Maeva were using the wheel for a change. Much as she preferred rigging her rides, Zombie-mode was not conductive of making a graceful entrance. She also made a mental note on cutting down on the beer intake - her tank top felt tighter than usual. Not that it wasn't the intention, of course. Being the only female leiutenant in a racing crew who didn't have too much cash to throw around meant she often got - or rather voulenteered to - booth babe duty. Being a racer and leiutenant too was usually a good thing. It meant she could sign up potential crew or sponsors directly with just a word to Sebastian & Co. over the radio.

The Corsair had gotten a new pattern chip for the chameleon paint loaded in. Same purple color as her, with shifting silver patterns in the same overall design as the ones on her neck and arms, E.S.S. written in stylized type on the hood and sides. The sun was riding mercifully low in the sky, so she removed the toning from the windows to reveal herself within. As she drew closer to the site of the car show, she contacted the rest of the team on the usual radio frequency.

<I'll be at the show in five and mingle. Any of you want to join up, say where and when. Remember kids: Play nice. We want to show we're calm, collected and a great thing for a potential sponsor to throw wads of nuyen at.>

With that, she looked to the image saved in her headware memory of Glottis's grinning mug with Ackham and car in the back. It were an impressive car, she conceded. Impressive, but she could probably be out of Seattle before it even rounded a block. Her car was built for speed, with "cool" thrown in as an afterthought. Ackhams car seemed to be the other way around to her. She figured she should track him down before Jet did and warn him off so noone did anything foolish.

As she pulled up near the exhibit, the music in her car mingled with the bass of the giant speakers of the exhibit she were approaching. She rolled her window down, changed the tune to one whose rythm matched the beat in the distance and nodded to the rythm, looking for signs of that troublesome Ackham or his car.

Not getting a resposne from Sebastian, Luis decides to dress up. His suit freshly pressed, with his armored body suit tucked underneath he strapped his pistol underneath. He was working tonight, more ways that usual. He'd have to set aside his personal feelings, tonight he had to be the watchman for his team. Thieves, gangers, rivalries all could happen at any time so he carefully packed the trunk, his armored jacket, his breifcase, his pack along with the harness and spare clips along with his EMT bag. His comm gear was the last touch, jacked into the radio network he was reminded of the days in the Middle East.
Showing up prior to the show, parking off to the side, where the normal vehicles would be parked, affording him a better chance to get out fast.

Walking to a local noodle joint to catch some chow he sends a message to the other lietenants, In place. Please alert when 5 minutes out.

K-Bob arrives at the car show, parking a little ways away in an area that he wouldn’t steal a bike from. He takes off his helmet and locks it to the bike. Shaking out his hair he walks toward the show, the feel of the Manhunter under his arm reassuring.

He doesn’t notice anyone else from ESS, but is immediately drawn to an area that appears to be all combat bikes. His eyes fix on a new Scorpion, tricked out with extra armor and weapon mounts – complete with toy weapons mounted.

After drooling for a few minutes while someone (the owner?) talked about the specs of the bike, he moved on, enjoying looking at all the wiz bikes and hoping to run into Jet or Luis and tell them about the private memorial for Dek at a strip club in the Underground. It was a busy place, near an entrance and would be safe for the smoothies. One of it’s ‘charms’ were the private booths where tourists could sample the flavor of the Underground without becoming the butt of break room jokes.

K-Bob also hoped he’d run into Xerrus. He wanted to talk with him, to see where he stood. Xerrus was quiet, and hard for K-Bob to read.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a burn-out competition that had erupted on a street bordering the parking lot.

Jet, deciding he's waited long enough, parks his bike and heads inside. He spots K-Bob, and remembering the decree that they travel in 'packs', Jet heads over and taps him on the shoulder.

"Nice bikes, eh man? Nice car chicks, too.", he says, nodding at a girl in hot pants bent over a Saab Dynamit.

Watching the ESS vehicles arrive, Luis begins to make his way to each lietenant, handing them a black arm band. It's quiet and respectful, something the other semi-professional drivers will understand.

K-Bob gives the girl an appraising look.

The hot pants are tight, and leave little to speculate on. As the girl stands to say something to the person next to her, her tight halter-top reveals as much as the pants.

“Yeah…” What was it with humans and girls that looked overdeveloped and underfed? Give me a woman whose weight is better distributed, one with some meat on her bones, one that can handle it.
“I’m havin’ a lil party in Dek’s memory tonight – maybe figure out wha’ ta do ‘bout it. Ya wanna come, meet me at th’ Big Rhino ‘bout 22:00, we go from there ta a quieter place I know ‘bout.”

Jet notices Luis coming up, K-Bob turns to look.

“What’s dis for?” K-Bob asks as Luis hands him the arm band. K-Bob puts it on as Luis explains, then tells Luis about the meet at the Big Rhino, finishing with; “Dat’s so we can meet up – we goin’ ta Danni’s Place ta talk.

K-Bob shifts to a lighter tone as he kids Jet; “We might even find ya a girl that won’t break ya.”

"Sounds great, K-Bob. Count me in.", he says, taking a black armband from Luis.

This totally ruins the feel of my attire...But its for Dek. he thinks, tying the band around his left bicep.

He shakes his head at K-Bob's joke.

"Man...ork women are scary. They're taller than me, they're stronger than me. And don't get me started about those tusks. Although I guess getting broken physically is better than getting broken emotionally, like human chicks'll do to you. Like my last girlfriend. Remember her? Man, I want to strangle that slitch.", Jet says.

"What about Elf women?" says a woman walking up to Jet. He looks up at her. She stops in front of the two men and brushs her pale blond hair behind her elven ears. The blue streaks in her hair fall forward and frame her face, ignoring the order her hands had given them. Her blue eyes shown more brightly because of this, makeing her face already pretty face very interesting. Shes has a very petite frame, but her figure, very easily seen in her low-cut jeans and tight yellow tank-top, makes sure she would never be mistaken for a child.
She shifts her weight to one hip and looks at Jet with an innocent smile, and far from innocent eyes. "What about elf women? You say Ork women will break you physically and human women will break you emotionally. What will Elf women do to you?"

Jet smiles back.

"Apparently, they'll eavesdrop on your conversations.", he says warmly. "Do I need to introduce myself, or has my reputation preceded me?"

The woman smile widens but the look in her eye stays the same. "Your right. But eavedropping is so easy when you have ears like these." She brushes her hair back again, this time it staying where she wished it to be. "It is also very easy to eavesdrop when the speaker is so...," she studies Jet, her eyes moveing up and down his body, "so easy on the eyes. You don't always see that at car shows, not in the males anyways. The women seem to be as showy as the cars, as you yourself have noticed." She gives Jet a look that had stopped men in their tracks many times before. "It's nice for a change."
She takes another step towards Jet and his companion, eyes still locked on Jet. "Your reputation does proceeded you, Jet. I know who you are. But you wouldn't know a nobody like me." She puts out her hand in welcomeing. "My names Samantha. Nice to meet you."

Jet smiles and takes her hand.

"The pleasure is mine, believe me." He lets go of her hand. "So, what brings you to a quasi-legal car show like this?"

"Oh, the crowd I hang with usually go to this type of things. They have fancy cars and like to show off, but don't get along with the police so office car shows don't do for them."
Samantha pulls his hand to her mouth and kisses it lightly, a jester usually done by a man but effective never the less. She looks up into his eyes and gives him an evil grin. "So Mr. Jet, what brings you to this particular show? I've never seen you at any of the others."

Jet takes his hand back, and presses it to his lips, looking back into her eyes, then lets it drop again with a smile.

"I don't usually go to the car show, because I think they're silly. To keep a vehicle built for the track behind ropes to be gawked at seems against the spirit of racing to me. No, I'm here at this show because I and the rest of my team were explicity invited to go, and it would have been a bit rude to not attend."

"Good answer, Mr. Jet." Samantha smile fades to just a slight twitch at the sides of her mouth. "You are correct. It is a shame to see something built for power," her eletric blue eyes wash over his body, taking it all in before coming back to meet his eyes durring her momentary pause, "go to such waste."

A sweet smile spreads across her lips, lighting up her face but doing nothing to break the seductive look in her eyes, as she tosses her hair to one side of her neck, " So... You and your team were invited." Samantha looks at K-Bob than back at Jet. "Not too many get invited to these shows... not too many know about them in the first place. I usually keep up with the raceing world, the who's and whats and so on, but this I have not heard: What did your team do to get such an invitation?"

Jer sucks some air through his teeth, wondering about the best way to phrase the events.
"Well, we have a disagreement with a gang that apparently does get invited, and I suppose their leader wanted us to come, in an effort to foster some kind of peace..."

Samantha frowned. "Disagreements are not good to have with other racing groups. I know a few that would kill you on the spot for if you told them the sky was blue when they thought it was green. No wonder you came, if the other leader wants peace..." She puts her hand out and touches his arm gently. She looks up into his eyes, studying them.
"Do you want peace, Mr. Jet? You don't seem like the type who would back down from a 'disagreement'."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, the team is alright. I'll make my peace with them. But I'd like to punch one member in particular around a bit. The rest of ESS disagrees with me, so I'm going to have to not act on those feelings. But you're right. I don't back down from something easily.", Jet says.

Seeing Jet has things well in hand, Luis quetly makes his way to Maeva, handing her the armband when she has a moment.

"I wish I had the chance to pass these out before everyone got here, but it took some time to dig them up from my uniform trunk, wasn't expecting to need them."

Maeva studied the armband with puzzlement for a short moment before realization dawned. Her car had made a little automotive show out of itself already. It was never mass-produced and since then customized so heavily that noone had managed to guess its original make yet.

"It'll put a bit of a damper on the show over here, but I suppose it's the proper thing to do."

Brushing a few specks of dust off, she slipped it onto her arm and turned the brightness of her eyes down a notch.

"Any sign of the riders yet? I took a quick looksee when I got here to give that Ackham a few choice words to keep him away, but I didn't notice anyone carrying their team colors."

"You know, I just realised I'm not entirely certain what colors they wear. I've just been watching for general miscreants, but it's quiet, Jet's already found some company, so the rest of us will have to keep both eyes open."

"So you are as a heard." She smiles, laughing under her breath. "Well, your teams right, you know. A carshow isn't the place to start a fight." Samantha slowly walks her fingers up Jets arm. "But I do feel sorry for the man your after," she says quietly, looking up at him. "Assumeing it is a man your after... for all I know it could be a woman... but you wouldn't hit a woman, would you Mr. Jet?"

"Oh, its a man I'm after. I feel he's done me wrong, and want to get my pound of flesh, so to speak.", he says. He takes her hand and looks into her eyes.

"I would not hit a woman without good justification."

Humph… thinks K-Bob to himself …the ‘famous’ Jet Jaguar – fancy bikes, fancy clothes – fan club. When I get a spot on the Marauder’s Bike team… He looses himself briefly in a daydream involving rich living and wild parties during a successful combat biking career. When he returns to the present, the elf woman is still making googly-eyes at Jet. …Ghost, Jet, go slot her already…

"Thats good to hear..." Samantha smiled up at Jet.

As he speaks with Maeva in low, conspiratal tones, Luis scans the crowd checking out her car.

Jet smiles back down at Samantha.

"So what are you doing after the show?"

12:04a Laguana Seca Circuit
The flaming wreckage of the eurocar westwind 2000 turbo, had finally been exstigushed and the charred remains of the driver removed and placed into a meat wagon. The accident report stated that the crash was caused by a faulty tire which blew out during a drift at 200KPH. The westwind rolled nine times and came to rest, on fire, just after the uphill portion of the track.

9:30p Laguana Seca Circuit
Sebastian had been itching to make just a few more laps before the carshow that night, and had returned with his westwind 2000 turbo to do just that. He had been practicing a new technique he had learned from one of the regulars of ESS, drifting. The idea was to first initiate an understeer with the front wheels and then, using the power of the car, cause in over steer in the rear making the car slide through a turn without lossing much speed. Of course this was physically impossible but that didn't stop pro drifters from doing it all the time.

After a few warm up laps Sebastian decided it was time to kick it into high gear, and hammered down the throttle on the opening straight. The rear tires broke loss from the pavement sending the westwind sideways but still managing to accelerate. With the skill cultivated from years of racing, Sebastian utilized that power to execute the first drift around turn 1. As the tires squealed he quickly slung the car out of the turn still moving at close to 100KPH, he continued the drift by sending the car the opposite direction, creating a inertia drift into the second turn. The idea of drifting is to enter the turn in the direction you want to exit it, and as Sebastian rounded turn three and into the second straight away he was WOT(wide open throttle) before even leaving turn three. The very dangerous second straight had claimed many cars but the dwaft roared on like it was clear level ground. He noticed something was wrong when he hit the first of the three flat portions of the uphill section of straight two, the front right tire was beginning to faulter. As the car rocketed up to 250KPH it became air bourne on the second flat, landing hard the front right tire blows sending rubber and rim chunks everywhere. Clearing the third and final flat spot sideways and air bourne, when the car landed it began to roll. During the fourth or fifth roll, Sebastian had lost count by then, something ignited the fuel and cause the car to explode into a giant ball of fire. The last thing Sebastian St. John ever saw, was the spiraling fifth turn on the Laguana Seca Circuit in downtown Seattle.

1:30a
A meassage rings on all the ESS member's cell phones and pocket secretaries.

Sebastian is dead, car crash at the track.

"What am I doing after the show? You tell me..." Samantha smiles up at him, the devil in her eye. "I really didn't have much planed... but if you want to make plans...."

Two phones ring simultaneously.
K-Bob digs his out, flips it open, and places the diminutive receiver next to his ear:
“Yeah?” There is no answer, “Hoi?” Again, no response. The confused ork brings the receiver around and glares at the screen. Looking a little embarrassed he presses a key then returns the phone quickly to his ear. The phone’s cheery voice belies the message it speaks:
Sebastian is dead, car crash at the track.
K-Bob is stunned. He closes the phone and returns it to his pocket, hardly caring that he missed. The phone hits the ground.
He looks at Jet.

Jet feels his phone start buzzing against his thigh, oddly in sync with K-Bob's.
"Ah, pardon me.", Jet says to Samantha, digging his phone out of his slacks. He flicks it open and reads the two line message scrolled across his screen. The smile fades from his face and his eyes darken. He lowers the phone and lets his arm hang loosely. He turns his head to face K-Bob.

"Well...looks like we'll be having drinks for two.", he says quietly.

The incoming message blinks across his vision, Luis looks over to Maeva, "This is real bad."

Both men look at their phones which weirdly went off at the same time. Their expressions change so quickly that Samantha was taken back. She droped her arm from Jets shoulder and took a step back, her flirty smile fading. "What happened?" she asked outloud, inwardly knowing this was going to effect her as well.

K-Bob ignores the girl’s question and speaks to Jet:
“I don’ think they want peace, I think they wan’ ta break us up an geek us one by one. I think they want WAR!”
K-Bob picks up his phone, then unzips his jacket to within inches of the waist, preparing himself for a quick draw if needed, and continues:
“Our friend and one of the few I trust went this way, alone. We need ta go find him.”
He looks at Jet;
“Are you comin’?”

"Ah...hell.", Jet says, possibilities racing through his head. "Look, K-Bob. It wasn't them. He just crashed.", Jet says, "But if you're gonna leave, I'm not letting you go alone."
Jet turns to Samantha. "Terribly sorry, but something very important has come up. Here's my card.", he says, pulling a business card out of his front pocket. It has his phone number inscribed below the following appellation:

Jet Jaguar
Motorcycle Racer and Godzilla Historian Extraordinaire

“They killed Dek last night, then the boss – a man closer to his machine than we could EVER be – just happens to crash today!” The young ork’s anger shows as his face reddens; “That’s drek chum, pure drek!”
K-Bob lengthens his stride, forcing Jet to nearly run to keep up. (or not)

"What is?"

Not for the first time, Maeva regretted not having brought her transceiver along. But smile-and-wave duty involved clothing with no pockets or discreet places to keep it. She shot Luis a puzzled look, noting his facial expression.

"Hold on. First up tell me, do I want to know?"

"Goddamn...", Jet mumbles. He takes off after K-Bob.

Emotion drained from his voice, cold business filling the void, "Sebastian is dead. Seems he had an accident, looks like Jet and K-Bob know already. I say we blow this popscicle stand and hold a meeting. We gotta get a handle on this new sitch, before someone thinks we are a headless chicken blindly running about. I'm going to call a meeting, I suggest you make a polite exit and meet the rest of us at the garage as you soon as you can."

Calling up the Lieutenant calling list, Luis sends out a message to all the lieutenants, "We all need to get our ducks lined up. This changes everything and we need to wrap out neurons around it before someone else starts taking pot shots at us. We should all head to the garage, asap.

K-Bob’s phone rings again. He slows his pace, then stops – as operating the small handset and walking do not mix. He listens to the message as Jet catches up. After listening again, he says to his slightly flushed companion;

Look Jet, we may not sync on everything, but you’ve got to see that we need to watch each other’s hoops. I’ll go with you to your bike, you give me a lift to mine – or the other way around, I don’t care. We ride together back to the garage and sort it out there. OK?

K-Bob extends his hand, if not in friendship then at least truce.

"No need to worry man. I've always liked you. Or at least disliked you less than some other members.", Jet says, meeting K-Bob's hand.

"We'll go get my bike, I uh... left it back at the show parking lot."

K-Bob follows Jet, reminding him to keep an eye peeled for anyone wearing a yellow or gold lightning bolt. When they reach Jet’s bike, K-Bob waits as Jet puts on his gloves and helmet; and then climbs aboard the immaculate machine. Jet puts down the passenger pegs and, bracing the bike, gives K-Bob a nod.
The big ork gingerly climbs on, trying not to upset Jet’s balance or the bike’s paint job.

Making his way back to his boring work-a-day car, Luis considers the ramifications of losing their leader and a lieutenant thus being on the brink of a street war. This won't be pretty, but I wasn't brought on board for pretty. Sebastian was a smart guy, what the frag was he doing in a situation like that without backup? None of the drivers should be out alone after this.
Once at his ride, Luis pops the trunk and retrieves his breifcase and slides into his jacket then climbs aboard, resting the brefcase in the floorboard beside him, he starts the unmodified engine and lets it warm up, waiting for Maeva's monster to begin to pull out of the crowd. She won't like it, but that goes for her as well.

It put a bit of a damper on the party when Maeva made her way past the crowd and into her car. She still didn't jack in. If she were going to leave a bunch of people behind by wading through them with a frown and a black armband, the least she could do was not to engage zombie-mode until out of sight. She switched on the radio and keyed in the team frequency.

<Pulling up on you now Luis. Hundred meters, you should be able to see me through the crowd any moment. We'll make it back to the garage at your pace.>

As soon as they were out of sight of the car show, she jacked in and went into passive listening on the radio. There were no music playing, no smile to please the crowds. Just her, the car and the road for a while.

With K-Bob on the back, Jet jumps on Godzilla's kickstarter, and the engine springs to life loudly. The bike makes its way to K-Bob's bike, then after K-Bob gets on, Jet takes off the garage with a squeal of his back tire.

Pulling out into the night as Maeva's shadow, Luis acknowledged Maeva's message, Clear. Nothing too fancy, we might be dealing with a sabateur who doesn't like traffic violations.

K-Bob hurries to unlock his helmet, almost dropping the keys in his haste. After fumbling it loose, he quickly straps it on his head, zips his jacket and takes off after Jet.
The two sport bikes and their riders roar off toward ESS headquarters.

Samantha takes Jets card and watches him storm after his friend. "Damn... that didn't go as planned," she mumbled to herself as she pulled out her cell phone, walking in the other direction. She punches in a speed dial and listens to it ring... a man answers...

"Ackham, something just came up with the ESS group. I want to know what and quick!"

Maeva keyed in Glottis number on her cars built-in phone and were greeted with what may have been the latest in troll trash played at a volume designed for no metahuman ears. To her, the sound just brought back memories she would rather not have stirred of her first and only serious car crash on a track. The image flickered and swayed for a few moments before Glottis and one of his newer members - Maeva dimly recalled being introduced to him as Dennis after a generous amount of soybeer a month or so ago - filled the screen with their grinning mugs.

"Hullo there Beauty!" rumbled Glottis. Nowadays, she couldn't understand why people found Glottis intimidating. But she supposed having something towering two meters above you sounding like that only louder could do it. "We's and us were wondering when you'd show up. Those kegs you hid behind the garage just bought you the boys protection for a month, and they're asking for you to show so they can show their appreciation!"

Which was Glottis-speak for "Party's growing slow. Bring more girls." He could wrap it up if he really wanted to, but his misdirection only really worked if you expected him to be as dim as first appearances would lead you to beleive.

"Not tonight Beast. Something came up, and we're returning from the car show early. You wearing your sober-hat underneath that grin?"

Dennis radiated confusion, but something in her voice must've sent the wheels spinning in Glottis'es head. He made his best attempt at "serious", which meant he frowned really deeply and nearly poked himself in the eye when he stroked his chin.

"Five minutes, Beauty. Then I'll call you. You on the cell?"

"In the car, Beast. Merci."

Five minutes later there were still some distance to the ESS garage. Keeping a speed Luis could follow in his effectively tripled the time she'd normally take. Having friends in the Lone Starr traffic department was good. Still rigging, she were aware of someone trying to reach her and put the line through to her conscious self. It was GLottis. Judging fron the glistening spots, he had dunked his head in a bucket of water. Whatever it was he had done, he certainly looked sharper. That gleam of intelligence in his eyes so often missed was there now.

"I'm listening, Beauty. This'd better be important for calling down sober on me on a wednesday night."

"Desloe Beast. It is. Remember Sebastian?"

"Short guy, 'bout yay tall, black eyes that look right through you. Yeah. What 'bout him? I thought he and you got along well."

"We did." Had she not been rigging, her body would have sighed. "He's dead, Beast. A few hours ago. Official word is traffic accident, but I don't think any of us really beleive it."

Glottis mouth went wider and wider as she spoke. About then, he likely owuld not have noticed if the roof caved in.

"Look, Beast. I'm really sorry to do this to you and the boys on a party night. But I really need you and some of your sharper tools around. We can think of a way I can pay you back if need be. Me and the Lieutenants are going to have a meeting in the garage. If you guys could hang around and look like casual violence of a short leash waiting to happen, it might deter anyone foolish enough to try spying."

"Yeah...." Glottis nodded slowly. "Yeah... I think I know a few boys who could wear sober-hats. You'll likely owe them for this, but they take payment in beer. Anything else?"

"I'm probably going to regret saying this, but the Lightning riders have been poking around too much of late for my liking. If you see any of them around near us, expect them to be up to no good and do whatever you feel necessary to keep your boys safe, aye?"

Glottis nodded again. He did not look happy. "I'll see what I can do. No promises. You keep those pretty ears of your out of trouble Beauty. You still owe us that fancy dinner from last months bet."

"Will do, Beast. And I'm not asking more than you try. Thanks."

Maeva hung up. Right about then, she would definately feel better if Glottis did manage to round someone up to keep watch. But time would tell.

Jet skids sideways into the opening garage, shedding his considerable speed in the relatively shallow length of the structure. He squeals to a stop, leaving twin streaks of rubber on the cement floor. In one motion, he springs off the bike and sets up the kickstand. He heads through the building, pulling off his silk shirt, and tossing it onto the couch in his office.

I'm probably going to need these..., he thinks, putting on his armored jacket, and taking Mecha-Godzilla out from under his desk. He zips up the motorcycle jacket and goes into the main room, waiting for the other members.

K-Bob follows Jet into the garage – albeit at a more sedate pace.
Now that is one pissed-off smoothie… He thinks to himself, maybe what I said had time to sink in…
K-Bob parks his bike, takes his helmet off, and follows Jet into the other room.
At the sight of the heavily-armed human and his ork shadow, Fan Belt chooses to take partial cover behind the Boss’ desk. He stands there, looking unsure if he should duck or flee.