Ridgerunning

Trixmail> (liam.hsumyhsuH|regnilS#liam.hsumyhsuH|regnilS)
From: xrt.SAC.tarc1gaM|nosyerG#xrt.SAC.tarc1gaM|nosyerG
Re: Welcome home.


Hey Kid; Glad to hear from you finally. Glad your back in town. I figure you're looking to get your feet wet again, do a little work, get a little good-deed done. Well, I got something here with your name on it. Almost literally.

Here's the skinny. I need you to go in to the Aztlan Sector and pick up a box of expendable anchors. About 10 of em. Ain't cheap, but they ain't as expensive as some of the other options and I know a guy who knew a guy down in Amazonia who makes em for charity as some kind of gaes.

Go to the Serpents Feather. Meet with Eduardo. He's chill, omae, so don't worry about him specifically slotting you in the back. Get the information he's got, then deliver the box (Its about the size of a milk crate) and deliver em to the Angels Delight Pool Hall, I know you know the place. Give them to Flame. I know ya know him too, so like I said, this is got you all over it.

Now, there's a complication. Always a complication, iddn't there? Yeah, well, sue me in the CorpCourt. Thats why we make the big money. I won't tell you who got these items in to the area, or who's paying me to have you take them on in to the Sprawl, but they got folk who don't like em, and know what you're gonna try to do.

Now, on the grand scheme of things, this doesn't mean a whole lot. But I'm hooking you up with two peopel who will give you some help. The first ones a Saint-in-Training, name'a Zak. The others, well. He's special. Blindside's a rigger who knows the roads well and can handle the logstics of moving.

Hit me back if you want the job.


Slinger gets the mail on his pocsec. Luckily, he had a fund set up to maintain those kind of things — accounts, phone. His first day back was spent just clearing out spam, mostly. After all, to /him/ it hasn't been three or four years. But he quickly hits a reply, along with his updated contact information. He's in. And he'll look for a chance to bring more in, if he can, so have them send this 'Zak' with a shopping list. He smirks. A ganger, probably — a wannabe. Probably wet behind the ears and a liability, but he'll show the kid a thing or two. That done, he sits back and waits. And when the time comes, sends to have the kid meet him at the Red Rock Diner at the appropriate time.


Blindside is working in the back of the truck. Gladius is up on jacks while Blind's underneath the Musclecar.

"Ohhhhh blinndy!" Calls out Bambi, his Mitsuhama Companion Drone. "You have Maaaaaaaail!"

"What is it, my neoprene nubile?" Asks the Rigger, a cigarette in his mouth and a wrench in his hand.

"Its a job! You need to like, well, Blindy, these are big words."

With an exhasperated sigh, Blindside slides out from under the car on a roller-board. He moves over to the terminal, looking the mail over. "Huh. Baby, go get the celly and dial this kids number. SLinger. Pheh. Probably some wet behind the ears spell caster who never lifted a gun in his life. Well! B-SYYYYYYYYYYYDE will show him how its done!"

Slinger was just waiting for the call, getting caught up on a few things on the 'Trix. Cellphone rings. "Yo!" he says casually, flipping it open. Doesn't recognize the number, but he knows that much at least.

"Yo yo yo! What it IZ, Muthafraggah? This is the B-SIDE BOMBER baby! Looken to upload your earhole with my audio delight! I wanna make some cred, hard core ballen runner style, moven freight and make dem bitches panties WET BOOOOY!"

Slinger pulls the phone from his ear at the explosion of sound, and eyes it. Looks at the number. Looks at the phone. Looks at the number. And then cautiously brings the phone back to his ear. B-Side. Blindside. "Blindside, right?" the youth asks cautiously, though he can't suppress a grin. "For a minute I thought I'd won one of those radio call-in things, and was on the air or somethin'. Dunno how much cred there is for this job, but we're doin' a good work, and that counts for somethin', right?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. Good works? Whatever. "I got 10,000 hard cold cred on the line here, BOOOOOOOY! This is the Blindside, oh yeah. Ain't no Radio, Ain't no trix-feed, nuhuh! One hundred percent halfer HEROISM at your mothahfraggen serviCCCCE!" He says, his voice doing that 'rising on the last syllable thing' that seems so very hip-hoppy. "Where's yo' ass at, cause I don't get called unless you's a pedestrian."

The elf-mage just shakes his head, grinning. "I got my own wheels, but compared to you I'm gonna suck at drivin'. Got magic on the brain, not a VCR. So yeah, a pickup would be great. Need to pick up some merchandise, and then grab any other stuff that we can drag in there to help out my… my homies." He cringes as he says the word. "You know, the Saints. I owe 'em from way back, and they owe me. We trade favors. So yeah. Pick me up at Havana and Mississippi, just south of Colfax, and we'll go from there.

"Ai'ght! Be ready for the black blur, booooy! I hope you like loud music, I hope you like fast cars, and I hope you like loose women, cause Blindsides got it ALL!" With that, Blindside ends the call. He stands up, looking at his sexbot. Cause thats all the pussy he gets, with that vocabulary… "BAmbi, Get my lunch box. I'm going to -work!-"

Slinger hangs up the phone and smirks. "Great. He's totally insane. And he's driving." He lets out a slow sign, and then leaves a quick note for Zak — along with his phone number. Then he takes the shopping list that Zak brought to him, straight from the Saints — their wish list of things that they wanted — and bundles up his stuff into a rather large backpack. And then he sets out from the motel, leaving the room behind him. He exits the building and lights up an unfiltered smoke, waiting at the corner for the wheels to arrive.

After a few minutes, around the corner comes a black 2070 Mustang. What? It's only 2069, and barely at that? Pheh. No matter. Following the muscle car (It does look fairly aggressive) is a simple, dime a dozen, see 10 of them on the highway big-rig, with a 55 foot trailer. The side door of the trailer opens up, a rampway extending. Down this strides Blindside, walking to the beat of his own drum. Or maybe it's its his own drum core. He pauses at the side ramp, looking up and down the street. "Damn. No audience. HOW CAN I HAVE MY GRAND ENTRANCE WITH NO AUDIENCE!"

From inside the truck, 5 droids pile out, falling all over themselves to get in front of him. 2 anthroforms, a companion drone and what looks like two Mr. Fix-its. They all applaud.

The two little anthro-form drones appear to have Disco-balls for heads, it should be noted.

Slinger is leaning against a light pole, complete with unfiltered cancer stick. And he, at least, applauds. Though he does roll his eyes a little bit. "Well, we can forget about stealth on this," the youth drawls. But there's no way for him to argue that your entrance was definitely impressive. "So, we ready to motor? The plan changed, or are we picking up the things in Aztlan first? And what're we taking with us into there?" There, of course, being the Warrens. "I don't think you're gonna fit through any underground tunnels. Just a guess."

"Scabby?" Asks Blindside then.

The Truck's lights come on, and a voice not entirely unlike Optimus Prime's comes across a speaker near where Blindside is standing. "Yes, Blindside?"

"Show him a horse of another color."

The truck shifts color and paint schemes now, turning in to what looks to be a Knight Errant vehicle, only with subtle changes to the decals that appear. Things like 'To Oppress and Terrorize' and '(Don't)Call: 911' and 'Knight Errant Security Services: Sucking Cock Since 2041.'.

The youth glances at the changes, and smirks. "I assume you can make it look even more legit than that. But nice touches." He inhales a drag from his cancer stick, then pulls out a fresh one and lights it from the butt of the last, before he flicks the spent butt into the gutter. "Looks good. So we can basically fill this thing up. That's good, 'cause I got a shopping list from hell here, and some of this stuff might take up a little room." He grins as he takes a step forward, offers his hand. "I'm Slinger. Back in town and ready for some action."

Blindside steps forward, reaching up. Fucking tall elves. Why the hell did god make them so GODDAMN TALL? And pretty. Lets not forget pretty. Oh yeah, and fast? WHY THE HELL DID GOD MAKE THEM SO TALL, PRETTY AND FAST?

Little bit of dwarven sour grapes here, one may expect. He shakes the hand, offering a nod. "Blindside. I rig. Vehicles only, don't do drones. My car, Gladius."

"Hello, Slinger." Says the black mustang, its voice like a bitch in heat on the other end of a sex-line.

"My truck, Scabbard."

"Greetings, Slinger." his voice, you've heard.

"My sidekick, Bambi."

She giggles, blushing convincingly.

"And mah boys, Jeeves, Mutt and Jeff."

The smaller drones salute awkwardly.

Slinger is definitely pretty. His hair has grown long in back, but the front is kept short and spiked up in an almost anime look. "Vehicles got lotsa advantages," he agrees. "Starting with coolness." Bambi gets a look — and a double-take, before Slinger realizes that definitely isn't a person. Including the fact she has no aura. The other ones get a glance, and Slinger tries a respectful bow, before he grins and takes a drag from his cancer stick. "All right. So, Aztlan? Unless you got a line on some of the drek on this list." He taps his pocsec.

The halfer reaches up for the pocksec. "HOw the hell should I know, I can't see the damn thing!" He says, gesturing back on to the truck. "Come on, come on, we'll go inside. Get off the street." He can be heard muttering as he walks 'Fraggen newbs'."

Slinger actually did hold it down, or at least angle it down. No crouching down and pandering to the little people and treating them like children, like some do. But Slinger scowls at the remark. "I'm not the one who showed up with a fanfare," he points out. "So watch who you're calling a newb." His eyes are narrowed with a dangerous look, but nonetheless he climbs up toward the cab of the truck. "You're good, and I got a better chance with you than anybody else I know, but if you don't think we can work together, save me some trouble and say so now."

Blindside glances back at Slinger. "Omae. Popcicle your drekhole, I'm just funnin ya. Skin, needs to be a little thicker." He moves in to the halfer-sized rig, with its various sections. "Welcome to Scabbard, my home on wheels, my home that is also my home.. making it my home that is home."

The elf relaxes when you mention you're teasing. "My skin's plenty thick. I just had too many people look at me, and all they see is a kid, and they start doing stupid drek when things go down. I've been away a while, so yeah, I know, my street cred's dropped some. And these are kick-ass wheels. Ready to roll when you are." He doesn't bother belting in unless the rigger does — for a run around town, last thing he wants to do is show a lack of faith. At least, hopefully there is a passenger seat that an elf can fit into without having to fold into a contortionist's nightmare.

"Scabby?"

"Yes Blindside?"

"Set a course for… uh.. Looks like the South side of the Aztlan Sector. Use La Mexicana freight and shipping transponders and externals."

"Making it so."

The truck rumbles to life underneath them, and pulls in to traffic with hardly a sway of anything or a shudder. The various drones go back to what they were doing, moving in to the shop section, with polishing rags, to buff a mean, evil looking mustang with obvious armor plating and a massive autocannon on the hood.

Slinger reaches into his pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, slipping one of them into his mouth, then politely offering the pack of nonfilters — a native American blend, from the look of them. Strong and intense, and chock full of nicotine. He's addicted. A glow-lighter ignites the end of his, followed by a deep drag as he rides. "Anyway, got the list. This is what they sent as requests, in addition to the stuff we're delivering. I figure, the more we can bring, the better things are gonna be for the people down there, and the more cred we're talkin', potentially."

Blindside comes over to where the list is. "Well, yeah. I can make this happen. I know a fixer.. Real nice chica… Let me see if I can get her on the horn… BAMBI!"

Yes blindy?"

"Call Silky baby, see if she's got time for a care package…"

You paged (Kassandra, Slinger) with 'Silk's phone rings, it's blindsides number.'.

To (Blindside, Slinger), Kassandra pages: The phone clicks on, "Silk." There is the sound of water and birdsounds in the background.

You paged (Slinger, Kassandra) with 'SILKY BABY BOO! Hows my favorite boo? Hey, look, sweeties, honey baby, I got this guy here, right? And we gotta.. Hey, look. Do me a favor. Can you come on down to… COlorado and Colfax? Letcha meet the guy and he can tell you what he needs.."'.

To (Blindside, Slinger), Kassandra pages: There is a moment of hesitation. "Alright. It will take me a few, I'm well outside the city core."

You paged (Slinger, Kassandra) with 'Ain't no thang! I'll send Glady for ya, if ya like."'.

To (Blindside, Slinger), Kassandra pages: It won't take long, I have a car here. I'll be there soon." Click.

Slinger listens with interest, dragging on his cigarette. But he stays quiet. He has the cred to cover the basics, at least, and hopefully the big truck will provide plenty of cover for whatever we need to do. He grins and stretches out in the space provided him, glancing around at the scenery. "She's reliable? I assume it's a she. I mean, don't know many guys who use the name 'Silk', but you never know. Might be an elf." He flicks his ashes into the ashtray and waits for the meetup.

Blindside is kicked back in the truck. "Oh man, she aint no -man- baby, she's the longest set of legs, the most luscious set of tits, the deepest, brownest eyes you ever saw in your life. And reliable? Silky babies the -best-. She can charm Lofwyr out of his golden pecker if she tried."

Slinger chuckles. "Don't care much about her legs — all I care about is her pricing, and whether she can deliver." He waits carefully, scanning the truck's surroundings through the windows every so often. He's been away long enough to have lost some of the feel of the streets, and he fingers his credstick, looking over the list a few times and doing some calculations in his head.

A bit later a Bulldog Van will arrive at the location given by Blindside, coming to a rapid stop. The door opens, disgorging the fixer known on the streets as Silk. The woman glances around the area before stepping away from the van, heading towards Scabbard and speaking directly to the vehicle as she approaches, "Good to see you again, Scabbard. I hope you are well." She circles towards where one of the entrances are, moving slowly but with purpose.

"Always a pleasure, Silk. They are in back." Responds Scabbard in that deep yet tinny voice.

Blindside meets her at the door. "Hey, Silky baby!" He says then, a grin coming to his lips as he gets a whiff of the whollup she packs. "THis guy's Slinger. He's some kind of finger wigglen guy and we got this run in to the warrens, ya see. And he wants to take a little -extra- on the side, right? The kind of extra that don't pay me a damn thing, but chalks one up for the good guys, you scan me?"

Slinger tenses at the approach of the van. Probably just the fixer, but he's still being cautious, some of his instincts returning. The rigger appears to trust her completely, but Slinger doesn't know Blindside all that well yet. His eyes follow her movements — clear that she knows his host. But he stays silent for the moment, just leaning back in his seat. The summation Blindside gives gets a nod. "Got some favors I owe people," is all he says. He has made notes in his pocket secretary, and turns it — moving slowly — toward the fixer so the display is visible. It's a series of items — this much water, this much food. Medical supplies — low-end stuff, but items that will be in short supply. Ammo for various weapons — nothing difficult to acquire. Cigarettes. Booze of various types. A regular humanitarian relief package.

From afar, to (Zak, Blindside): Slinger left a phone number for you to reach me at, along with a prepaid cellphone next to it, and a note. We're not that far from where you picked me up, so he can just walk.

The diminuative elf nods politely to Slinger, listening to Blindside's commentary. She nods to Blindside with a smile, leaning on the doorframe to listen to Slinger's words. She'll lean in to look over the list, one eyebrow raising as she quietly remarks, "It should not be a problem for the vast majority of this stuff. I have a ton of things sitting around gathering dust in a warehouse that will easily meet your demands. The rest .. well, I can have it in a few hours at most."

Blindside lets the Magical Man and the Flexible Fixer hash out the exacts of their deal. "Hey, I'll toss in half for it. What the fuck. The saint's never did me no wrong, and well, I like having extra places I can park. So like, double the order and shiznit."

Slinger nods quickly. "Don't care where it comes from. As long as it's decent and works. Cheap is good, I'll admit. And the timing is right." As Blindside makes the offer, he glances over, then back, nods once. "Lemme know what it costs. Like I said, I owe them."

The list memorized, Silk draws out her own secretary, tapping a few keys and ejecting a flimsy with electronic data encoded. "This is the address you can pick things up from. Give me 90 minutes to get things together and you'll be all set. The second set of data is the routing account you can deposit cred into. I know B-Side is good for it, and I am not overly worried. Get it to me when you can."

She'll put the item away, remarking, "And be careful out that way. The Sons are still tearing up the place, and everyone else is playing warlord."

Blindside takes the address then, looking it over. "Scaby, Scan this."

"Address Obtained, Blindside." Says the truck.

Blindside looks over to Kassandra. "Hey, baby. How about a ride along? You feel like comin along for the ride?"

The youth nods swiftly, pondering, and then names a number of how much he wants. A little negotiation follows, of course — with Kassandra probably getting the best of the deal, given that Slinger isn't exactly up on the latest prices and trends. Then he holds out his hand, nodding, to seal the deal. "Few hours is plenty of time. When's the best time for us to go through?"

«Auto-Judge[]» Kassandra (#9777) rolls Denver Border Crossings:
3 3 5 10 13
«OOC» Blindside says, "Kassandra has the PERFECT place! ;)"

Silk seems indifferent to the money, unlike many in the city. She accepts the price without haggling at all, shaking the man's hand carefully. "There is a crossing at about .. 2143 and then again at 0116, the guards there are unobservant. You'd want to go through slowly, but there are openings for about 10 minutes at those times."

She shakes her head to Blindside, "I have some previous engagements, B-Side, but thank you for the kind offer."

«Stats System» You pay Kassandra (#9777) 500 nuyen for "Top".

Blindside slides some script from a pocket, peeling off 500. "Thanks for comin, Silky. You're all heart." he says, offering her the script. "Fer' comen out, even though you're officially retired."

Slinger glances over to Blindside, nods once. "Sounds like a plan." He doesn't have any scrip, but offers payment for his part of it up front — a gesture of trust. Blindside seems to trust her, and that's good enough for him. "All right. So we head to the next spot, pick up those items, pick up the loot, and chill for a while?" the youth asks, making sure that there is full agreement on what the plan is. And he smiles to Silk, inclining his head in gratitude.

Silk will accept the money, nodding her thanks. "Ah, you know, for you B-Side it isn't a hassle. I don't mind the trip in at all." She grins at that, slipping the money out of sight. She nods to Slinger as well, "A pleasure meeting you, Slinger. Stay out of trouble you two." She will step back and move out of the vehicle, letting the men plan in peace. If she doesn't hear, she doesn't know.

The youth grins, watching Silk depart, and fires up a fresh cancer stick, breathing in deeply while he thinks. "So… now we wait, pick up the merchandise, and figure out a way through the blockade. I kinda liked your idea, but ain't they gonna wanna see papers, you know. Authorizations, stuff like that? Or are they gonna just look at your truck and figure it's legit?" he wants to know.

"And aint that gonna be what you finger-wiggle up? Or at least, you know, make em think they sees em?" he shrugs. "You're the mage, man!"

Slinger chuckles thoughtfully. "Yeah, as long as it's just one guy I gotta convince," he agrees. "Maybe two, maybe as many as three. Any more than that, and my mojo ain't gonna work." He leans back in his seat, taking a deep drag from carcinogens, and grins. "It'll be good to see the Saints again. Hope they appreciate all this shit," he adds, with a soft chuckle.

"Well." Says the halfer then, reaching for a cigar. "Uh… we kin set up a diversion! Yeah! Like they do on the trids. YEAH! See, we'll send Bambi there… in Gladdy. Gladdy'l break down, see.."

The car in the back growls, its phone-sex operator quality, female toned voice huffing indignantly. "I will NOT!"

"Yeah yeah, you ACT like you break down, see?"

"… Very well."

"And then Bambi, see, she'll get out and bend over to look under the hood."

Bambi bends over, deep. She's not wearing underpants. She looks remarkably lifelike. "Like this, Blindy?"

"Oh yeah baby, just like that."

Blindside then, as an aside to slinger.. "I uh, use a stool."

Slinger watches the display, and smirks. "And so we just hope that the guys there, that they like girls and not boys," he chuckles. "That might get their attention. 'Cept… what would she be doing there, running the blockade? Unless she just happened to have a breakdown right there." He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, that could work." He smirks, and shakes his head — and shudders. "Sorry, tend to like my lovers with, you know, flesh.

Bambi huffs indignantly now, herself. "I have PLENTY of Nu-Flesh." She says, straightening back up and lifting her breasts in each hand. I have 3 pounds of Nu-flesh in each breast!"

"What do we call those, Bambi?"

"Mammaries?"

"No, the -sexy- name."

"Oh!" She brightens. "Fun bags!"

Slinger shudders, closes his eyes. Meditation. Willpower. He tries hard not to retch. And just steadies his nerves with a drag on the cigarette. "Maybe I should, you know, meet you when we're ready to pick up the stuff," he finally says, very slowly, trying hard to keep emotion from his voice. He doesn't offend easily, per se — but this is grossing him out. And it's even worse that the robot is female. That itself is just… well, a little nauseating to the young elf.

Blindside looks to Slinger then. "Well, if you want. I mean, by the time we roll over to the pick up joint, it will be ready, ya know. If I'm you know… Look… I know I ain't a big time runner an I ain't a pretty, athletic Elf, okay? I'm a halfer with the charisma of a bumper at high speed. Theres one thing to be said for Bambi." He says, looking to the cab of the truck, blowing out a stream of smoke. "She doesn't fuck your best friend, and she never laughs."

Slinger shakes his head. "Sorry. I just… you know, what you do in your private time is cool. It's just… well, rubbin' my nose in it," he admits, with a weak attempt at a smile. "I was never attracted to… pleasure-things, if that makes sense. If something sexy is just rubbed in my face, it kinda grosses me out. Like this guy wandering around. Cristo, I think his name is. He's an elf, sure. Sexy… yeah, probably. But he flaunts it, just sort of waves it around out there, and because of that, he grosses me out. And he can't figure out why I don't think he's sexy. I know, I'm fucked up," he admits with a chuckle. "Sorry if I offended you."

"No. You didn't offend me, Slinger." Says the dwarf then. "I was the only dwarf in my high school. It's gonna take a lot more than a pretty boy mage with an aversion to a vibrator on legs to offend me." He says with a grin,looking back to Slinger. "And you ain't fucked up. You're just on the top end of the food chain. You ain't never been down here, where the short folk walk. You think I'd ever get a woman that pretty to look twice at me in real life? Naw. But she shoots well, drives okay and she can lift a wrench. And while I got her, I can close my eyes and pretend. Just for a moment. So she ain't all bad."

Slinger chuckles, but it's a nervous one. "What about me? I like boys. Most people look at me weird 'cause they can't figure out why I don't find bulging breasts attractive." He shudders again. "I can get guys, sometimes, but most of them look at me and think I'm some kinda freak. So… enh. I'm actually not even that attractive for an elf, so I got that to deal with, too." He stretches his legs out. "Plus, everybody thinks I'm too damned young. One reason I smoke — so people will at least take me a little seriously, realize I'm not twelve or somethin'."

"How about this." Says the rigger, looking back to Slinger. "You can walk in to any bar in town and get a beer, to any hotel in town, and climb in to the bed without requiring a stool, and no one ever calls you shorty, stumpy, stunty, halfer, half pint, squat, shortstack, munchkin, micro, tiny or any of the other hundred thousand names for a Dwarf in this world. But, I dunno. I just never found guys all that attractive myself. Probably on account of all the cute ones shoven me in lockers, and me fitting." A pause.

"Bambi, go sit in Gladius."

"Alright!" Says she, oblivious to being spoken of in the third person.

The young elf smiles. "Yeah? How about keebler, dandelion-eater, pointy-ear, scrawny, skinny… there's a ton of them for elves, too. There's always racist assholes out there. And we may be pretty, but we're also kinda weak a lot of the time." He chuckles. "They never shoved me in lockers. They just beat the crap out of me," he admits. "I don't gotta use stools, at least. I'll grant you that." He eyes the outside of the truck. "Gettin' dark. When are we pickin' up the loot?"

The truck comes to life underfoot. "About now. We'll head on over." he says, gesturing out the truck. "And then we'll set up a diversion… and then we'll deliver them packages.. and then, and then, sir, we will be big damn heroes."

Slinger laughs, shakes his head. "I've found that generally, anytime I expect to be a hero, nobody really notices. Once in a while, I'd love to actually get some applause or something. Usually, though, when I do a job right, nobody ever even knows what I did, y'know?" He laughs, flicks his butt out the window to burn out on the street, consuming any evidence of the touch of his body. He belts himself in, leans back in the seat. "Nice and smooth. And I'm sure we'll have it. You got any costumes or anything, or do I need to manage that?" he wonders.

Blindside looks down at himself then… "What, this isn't outlandish enough?" He asks, without a trace of self-referential humor. "No, I ain't got anything like that. Just my usual clothes. I'm not the kind of guy you usually interface with, ya know?"

Slinger nods, chuckling. "Well, I can probably disguise us, and influence a guard, too. Though we get much more than that and my magic starts to get shaky. I can definitely disguise you. That plus Bambi wiggling her butt" — shudder — "should get us past it. And then we can toast with the Saints. You ever hung out with them? They're not bad for a gang."

"Can't say I have. Theres a junkyard down near their territory I'm looking at trying to buy maybe… Maybe they can help me out or something.. if they don't mind halfers."

Slinger chuckles. "They're pretty tolerant. They put up with a chain-smoking queer elf, so I figure they wouldn't mind you at all," he says with a chuckle. Another cigarette is lit, inhaled, while the elf lightly taps a finger against the doorframe, heading to the pickup point. "Figure I'll have to get out and load stuff," the kid remarks. "It'll help keep me in shape."

"Yeah, I'll get my drones to help you with that. Stronger than they look, really. Not a bad lot, if a little, you know, light in the head." Says the Halfer as the truck pulls in to a warehouse on the north side of town. THe back ramp to the truck opens, a little red light coming on, before Gladius backs down with Bambi inside. She'll stay there unless called out.

Slinger is heading back around the side of the truck, walking casually, but keeping his eyes alert for any sign of danger. After all, this /is/ a criminal's lair, and while the dwarf trusts Silk, Slinger doesn't know her. "Here to pick up some goods," the youth says to whoever might be present, probably with a clipboard. It's always a clipboard. "Our order ready yet?" he wonders.

Javier steps around a pile of goods marked 'Surplus, CAS ARMY'. He's a young man, maybe 20, 25. A cigarette hangs from his tusked lips, the Ork showing signs of latino or maybe Native blood. "which of you is Slinger, eh?" Asks the man. "Silk said the truck would come, and it came, so one of you is Slinger?."

Slinger has his own cigarette burning, and he inhales a deep drag of smoke, eyeing the ork. Not bad looking for one — but then, he's always been partial to Native American-looking guys. "I'm Slinger," the youth announces. "Need me to sign or something?" There's a hint of wariness about him, watching the other man, but his expression is relaxed and friendly, even though he is preparing a spell — just in case.

Javier eyes slinger for a moment, seeming to tick off noted features. "Nope. This is your lot over here. Silk says its all yours so you better take it all."

The Lot is rather larger than the one ordered.

Slinger looks at the load, then at the truck. Then at the load again, and then marches toward the truck and knocks on it a couple of times. "Is all this gonna fit along with the car?" he wants to know, as he ponders the size of the load. That is… a lot of merchandise. Including, he notes with amusement, some noodles of a certain brand that he knows well. Interesting. He takes a drag of smoke, then marches over and starts to work on grabbing some of the items — the items that won't easily be handled by a forklift.
Blindside steps up next to slinger. "Car ain't gotta fit, Biootttttch!" Says blindside, now that he's outside the sanctum of his truck. "B-SYDE rolls so hard, even his cars know how to drive!"

Slinger smirks. "Fine. So you got a forklift that can handle this? Or you got one we can borrow?" the youth wonders, as he carries the bulky items toward the truck, looking for a good spot for them. It'll have to be carefully packed, and these are slightly heavy and loose, so he positions them to the side, leaving the center aisle clear for the use of the pallets themselves.

Blindside eyes the goods… then Javier points to an old Matsuto forklift from like the 1940s. "Yeah, Esse, Use that one. Get the drek, then get out, you scan me? I Got other orders coming in!"

Slinger grins and lopsidedly salutes. "You wanna run it, B? I ain't no good when it comes to drivin' things. I got a license, but that's about it." He'll work on carrying some of the awkward items, cigarette blazing in his lips as he gets some exercise for a change. Too easy for a mage to sit around and get flabby.

Blindside trundles over to the Forklift. "Yeah BOYYYY! I got this, B-side is on the trip, what up!!!" He does manage to the thing started, its electric motor whirring to life. "Oh, I gotta get me one of these!" He will start to load the truck, a process that will take a few minutes.

Slinger works up a bit of a sweat, and ends up breathing hard — after all, heavy smoking plus physical labor tends to make one a bit short of breath. But the elf already has another of the things burning. But between the forklift, the drones, and himself, the project shouldn't take too long. And he's grinning, actually looking rather pleased with himself. "Been a while since I did anything this mindless," he admits.

Javier raises an eyebrow. "Mindless, cabrone?"

Slinger grins. "Yeah," he says to Javier. "I mean, what you guys do, you gotta think about it, where to get, what to get, that kinda thing. But me, I'm just carryin' stuff into the truck. I don't gotta worry about what goes where, or inventory." He leans against the side of the truck, wiping sweat off his brow. "You already did all the hard stuff, getting it all laid out for us." Nice save, potentially. Though Slinger definitely /sounds/ sincere.

«OOC» Blindside says, "Give me a charisma roll ;)"
«OOC» Slinger says, "Open?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Charisma:
1 1 1 1 4 5
«OOC» Slinger says, "Karma that shiiite."
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Charisma for "KP 1/20":
1 2 3 3 3 4
«OOC» Blindside snickers.
«OOC» Slinger says, "And again."
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Charisma for "KP 3/20":
2 2 3 3 3 4
«OOC» Blindside guffaws.
«OOC» Slinger says, "Gah."
«OOC» Blindside says, "no more karma?"
«OOC» Slinger says, "You realize how unlikely that is?"
«OOC» Blindside says, "Well, yes."
«OOC» Blindside says, "I know the dice probabilities."
«OOC» Slinger says, "We're at 2.6% probability right now :)"
«OOC» Slinger says, "What the hell. 1 more."
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Charisma for "KP 6/20.":
3 3 3 4 11 11

Javier chuckles amiably. "Yeah, we do the hard work, let everyone else take the credit. But Silk, she pays us well, and we do what we do, ya know? Now get outta my warehouse!"

Slinger grins and salutes. "Yessir." The pile is basically loaded, and he moves again to the passenger side of the truck, flicking his cancer stick out into the parking lot. And lights up another one of the things as he climbs into the truck. "Fuckin' A. That was a lot of stuff. More than we ordered, I think. But Silk said she'd throw some extra in," he comments, as he belts himself in. "So the plan is, Bambi has a breakdown right in front of the checkpoint, just as we pull up, right? And then I disguise you — your windows are tinted, so they shouldn't look much at me." He ponders. "Actually, better if I just not be seen. And then I influence the guard, and we're through."

"Sounds like a plan, Homey!" Says Blindside, hopping off the forklift and heading around to the driver side of the truck. "Bambi! Go do some recon of the quarantine wall, full sensor sweep, route the telemetry back to Scabby."

Gladius starts up, the car pulling out and heading off as ordered.

The youth leans back, preparing his mojo. "Lemme know once we get close. And I wanna check for any astral barriers, anything like that. Those suck," he adds, as he considers. "You gonna sit still for a few? If so, lemme dart over there and scope it out." He closes his eyes, leaning back in the seat, the cigarette resting in the ashtray for the moment.

"Sure man." Says Blindside, closing the door. "I'll park just down the street here to keep the truck out of their warehouse."

As soon as the truck is parked, Slinger detaches from his body — senses fully alert, and heads toward the Warrens at full speed. But he stops short of his goal, and proceeds more stealthily, using buildings for cover on the astral plane.

The city, at this point, is alive. Trees and parks, animals and people everywhere. It's one of the quirks of Denver, all the park land. A forced issue, the city is unable to grow and has large swaths of real-estate that is simply overgrown.

The nearer you get to the Warrens however, the less that issue holds true. Parkland falls away, to the never ending sprawl of low income, high density housing. The astral space likewise, starts to die out, the auras of trees being replaced with the cold, dead faux-solidity of buildings, abandoned cars and tenement slums. The wall is not warded, the quickly erected and maintained barrier to keep the Warrens inside the warrens. Every few intersections, a lone star police cruiser sits, with drones traveling over head.

Slinger approaches the Warrens more closely, cautiously. The drones are hard to spot, being fully mechanical. But what he's watching for is spirits, astrally-perceiving mages, Awakened guards, and any sort of astral barrier like a ward that might make the checkpoint hard to penetrate.

Watcher spirits, low force, patrol the wall every few moments, looking like little British bobbies as they float along, billy club in hand. They don't really do much, or seem all that aware, mostly acting as astral tripwires.

«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Intelligence:
2 3 4 4 5 11
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 2 for "Aura reading, complementary":
1 11

Slinger doesn't notice any other more direct or active astral activity. No magi, no powerful spirits. Just cops doing mundane cop things; keeping the poor, dying people away from the rich, paying customer people.

Slinger eyes the watchers, considering them for a moment. If he nukes them, the mage will know about it. He can't really ward the inside of the vehicle very effectively — or could he? That would prevent them from having a look inside. The guards, though, would notice that immediately. He considers that, then nods, grinning, and returns back to his body in the truck. "All right," he says, waking up. "I need to ward the inside of your truck. They got watcher spirits. And hopefully, they aren't smart enough to report back if we got a ward."

Slinger doesn't notice any other more direct or active astral activity. No magi, no powerful spirits. Just cops doing mundane cop things; keeping the poor, dying people away from the rich, paying customer people.

"You want to ward the inside of my truck, awesome man. Awesome. I got no mojo, so it don't matter to me."

«OOC» Slinger says, "Damn. Didn't realize it took that long. Hrm :)"
«OOC» Slinger says, "I meant, didn't raelize a ward took that long. Thought you could divide the base time :)"
«OOC» Blindside says, "Oooh. I seee."
«OOC» Blindside says, "I hadn't looked up rules. how long do they take?"
«OOC» Slinger says, "1 hour per force."
«OOC» Slinger says, "And I need a force 3 or so."
«OOC» Slinger says, "Hrm. Wanna make a quick ruling — that for a temporary ward, you can use successes to divide the base time rather than having it last longer?"
«OOC» Blindside nods. Wouldnt a force-1 keep them out?
«OOC» Slinger says, "It would, but they could attack it."
«OOC» Slinger says, "Slinger will start with a Cleansing roll."
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Sorcery vs TN 2 for "BG count 1 here, times 2 for test.":
1 1 2 2 3 4 = 4 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Willpower vs TN 2 for "drain resist on cleansing. 2D.":
1 2 2 4 5 7 = 5 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 1 vs TN 2 for "Karma 7/20":
3 = 1 Success
«OOC» Slinger says, "No drain thanks to trauma damper."
«OOC» Slinger says, "Normally, you make a test versus the Force of the ward. Extra successes make it last longer in weeks. So… would you let me use successes to divide the base time instead?"
«OOC» Blindside nods. I'm cool with that.
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Magic vs TN 4 for "Force 4 Masking ward. TN is 4.":
1 2 3 3 4 5 5 5 5 10 16 = 7 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 3 vs TN 4 for "Karma 8/20.":
2 2 4 = 1 Success
«OOC» Blindside says, "Hoooah."
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 1 vs TN 4 for "Still karma. Missed one.":
4 = 1 Success
«OOC» Slinger says, "That's 9 succs. Cuts it down to about 27 minutes."
«OOC» Blindside nods. So by the time we get across town.
«OOC» Slinger says, "Yeah. :)"
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Sorcery + Sorcery Pool: 4 + 7 (power focus) vs TN 4 for "Improved Invis, F6. TN is 4 thanks to Cleansing.":
1 2 2 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 8 = 12 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Willpower + Sorcery Pool: 3 vs TN 4 for "Force 6, +1M drain => 4M drain.":
3 3 4 5 5 5 5 7 14 = 7 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Sorcery + Sorcery Pool: 4 + 7 (power focus) vs TN 4 for "Improved Invis, F6. TN is 4 thanks to Cleansing.":
1 2 2 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 8 = 12 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Willpower + Sorcery Pool: 3 vs TN 4 for "Force 6, +1M drain => 4M drain.":
3 3 4 5 5 5 5 7 14 = 7 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Sorcery + 7 (power focus) vs TN 4 for "Improved Reflexes F4, TN is reaction (4). Need 2 succs.":
1 1 1 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 7 8 14 = 8 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Willpower + Sorcery Pool: 4 vs TN 3 for "F4, +1D drain, 3D drain.":
1 2 2 2 3 4 4 5 5 8 = 6 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 13 vs TN 6 for "Bracelet: Dark Armor, F6, TN is 6.":
1 1 3 4 4 4 4 5 5 7 10 11 16 = 4 Successes

Slinger nods, and begins to crawl around the inside of the cab of the truck, making signs in the air. "This is gonna take a while," the youth says, with a slow sigh. "Gonna try to make this fast — not like it needs to hold very long."

You say "Can you do this while I drive, mojo man, or I gotta keep the truck stopped?""

Slinger considers. "I think I can do it while you drive, but I think it'll take longer than it'll take us to get there, is the thing. So hold tight for a bit, huh? I'm gonna see if I can make it go faster…"

Slinger seems to be making good progress. "Go on ahead. I'll finish on the way. Goin' faster than I thought." And true to his word, within another twenty minutes, he has the ward finished. "All right. Lemme start castin'," he says with a grin. And he begins to power up his items, preparing the spells one by one.

Blindside nods then, jacking in to the truck. He goes slack in his little captains seat, the rig making its way slowly across town, obeying all the speed laws, looking just like any normal big-rig. White with generic corporate lettering.

Slinger casts a couple of quick spells — and winks out of existence beside the other man. But then there are grunts as he puts on his armor, working to don it quickly in the confined space. And he's watching out the front — and drops into the seat in plenty of time to activate the next spell.

«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Sorcery + 7 (power focus) vs TN 4 for "Physical Mask, F5. TN is 4 base.":
1 1 1 2 3 3 4 5 5 5 9 10 11 = 7 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Willpower + Sorcery Pool: 5 vs TN 4 for "F5, +1M drain, 3M drain.":
1 1 2 3 3 4 5 5 8 9 14 = 6 Successes
Blindside now looks like a black human male in a red cross uniforms

The truck comes to a rumbling stop about a quarter mile from the wall, pulling in to a large ally, with just enough space for the truck to slide in, almost no clearance to either side. The rigger comes in to to the main area of the trailer, looking at the Mojo man as he works, but not interupting.

Slinger smiles, and makes sure his cigarette is crushed out. "Okay, man. We're cool unless they decide to search the truck." His voice is kept low, and it might be a little disconcerting to hear it originating from the middle of the air. "Go ahead and set up the diversion, then we drive through — and I see who I have to influence.

"I don't think they're gonna search the truck, I mean, for the most part, they are concerned as to whos going in and who's coming out.. I figure if we don't look suspicious…" A glance down at himself. "HOLY FUCKTOAST I'M BLACK!"

Slinger laughs softly, grins. "Good disguise, no?" He can't resist bouncing a little in the seat with amusement as the rigger reacts to his new skintone. He's black — and rather attractive, actually. And not short. That's the coolest bit. He's still not /tall/ — that wouldn't make logistical sense, but he looks to be a good five-foot seven or so, perfectly normal height for a human. "Woulda made you elf, but that image don't fit in the seat," he says apologetically.

"Naw… this kind of cool!" he says, moving to the living quarters to open a stow-away-closet with a full mirror inside the door. "Wow!" There's a moment where he turns his back to slinger, and clearly is checking out his new package. "Dude. They're RIGHT!"

Slinger grins, rather pleased with himself, actually. He seems to have made his new friend happy. "Who's right?" the kid asks, though he suspects he might not want to know. "If you talk nice to me, I'll leave the disguise up while we're visiting the Saints. And you can be good looking and fuckin' big and black and a hero to boot," he says, as he folds his arms. His little present to the rigger, a chance to be hawt.

Blindside lets his stretchypants snap back. "Blackguys have HUGE COCKS!" He reaches then, over to a control pannel. "Bambi, baby!"

"Yes blindy?"

"Put on a show for daddy."

"Oh dear! I seem to have a strangely unspecific vehicular malfunction of a dubious nature!"

Slinger snickers softly. "Don't I know it," Slinger says, and leans back in his seat. "All right. Showtime," he says, and waits for his chance to shine. "You got the right disguise up on the truck?" he asks, just to make sure nothing gets forgotten. As always when things are about to go down, the young elf is tense, excited, his blood pumping. This is what he lives for. He lowers the visor of his helmet, preparing for whatever may come.

"Yeah, on the outside, we look like a red cross transport. Standard rig they run. I got the specs off a rigger-forum on the trix."

Slinger grins. "So the truck looks good, you look good, I look like nothin', and the watcher spirits aren't gonna even touch the truck. Perfect," he says with a smile. "So now we head on. Once she provides a distraction." And he sits back to watch.

«Auto-Judge[]» Blindside (#2329) rolls 3 vs TN 8 for "Cops int to see if bambi ain't real.":
2 3 4 = 0 Successes

Bambi keeps the comm open… "Why, hello officer! I am having a bit of a car trouble!"

"What seems to be the problem, Mi… oh… Oh my… uh… Ma'am, ya seem… well, this here, thats the distributor cap, looks a little… let … oh…"

"Is this alright?"

"Yeah, Base, this is gate four… all clear… I'm taking my 15.."

Slinger watches the officer wander off. "That's one of them," he says, with a hint of satisfaction, and keeps his voice low. And switches into the astral, watching — just to see if anything decides to challenge his ward.

Blindside nods to Slinger. "Lets roll. That means theres only one guy on the gate now." The truck rumbles out of the ally and heads on down the road. Blindside moves up in to the drivers seat, lowering the window so that he can chat with the border guardsman as needed.

Wonderful thing about vehicles — you can cast out of them. Slinger eyes the guard as we approach, and his astral barrier provides no problem for /him/ to cast, since it's attuned to him. And he concentrates on the guard, maintaining the spell requiring him to split his concentration…

«OOC» Slinger says, "Guard's willpower?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Blindside (#2329) rolls 1:
4
«OOC» Blindside says, "Looks like a 4 :)"
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Sorcery + 7 (power focus) vs TN 6 for "Force 4 Control Thoughts, TN is willpower (+2 for sustaining)":
1 2 2 2 2 4 4 4 4 5 5 8 10 = 2 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Willpower + Sorcery Pool: 4 vs TN 5 for "Force 4, +1S, 3S, +2 TN for sustaining.":
1 2 3 4 4 5 5 7 8 9 = 5 Successes
«OOC» Slinger says, "Gonna karma both rolls."
«OOC» Blindside nods.
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 11 vs TN 6 for "Karma of sorcery roll: 9/20.":
1 1 2 2 2 2 4 4 5 5 11 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 10 vs TN 6 for "Karma of sorcery roll: 11/20":
1 1 4 4 4 5 5 7 9 15 = 3 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls 5 vs TN 5 for "Karma of Willpower roll: 12/20.":
2 2 3 8 10 = 2 Successes
«OOC» Slinger says, "There we go. Total of… 6 successes, no drain. TN of spell is 4. He has to get 6 successes to beat me."

The youth concentrates on the guard, working to implant the thoughts in his mind. Finally, the shipment's arriving. They're three hours late. Where the hell have they been? All the documents are in order, no need to even look them over.

The guardsman looks over the paperwork that Blindside hands on down. "Jesus christ, you dipshit, you're runnin late!" He signs off on the log, then passes it back. "Get your ass in there, they must be running low by now!"

Blindside nods. "Yessir, just doing my job! I can only haul what's been loaded, and there was a back up at the dock!" He puts the truck in gear, getting ready to head on through to the warrens.

«Auto-Judge[]» Blindside (#2329) rolls 5 for "Mystery!":
1 3 3 9 14

Very quietly, Slinger says, "Ask him where to go. Tells us where /not/ to go." His voice is very low, and probably even spoken into his subvocal mic — radios are a wonderful thing. Especially with good encryption.

The guardsman nods to Blindside, about to wave him through the gate. He pauses through, as a call comes through his radio. He holds up a finger to Blindside, to pause him.

"Murphy? He's on his 15. No, Everything's normal here. The truck? Oh, thats shipment 401 for Camp Mercy… Yeah, I have it on my manifest. It's right here."

Slinger listens, ready to issue another mental command — but the guard appears to be doing all the work for him. 401 for Camp Mercy. If it sounds like they're saying anything bad, though, he'll call it a bureaucratic snafu… and make sure this guy believes it. Though if they give him a direct order… that would be bad. He waits, hardly even daring to breathe.

Slinger also reinforces the thought: yes, it's here in the manifest. Been expecting them.

"Yes, I have it on my manifest. I just fracken said that! No, no, I'm sorry sir. I don't mean to be disrespectful. Look, Sargent Murphys on his 15. You want me to hold this shipment here, I'll do that, but them folks at Camp Mercy, they been callin asken where the hell it is." Murphy lies; working stiffs gotta stick together when the upstairs can't be assed to do their jobs properly.

"Well, I gotcha, sir. The trucks gonna roll, and I'll send over a copy of my manifest here."

The youth sends the suggestion to the cop to 'forget' to do just that. To forget to send it — buying us a little more time. His gaze flicks back toward where the car is, but he hasn't heard anything in that direction. Hopefully the bimbo will be smart enough in her robotic programming to report back if the cop tires of helping her.

The Cop waves blindside through, as he steps back to his little impromptu gaurdshack. Blindside puts the truck in gear and rolls on through… The Truck rolls on in, rumbling down the street.

Slinger grins and maintains the spell for the moment. He'll drop it only once he needs to do something else. Two spells at once is something he can handle, though it does place a bit of load on him. "All right. Now you're through — now the question is, where we go so we don't run into any more cops. That camp he mentioned — any clue where it is?"

"Yeah, its out on the lake, its where the Red Cross and the CDC are set up. It's about 2 miles in. We just turn off the main road…" Which Blindside then does… "And we disappear from their radar. Cause the cops ain't paid to come in the diseased sprawl, ya know? They don't wanna be here… and since the camps not actually expecting this shipment… no ones coming to look for us.

Slinger grins. "Bingo. You're a genius. Getting out should be easier than getting in, of course." He ponders. "What about Bambi? She got someplace she can go retreat to?" he wonders. Things seem to be better, so he lights up a cigarette — after lifting his visor of course. The smoke appears from midair from his cigarette, curling up from the invisible smokestick. But it definitely /smells/ real.

"Bambi, yeah, she's gonna head back to los Meciana, thats a garage over in azland where I hang out sometimes… She's a good girl, she knows what to do. Smart for a bot, too."

"Yeah," the youth agrees. "Anyway. Now we just gotta keep from getting truckjacked while we make it to Saints turf. You let me know about anybody who needs zotted, and I'll zot 'em," he says with a grin. "Though they're probably getting low on ammo." He rubs his hands together, takes another drag of carcinogenic smoke, and proceeds to do a little watching of his own.

You say "Fuck truckjacked, this bitch has enough armor to ignore most of the guns these guys got.""

Pulling to a stop in front of Angel's Delight, the rigger gestures to the outside of the truck…. "Well, go get your buddys and getcher shit off my truck. Now I gotta figure out how to get the truck back out!"

Slinger laughs softly, and glances around warily, before he climbs out of the truck. Still invisible, mind. And then strides up to the door of the place — which si closed for business. Just a hangout for the guys. And that's when he pounds on the door — and takes about five steps back, and slightly off to the side in case anybody decides to shoot first.

The Saints come out, eyeing the rig warily, and Slinger. But, Zak's there, so that eases things. The rear ramp is lowered and the truck is slowly emptied. The Saints are very impressed with the shear amount of the goods provided. "Omae!" Says Gabriel then, a grin on his features. "This is some Arctic drek!"

Slinger fades back into existence. "Special delivery!" he calls out, once he's sure he won't get caught. And he gestures toward the truck invitingly, making a bit of a theatrical performance out of it. And finally, he drops the spell on the border guard — maintaining two spells can be draining. But less so, for just one of them. He lights up a cancer stick, the passes around the pack, hoping for a little praise. And he gets it from Gabriel. "Only the best for my buds. Little more than you asked for — figured you could use some extra."

"Extra, this is… " Gabriel eyes the load. "About twice what we asked for." And it is about that; with the extra Kassandra threw in, and the extra blindside tossed in, the load is about double what was ordered. "This is -ice-, Slinger." He says, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. "This is gonna put the Saints on Terra firma, bro-hiem."

Slinger laughs, nodding. "Might even let you gain s'more turf. And you'll notice there's some stuff in there that's… well, not what the Red Cross would bring ya. Smokes and booze, though we figure you guys got your own channels for harder drugs. And some ammo for the guns, figured you'd be running low. Just sorry we couldn't get here sooner. Zak said you guys weren't hit too hard by it directly, at least." He grins. "You think you might wanna hang out with me and B-side here for a bit, maybe open the doors and celebrate a little?"

Slinger laughs, nodding. "Might even let you gain s'more turf. And you'll notice there's some stuff in there that's… well, not what the Red Cross would bring ya. Smokes and booze, though we figure you guys got your own channels for harder drugs. And some ammo for the guns, figured you'd be running low. Just sorry we couldn't get here sooner. Zak said you guys weren't hit too hard by it directly, at least." He grins. "You think you might wanna hang out with me and B-side here for a bit, maybe open the doors and celebrate a little?"

"Mano, I can't, not right now, I gotta get on this shit getten distributed. Wouldn't be right to the folk." Says Gabriel then, gesturing to the people of his turf who are coming out to observe the off loading… "If I threw a party right now. But you come back when this shit blows over, and drinks on the house, you scan me? You're my -man!-"

Slinger grins and claps Gabriel on the shoulder. "You guys take good care. We're gonna skedaddle out of here, then. Brought Zak back to you — he did real good. Real brave of him," he says, with pride in his voice as he indicates the young ganger-wannabe. "Just about kicked my ass in hand to hand, too, I'll tell you. Almost," he adds, with a wink toward the Native boy. "You got a good one there. Might wanna keep him around."

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