2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Not entirely happy about the idea, Jack went ahead and removed Gutter's restraints, slipping them into his back pocket after he was done. The ork crossed his arms across his chest, attempting to look somewhat indifferent, but still intimidating.

Using his DNI, the ork shot a quick message to Overkill.

<<@Overkill [JustJack] See what you can dig up on BioGene. Just the basics for now and don't bother if it's going to distract you from watching those two. Grease is playing nice for once and it seems like it's getting us somewhere>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Gutter rubs his wrists after Jack removes the restraints, nodding his thanks to the big ork. He sits up fully, scratching at his cheek, which was clean-shaven in contradiction to all stereotypes about his race.

Blinking rapidly, he begins to speak. "Ummm, okay, we had just made contact with you guys, Lynx had called in about the possible security breach. With Stinger and Truck not reporting in, he didn't want to take any chances. We went back to his place and Falcon summoned a spirit to watch our backs. I tried to get some shut-eye, and next thing I knew I couldn't breathe, and then I woke up here." He studies the two of you, "I don't recognize you guys, where's Mr. J?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

A message comes to the rest of the team about 30 seconds after Jack's request to Overkill.


<<@Team [Overkill] Here's what a cursory examination of the Matrix brings up. For anything else I would have to pay more attention to it, and less attention to our guests.>>

The file opens up in AR:

Biogene Technologies was purchased by Yamatetsu before their corporate changeover to EVO. The firm handles a variety of applied science patents, including biotech, pharmaceuticals, and genetic engineering. Biogene has several facilities located throughout the NAN, with its headquarters located in the Sioux Nation, and a several offices located here in the FRFZ in the Sioux sector.

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Grease smiles thinly. "Mr. Johnson won't be attending any further meetings until we get the security situation sorted out. He's compartmentalizing the operation to avoid any further screw-ups. What equipment do you have available? What happened with your van?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Observing the interrogation, Jack had to admit that Grease was doing well... not that he'd ever tell him.

<<@Team [JustJack] That should be good for now, Overkill. Sounds like we've got a line on the employer based on what you found. Just keep an eye on the prisoners, no need to get complacent now>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Gutter almost snarls at the question of the van. "My van? I loaned it to Truck, it was the only thing big enough to haul him around in. When he never showed up, I finally located the damn thing in the middle of the Goddamn Arsenal. With that fiasco at the park the other night, I'm down to my last couple surveillance drones. Your boss is going to have quite the expense report coming in once this things over."

He winces but manages to raise himself into a sitting position. "As far as equipment, did you grab any of my gear?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Grease shakes his head. "After they nabbed you they didn't take anything with them. We managed to get you here, but Lynx's apartment was getting overrun with local security and police. I am sure all your equipment is right where you left it; we just have to wait for it to clear out before heading back there."

The elf leans closer to Gutter, his voice lowered. "Now, tell me about this leak- all we heard was that there was a problem, and the next thing we know we're pulling you three out of a truck. I need to know if the operation is compromised."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

<<@Team [JustJack] Should we go ahead and ping Johnson? I'd like to get these jokers off our hands as quickly as possible and now that Gutter's talking, we should hopefully have enough to go on soon>>

The rigger was fortunately proving to be a font of knowledge. With the BioGene lead and the recorded admission Grease's drone was collecting, they could hopefully leverage that for a bit more nuyen from Ramirez. Hell, judging by the recent news articles, the UCAS territorial government might pay a pretty penny for that information to use as leverage against the Sioux...

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

"Well then my money is on Stinger. The bastard skipped out on us, and is refusing to answer any calls. He isn't at any of his old haunts, and Lynx is about ready to rip his head off."

The dwarf's brow furrows for a moment, and then he reaches back to the base of his neck, removing the jammer. "How the hell did this get here?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

After the elf reaches out, Gutter places the jammer in his hand. "While it is convenient for you to blame one of your colleagues who isn't present, we aren't taking any chances." Seeing the outrage build in Gutter's face, Grease continues. "You are the only member of your team who woke up. Everyone else is either dead or in a coma. That makes us very worried about your actions and whereabouts prior to this attack. Why did Falcon get a bullet to the head for his trouble, while you were given prompt medical attention?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

"You suspect me?!" Gutter's face changes from one of disbelief to anger. "Are you kidding me? You are the ones who pulled me away from the extraction team, unconscious and with a jammer in me." He shakes his head, "If Falcon got a bullet, that doesn't surprise me, he's a dangerous fragger, and whoever left Lynx alive, they are going to wish they didn't I'm sure."

Gutter stands up. "I gotta take a piss, where's the bathroom in this place?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

Grease's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm not sure you are considering how dangerous your current position is. Sit down. Tell me about the security breach. I need to make a decision if it's better to cut our losses with your team. This is your only chance to convince me that isn't the best idea."

His smile fades. "So be convincing."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

Jack had been about to let the dwarf use the facilities before Grease continued his interrogation. Figuring someone should keep an eye on the rigger's matrix activities now that the headjammer was off, Jack sent a message to the team.

<<@Team [JustJack] Overkill, how confident are you that Gutter doesn't have an implanted commlink? We just took his headjammer off. Can you keep an eye on him in the matrix to see if he tries anything? Amy, while he's doing that, please keep an eye on Falcon and Lynx>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

<<@Jack [Overkill] Jack, I didn't find one. That doesn't mean he doesn't actually have one. Let me jump into VR just to be on the safe side>>

Amy switches her vision to Astral to keep on eye on Falcon and Lynx, both of whose auras display the calm, even tones of those in a state of unconsciousness.

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

Gutter slowly takes a seat back on the bed. "Goes by the name of Stinger. Human, ex military, out of Dallas or at least out of the CAS as far as I can tell. Took off the other night and never came back, like I told you."

He licks his lips and says, "Clearly he must have known Lynx's apartment, and had the other team hit us there."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

<<@Team [Grease]: I'm going to keep stringing him along for as long as he's willing to keep talking.>>

Nodding, Grease hands the cup of water to Gutter. "Tell me about what happened after the rally."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

"Let me think, well, that night Lynx got back, and he was pissed off" He chuckles, "He isn't used to not getting his way, and the rally was fiasco. We managed to get it spun right in the press, but he wasn't happy - and neither was I, stupid mage took out most of my drones during the firefight."

"Truck had had some stuff to do, so he took my van and left around 8:00 that night - and we never heard from him again. Lynx was probably wishing he were there to back him up at the rally." He looks back and forth from Grease to Jack, and continues.


"The next day Lynx had to go meet with Mr. J, and Stinger took off. I told that Lynx was going to be pissed, but he said he would be back before Lynx got back. That's the last I saw of him."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

A little worried about Grease's line of questioning, Jack sent a quick message.

<<@Grease [JustJack] You might want to keep the questions limited to things that are related to keeping Johnson's nose clean. You know, witnesses, connections to Johnson left at Lynx's place that Bradshere might need to look out for... drek like that. He seems to be getting suspicious>>

Jack pushed off from the wall and walked over to the bathroom door. Drawing his pistol, he turned the doorknob and cleared the room with the Streetline pointed in front of him. "Bathroom's clear..."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:46 AM August 3rd, 2075

Grease nods along with Gutter, and puts a hand up to Jack to acknowledge he heard him. He leans closer to Gutter to convince him to continue, talking quickly.

"Alright, alright.. So Stinger and Truck are both in the wind. This isn't good. What about the Los Mags? Do they know anything that could compromise us? How well did Lynx compartmentalize their end?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

"Falcon dealt with the Los Mags, he was the one with the connect there. As far as I'm aware, you guys should be pretty sealed off from them. All they knew was that we were helping them clear out a few of the Bronze who were giving them a hard time. They didn't know why we were doing it." Gutter chuckles, "Well, we charged them to do it, of course, but everyone's entitled to make a few extra 'yen here and there."

He motions to the bathroom with his head. "Can I go take a leak now?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

Staring Gutter down, Grease inclines his head slightly. Without turning his head he adds, "Miguel; go in there and make sure he doesn't fall in."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

The dwarf says "Thank you!" in an exasperated tone, and squeezes past Jack. He looks around at the bathroom, disgust evident on his face, and then shrugs. "I've been in worse places."

After relieving himself he goes to flush, but Jack says, "Plumbing hasn't worked in a long time, amigo."

Gutter nods, and wipes his hands on his shorts, and then walks back into the bedroom. "That's much better. Now look, I've told you what I know about the leak, can we get me a change of clothes?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

Jack responded, giving Grease a reprieve to consider everything they had learned and formulate any last questions. "We're taking what's left of your team to an extraction point the Corp set-up to get you over to the Sioux sector. They're going to provide you with ID and shelter, I guess clothes too, while the heat dies down over here and we get everything cleaned up in this sector. Speaking of... is there anything at Lynx's place that we might need to let our friends in the Star know about for them to secure and 'lose' before anyone else gets a chance to examine?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

Standing near the bed he turns to Jack and says, "Makes sense, always wondered what it was like to live over the border in the NAN. Supposed to be better than here - but then again isn't everywhere?"

Thinking about Jack's question, he says "I doubt it. I'm assuming whatever extraction team got us grabbed anything of value, and we all use burner 'links anyway. I would like to get my Spider back, but I'm guessing that's long gone by now." Sighing, he rubs his hands together, and says "So how long do we have to wait? And can I get something to eat? I'm starving."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

"We're waiting for the callback. I figure we can grab you something at a Shack on the way to the transfer if you can wait a little bit, depending on how much time we're allowed." Jack replied as he returned to his post on the wall.

<<@Team [JustJack] Alright, I think it's time to call Johnson. I doubt a transfer point is going to happen any quicker than an hour, so we'll still have time to work on the rigger. Bueno?>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

<<@Team [Grease]: Agreed. Make the call.>>

Stretching, Grease dusts his pants off as he stands. "I'm just glad we were able to get damage control in place in time before this thing completely turned on us." Patting Gutter on the shoulder, he adds, "Good job. We'll need your advice going forward. I'd like to take you on as a consultant now that we're moving you out of the threatened area. Where did we go wrong? What could we do differently next time?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

Gutter looks at Grease a little askance, and says, "Hey, I like a paycheck as much as the next guy, but I'm not the one you want to be talking to. I'm the rigger, I don't do operational security. I would say talk to Stinger, but that's probably not a good idea to take advice from him." He chuckles.

"You could also talk to Lynx, assuming he gets out of his coma."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:47 AM August 3rd, 2075

Grease frowns. "From what I've heard, that's looking increasingly unlikely. We need to figure out how to get this up and running quickly again. Do you think it could have been someone outside of your immediate team that was the issue? Someone in Lonestar?"

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:50 AM August 3rd, 2075

Given that it was one of the rare times when Grease and Jack agreed on anything, Overkill accessed the burner commlink and sent a message to Ramirez.

<<@Ramirez [Churchfriends] The package is ready for pick-up. Currently located in the Warrens, a geolocational ARO is attached to this message. Please confirm whether this will be an in-person hand-off or if we should just leave the package secured here for the recipient. If possible, we would like to meet with you this evening to conclude our business.>>

Concluding the text, Overkill switched over to AR and regained consciousness. With his attention still focused on the icons around him, he looked to Amy and smiled. "Almost done, meine freunde," he whispered.

After a few minutes, the burnerer comm sent a ping indicating a message had been received. During the intervening time, Grease had continued working over Gutter, but had made little additional progress. With that said, the dwarf seemed absolutely convinced that Stinger had fragged him over and would likely make a wonderful source of information if Ramirez wanted to try to chase that lead down further. Checking the message, Overkill held up a finger and circled it, indicating that it was time to go. The decker copied the text of Ramirez's message and then pasted it into a message on his own link, forwarding it to the rest of the team.

<<@Churchfriends [Ramirez] Understood, a team has been notified and will be dispatched soon. They should be there within the hour. I would strongly encourage you to not be there when they arrive. I'll meet you at 2100 tonight at the place where we first met.>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:50 AM August 3rd, 2075

As Ramirez's forwarded message popped up in his AR feed, Jack forced himself to not nod in satisfaction. Grease had continued to work on Gutter while they had waited, but it didn't seem like the dwarf knew all that much more than he was offering. Given his talkative nature, he probably would make a great source for the ZDF or Lone Star, whoever ended up actually bringing these guys up on charges. With the thought of a ZDF strike team bearing down on their location, the ork sent a message to Grease.

<<@Team [JustJack] Alright, amigos, we need to sew this deal up and bring it to an end. I do NOT want to be here when the ZDF gets here. I figure we knock Gutter out, move him into the room with the rest of his team, then leave the last Flash-Bang hidden in the room with one of the Fly-Spys so we can keep them down in case they start to regain consciousness before the Zoners get here.>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:50 AM August 3rd, 2075

With the team leaving soon, Amy realized that it was time to wipe the place of any magic she might have used and proceeded with that while Grease was still trying to get the most out of Gutter with limited time left.

<<@Team [Amy's subvocal] Good idea Jack. I'm clearing the place of any of my magic. I gotta say I'm tempted to finish Lynx off before leaving though, but I want the best payday we can get. He can be thankful for that.>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:51 AM August 3rd, 2075

Gutter held up his hands. "Again, sorry guy, Lynx did all the meetings with Bradshere and Stinger, those are the two you want to talk to. Honestly I'm doubting it was someone of yours at Lone Star who blew the whistle, you know what they do to cops in prison."

2525 South Dunkirk Street, Aurora Warrens, 4:51 AM August 3rd, 2075

Having communicated the plan between them along their comm channel, the team moves to put it into action. Jack walks past Gutter, and then with shocking swiftness cold-cocks him with the butt of his Streetline Special, knocking the dwarf senseless.

Binding his hands with the restraints again, he brings the body one final time into the living room. That is the last time I'm carrying this pendejo.

Arranging the three bodies on the floor, face down, Jack sets up the flash bang, while Grease puts his Fly Spy in the corner of the room. "Overkill, I'm going to run this little one silent - can you slave it too your deck? Hopefully the ZDF doesn't notice it, because if they do I'm going to need to replace another drone." Grease frowns as he gives his drone a little pat before releasing it.

Overkill nods, reaching out with his avatar to enfold the drone's icon within the protective coding of his deck. Amy finishes up removing all traces of her presence at the house, and then says, "Ready guys?"

A few blocks from the safehouse, Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

The team waited in Grease's car, anxiously watching the feed from the Fly Spy. Overkill was silent, his consciousness roaming out among the Matrix, looking for any clues he could pick up about Biogene. The team jumps slightly as the door bursts inward, and a six-man ZDF strike team enters the building. Their security armor painted matte-black, the ZDF insignia emblazoned on chest and shoulder, they move with machine-like precision to clear the room. Two stay behind to watch the prisoners, while the others clear the rest of the house.

A giant, gorilla-shaped humanoid materializes inside the living room, and grabs Falcon and Lynx, one under each arm, and takes them out of the house. It appears a moment later and grabs Gutter, also whisking him out of the room, showing no sign of strain at lifting the bodies. The team sweeps the room, and finds the hidden flash grenade. One of the team quickly connects a data cord to the grenade, and a second later nods, putting the now harmless weapon in an evidence bag.

The team leader puts his hand up and signals to his team to mount up, and they disappear through the door. Chancing discovery, Grease moves the Fly Spy slightly catching a glimpse of a ZDF MRAP before it pulls away, the vehicle moving with the grace and speed of something under rigger-control.

A few blocks from the No Longer Safehouse, Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Jack leaned back in satisfaction as he observed the ZDF do their thing at the safehouse. That drek is expensive, he thought, frowning as the HRT uncovered the Flash-Bang. Still, it was better than having them show up and there being no prisoners, in the off chance Lynx and his crew would have woken up in the intervening time period. Fortunately, the ZDF decker failed to pick up Grease's Fly-Spy so they were able to watch and record the entire thing.

The eastern sky was turning purple as the sun started to threaten to encroach on the moon's domain. Grease sat behind the wheel, idly drumming his fingers as he waited to recover the Fly-Spy. Overkill was knocked out in the back seat working on a deep matrix search for BioGene. That poor bastardo has spent most of the last few days knocked out doing matrix work. I guess he doesn't mind too much... Amy was in the back as well, keeping an eye on the decker in case he encountered something unfortunate in the matrix. Jack rode shotgun, albeit with an SMG rather than an actual shotgun, the remainder of his gear packed up in the trunk.

Twisting around in his seat to address everyone else, Jack said, "Well pandilla, it looks like we survived this one. Good work all around, I don't think we would have succeeded without everyone's help. A lot more innocent people died than I'm happy with, but I don't think there's anything we could have done to change that outcome. These fraggers were murderers. But we've managed to get a few pendejos off the street, save a few people who would otherwise be dead, and will hopefully end up sticking it to one of the Corps who think they can treat the Warrens as a clearinghouse for their drugs. Of course, the nuyen we should have coming out way isn't bad either. We've got about fifteen hours before we meet with Johnson. I'd suggest we get some food and rest before then."

"So where to now?" the ork asked.

Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

"I for one want to get out of these clothes and into something civilized." Giving Jack an appraising look, he adds, "Although you could think about keeping that mustache. It's not completely terrible. Something to consider." He starts to drive away at a speed the team has come to expect, although too fast to ever quite get used to. "Breakfast?"

Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

"That sounds maravilloso," Jack said, his mouth already watering with the thought of soybacon and mycocakes. The ork stroked his fake mustache.

"Uh, but what about the blood?" Jack looked down at himself and then at the others. "We kind of stand out right now. Maybe we should just hit a drive through and get to ground?"

Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Finally safe. Amy was relieved, even though Lynx and crew were all knocked out, she'd been worried for her life ever since Jack foolishly jumped in front of a bullet to save her. Her heart was finally coming to a more steady pace. Everyone was in a good mood given the circumstances, even Jack who was self-congratulating. Good for him. She smiled.

"We can drop by my place to get a shower and clean up a little. I think there should be hot water, assuming someone fixed the pipes in the last week. I wouldn't mind getting a change of clothes and see what happened with the place. No one's gonna care about blood stains in that neighborhood." Amy offers.

Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

"Why don't we hit a drive through for breakfast and then each just head home? I imagine we all want to change and get cleaned up. We can meet back up around 1400 or 1500 to get all the information together for Ramirez at an appropriate location?" Jack offered. He figured each member of the team would want a little time to themselves to decompress. The last several days, particularly the last few hours, had been pretty harrowing.

Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

"Sounds good to me. Not that you haven't been fun company, but I miss my own bed." Grease taps his RCC a few times, sending signals out to his various drones. "I'll take the Beemer home. Y'all can take the cab wherever you want, it's programmed to return to me once it's route is complete."

Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

"Thanks amigo," Jack replied sincerely. "Does that sound good with everyone else? I imagine Overkill can drive himself home on his motorcycle, assuming he can stop what he's doing for a little bit and pick it up later. Amy and I will take the cab to our spots. Can you send the cab to pick us up later today? Maybe around 1600? We can meet up at the Rust and go over what we're giving to Ramirez, I figure there are probably some images and audio that need to be edited out. Once that's done, we can meet Ramirez at the Motel."

Figuring he would let the decker know what was going on, the ork sent a quick message.

<<@Overkill [JustJack] Not sure if you can stop what you're doing for a bit, but we're going to split up and head home. If you need to stay in VR, I can take you to Nic's and you can shower up there. I can probably scrounge up some relatively clean clothes, too. Otherwise, you're more than welcome to head to your own place, I'm sure your cat misses you. I think we're going to meet back up at the Rusty Bar-Rel around 1600>>

Aurora Warrens, 5:45 AM August 3rd, 2075

Overkill opened his eyes. "No problem, I can pick that up when I get home."

The team splits up, each heading their separate ways, Overkill to the tenement building, and Grease to his home.

The cab drops Jack off at Nic's first, and then brings Amy back to her tiny apartment, where she can get cleaned up before going to see the kids.

Nic's Knacks, Aurora Warrens, 6:00 AM August 3rd, 2075

The taxi dropped Jack off at Nic's. Waving bye to Amy, the ork almost failed to avoid the taxi's attempt to drive over his foot.

"Fraggin' coche diablo!" Jack yelled as the car drove away, beeping its horn in satisfaction. Shouldering his duffel bag, Jack approached the door to the shop and mentally cycled the maglock open. He figured Nic would be asleep for another hour or so, the troll usually woke up around 0700. Dropping his bag next to the pool table covered in junk, the ork pushed the bag under the table with the toe of his boot. Walking over to the refrigerator, Jack pulled open the door and grabbed the jug of water chilling inside. Taking a long sip, the ork held the jug up to his forehead, cooling himself. The heat was still fairly oppressive, even here in the mountains. Returning the jug to the shelf, he closed the door. Accessing the RFID tag magnetically secured to the door, Jack edited the ARO associated with it, leaving a note for Nic.

>>Nic: Hoi chummer! Came in late. Please don't wake me up until 1400, I can really use the rest. Good news though, looks like its over, amigo!

With the note taken care of, the ork quietly tiptoed to his room. Stripping down to his boxer briefs and a-frame undershirt, he balled up his jacket and the rest of his clothes and dumped them in the corner next to his balled-up suit. Silently slipping into the bathroom, Jack checked his dressings, satisfied that they would hold and had absorbed the blood from his gunshot wounds adequately. Returning to his bedroom, he carefully stripped the sheets from the bed and laid down, not wanting to stain them, but not really caring about the mattress itself. Exhausted as he was, deep sleep came over him quickly.

Nic's Knacks, Aurora Warrens, 2:00 PM August 3rd, 2075

"Wake up, drek head!" Jack grunted as the expertly placed foot connected with his solar plexus. Gasping for air, the ork was a split second from extending his handblade when he realized his aggressor was Nic. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Jack looked up to see the old troll looking down at him in distaste. "What the frag did you get up to last night? You look half dead!"

The afternoon light filtered in through the dirty window as the ork slowly got to his feet. His wounds were still bandaged and stable, thankfully nothing had torn loose during the morning. Putting a hand on Nic's shoulder, Jack replied, "Nothing much amigo, took a few bullets for a loco elf. The usual. On the plus side, I think we finished the job, just have to meet with the Johnson tonight. So I should have some more time to spend helping you out around here. Nic... I really want to say thank you, hombre. You didn't have to help us like you did over the last week. I know you didn't sign up for this and you've already done enough for me..."

"Shut up, tusker." Nic chuckled punching the ork in the shoulder, "You going soft on me? I think you're spending too much time around elves. Good thing though, cause there's plenty of work that's piled up around here with you being gone so much. Hope you don't mind getting your hands dirty. We can get started tomorrow." Nic guffawed as he lurched out of the room, the servos in his backwards leg wheezing as he left.

Jack headed to the bathroom and started the shower. The shower stuttered on and the ork was disappointed when he realized the hot water heater must have been one of the things that broke while he was away. Shrugging, he stripped down, tossing the bloody bandages in the trash, and hopped in the shower, washing off the grime and the inert CS powder caked to his skin. After spending way too long enjoying the water, the ork finished up and exited the shower. Pulling the small first aid kit from underneath the sink, the ork re-bound his wounds with clean bandages, wrapping his chest securely to keep everything in place. Seeing to the rest of his hygiene needs, Jack headed back to his room.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to wear, as most of his clothes were dirty. He was pleasantly surprised when he found his Actioneer Business Suit, clean and pressed, hanging in the closet. A small RFID tag was attached, the ARO reading:

>>You already smell bad enough, no reason for your clothes to smell as well. -Nic

Grinning, the ork put on clean undergarments and then put on the suit. He left the collar of his white shirt open in deference to the heat, leaving the tie on the hanger. Heading into the shop area, Jack was about to thank Nic again when the troll gave him the evil eye, suggesting they had already exceeded their emotional exchange quota for the day. Walking over to the fridge, the ork pulled out a synthveza and a cup of leftover soy noodles. Scarfing down the noodles, he nursed the beer while enjoying the sense of peace he felt with not having a homicidal team stalking him. After finishing his beer, he grabbed his duffel bag from under the pool table and returned it to his room. Grabbing his Streetline Special, he holstered the weapon in his jacket and headed back out into the shop.

Opening the messaging application of his commlink, Jack sent Grease a quick message.

<<@Grease [JustJack] Amigo, can I get a copy of the video of the ZDF nabbing our targets? I owe a guy who helped us out some peace of mind. Seeing the end result would provide him with it>>

Turning on the trid, he surfed the channels for the next several hours, releasing stress as he watched a myriad of shows. Receiving the files from Grease, Jack opened an AR window and edited a quick snippet of footage showing Lynx's team getting rolled up by the ZDF. Fishing around in Nic's junk drawer, he pulled out a datachip and downloaded the file. As 1500 rolled around, Jack sent a message to the team.

<<@Team [JustJack] Afternoon folks, I hope everyone is feeling rested. Are we on for a meeting at the Rust in a few? If someone could pick me up, that would be great. I'm pretty low on funds, hopefully only until 2100 tonight though...>>

Montbello, 6:12 AM August 3rd, 2075

Pulling into his garage, Grease falls out of the BMW in dramatic fatigue. Tracking the cab as it dropped his compatriots off at their various dwellings, he was amused when it tried to run Jack over. He had been feigning ignorance on Gypsy's tendencies, but he admitted to himself that was part of her charm. A pilot program that just did what you wanted wasn't any fun at all.

Biogene.. What are they up to?

Thinking he'd need to find out more, Grease messaged the only person he could think who would have an inside track on what the Corps were up to.

<<@Deiter [Grease]: Guten Morgen, Deiter. I know you're up early chasing the worm. You ever hear of a Corp called Biogene? Also, why would a corp sell something under the table they could presumably sell legitimately?>>

Not waiting for the reply, Grease turned on the shower and started removing his disguise, glad to be out of the smelly clothes.

Montbello, 7:15 AM August 3rd, 2075

Toweling off after a luxious shower, Grease checked his messages and saw a reply from Deiter.

Prompt- very German of him.

Scanning the message; it didn't tell him anything he didn't already know. He sent Deiter a thank you message anyways, scrolling through his virtual rolodex for anyone else who may know something. Coming up blank, he rubbed his eyes.

Too many late nights in a row.

His last thought before falling asleep was thinking there must be some connection between Truck, the sacrifice, and whatever Biogene was up to.. Something with Vampires.

Montbello, 2:30 PM August 3rd, 2075

Fitful dreams of Vampires were less restful than Grease could have hoped for. Seeing the message ticking on his commlink from Jack, he sent the raw files over to him and Overkill to put together. Rubbing his eyes, he started dressing, preparing for the meeting with the Johnson. Distracted, he started to lose track of time scrolling through various online portals selling drone equipment and accessories..

2525 South Dunkirk Street, 6:25AM August 3rd, 2075

Almost on his last legs due to fatigue, Overkill slowly pushes his bike into the freight elevator to take him to his loft apartment. Closing his eyes, and leaning against the side of the elevator, he winces as the the pressure against his wounds sends jolts of pain through his body. As the doors open, he walks down the hallway, manipulating everything in his apartment ahead of him.

With a series of thoughts, the door opens, the soykaf machine turns on, and the dispenser for Oppenheimer's food and water cycles. There is a small black blur, and Overkill stumbles as his cat almost trips him in his haste to welcome Overkill home. He puts the bike away, and gingerly bends over and picks up the cat, careful to keep him cradled in his non-injured arm. After a few minutes assuring the true ruler of the apartment that he was indeed still the most important thing in the universe, Overkill puts the cat down by its food and water, and peels off his clothing.

Stepping into the shower, he tries to savor the few seconds of hot water before it is gone, carefully cleaning the wounds and his skin. His normally fair complexion is reddened by the chemicals in the CS gas, and sore to the touch. He exits the shower, the water staining the floor of the tub red, he staggers over to one of the cabinets, and pulls out a makeshift medical kit. He applies alcohol to the bullet wounds, the air hissingthrough his teeth at the burning sensation.

Wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, he nevertheless puts on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, draining one, then another cup of soykaf. For good measure he takes two stimulant pills from his kit and swallows them, then sits on his sofa, his deck next to him as he prepares himself to once more enter the Matrix in search of information on Biogene.

<<Overkill's avatar stepped into the Matrix, the data feed sluggish and choppy as always on the public grid. A wave of his hand, a small hourglass appeared next to him, the bottom half filled with sand. With practiced ease, Overkill reached out, causing a doorway to appear in mid-air, green-tinged and made completely of 1s and 0s. At a touch, the door opened, and Overkill stepped through, the signal clearing up almost immediately now that he was on the local grid. Whistling, he called up his Agent, the small cherubim coming to him immediately. detailing what he was looking for, he send the angelic figure winging off in one direction, while he himself went in another. "Good Hunting, little one." He looked over at the hourglass, whose form had turned over the instant Overkill had stepped through the doorway. "The clock is ticking, let's see what we shall see." With two swift beats of his wings, he was airborne, winging his way across the virtual skies.>>

2525 South Dunkirk Street, 10:45 AM August 3rd, 2075
Overkill's eyes opened, as his senses shifted from to the real world from the virtual one, and as always he found the real world so lacking in comparison. Oppenheimer was on his lap, his claws gently kneading Overkill's leg, as the cat felt that four hours without paying any attention to him was far too long. Sighing, Overkill scratched the cat behind the ears for a few minutes before managing to struggle out of the couch. Crawling into bed, he composed a quick message to the rest of the team.

<<@Team [Overkill] I found what I could about Biogene, there isn't much, but we can discuss if it gets us any further. I'm going to get some sleep, I'll meet you at the Bar-rel at the appointed time.>>

Setting an alarm, his head is barely laid upon the pillow before he falls asleep, the fatigue even allowing him to ignore the pain in his shoulder for the moment.

2525 South Dunkirk Street, 6:45 PM August 3rd, 2075

The alarm blares in his head like an air raid siren, and Overkill sits bolt upright - immediately regretting the sudden movement as his arm feels like it is on fire. Grabbing a couple of painkillers, he swallows them, knocking them back with a couple sips of water. Bleary-eyed, but feeling a little better, he manages to struggle into a fresh pair of jeans and button down shirt, rolling up the sleeves to help with the August heat. grabbing his deck and his Ares, he slips his Streetline Special into its ankle-holster. Within minutes he is on his bike, the BMW's engine racing as he heads toward the Rusty Bar-rel and his friends.

Amy's Apartment, 6:10AM August 3rd, 2075

While being driven around by Grease's taxi, Amy took the time to get her link to transcribe and send a couple of messages.

<<@Hubert[Amy] Thanks so much for your help the past few days, chummer. I owe you one. My run's almost over, so it seems, and successful. We're wrapping things up this evening. I'll come over mid afternoon to say hi and spend some time with you guys. Take care.>>

<<@Chomsky[Amy] Great news, Chomsky, I think that the storm has passed. We finally got our hands on the fake cop that came to the rally, tried to arrest you, and shot me. He'll no longer be a threat, even though his employer might. We should try to meet up tomorrow to discuss what I've found out. I don't know if you're holed up somewhere right now, but as far as I know, you're in much less danger now.>>

Going up to her apartment, Amy saluted a couple of neighbors while wondering how much would be left of her stuff. To her surprise, only a few things seemed to be missing, though more than one squatter had clearly poked their nose in here. Bunch of pervs going through my underwear again...

The shower still didn't have hot water, but it was working otherwise. And oh did that feel good. She washed away the blood and dressed her wound as well as she could. Her head was starting to ache really badly and she couldn't wait until finally making it to her bed, half naked, and enjoying the peacefulness of feeling safe in her own home again.

Amy's Apartment, 2:30PM August 3rd, 2075

The elf woke up abruptly 8 hours later to the alarm she had set. The headaches were gone, but her side still hurt. She casted a spell to deal with the pain while putting some clean clothes on, a smile on her face at the thought of seeing Sam and Kevin. She gathered her things and left for Hubert's, calling Grease's taxi again. On her commlink, she found a reply from Chomsky.

<<@Amy [Chomsky] Amy, I'm so glad to hear from you, and to hear that you are okay. Shannon and I are in hiding with some friends of hers for now, we are laying low as you suggested. She has been amazing, so strong despite her injuries as I've been nursing her back to health. You say that his employer might still be a problem, how much longer should we stay in hiding? Is it safe to meet tomorrow?>>

<<@Chomsky [Amy] I'm glad you've decided to hide like I suggested and that you remained safe. From what I gather, you weren't a top priority for them, especially as long as you don't organize another rally or make a public appearance. They weren't tracking you very closely as far as I know, just reacting to the publicity. They just don't want anyone messing with their business. Anyway, I think we can meet safely. I can come to you if you want.>>

Hubert's House, 2:45PM August 3rd, 2075

Amy arrived to find no one outside. She walked up to the door, which was unlocked as always, and heard laughter and yelling coming from inside, actually warming her heart. Everyone was in the living room and apparently playing some kind of guessing game involving Kevin making wide gestures and everyone else yelling at the same time. The fun was suddenly interrupted when Sam noticed her arrival. "Aunt Amy!!!"

After some tea, they resumed playing this variant of charades that Hubert had taught them. Amy's mood couldn't be better, and she reassured Hubert that all was going to be okay, even though he scowled her for coming back injured again. "You need to be more careful Amy. You think you're really quick, but bullets go faster." Amy had definitely learned that lesson the hard way in the last week.

Eventually, Amy received Jack's message and replied soon after. <<@Team [Amy's voice] I'll pick you up with Grease's taxi, Jack. We'll be at the Barrel at 4 at the latest.>>

As she was typing, a message arrived from Chomsky again.

<<@Amy [Chomsky] I will trust you in these matters, since your experience, limited though it is, is still far greater than mine. I don't believe you will be able to come to me, however, as you would have to cross a border, and I don't want to put you in any jeopardy of running afoul of the authorities. Why don't we meet at Curtnicks? It seems apropos, given that we met there when this all started. Shall we say, an early dinner? Five o'clock?>>

<<@Chomsky [Amy] Well, we can't be 100% sure, so be careful when travelling, but I can't imagine why you'd be in much danger. 5 o'clock tomorrow sounds good, I'll let you know in advance if for some reason I can't make it.>>

The Rusty Bar-rel, 7:00 PM August 3rd, 2075

Overkill is the last to arrive at the Bar-rel, parking his bike outside. It was still early in the evening, and the parking lot was mostly empty, so it was easy to see both of Grease's vehicles parked nearby. Removing his helmet, he shoved his long black hair back away from his face and walked inside.

With a quick wave to the bartender, he grabbed a synth-beer from the waitress, and settled down at the table with his friends. Spinning the chair around and straddling it backwards, he drained the bitter liquid and wiped his mouth. "Glad to see everyone here in one piece. Amy, I'm glad to say that you and Jack both look much better than last night." He mentally brings up the menu and orders a soyburger and fries, feeling a hole in his stomach as he realizes he hasn't really eaten anything since the night before.

He makes a brief motion with his hand and sends a file to the others, detailing what he had found out earlier this morning. "Here is what I was able to scrounge from the Matrix on our friends." As the team begins to look over the data, he gives a synopsis. "As we know, Biogene is a subsidiary of Evo, with its headquarters based in the Sioux Nation. However, I was able to find out it also has an R&D division here in the Free Zone, and that Biogene won a large contract with the Sioux government, specifically, might I add, the military. I was able to pull the records, and the bid they placed was significantly lower than the competition."

Highlighting some of the data, he momentarily stops talking as the waitress arrives with his food, he thanks her politely and takes a huge bite, and waits for her to leave before continuing. "I did some digging on the Sioux military, and was able to get some data from a contact of mine indicating that they have been looking for a non-lethal means of 'personnel suppression'."

Shoving a few fries into his mouth and washing it down with another swig of his drink, he continues. "Here is where the bad news comes in. I can't find anything that points to the Johnson that Lynx was talking to. He could be any one of a dozen different corporate mouthpieces that Biogene uses. For all I know, he doesn't even live in the FRFZ, and could have been flown in to oversee the project. Secondly, I'm not sure how and why the Sioux military looking for crowd control links to distributing drugs in the Warrens."

The Rusty Bar-rel, 7:02 PM August 3rd, 2075

Jack remained silent throughout Overkill's presentation, partially out of courtesy and partially out of anxiety. The ork always felt a degree of disquiet whenever the topic of R&D came up. Sure, he could have opted to have his cyberware and skillsoft installed himself, but couldn't figure out a reason why he would have done it. Given his knowledge of accounting and business, he figured the parts of his life he didn't remember were probably more corporate than street. Why would a wageslave opt for all that ware? They could just as easily slot legal simsense or a BTL to get the high of running the shadows. Instead, he didn't have to make too great of a leap of faith to presume that he was very likely the result of some kind of R&D project, either corp or military, given his peculiar mix of cyberware and skillsoft.

Snapping out of his self-reflection, Jack's business mind kicked in and he said, "Trials... They're probably using the drug distribution as a way of testing the product for side-effects. Most corps probably wouldn't care all that much if their product has side effects; after all they could bury any accusations in red tape and los abogados. But when your customer has bigger guns than you do, that's not so easy to ignore. If they are using them for trials though, they'd need some way to document the results. Maybe they have someone placed at a local hospital... or aid organization?"

Biting into his own burger with relish, the ork finished, "By the way, good job Overkill. That information is really useful. Combining that plus what Grease got from Gutter would probably be really useful to the UCAS government, given the recent negotiations."

The Rusty Bar-rel, 7:00 PM August 3rd, 2075

Amy nods at Overkill, even though she doesn't really follow all the details. "Well I've seen what the drug can do, and it's really nasty. It would control a crowd.. and partly kill it too. It was a pill that you swallow though, but if it could be made into a gas, it would be devastating."

The Rusty Bar-rel, 7:02 PM August 3rd, 2075

Jack nodded, then held his synthveza up to the light. "Or spiking the water supply with it. There's lot of nasty ways you could do something like this, but I don't know how much we're really going to be able to figure out unless someone has a chemist up their sleeve."

"In any event, it really isn't our concern, at least not one we're getting paid to be concerned about. I figure Mr. J is a decent enough guy and has the connections to put this information in the right hands. Of course, there's no reason we can't keep our hands on the information and release it at a later time if Mr. J doesn't do anything about it. Maybe Chapel knows someone..." Jack paused and devoured another bite of his burger, leaving a bit of cheese impaled on the end of his left tusk.

"So what's the plan for tonight? I figure we turn what we have over to Mr. J and see what he's going to cough up nuyen wise. What do we think this information is worth? We identified the hitters and put 80% of them on ice. We identified one or two of the head honchos and have what I think are pretty strong ties to prove who was ultimately responsible for the whole deal. I mean honestly, the guy giving, uh, Mr. Kitty his marching orders was almost certainly a representative of his company. Does Mr. J expect us to bring in an entire corp? I'm hoping we clear north of 20K each, personally."

The Rusty Bar-rel, 7:02 PM August 3rd, 2075

Overkill rubs his eyes with his left hand, wanting to keep his right hand as still as possible to keep the pain level down. "I'm sorry, I should have seen that connection earlier. Too many late nights in a row, I guess I'm not as young as I used to be."

"As far as the money, let's look at this objectively. 7.5K to identify the killers. We've done that. 7.5k to capture them alive and hand them over. Well, we got 3 out of 5, I think we should get at least 5K out of that, depending on how stingy Herr Johnson is. I think we have plenty of evidence of a conspiracy, Lone Star, the Los Mags, Biogene, so that should be another 7.5k. Finally, we've got another 7.5k to bring the conspirators to justice."

Swallowing the last of his beer, he puts it down and says, "Depending on how he interprets that, I think we get at least part of that for getting Bradshere. I'm not sure it is worth the time and effort to try and find this other Johnson, who may not even be in the UCAS sector or the FRFZ and capture him."

Leaning back in his chair, he says, "So, I agree, probably in the area of 20 to 24 thousand, each, less the 2 thousand advance."