to buy him a round if he does me a favor; although I gotta figure out what that would be..>>

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Somewhat content Grease wasn't recommending a full-frontal assault, Jack considered their options before responding.

<<@Grease [JustJack] What are the chances this guy knows what you look like? I mean, I know you're in disguise and he'll probably be coming off a high but if he recognizes you... How long do you think you can keep the act up in there. If he just came in, are you going to be able to stay in there without raising suspicion? Either way, seems like our best option is to grab him after he leaves the house>>

The Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Mentally nodding along, Grease was glad Jack wasn't coming in guns blazing; and likely getting them both killed.

<<@Jack [Grease]: I think if he looks me in the face, I may be in trouble; but if he just sees glances, he's going to think I'm another junkie in here. The others have periodically been getting up, I presume to re-up, but I don't know how long the high lasts. I can always claim to be "savoring" it if they come to bug me about it, or I can re-up. I think they gave me a downer, I could be asleep for all they know. The safest way is to tail him, but I'm concerned he gives us the slip after all this trouble. After tonight I don't see him coming back here.>>

Grease wasn't going to go into further detail over the air than that, but he knew Jack knew what he was referring to.

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

<<@Grease [JustJack] If you think you can engañar him into getting into the cab, passenger-rear preferably, we might be in business. Only other option I can see would be slipping a drone or tag on him. Not sure how helpful that would be, he's probably just going to head back to... that area.>>

Jack pauses for a second, a really stupid plan forming in his mind.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Yeah, that just might work... I may have a plan. Hopefully he's pretty wasted when he gets in here.>>

The Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

I don't like the sound of that at all...

<<@Jack[Grease]: How can I get him into the cab? Presumably he drove, or got a lift here somehow. Not sure if I can trick him into getting a cab if he brought his own ride.>>

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack considered Grease's response. It was a good argument, but given the limited amount of planning involved in this deal, there wasn't a whole lot of time to come up with good options. The ork vaguely wondered how the elf ever accomplished anything without sheer dumb luck and skill.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Sorry amigo, all hunches here. We know our guy's boss can't stand tweakers, so I'm guessing he isn't taking his own ride. I guess we need a Plan A and a Plan B. Plan A: He doesn't have a ride and we give him a lift. Plan B: He does have a ride and we figure out a way to follow him and make sure he doesn't get home. Once you figure out which Plan's in play, let me know.>>

The Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Leaning back, Grease tries to relax.

<<@Jack [Grease]: Either way, it's going to be a few minutes while he rides the dragon. I'll follow him downstairs and either leave with him or get another hit, depending on what he does.>>

Down the street from the Chip House, 1:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

<<@Grease [JustJack] Roger, just keep me updated. If he needs a ride, best play may be to tell him you're a cabbie. I'll just get in the trunk.>>

Chip House, 2:00 AM, August 2nd, 2075


Grease watches as one of the chipheads who came in after he did starts to wander downstairs. Looks like I'm going to have to get another one.

He stands up slowly, brushing himself off, and moves out of the room, stumbling a little to cover his surreptitious glance at the room Stinger went into. Unfortunately the door was closed, and he was unable to see anything.

<<@Jack [Grease] Looks like Stinger bought himself a private room, I can't get any eyes on him. I'm on my way to pick up another chip to keep my cover.>>

Making his way downstairs, holding on to both walls to feign struggling to keep his balance, he heads back to the dwarf he spoke to before. "One more, I need one more." he stammers out, fumbling for his credstick and handing it to the dwarf.

The dwarf takes it, slots it into his commlink, deducts 50 and then hands it back. "Did'ja fall asleep up there? Was coming to get you if you weren't down here in a minute. This isn't a doss, no pay, no play, alright mate?" He shoos Grease back up the stairs, Grease stammering an apology and accepting the chip. Clutching it to his chest, he heads back upstairs, making sure that the door to Stinger's room was still closed, and then moves into his room.

Sighing, he pushes the chip into his jack most of the way, and lays down, reacquainting himself with the local insects.

Chip House, 2:00 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grumbling incoherently in response, Grease shuffles back upstairs and heads into his old room. With the new chip "slotted" he's able to open communications with the team without appearing out of place.

I should tell Overkill about this joint; it's probably a great place to get some hacking done, and the rent is only 50 'yen an hour; probably a lot cheaper than a lot of coffin motels in town with this amount of firepower out front.

<<@Team [Grease]: Stinger spotted at [LOCATION ATTACHED]. Please proceed to area ASAP. I've got eyeballs on him, Jack is nearby in support.>>

Overkill's House, Aurora Warrens, 2:00 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Now soundly asleep, Amy is suddenly startled by an annoying buzzing in her ears. She reflexively sits up and takes her 'link in her hands, making the terrible sound stop. Groggily she brings up the message and absorbs the content. The team needs me, I gotta get moving.

Yawning, she half yells in the direction of Overkill. "Hey, did you just see that?"

Overkill's House, Aurora Warrens, 2:00 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Amy hears groaning from the other side of the partition. "Gott in Himmel, I just fell asleep." Amy hears some movement and then a bang followed by a yell. "I'm alright, I'm alright." Overkill comes limping out from behind the partition, then sits and rubs his toe.

<<@Grease [Overkill] We are on our way - be there as soon as we can. >>

He pulls on his boots, and starts putting his gear together. In a minute he was finished, and met Amy by his motorcycle. "Ready to go Liebschen?"

Down the street from the Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Overkill's bike comes to a stop across the street from Grease's taxi. The elf turns of the vehicle and opens a channel to Grease and Jack.

<<@Team [Overkill] We're here. What's the play?>>

Down the street from the Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack sighed. He had been wracking his brain for the better part of 30 minutes trying to come up with something. Everything he thought of, barring a suicidal frontal assault, generally required a lot more preparation time than they had available to them.

<<@Team [JustJack] Attacking the house is probably a bad idea. We could get away with rock-n'-rollin in the closest thing the FRZ has to a forest, but I doubt we can get away with it here in the middle of the city without attracting unwanted attention. I think the best bet is to catch him when he leaves. We got two vehicles now and, unless his driver is a rigger, I doubt Grease is going to lose him.>>

Down the street from the Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Overkill kept his head on a swivel, checking the Matrix and the physical world for trouble. He got off his bike and leaned against a nearby streetlight, keeping his hand near his machine pistol.

<<@Team [Overkill]I agree, no need to fight a whole street gang if we don't need to. The question, my friends is if we are going to hit him in transit, where do we do so?>>

Down the street from the Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack thought about Overkill's question before responding. Calling up a map of the area in his AR feed, he sent a response.

<<@Team [JustJack] Well, we probably don't want to hit him south of Smoky Hill Road since it would be in Yak territory, not to mention close to the Zombies. If we wait too long, he'll be close to LM territory and his friends could respond. Not just the rest of his crew but the LMs too. We've probably currently got the least beef with the Trey-Eights and the rest of the Fronts. So... a little north of Smoky Hill Road would be my suggestion. It really depends on what road he takes to get out of here.>>

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Shifting slightly to let the roach in his lower back get a better purchase, Grease suppresses a grimace as he responds.

<<@Team [Grease]: Ideally, it won't come to that. If I can convince him to come quietly, we can dispense with all the car chases. I think we have even odds at least I'll be able to talk him into the cab.>>

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack wasn't sure how this was going to work.

<<@Team [JustJack] OK, if you can talk him into the cab, how are we going to take him down? I can pretend to be the driver, but then that puts you and him in the back and puts me in a bad position to try to take him down. If you pretend to be the cabbie, he's going to start shooting the second he sees someone else in the car... probably at you. I mean, I've still got the granada, but that seems like a last-ditch kind of thing. Anyone else have ideas? I think we're too close to try and stage an ambush outside the car here.>>

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Amy got off Overkill's bike and sat in a dark corner where her ork and elf teammates could easily see her, hiding part of her face with her head down into her jacket.

<<@Team [Amy's subvocal] I know a way to get our chummer into that cab. I just need to see him and I can cast on him, but it's safer to do it when he's actually outside, otherwise an awakened could notice my spell in the astral and it would look strange. If you get him to look in the other direction, there's no way he'll see that on the other side of the street I just influenced his thoughts with a spell. I can't guarantee it'll last very long, but probably long enough to get him inside that cab.>>

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

While Jack was pleased that they had more options for getting Stinger into the cab, he still wasn't sure what they were going to do once he was actually inside the vehicle.

<<@Team [JustJack] OK, so we probably have getting him into the cab covered. Then what?>>

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

I'm going to need a delousing after this..

<<@Team [Grease]: Well, if he gets into the cab without thinking about it, you could be sitting in the back with a frag-off hand cannon pointing at him. Then it's just a matter of us driving him someplace to interview him.>>

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:30 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Jack shrugged. Just as good as any plan, I guess...

<<@Team [JustJack] I'm game>>

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

The door to the private room opens, and Grease sees Stinger emerge onto the breezeway.

Physically impressive for a decker, his UCAS fatigues faded from wear and age, he brushes by the Zombie on the way down the stairs.

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

<<@Team [Grease]: Game on.>>

Seeing Stinger's door open, Grease starts to scratch his back more frantically until he shakes his eyes open. Muttering about bugs, he gets up and heads towards the breezeway, producing a hacking cough as he shuffles towards the stairs.

If I were following him, I wouldn't draw so much attention to myself. At least, I hope that's what he thinks.

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Well, that was quick... the ork thought as he grabbed his HK from under the seat, checked the safety, and tossed it into the back. Exiting the vehicle, he slipped to the rear driver side door and entered the vehicle. Flicking the HK's safety off, Jack turned off the wireless on his SMG, trusting that the remaining devices were running silently. Given the minuscule amount of planning that had gone into this snatch and grab, the ork didn't have high hopes. Either way, he was a team player.

<<@Team [JustJack] I'm in the rear seat, driver's side. He needs to get in either the passenger front or rear, front preferred. Overkill, stay with your bike and get ready to grab Amy if this thing goes to drek. Grease, take the wheel whenever you're ready>>

Given the lack of any kind of planning, Jack didn't feel too bad about snapping off a few suggestions.

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Grease stumbles down the stairs, trying to keep up with Stinger, who seems in a hurry. Grease stumbles down the stairs, drawing some strange looks from the Zombies as he does so, but manages to catch up to stinger just in time to see him retrieve a Browning from the hulking guard at the door and slide it into a shoulder holster. He hands a credstick to the guard, and walks out the door. Grease stumbles to the door as it closes behind Stinger and the guard turns to him.

"Leaving already sunshine?"

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:31 AM, August 2nd, 2075

Sending a quick DNI message to the team, Grease composed himself to try and get out the door.
<<@Team [Grease]: Target outside. No eyeball.>>

Giving the guard a look up and down appraisingly, Grease sighed. He didn't think a line would get him through that door.

Mother always said honestly was the best policy...

Decision made, his affect changes completely; he stands up from his stoop, his eyes clear and his twitching subsides until he's looking the guard levelly in the eye. "Listen, I get it; you keep me in here, I keep slotting the chips, everyone's happy. Only I forgot my part." Grease hands him the unused chip. "I need to follow that guy. You can either let me," Grease gives him the other unused chip, "Or I can try to force the issue. I assure you it's more trouble than it's worth omae." Grease continues to look the guard in the eye as he awaits his decision, trying not to sweat the wasted seconds as Stinger got further and further away.

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:32 AM, August 2nd, 2075

The Zombie's eyes turn hard at the implied threat in Grease's words, but then remembering the popgun that the elf had walked in with, he chuckles in disbelief. Snatching the two chips from Grease's hand, he says, he puts them into a commlink he pulls from his pocket, Grease sweating as a very long 30 seconds go by as he verifies that they were indeed unused.

"If you are dumb enough to pay us for our product and give it back, be my guest, but don't threaten me bitch." The human gives Grease a hard shove toward the door, and then crosses his arms as Grease nods and exits the Chip House.


As Grease steps outside, he is in time to see Stinger getting into a light blue Mercury Comet, gun the engine and quickly make the right onto South Dunkirk.

Drek

<<@Team [Grease] Stinger just made a right onto South Dunkirk heading north. We better move.>>

Turning slightly to shield his body, Grease releases his Fly Spy, sending it scurrying along the ground and then gaining altitude over the houses once it gets out of line of sight of the chip house.

The Chip House, Aurora Warrens, 2:32 AM, August 2nd, 2075

<<@Grease [Amy] Grease, let me in the car, Jack and I will go with you.>>

Amy leaves her squatting position and quickly crosses to the taxi, Grease opening the door with a mental command as he moves quickly up S. Dunkirk. At a quick mental cue, the taxi jerks to life, and passes Stinger's Comet heading in the other direction. The car is moving quickly - well above the nominal speed limit. Overkill throws his helmet on and waits for a moment before he pulls out onto Dunkirk behind the car to follow.

<<@Team [Overkill] I'll keep them in sight while you get set. What's the plan? Where and when are we doing this? >>

The taxi screeches to a halt as Grease jumps into the driver seat, pulling the cord from his control rig and slamming it into the rigger port. His body slumps immediately as the car roars back to life, and executes a quick u-turn, with Jack and Amy prevented from being thrown around the car by their restraints.