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Kiedo
[OCC]not knowing seattle as well as I should, I’ve taken a few liberties with the city’s layout[/OCC]
Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS 3:24am

The dead night air of the lonely Seattle streets is almost tangible in it’s absoluteness. The silence of the night air is only broken by the rumble of an old car. The 1993 RX-7 was now pushing 70, but it looked as it did all those years ago when it rolled off the showroom floor. Black as the night itself the muscle car of yore was equipped with all of the latest the 2060’s had to offer, state of the art electronics, powerful induction system and a chameleon like paint. The driver was impossible to see, the windows were cover so darkly with a black film that it made attempting to see through it a Herculean task. Not long alone was this relic from the past sitting by it’s self at the light. A powerful and sleek lime green motorcycle pulled up next to it. The motorcycle was a 2064 Takuro Spirit fresh out of the shop and ready for action, and it showed it’s eagerness by letting the gasoline engine hidden under the fairings bounce off the rev limiter. Seeming to answer the challenge the RX-7’s powerful turbo spooled up and released with a hiss, the sound of the motor was completely masked. One of those black windows went down with a hard click and an elf with a shaved head leaned over from the passenger’s side to talk with the ork on the motorcycle.

“This is a magnificent occasion friend,” the elf began to smile, “What are the odds that an ESS lieutenant such as yourself,” he gestured towards the ork, “and a Lightning Riders lieutenant would be, by chance, on a desolate road in Tacoma?” By the time the elf had finished the light had cycled to green, but both the men sat in silence broken only by their vehicles. “For the ultimate prize,” queried the elf.

“Aye,” the ork who had been silent to this point still not to sure what the ultimate prize was, “On green.” Dek put down the visor on his helmet and slipped on his racing gloves. The elf produced a helmet and gloves from behind the passenger seat and donned them as well. Watching the light on the opposite side a trick Dek had learned from his father, he saw that light cycle Green, Yellow, Red. With a delay of only a few seconds the light that determined the flow of traffic for the west bound lane of Warf Road in Tacoma, turned green. The front end of the spirit lifted off the ground, as smoke pored off the rear of the RX-7. Biting in first the back of the Rex caught traction and sent the car flying in a jolt of power. Forcing the bike down Dek bears down on the RX-7 as he changes rapidly through the gears. The elf driving the rx-7 missed the shift from second to third causing a grinding noise and a great loss of speed, the spirit tore past the blackness and into the lead.

Dek looked back to check his position against the REX and as he did so an eighteen wheeler carrying food stuffs pulled into the path of the racers. Victim of the classic deer in the headlights syndrome the driver of the truck slammed on the breaks leaving the truck cover three of the four west bound lanes of traffic. Managing to dodge the truck the RX-7 resumed it dash to the finish. Dek wasn’t so lucky, too close to dodge or stop, the experienced rider did the only thing he knew to do, lay the bike over. Lining his bike up with the gap under the trailer, he dropped the bike on it’s side hoping like hell he could hold on. As the out of control bike careened towards the one in a million shot the ever flashy Dek extended his hand and smacked the side of the truck. Time seemed to stop as the bike slide under the trailer, the sparks from the frame savers on the bike seemed to hang in mid air forever until colliding with the pavement. As he slid, his leather jacket was the only thing between him and a nasty road rash, and just as he began to see the night’s sky again he felt the leather give way and his arm become engulfed in a brittle fire. Panicking as he felt this he slammed his foot down on the pavement and without even missing a beat, he was back up right and facing the correct direction.

Hammering down on the throttle the rush of power sent the back tire into a frenzied burnout, the RPMs began to rise and the torque of the bike dropped off so Dek was able to regain control. Having made up the lead and very confidant that he had this race the elf had begun to slow his vehicle, not enough to drop his speed under 300kph but just enough for Dek to catch back up. They were neck and neck, one pulling ahead and the other matching the gesture and pulling up even more. They rocketed at speeds closing in on 500kph ever fast towards the finish line. Both realizing almost simultaneously that they still had nitrous oxide left, in unison they punched the button. Both vehicles surged with speed but unfortunately Dek’s nitrous was almost out, he ran out of juice just meters away from the finish line, giving up the win because of this.

The two racers pulled of into an industrial park one completely unaware of the true nature of the Ultimate Prize, the other well versed in it’s subtle nuances and it’s a darker implications. So there the two men stood basking in all the glory and thrill of a good race, the adrenaline surge slowly subsiding making way for the inevitable tremors that would follow. They exchanged glances and without saying a word relayed their compliments. The elven man stirred at the rustle of leaves that could no doubt be the various creatures that called this isolated section of road home.
“Your skills on a bike are very impressive friend,” he slowly lower his hand near his side arm.
“Six years as a professional combat biker will do that,” Dek replied in his usual cool manner. “Well I suppose you want your purse,” the ork replied and again realized he wasn’t quite sure what “The Ultimate Prize” was.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” the elf, who had been know only as Ackham to his friends, said drawing his weapon. A cold and unfeeling understanding of the nature of the takings flooded Dek. His eyes widened as the then residing adrenaline surged back into his body.
“Our stories are already told and we are but helpless to live them out to the fullest,” Ackham leveled the revolver in his hand and thumbed back the hammer. “So stand and embrace you destiny like you’ve know it all along.” A loud report signals the passage of the E.S.S. lieutenant into the clearing at the end of the pass.

“Ex anima evolo,” A tear forms in the elf’s eye, and he proceeds to perform the ritual he has come to know as “End Rights”.

Kiedo
7:30 am unknown location, Seattle, UCAS

A man burst through the door of the E.S.S.'s HQ and in a panic rushed straight through to the office of the team leader. Sebastian who was passed out in his office chair from a big party the night before to celebrate the teams invitation to the International Amateur Racing Challenge, stirred slightly.
"Boss we've got a big problem," the nervous elf exclaimed. Sebastian awoke fully at this.
"What is is?"
To an on looker the display would seem surreal a human appearing to be in his mid thirties, addressing a person who appeared to be a child just entering peuberty. Perhaps that was why Sebastian was choosen for leader, nobody ever suspected the little guy.
"A friend of mine in the force said they just found Dek shot in the head down near Warf road in tacoma."
The dwarf's face went grey, showing all the hard lines he had picked up over the years in an eerie light, it's was clear from this angle at least he was no child.
"Who did it?"
"He said it was a go gang they race you and if you lose kill you. I.. I think there called the Lightning Riders."
Sandoval Smith
Sebstian felt like he had an electric current running between his datajacks. Someone must've been spiking his Shirley Temples last night.

The sensation was highly unpleasant, but he knew that waking up all the way would just make the pain of the hangover worse. Then, someone rudely took the option of staying asleep away from him by kicking open his office door. "Boss, we've got a problem."

That got him up and moving fast. The first thing he saw was Fan Belt standing in the doorway looking worried. Fan Belt? That wasn't right... his eyes were open, but his brain still wasn't working. It was one of those elven names... sounded a like fan belt though. "What is it?" he asked tersely.

Fan Belt took a deep breath. "A friend of mine in the force said they just found Dek shot in the head down near Wharf road in tacoma."

Sebastian carried a long list of dead people in his head. As soon as the words were out of the elf's mouth, it gained a new entry. Dek, shot, head. It was a list he hadn't had to read in a long time. He wasn't happy that it still came to him so readily. "Who did it?"

"He said it was a go-gang. They race you and if you lose kill you. I.. I think there called the Lightning Riders."

Sebastian took a second to think. Where had he heard that name before? "What the hell did Dek think he was doing, getting himself invovled in a race like that?" His voice rose in pitch at the end of the demand, so it sounded like he was almost squeaking. He hated that. "Get out there and see if any of the other LTs are still around. Tell 'em I need to see them now."
-------------------------------------------
[ Spoiler ]
Fresno Bob
Jet was busy sleeping face down and shirtless on the couch in the office lobby when Fan Belt woke him up by shaking him vigorously. In addition to rousing him from slumber, it also brought back unpleasant memories of all the 151 he had drunk the previous night. Maybe drunk wasn't the right word. Something like 'guzzled', or 'came into danger of drowning in' would be more appropriate.

"Zzz...nnnhI'm 'wake...zzzz", Jet groaned into the cushions. He rolled off the couch and landed on his back staring up at Fan Belt.

"Eh...Whachoo want, Sparky?", Jet groaned again, eyes narrowed to block out the flourescent light from his still-adjusting eyes.

"Dek's dead, man. One to the head.", Fan Belt said nervously. That was enough to make Jet fully conscious.

"Who, when, where?", Jet said quickly, rising to his feet, and pulling on his motorcycle boots over his jeans.

"A Star buddy said it was the Lightning Riders, it happened last night, in Tacoma.", Fan Belt said. Jet waved him away, then stood up and headed into Sebastian's office.

"What the hell, dude? What're we gonna do?"
Aes
Having rolled into the garage just before the first rays of the sun managed to creep over the roofs of the sprawl, Maeva jacked out and shook her head to get the last of her senses back in place after rigging. It seemed the natural thing to do even if it was a bit over the top for where she had been. Jumping out of her SUV she gave her one true love - presently standing in a corner pending an oil change - an affectionate look. She'd get around doing it after breakfeast, well, dinner actually. She weren't really much of a "day" person when she could help it. The sun always seemed to give her a headache after a few hours.

With a bit of a clatter, she brushed a mess of old tools and the bottles left in the wake of whatever had already knocked everyone out cold when she had arrived half an hour earlier to one side and dropped her grocery bags on an unoccupied table. What passed for croissants in this heathen country and a few thermos of coffee in one - a few sixpacks of soybeer and a bottle of synthahol nu-scotch for those among the team who teetered dangerously close to the brink of sober in the other. She were just about to enjoy the first - last - meal of the day when she noticed the elf sprinting from Sebastians office with a panicked expression. From her vantage point the contents of their talk passed her by, but anything that could get Jet up at this hour and into Sebastians office had a way of pushing its way into her calender as well in a matter of minutes. Shooting the paper bags with her breakfeast a wistful glance, she settled for a crossaint in one hand and one of the thermos in the other and started picking her way around sleeping drunks and towards Sebastians office.
Thomas
“Ahh… K-Bob? Are you in here?” The elf asked, peering into the gloom of the garage.

A pile of blankets near a disreputable-looking motorcycle by the roll-up door moved. “Mmnuufh … Frag!” An arm, large autoloader in hand, thrust out from under the pile – muzzle wavering in the general direction of the elf. The head of a rather bleary-looking ork followed the arm. Brushing the hair out of his face with his free hand the ork grunted “Tell me why I don’t grease your hoop right now?” The wave of nausea brought on by the sudden movement answered before the elf could, and K-Bob fell back onto his bedroll; his world spinning and arm suddenly too weak to hold the pistol up, much less aim.

Fortunately the elf didn’t see the ork’s moment of weakness, ducking back and delivering his news from the concealment of the hall. “Dek’s dead. … Shot. … Down by the docks.” The elf paced his news – he had heard that K-Bob was unstable, and an armed, drunk, ork on-the-edge was not something he really wanted to deal with this morning. “’Star said Lighting Riders did it.” The elf waited for some kind of response.

“Frag, frag, frag!”

The elf was unsure what to make of this, so he continued; “Sebastian wants everyone in his office.”

“Uhh, yeah…OK.” The ork rolled over on his stomach, then slowly lifted himself to his knees. When the spinning room slowed to an unsteady, wobbling motion he rose from his kneeling position and staggered over to the sink. Bracing his legs against the cabinet he pulled his hair back and banded it into a ‘tail. Activating the faucet he splashed some water on his face, wishing he could wash away the dull aches and troll mosh-pit in his skull. He cupped his hand and drank some of the water – enjoying the cool refreshment on his parched tongue and throat. When the water hit his stomach however, it bounced – he vomited violently.

“Drek!” He thought, “Luis will chew my hoop if I don’t clean this up.” He rinsed his mouth out with some more water, splashing more on his face and around the sink, turned off the faucet, grabbed a shop towel and dried his face. Scooping out the remaining chunks with the towel, he tossed the mess into the “oily rags” barrel on the way to the door.

When K-Bob arrives at the office it is obvious that he has slept in the clothes he was wearing yesterday, barefoot and reeking of soybeer and vomit. Lifting his gaze from the floor to the others in the room – before finally meeting Sebastian’s cold, black stare – he said; “Let’s go kill the mother-fraggers.” (But he really didn’t feel like a bad-a$$ed ganger at that moment.)
Nikoli
Gulping in breath as he thumps to a stop by the garage, sweat dripping from his PT clothes as he stretches out from the run. Luis keys open the smaller door and steps inside, seeing the mess from the party still not cleaned up he grabs his duffel from the truck and heads foer the shower, taking in the sounds of the office as he does so.
Hearing Fan Belt speaking to someone else, “Dek’s dead. … Shot. … Down by the docks.”, Luis stops and listens to the rest of the news. As Fan Belt moves toward him, he stops him, "I heard. Tell the boss I'll be ready in after a quick shower."
Continuing on to the shower, Luis thinks to himself,Frag, Dek got greased. Sounds like we're going to war.
Sandoval Smith
Sebastian kept his expression blank as the others started arriving in his office. Fan Belt stuck his head in long enough to tell him that Luis was back, but was rinsing off after his morning run and would be there in a couple minutes. He took back off at the angry growl coming from K-Bob, "Let's go kill the mother-fraggers!"

Sebastian gave him a flat, black, stare. "We might be getting to that soon enough." He pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a hip flask, tossing it to K-Bob. "You look like you need a little hair of the dog. Just kick up your heels until Luis gets down." Sebastian pulled out his cellphone and dialed Fan Belt (the elf had gotten out of sight, and Sebastian couldn't stand shouting. It made his voice high and shrill). "Get back in touch with your contact. See what happened to Dek's bike."

He put his hands together and rested his chin on them, going off into a distant corner of his mind. It was a rather eerie posture, because with his eye covers on, it was impossible to tell who, or what, if anything he was looking at. When Luis came in, his hair still damp, Sebastian sat up straight, his head turning as he looked at everyone in the room. "To make sure we're on the same page, Dek's dead. Seems like he got himself into a race where the loser forfits his life. Does anyone know what he was up to last night? Or why he would've gotten into a race with a Lightning Rider? They used to be a team like us. In fact, we were in direct competition for the same spot in the IARC. After we beat them to it, they dropped out of sight, only to resurface with most of their old members gone, and a new, brutally Darwinian outlook on racing. It sounds like Dek took one of them on for, 'The Ultimate Prize,' and lost." He glanced K-Bob's way. "If that's what happened, then fair's fair. Or, it might have been a deliberate attempt to provoke us. If we go after them, we're going to end up with a fair number of people in the hospital and the morgue. That could cost us our IARC slot, which might be just what they're revving for."
Fresno Bob
Jet shook his head clear. Too many angry voices in the room, not conducive to his recovery process. But he was sure he'd have to do something, or who knows what kind of arguments could break out.

"Well...Dek probably didn't know what he was getting into. How many people, sane people, I mean. The Lightning Riders were always a few pistons short of an engine as a whole...How many people would agree to a race where they had a fifty percent chance of survival? Dek was an adventurous sort, but he wasn't that dumb. And if they did trick him, well...we'll just have have to bring a token of our disapproval to their doorstep.", Jet says, trying to address everyone present.
Sandoval Smith
Sebastian considered what Jet said for a couple moments. "Knowing Dek, he would've thought that he had a much better than 50% chance of winning, but I can't imagine having the cold blooded stones to frag the loser afterwards."

Sebastian realized that Jet was looking a bit off kilter too. "Soycaf, or would you like me to get out the other flask?"
Thomas
K-Bob managed to catch the flying flask, but only because his instincts reacted. He stared at it dumbly while listening to the boss. The fog in his head was starting to lift, and thoughts came;

Dek’s dead. From a race.

He’d had his share of run-ins with rival gangs in Redmond – usually when one rider ended up bikeless the other would stop and fight. The result – one guy gets stomped – usually nothing ‘ol Mary couldn’t magic back together again.

He hadn’t known Dek for long. When they met there was the usual posturing and taunts you would expect from rival gangers on neutral turf – they had sealed a truce over a six-pack, and then finished the case talking trash about other gangs. Not exactly friends, but at least allies.

He tipped the flask back, allowing a small swallow to strip the dirty-carpet feeling from his tongue and throat. As he lowered the flask he noticed the boss had gone into that creepy chipped posture. He waited, taking another small sip when it became clear that the first wasn’t going to come back up, and actually seemed to be helping. He couldn’t help but think of Dek’s face, laughing at some unremembered joke.

Luis came in, derailing an ugly train of thought. The boss came out of his trance (or had he been watching, judging, all this time?)

The boss said some wise things, (like ‘ol Mary would) and the meaning of his glance and words were clear.

Still, Jet had a point; Dek had to have been tricked or ambushed.

K-Bob spoke; “I seen ‘em last night – I thought he was goin’ to the ‘Underground to get … umm … - I thought he was goin’ to the Ork Underground.” Another quick sip to steel his courage. “We don’t want to get ambushed, but are we gonna just let this slide boss?”

He holds out the half-full flask to Jet.
Aes
Maeva had up until now been pondering the age-old mystery of getting a breakfeast in this city that didn't taste like cardboard. At least her coffee was the real stuff - courtesy of having a smuggler as a friend who took frequent trips to Amazonia. She hadn't really known Dek all that well. He seemed to her to be mostly content with hanging with the bikers on the team, shaving once a week and bathing once a month. But the mood was dimming in the room, so she kicked her eye-light system into overdrive to catch everyones attention, swallowed her coffee and spoke up.

"The dilemma, as I see it, is wether or not we can afford not to." She shot K-Bob a meaningful glance. "Like Sebastian said, if we let ourselves be dragged into a brawl on the streets, it may cost us our IARC slot. We are the lowest step of the ladder for the time being, as you no doubt realize."

She sweeped her gaze across the room, settling it on each of the gathered in turn.

"I don't know with you guys, but I signed up for this to race. Not to re-enact a poor remake of Les guerre de Villes. In the end, everyone's a loser in that game."

Settling to study Sebastians features, she dimmed the eye-lights somewhat and took another sip of her thermos.

"I would advise we warn the young'uns," she gestured towards the door with her free hand, "not to tangle with them for the time being, but keep the details of Dek's demise to what's strictly necessary. A token of our disapproval will likely just spur on the Lightening Riders".
Kiedo
The room had fallen silent to ponder the course of action the needed to be taken. The racers stood some still feeling the rammifications of last night's binge others in a cold contemplation exchanging nervous glances. All but Sebastian seemed unphased by the news, but then a leader never shows his weakness in front of the troops, no doubt he would mourn in his own right, the way he had done many times before, and probably many times still to come. The chilling uncertanty was however felt by all those present.

A loud ringing seemed to shatter the settling quiet like nails on a chaulk board. Sebastian's cell phone was ringing and vibrating making the phone seem to dance in an almost, if not for the grim situation, comic gesture. The phone proudy exclaimed that "fan belt" was calling.

Sebastian grabbed the phone and flipped up the ear piece,"What have you got for me?"

Fan belt's rich, made for radio voice, relayed through countless satalites and transmitters still retained its robust tone. "It seems that Dek's Takuro along with all of his personal belongings were found a block away from the bike neatly stacked and protected by an illusion spell but of course all that is 'evidence'. The only thing missing was his left thumb, but his hand was bandaged. The bastard probably took it as a trophy or somethin'." An odd wavering in his voice occured as he said the last bit, "Th..this is wild, I can't believe that just last night he and I were doing shots everytime somebody said 'K-bob'."
Nikoli
His ears easily picking out Fan Belt's words as he spoke to Sebastian, Luis spoke to the others quietly.
"This makes no sense. Dek was crazy, to be sure, but he wasn't stupid. He couldn't have known the stakes. I mean, can you really trust someone who poses stakes like those to not be a sore loser at the end? Was Dek even carrying a side-arm? What was he supposed to do if he won, off 'em with bad language? This whole thing stinks like last weeks soy; the Lightning Riders wouldn't have done something like this unless they were prepared to carry it through, they expect retribution and I'm guessing they are craving it."
Thomas
Unsure of what a Les guerre de Villes was, but understanding “everyone's a loser” K-Bob thought about what the raven-colored, furry elf was saying. She made good points; if they got kicked out of the race, his chances if of getting picked up by a pro CB team went straight down the drekhole – and if the kids that Dek had been training went off trying to revenge his death, they would end up dead too.

The phone’s surrealistically loud ring broke his reverie. While the boss listened to it, K-bob listened to Luis’s opinions.

Luis confirmed some of K-Bob’s own thoughts. He wondered what the King would do, and even if that would be right in these circumstances.
Fresno Bob
Jet reaches and takes the flask from K-Bob. With a nod of thanks, he upends it into his mouth and takes a short drink. He lets out a sigh of pleasure and shakes his head quickly, popping his neck vertebrae vertebrae loudly.

"Thanks mate...I'll take that Soykaf in a few minutes, too.", he says smiling. The smile quickly fades when Jet remembers the task at hand. He twists his mouth into a slight smile and crosses his arm over his wide chest.

"Fuzzy has a point. If we go to fight, we might end up losing out in the race, which simply isn't an option.", Jet says, nodding to Maeva. "But...we have to do something. Dek was not only a teammate, he was a friend. Well, to most of us." After a moment, he adds with a wry grin, "And if that something involves maybe...explosives...then so much the better."

After his piece, he fixes his eyes at some distant point of the floor and lets his face go neutral. He had a lot of fond memories of Dek, drinking, fighting, racing, talking motorcycles, and drinking some more. After a moment of silence, the ever-present smile returns to Jet's face, and he lifts his head.

"But for now, I think it would be best to remember ol' Dek. Drink to the dead, all you still alive. We shall join them, in good time", Jet says, then he upends the flask into his mouth and finishes off the contents.
Sandoval Smith
Sebastian kicked off of his desk, his chair rolling across his office to a table holding an already loaded soycaf drip. He knew to have a big pot ready to brew after a big party, and once the drip was started, he rolled the chair back to the desk. "For now, we want to sit tight until we're sure we've got the whole story. The Lightning Riders are a go-gang that specializes in life or death races, so they probably expect friends of the losers to come gunning for them, either openly or not. We'll deal with them on our time, and our terms, not theirs. Pass that word that if anyone runs into a Lightning Rider, not to take them up on any races. If people toss drek our way over it, tell them to blow. Let _them_ race for the ultimate prize."

He pressed his thumb against the bridge of his nose and thought for a moment. "They might've taken his thumb as a trophy, but just in case, we'll want to reset any of our biometric locks Dek was registered on. I'm not sure we should hide this from the rest of the team. Too many of our people already know about it to keep it contained, and trying to hard to hush it up will make us look scared. Luis, on your way out could you pop the skylight? I'm going to take Lookout up. If the Lightning Riders knew who and what Dek was, then I bet they've got some people keeping an eye on us to see what kind of response we give."

With the dismissal, Sebastian slid out of his chair, retrieving his RC deck then setting it up on his desk. He jacked in, sending his thoughts out in the direction of his observation drone. He uploaded the Clearsight software to it, then sent it upwards to see who was around.
----------------------------------
[ Spoiler ]
Nikoli
Saddened by the loss of his teammate, Luis heads towards the garage computer, set to remove Dek's access. Instead he decides to set it to all access denied, over-riding any other access. Knowing that if someone uses the thumb, it will let him know that the people trying to get in probably had something to do with the slitches that did this, or know where they are. Once the change is finalized and archived, he logs off the terminal and opens the skylight like the boss wanted.

Poking his head into Sebastian's office,
"Door's open boss, and the locks are cleared. If those fraggers try and use it to pay a visit, it'll be in the log."

Once he's notified, Luis goes back to the pit and starts cleaning up, dusting the oil and other fluids so they'll soak up and be manageable. Once all the tools are cleaned up, wiped down and back in their proper position he heads over to Maeva,
"Pit's ready if you want to change that oil or whatever it is you use to keep that beast running."
Thomas
“I’ll go pass the word to Dek’s guys and mine. Don’t go out if you don’t have to. If you do go out go in teams. No street racing. No vigilante revenge that’ll frag-up the boss’s plan. I should be back in 20 minutes or so…”

K-Bob walked out the door, going by the garage to put on his boots then getting on with the business of briefing the other bikers.

Assembling as many as he could in five minutes he passed on the 411, emphasizing that anyone who went out looking for a fight would have to deal with him if they didn’t die. When asked about the boss’s plan, he told them “The boss is gonna frag ‘em over good, but when you need to know more I’ll tell ya.” He left giving instructions to tell the rest of the folks he couldn’t find what he said.

He trotted back to the garage to grab a change of clothes then hit the showers.

Showered and freshly clothed made him feel better, and he headed back to Sebastian’s office.

Entering the office, he grabbed a cup of soycaf and one of the nice chairs, arranging it to face the boss. Sitting down, he quietly watched the boss’s body, waiting for him to come back from wherever he’d gone.
Sandoval Smith
Sebastian scoured the streets around the garage, looking for anyone who seemed out of place. He didn't really see anything to cause concern, but he was a bit surprised at seeing so many possible Star around.

<Come back to Nest, Lookout,> he instructed the drone.
<10-4 Big Bird, coming home to roost,> the drone sent back.

A slight tremor ran through his body as his conciousness came back to his meat. He noticed K-Bob sitting watch, but went and got a cup of soycaf before speaking. "I saw some Star out there, but that was it. They might've been worried that we would go riding out to war this morning, or maybe they're going to bust the BTL producers working three buildings down. Nothing out there to sweat at this point."
Fresno Bob
Jet had gone into the garage after the little impromptu meeting, and was busy maintaining his bikes. With the work finished, he drops his wrench, wipes the grease off his hands, and sits up.

"Wonder if my friend Johnny knows anything about the Lightning Riders...", Jet says to himself. He stands up and heads back into the office, and helps himself to a cup of soykaf.

"Ey Sebastian, K-Bob. Listen, I'm gonna go drop in on a friend of mine. Which means I'm going to go out. I'll be back in a bit, mates.", Jet says. He turns around and goes back to the garage, where he opens the rollup door, starts up Godzilla, and heads off to Johnny's garage to see if he can learn anything about the Riders.
Nikoli
Looking for a project to occupy his and some of the other guys' time in the wake of loss, Luis has some of the boys drag in a couple of the busted trailers that only need a little work. As he sets about restoring them to something resembling usefulness he has the other guys hold piece and generally assist him as he welds, bolts, scrapes, paints and polishes them till most of the day has been gnawed at by creation.
Aes
After having said her piece at the meeting, Maeva were content to finish off her coffee in peace. It were too late in her day to allow herself to be dragged into any arguments, and the boys seemed to have been talked out of doing anything stupid for the time being.

As soon as Sebastian dismissed everyone, she made a beeline for what little remained of the breakfeast she had brought. Someone had been kind enough to leave a cup's worth of coffee at least. She rummaged in her pockets for a while before producing a small, black plastic earpiece she slipped over an ear and absently dialled her buddy Glottis's number.

Fat chance he'll even be alive and awake at this hour.

After listening to something intelligble - probably Glottis trying his hand at "witty" while someone were playing troll trash in the background - for a few moments, she took the beep at the end as having reached his answering machine.

"'Ey, killer. You'll probably hear this sooner or later, so I might as well be the one to give you a heads-up. Some good-for-nothing drekheads who call themselves the Lightening Riders have tossed down the glove over at my end. I'm not sure what they're slotting, but keep your pups forewarned about them, aye? They seem to have little more sense around firearms than a barrens thrill gang. Be in touch. Will bring soybeer later."

With that out of the way, she proceeded towards her car to do the oil change. With a little luck, everyone would wake up while she were at it so she could have the showers for herself later on. Anyone who thought the life of a night one glamorous sure as ghost hadn't tried getting oil stains out of fur.
Thomas
[OOC] _Bump_ [/OOC]

His drifting thoughts broken by Jet’s announcement, K-Bob jerked back into the present. He finished off the luke-warm soykaf, put the cup on the drain rack, and leaned on Sebastian’s desk.

“If ya don’t need me ta do nothin else I’m gonna go see what’s shakin at the garage.”

[Assuming no further orders]

K-Bob leaves the office, following the noise to the garage and Luis’s busy work crew. Pitching in to help, he loses himself in the mindless toil.
Fresno Bob
Jet rolls up to Johnny's garage, and swings his leg off the back. He walks up to the familiar rusty roll-up door, and kicks it sharply, letting off a ringing crash that echoes throughout the road its situated in. Johnny pops his head out the door, brandishing a large wrench and shouting "Ya bloody wanker gangers, git ta fu- Oh, Jet. Its you, mate. Come in." he says, cocking his head inside.

Jet heads in through the main door, and takes a seat on a ratty couch.

"Wut brings ya here? Got yerself some new part, an ya needs to use ma facilities?"

"No man...Lightning Riders geeked a lieutenant of ours. I was wondering if you knew anything useful about them. Like, members, vehicles, what have you."
Tarantula
Wakeing up to a banging on his warehouses door, Xerrus groggily gets up.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin.."

Grabbing some aspring to help calm down the congoline in his head, he grabs some clothes, shrugs them on, checks the peephole, and opens the door upon seeing its Fan Belt.

"Whats happening? Its damn early for people to be dropping by." Xerrus grumbled.

"Dek's dead. He raced some guys who, rumor has it, geek you if ya lose. Sebastian wanted to see everyone, you should probably head down there ASAP, just keep to 20 over alright?"

Xerrus nodded solumnly and let the door shut. Dek, dead? Sure, he loved that old piece of shit he was always working on, but it was getting to be almost respectable. It never did have the space to fit everything in it though. Dek skimped here and there where he could, but that meant he was a bit short compared to the general competition. The ride looked nice though.

Slowly, Xerrus properly dressed, his mood down from the news. He hopped in his blitzen, what he had driven over here, and made his way back to the headquarters, to see what the boss wanted.
Kiedo
"Well don't just stand outside come in," his takes a step back from the door and gestures with his hand for Jet to enter. Double checking that the alarm is set on Ghidorah, with a flash of the corner lights he preceeds into the shop. Inside the shop the thick greasy smell of old oil assaults the senses. A shiny black RX-& sits in the first bay, but aside from the black demon the garage has no other vehicles in it.

"I know plenty useful mate, what'd ya wanna know," he asks scratching his beard.
[ Spoiler ]
Fresno Bob
"Well man, they greased one of our lieutenants, as you probably know. So I was wondering pretty much what general info you know about them. Like, who's in it maybe, how many members there are, what kinds of vehicles they got...You know, stuff like that man.", Jet says. He eyes the RX-7 and whistles "Hell of a machine. Where would someone get a classic like that?"

[ Spoiler ]
Kiedo
"Oh, that car," he looks at the RX-7, "guy found it in a junk yard, on the upper east side." Jet walks over to the black beast and takes a closer look.
"Damn Johnny the tint is so black I can't see inside," jet says straining to see the interior.
"Yeah I put that on for him a few weeks ago," he says looking around for a bottle, "you really don't know much about what happened last night, do you?"
"What do you mean,"jet asks curiously.
"That car right there is the car that beat your lieutenant," he looks honestly shocked that jet didn't know.
Fresno Bob
Jet turns to Johnny.

"What!? This car? This very car, raced my buddy, and then the driver cacked him? Who's car is it?", he says, surprise on his face.
Sandoval Smith
Sebastian watched people begin following something vaguely resembling their normal routines around the garage. He forced down another cup of soycaf, wrinkling his nose as he got back into the faux fuax faux leather chair. It smelled like someone who hadn't had a shower in a while had been setting in it much too long. Everything seemed under control, so he simply scrawled 'shower' on the whiteboard set low on the wall, and hurried off to clean up.

He was back in his office twenty minutes later, the worst of last night's party scrubbed off and washed down the drain. Despite his prolonged absense, everything was still proceeding as normal, so he shut his door and started up his telecom. Ace Freely had some work that needed to be done. His latest contract had him reviewing the security set up for a little Mom and Pop computer shop. They were insisting on cutting corners where ever they could, and didn't believe him when he told them how it was going to cost them in the long run. It'd only be a couple thousand nuyen more to upgrade all the maglocks to biometrics, making them immune to sequencers, and all but the best equipped thieves. They only had a small handful of employees, which was what made the biometric's ideal, but refused to make the extra expenditure.

It took him a while to careful update and annotate the log he was keeping of all his work on the contract. When the inevitable fragger busted in and ripped them off, he knew they were going to try and shaft him over the security, so he wanted to make sure his end of the job was air tight. He really didn't enjoy doing the security work that much, but he needed Ace, the clearance his security business gave him for certain gear and permits, and needed to make sure that Ace kept doing the jobs that allowed him to keep that level of clearance.

He caught Fan Belt as the elf was rolling a hand cart filled with scrap parts over to Luis. "I'm heading out to my old garage for a bit. Give me a call if any news comes in. You've got my numbers, and if you don't, they're on the whiteboard in my office."

He went to the back of the garage where his stepvan was parked and climbed in, plugging in and lying down on the exceedingly comfortable bench seat in back. He instructed the computer to change the paint to the "Sloppy Trog's Solid Waste Removal Service." That was the sign to let Hard Luck Louis know he was in the neighborhood and looking to talk. <Take us home, Battlecat> he told the van's dogbrain.

<Mrow, whatever you say Little Kitten.>

He hated it when his van called him that.
------------------------
[ Spoiler ]
Aes
Feeling the aftereffects of her coffee slowly wearing off, Maeva finished up her work at the car and returned the tools she had grabbed to something resembling order.

Taking a quick glance around to confirm that those who would be waking this side of noon were mostly up, she grabbed a pen, some duct tape and a piece of discarded cardboard, and left a sign on the door to the showers.

"In use. Any of you try to steal a peek again - you know who you are - and I will make your life living hell. You have been warned.

XOXOXO

- M"

It seemed to have the desired effect. At least, the showers were blessedly quiet for twenty minutes and a slightly damp Maeva soon snaked her way through the garage toward a discarded hammock. On the way, she nodded toward Fan Belt - looking like everyone had the poor guy running an errand for him already.

"I'll be crashing over there until the sun's in a more aggreeable place." She gestured towards the hammock and continued. "If anybody needs me, they can poke me with a stick, but they'd better bring coffee. Don't overwork yourself champ."

She flashed him a quick smile before continuing on, and soon sleep rolled over her to the tune of people welding something in the back.
Kiedo
Johnny smirks like a man about to tell you just how the syncornicities lined up and he walked out of it with a noble prize, "Well, mate the car belongs to a fella by the name o' Ackham."
"Your boyo wasn't to terrible according to 'em, if it hadn't been for some eighteen wheeler it'd have been Ackham on the buisness end of the gun."
Fresno Bob
Jet, still trying to stare through the window treatment, drums his fingers on the roof of the car, eyes shut in thought.

So Dek put up a good show...victim of outside interference..., Jet thinks.

"Look Johnny...this Ackham...is he coming around to get his car anytime soon? I'd like to have a...chat with him.", Jet says. He turns around, and noting Johnny's apparent disapproval, he smiles and adds, "Don't worry, Sparky. When I say chat, I mean chat. I won't start any fights."
Kiedo
"Sure he brought it in for a tune up it seems he spun an engine bearing during the race last night and I've just finished the repairs," he said, hands still greasy from the work. He grabs a shop towel reminded suddenly that from the elbows down he was covered in engine grease. "You wanna take a look mate," he asks gesturing to the RX-7.

"Yeah I'd love to," jet said, even with the nefarious task the car had been set upon last night he still had a great appreciation for things that move very fast. After cleaning most of the grease off his hands with the shop towel and some gojo, Johnny fished around in him pocket and produced the keys. With a push of a button and the subtle whin of electric servos the hood automatically opened to reveal a spotless renesis rotory engine. The attention to detail was amazing, the car's engine sparkeled even in the dim light produced by the overhead neon lights, all of the hoses where clear with a glowing green fluid inside, and the giant twin turbo set up sat perfectly balanced in the engine bay just begging to be turned on. Every metal piece of the motor was coated in black crome and not a single speck of dirt could be seen. Watching Jet more than admiring the car Johnny spoke up, "with the turbos it put to the pavment close to nine hundred horsepower, it truely is a beast."
"when we first put them on and took it for a test drive it layed a black mark down almost all the way down the quarter," he mused.

"So when is he coming back," as jet finished his sentence the roar of Johnny's pride and joy, the 2059 Nissan Skyline which he affectionately called silvia, could be heard coming around the corner. "I...is that your car,' Jet had a confused look on his face.
"Yeah I let 'em borrow it while I was doing the work for him," johnny said, "I figured if he skipped out with it I could just replace it with this thing." Outside the sleek Skyline rumbled to a stop infront of the shop, a tall elven man stepped out of the driver's side door, which was on the right side of the car, and adjusted his sun glasses. Inside the shop Jet started to move towards the door but Johnny's stone grip and forboding stare kept Jet inside. The elf proceeding into the shop, without knocking, Jet eyed up the man. if it came to it I think I could take him. The elf was clad in black and seemed to match the car with one exception, around his neck was a necklace that looked to be made of bones. The tribal tattoos that rippled down the sides of his shaved head also looked to be made of bone and as jet took the man in, he started to have his own thoughts about this Ackham.
Fresno Bob
Jet steps between Ackham and whatever his destination is, his face set hard, and risen to his full height, tall for a human, slighty shorter than the elf. He crosses his arms over his muscled chest, and stares down his opponent.

"What'd you do with Dek's thumb, Sparky?"
Kiedo
"Ah you must be Jet Jaguar, and the names Ackham, friend," the elf with the bone necklace said. He tries to walk past Jet ingnoring him further, but Jet is persistant and keeps his ground. "If you must know I keep the thumbs of all who lose to me to remember I'm only metahuman, and my luck will run out," he sighs. "Ussually I'll add them to this necklace," ackham gestured to the hideous thing around his neck,"but in special cases such as your friend Dek, I put them in a shrine I keep to the gods of racing." Hoping that Jet was through with his demonstration Ackham again tried to walk past.

Seattle Barrens - The Waste lands
The van marked Sloppy Trog's Solid Waste Removal Service with a picture of a yellow planet covered in filth, rolled through the desolate area of the sprawl, know as the barrens. It was quiet obvious what was meant by that that vast plascrete housing projects were speakeled with broken windows, and the people looked like they lived in constant fear, this much at least reminded Sebastian a little to much of good ol' Chicago. The van's dog brain announced "Were home kitten", Sebastian wondered sometimes if the damn thing called him that on purpose. Swinging in to the old familiar workshop the van parked itself around the side, Sebastian had programed it to do this for two reasons, one so it would take up the spots in front of the shop in case there were "customers" and two so it would be visible from the ever busy Everet BLVD.
[ Spoiler ]
Fresno Bob
Jet puts his hand out in front of Ackham as he tries to pass, and turns to face him.

"We're going to talk until I'm satisfied, or one of us is dead.", Jet says, glaring at the elf.

"Now then, Ackham...", he says, overemphasizing the name, "...I'm assuming you told Dek beforehand that the race was for his life?"
Kiedo
"I said we'd race for the ultimate prize, he didn't ask for clarification so I assumed he knew," ackham shifts unconfortably from foot to foot. "It was by far one of the best races I've ever been in. Your friend dek was a truly impressive rider, and I hope to dirve with him on the other side." Johnny clears his throat as if to say not inside fellas.
Fresno Bob
Jet nods slowly.

"So...you just...believe that anyone will agree to a death race at any point in time? And that in the middle of the night, Dek was just willing, without trepidation, to put his life on the line, for the chance to cack you, someone that he'd never met?", he asks, eyebrow raised. He notices Johnny's throatclearing, and cocks his head to the door.

"Let's step out, you and me. And by the way...how do you know my name?"
Kiedo
"I get turned down more often than I race, so no, I don't think just anybody could match those stakes, you should try it some time, its such a rush," the elf said looking jet firmly in the eyes.

"Well I know your name because I like to keep track of the competition, until it was discovered that our leader was banned from proffesional racing where were vying for the same IARC place," ackham said slowly catching the nod to the door.
"If it's a fight you want I think I'll decline but if it's a race then you know the stakes," he smiles at this last bit. "Johnny do you think the Rex is up to it," he asks over jet's shoulder.
"Yeah she's fit as a marathon runner but its not really a fair race," johnny said looking at jet with a distressed expression.
Tarantula
Hanging around outside Sebastian's door wasn't getting much done, and Xerrus' feet were starting to itch. Tracking down some paper and a pencil, he scribbles a note to Sebastian and slips it under the office door.
[ Spoiler ]


As he is heading for the door, the buzzer sounds. Xerrus quickly checks the security camera, and slips his hand into the pocket containing his taser. Outside the door, stands a rather normal UPS man. Xerrus opens the door, and slowly removes his hand from his pocket to take the clipboard to sign for the delivery. He takes the box from the guy and closes the door behind him quickly. Seeing that the box was shipped from the IARC, he quickly rips it open, and sees the track passes go flying out. Quickly gathering them up, he puts a sticky note on one and slips it under Sebatian's door also.

[ Spoiler ]


Grabbing up the remaining passes, Xerrus pins a note on the bullitien board as he heads out.

Guys,
Our passes came, come and get 'em. Catch me on the track.

He then gets in his racing hovercraft, and drives down to the track to do some test runs and learn the layout of it a bit better.
Fresno Bob
Jet smiles back.

"Alright Ackham. I suppose you and I will seperate here. Now-", he says, stepping closer, "I don't like you, but I'm not going to attack you without fair warning. So go ahead and leave, and we'll meet another time, and maybe we can have a matchup then"

Jet turns around and nods to Johnny. "Thanks for the heads-up, Johnny. I'm sure the rest of the team will be very pleased to know this." Jet turns and heads back to his bike, and heads back to the ESS HQ, looking for anyone. Finding the note, he heads down to the track, and meets up with Xerrus.

"Oh, great, the passes. Excellent. Hey, listen. I've got an announcement, but I think I'm going to wait for everyone to show up before I give it.", Jet says.
Aes
"Mprghx?"

Maeva woke first to the unpleasant sensation of being poked - literally - with a stick. Shortly after, the altogether more pleasant aroma of soycaf filled her nostrils, and her eyes focused on a grinning elf. Maeva dimly recalled him as one of the new ESS members. Little gears started spinning as she recaled breifly reading over his file while Sebastian were out last week. Aspiring autocross, decent head around tools. Pleasant enough she supposed, though her mind were currently crossing off expletives in trying to figure out how to demand to know what posessed him to take her 'poke me with a stick' literally. The train of thought were derailed by her grinning mugshot dangling in front of her face in a laminated card.

"Xerrus said to send these around. Fan Belt said you might want to know yours were here too."

Expletives soon out of her mind, Maeva game the man a genuine smile.

"Coffee would be good. What's your name, kid? No, don't tell me, it'll come to me as soon as that soycaf gets where it's needed."

Her grin widening, she gestured towards the Corsair, shining faintly under the neon tubes in the corner.

"Tell you what. I should probably go see the track layout. There's room for one more, if you want to hitch a ride. I assume your badge was there too?"

The last vestiges of sleep behind her - not that she really needed it all that much at the present - Maeva were already running through a mental checklist of things to do as she crossed the garage towards her car. She assumed that if the guy wanted to come along for a ride, he'd be right at her tail and his name would probably surface on the way.
Sandoval Smith
Sebastian had to wait a second for the lights to go on overhead. He hadn't been back here so much since the racing team had pulled together. He hadn't needed to. The day to day affairs of running a racing team had pulled him almost completly out of the shadows. Someone had hit the outside walls with fresh graffitti tags, but everything else was intact. He was impressed. Louis was keeping up his end of the bargain better than Sebastian was keeping up his.

He spent a couple of hours making sure that al the gear was in working order. There wasn't that much of it anymore; a diagnostics bay, a couple of vehicle lifts, and the assorted hyrdaulic equipment need for car work. Most everything else he'd packed up and taken with him when ESS had set up the team garage.

After a little while he heard the familar growl of Viking engines coming up the street. Hard Luck Louis and a trio gangers pulled a tight turn off the street into the shop's short drive. "Huh." He greeted, looking around with great exageration. "I heard the mechanic man was back, but I don't see him."

"Hey Big Man," Sebastian called out. "Cloudcover too thick to see through up there?"

The big troll feigned surprise. "Ooh, there you are shortcakes. Good thing you spoke up, or I would've ending up having to scrape you off my boots." His bike's suspension groaned in protest as he stood up. "First time in a while you've shown your face 'round here."

"The street racing gig's been good to me, and Dunkie forbid the mechanic be more than an oil can kick away when one of those fancy-pantsy street runners slips a belt." He looked over Louis' bike, which was in unusually good shape. "You finally start taking it easy on the wheels?"

Louis grinned, revealing more broken teeth than not. "There ain't not almost nobody 'round anymore dumb enough to give us shit these days. Whatever scrapes we get, Scanner's more 'an enough to bang 'em out," he said, referring to his gang's resident grease monkey. "You taught him pretty good."

The other gang members got off their bikes, and Sebastian recognized the last one. He'd built that one himself from the wheels up. It looked like someone'd been using it for sledgehammer practice. "What'd you do to my baby?!"

"Got in an arguement with a 'Star Citymaster," its rider grunted, then broke into a grin. "An won!"

Sebastian shook his head. "Wheel her in. I'll do my best, but she might not make it." He went to work on the bike, the gangers lounging around the garage, a couple of them reading magazines with headlines about Dunkelzahn's election chances on the cover. "Hey Louis, your boys have any run ins with a gang called, "The Lightning Riders?" They have this heavy 'win or die' creed going. Boy I know took 'em on, and walked away dead. Sounds like some serious drek to me. Thought I'd pass word around just in case you hadn't heard of 'em."
Nikoli
Dusting his hands off, Luis speaks the guys helping, "Okay, good job today guys, these look real good. Wheel this one over there next to the other one, mind the welds their still hot."
After washing up from the toil, Luis spots the the note about the passes, "K-Bob get cleaned up, our passes are over at the track. Anyone else want to go, the truck leaves in 15."
Thomas
“Sure thing, Luis. Hoi, where’s the boss gotten off to? He gonna meet us there? Who’s watchin’ the place while we’re gone?” an unusual amount of words in such rapid-fire succession betrays the ork’s normally dumb silence. While waiting for an answer K-Bob begins shucking his street clothes and putting on the “uniform” for a track hand – form-fit under team jumpsuit, Manhunter in Quik-Clip ™ holster under the ratty synth-leather jacket, pager and phone in pockets – along with a spare clip, Last-Chance ™ trauma patch and a set of binoculars.
Nikoli
Listening to K-Bob fire off question after question, Luis waits for his to finish, "I think he went to check on some friends. The boys should be okay to watch the place, since it's nice and buttoned up, though I'll call Jet to let him know where we're headed."

While K-bob is changing out, Luis sets his jumpsuit to the team racing uniform and calls Jet getting his voice-mail,
"Hoi chummer, the passes came in. Heading over to the track with K-Bob to fetch ours. Meet us there."

"Maeva you want to drive the beast or do you want it towed over gently?"
Kiedo
Jet

"See you around Jet Jaguar," ackham says with a chuckle as jet walks out the door.

Sebastian

Louis smiles at eh mention of the lightning riders, "Yeah I've heard a dem." The other gangers that louis had brought with him take thier helmets off. "They greased one of your boys damn it that makes two of us," Louis made a fist in the air.
Aes
Maeva turned around as she reached the car, looking in Luis'es direction.

"I didn't know everyone were going all of a sudden. Thanks, but no thanks. If anything's less than perfect in my baby, I'd rather notice it going 25 in the traffic than 250 on the track."

She grabbed her racers outfit from a nearby table, activated the team colors pattern and left it in the cars diminutive trunk to change. Shortly after, the familiar whine of jet turbines spinning up announced her departure.
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