Outside The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:39 AM PST | Combat Phase 2
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

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Fixer's Uzi burns through half the rounds in his magazine, the hot lead cutting through the storm water to riddle the driver and rear door of the passing vehicle. He mentally keeps count as he feels the recoiling weapon spit each round out of its chamber. This is the first time he has fired the weapon at another living person. Target practice is something, but this is different. An emotional numbness courses through him. Fixer surprises himself at how calm he is. Though the adrenaline flows through his veins, he does not feel the expected emotional guilt at possible having taken a life. At the same time, Vegas fires his weapon at the passing car in a half-hearted attempt at retaliation for the cowardly attack, but his main focus is on protecting Starlight. Casino watches his three round burst have the desired effect as well.

Fixer numbly watches as the pimped car swerves through a course of actions and into the oncoming lane of traffic. Time seems to slow as the boosters smash headlong into a non-combatant's van. Crunch of steel on steel rebounds through the air. Those in the van aren't part of this meaningless conflict, the same with those caught in the crossfire, but this too means nothing to the technician at this time.

Feeling only a small consolation that his bullets have riddled the hood and windshield of the passing car, Vegas considers the future of their run, especially if Starlight dies it might be next to impossible to collect a reward for finding and returning the missing boy to Santa.

Peering about reveals that Starlight is hit, but the threat is not confirmed to be finished and Brayden had taught him that in a firefight, finishing the threat comes first before aiding an injured comrade. The techie rushes over to the boosters vehicle to inspect the interior. Relying upon Casino and Fixer to provide any necessary coverfire, the dapper Solo turns his back to the conflict and rushes to attend the wounded Starlight.

He finds her still alive, in spite of all the blood resulting from a shot through the Trapezius Muscle (the muscle between the shoulder and the neck). The small hole just inside her coat's neckline is pumping blood in a rhythmic flow that is likely matching the beautiful woman's heartbeat. Her baby blue eyes are wide and filled with pain, fright, and frustration. Blood spatter from the gunshot wound speckles the underside of her jaw-line and dots her right cheek in sharp contrast to the lightshow from her active Techhair®.

"Son of a bitch!" she groans against the pain upon Vegas' sliding arrival. She struggles to pull herself up on her elbows and winces as she collapses partway into the red-washed, rain-soaked concrete, barely supported by the newly arrived solo. "What the hell was that?"

(OOC: Vegas' response.)

Vegas did his best to stop the bleeding and keep their employer alive in hopes of collecting a payday for the safe return of the lost boy.

Traffic is backed up and the line of cars on both sides of the street is growing. Most drivers and passengers near the scene are either taking cover below the dash and window lines of their vehicles, or bailing from the cars altogether and high-tailing it into nearby buildings. The doorman at the Rat Pack has vanished, and the doors to the facility are closed up tight. There are neither individuals to helps in the situation, or it appears to cause more conflict.

Quickly recalling a lesson of old, "Don't go into an unknown situation with a half full mag," Fixer keeps his uzi pointed towards the vehicle as he strides forward in a crouch, swapping out the magazine in mid-stride and placing the half-empty back in the holster that he pulls the full one out of. He is prepared to end this threat if need be. To his left, the techie can see Casino approaching in similar manner with his MPK 11 held at ready.

Fixer takes the right side of the hammered car limping with pain while Casino takes the left. The two men move cautiously at first, and when no movement or gunfire is evident, they almost simultaneously press the vehicle in a rush. Front-end impact has torqued the frame and bent the fenders over the doors. The tinted windows on the right side are shut, the front bears a large crack that mars its otherwise glistening surface through to about half-way, but the back window is solidly closed and intact. The driver's side window bears a single bullet hole with the spiderweb of impacted glass spreading from it in dramatic prose. The rear window is half opened still, but Casino is witness only to the back of the driver's seat wrapped in red synth-leather.

Vegas' experience with patching up wounds is practically non-existent. In the past, there have always been medtechs on hand to deal with the trauma. One thing he does know is to put pressure on the injury and this he does by pressing the butt of his left palm into the woman's shoulder eliciting a sharp cry of pain in the process.

"For the love of all," Starlight hisses through her teeth, her little body tensing with the shock. Her right hand feebly reaches up and pats around her ribs and then breast. "Where's my frellin' agent!" she groans and allows her body to go limp in Vegas' soaked lap. "If my agent isn't damaged," she breathes listlessly. "An AV should be here any minute now."

(OOC: Vegas' response.)

The fixer raises her head and looks into the dapper solo's tired-looking blue eyes. "Get me on that AV, choomba. I'll be fine. But I want a—" she coughs and a weakly wipes the rainwater from her lips. "—a frellin' report on the run. Santa is looking for a letter."

(OOC: Vegas' response.)

Casino rounds himself on the window and levels his submachine gun inside. Immediately, automatic weapons fire erupts in his face from the booster lying nearly prone in the back seat. Heated metal whips past the solo's face with such proximity that he feels the tingle against his flesh as he reflexively arches backward away from the attack. The defensive posturing saves his life, but he doesn't come away unscathed as two of the rounds slam into him; one in the right bicep and the other off of the upper left shoulder. The impact staggers the large man backward and drops him to the asphalt with a splash, agony tears angrily through his entire right side, down through his chest and up into his jaw while a dull pulse thunders down his right side. Through the sudden blazing fire that threatens to devour his senses, Casino is able to maintain a hold of his submachine gun, but lying on his back just outside the door, he has no clear shot of his latest assailant. Grinding his teeth, he raises his weapon and grips it with both hands, flips the switch from three-round burst to full auto with his thumb, and peppers the door with his own volley.

Standing at the right rear fender of the crunched vehicle, Fixer can see that the driver of the van is injured, but still alive. The van appears to be a delivery vehicle without passengers and the driver—a Hispanic male wearing blue overalls that are now spattered with blood from the head wound he sustained— is rolling his head slowly from side to side while remaining strapped into his seat. The exchange of gunfire quickly rips the techie's attention from the van to the left side of the pimped ride where he see's Casino roll backward and then vanish out of sight. The thunder of return fire is cause for Fixer to hunch his shoulders and slide his back down the wet metal of the car as he slumps to the ground hearing the impacting rounds strike the interior of the door next to him and press their way through the window in a massive cacophony of shattering glass and rending steel.

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Maintenance Tunnels | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:39 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

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"Onward, then?" Bloodbank calmly asks. When no one objects, he proceeds with the plan and

the quartet begins again walking through the tunnels. Bloodbank keeps his eyes straight ahead, mechanically putting one foot in front of the other as he walks, following the general movement of the group. If one was to look closely at him, however, it is evident in his eyes that despite his calm outward expression, there is a fierce mental deposition in his mind.

Long ago, after a horrid job that he will never share the particulars of with anyone, he had sworn to himself that he would never, ever again, turn his weapon upon someone that did not deserve it. He had told himself that he would rather die than travel down that road again. And yet, tonight he finds his sights trained on some guard whose only crime against him is trying to prevent the group of them from illegally bypassing security and entering a restricted area of the city integrate. In the heat of the moment he had forgotten his pledge, or had chosen to ignore it and was the same cruel, violent man that he had tried so hard to pretend does not exist. He doesn't know which possibility is worse; the fact that he is unable to leave his violent tendencies behind, or that deep down he doesn't want to change.

Ghlahn looks at the door next to the exit sign and voices his thoughts, "Getting out of the tunnels gives us more options. But, if there is a sec-team on the other side of the door we are finished." After a moment's thought he adds, "I vote we leave the tunnels."

Bloodbank blinks, the group has stopped in front of a sad old door and without realizing it, he has stopped with them. Glahn's statement has brought him out of his dark brooding, however, and now his full attention is on the door in front of them.

"I agree," Echo adds with a tired tone. "I'm feeling awfully claustrophobic in here."

The pale, yellow light cast upon the door provides it with an eerie, almost foreboding look to Bloodbank. It is the first door that they have seen in awhile and as such, the Med-tech is inclined to agree with Glahn and the leather-clad nomad woman.

"We're doing no good wandering around the tunnels," He says, staring hard at the chipped metal door, as though trying to see through it. "I agree. Let's get out of here, and find out where we are."

"You've got my vote, chombattas," Blossom states with entheusiasm. "But, I'd suggest you all put those masks back on and ready yourselves for trouble while I work on the door security. ‘Cause, the way things are going t'night, ya know?"

(OOC: Responses and Actions.)

Taking a lollipop from her jacket, the bubbly little netrunner unwraps the candy with casual familiarity as she walks right up to the security box. Stuffing the wrapper in her pocket with her left hand, she pops the grape-flavored delight into her mouth and then retrieves the pink and black link cables from the same pocket she has deposited the wrapper into. Plugging the link cables into her left-hand bracer, she activates the smart keyboard. Tiny pulsating bulbs of light begin dancing across her link cable the instant she pushes the connecting end into the security box. Mental commands activate her optics bringing to life the NuCybe "glass" that covers her almond-shaped eyes beneath her heart-shaped pink sunglasses, revealing the contained cyberworld of the security card reader.

(( Run Wardrive Routine )) Blossom's icon springs up from the ground, a beautiful anime woman with pink hair pulled up in ponytails on either side of her head wearing a cute little schoolgirl's uniform. The icon puts its right hand over its mouth and giggles, then spins about with her arms out and exclaims, "Ready! Go!"

(( Run Stealth )) The cute little icon throws her hands in the air and yells, "You can't see me!" as a sheet of black energy drapes her figure and conceals her digital imagery.

(( Analyze Defenses )) Command entered.

The icon of a Japanese Anime dog leaps forward before her eyes and begins sniffing around, almost immediately returning to bark out a caption (( Codewall )). Instantly, the screen in front of the wardriver's eyes flows with a stream of ones and zeros depicting the wall.

(( Run Codecracker ))

The dog vanishes in a swirl and a beam of light shoots directly from the outstretched arms of Blossom's hidden icon to strike at the wall of churning binary code. Impacting the center of the wall, the light spreads quickly throughout it, changing the color of each of the numbers from a blue on black to a white on pink before the wall disintegrates before her.

"I'm in," she mutters around the lollipop. Behind the vanishing wall appears a wide box that resembles an old-fashioned code device. Willing her icon forward, Blossom approaches the box and spins the first of the dials, then the second, then the third, until all are spinning in sequence. Stepping backward in the void, Blossom runs the Codecracker command again. The light beam strikes the spinning device and each of the dials settles on a number with a click that resonates through the wardriver's head.

(( Exit ))

The digital world before her instantly dissolves, her optic screen peeling back in relaying extraction to vanish within the NuCybe rim set into the orbital bone of her outer eye sockets. With another mental command, the netrunner deactivates her smart keyboard and it retreats back into her hand bracer. Retrieving the link cable from the box, Blossom skips backward out of the way of the combat types while winding the cord about her hand.

"There you go," she pipes up. "I configged our way outta here."

Echo is the first to respond, "Nicely done, Chica!" she quickly steps forward and grips the handle. "You boys ready?" she asks, looking back at Ghlahn and Bloodbank.

(OOC: assuming a yes,)

Pulling the door open a crack, the pretty nomad peers through and into the night. Cold, wet wind slaps her face and blows in through the door, penetrating the hall beyond. "We're clear," Echo informs everyone while opening the door further. "At least for now."

Immediately outside the door is a steel grated platform approximately one and a half meters across by the same wide with three foot high steel rails painted by the ferociously falling rain. A set of ten stairs made from the same material lead down to the left and deposit those traversing them on a drenched sidewalk some three meters below. starscrapers rise up about the street, vanishing into the storm clouds like monolithic giants of luxury and wealth. The street is wide, four lanes total, two going one way and two the other. Street vehicles splash through the rain, motorcycles, cars, trucks, vans, the variations are plentiful. Overhead, just below the cloud cover, two lanes of AV vehicles make their way through the night. Sound ordinances mean very little to the traffic and horns blare in the night accented by thunder from the storms raging above. The sidewalks aren't teaming with people so much as providing a swatch of safety from vehicular traffic for the few who are braving the storm.

Lighted rain slickers, en vogue air purifying masks, Techhair® styles blowing in the wind, and Air-Shield 150® umbrellas projecting various holographic patterns over the heads of their owners are all visible. A nearby passer-by looks up at the door with squinting Asian eyes that are illuminated green by designer EyeBrite® contacts. He's wearing an Icon America rainslick with emerald colored light strips accenting the cut and has an Electro-Mag Leash with which he's walking a full-sized poodle wearing a matching rain slick. Without so much as acknowledging what he's seen, the man moves closer to the street and passes by.

Hovering neon signs point to a tunnel to the right some hundred to hundred and fifty meters away, reading I-5; Night City / High City, North; and Night City / High City, Central. Near the mouth of the tunnel sits a bus station, lit up like a concert stage with digital advertisements playing across every surface displaying everything from winter clothing lines to the latest agent model. On the same side of the street that the team has emerged, approximately halfway between them and the tunnel, a series of public elevators are in use by various traffickers, bright, blue and red lit tubes that rise up from the concrete surface providing means for foot traffic to reach higher levels of the integrate without having to hike the many, many stairs lacing the alleys and footpaths of the city. Left of the party is such a stairwell.

Covered to protect the occupants, the right side allows downward access while the left is pressed against the smooth surface of the adjacent building providing upward flow. Each of the stairwells also provides a wide escalator lane. Here, too, advertisements are displayed over each entrance and down the length of the stairs. Just past the stairs, the drenched, yellow awning of a sophisticated hotel front is welcoming a black van from which steps a series of well-dressed people who have obviously been enjoying their evening out. Armed and armored guards stand along the carpeted pathway leading into the hotel just underneath the awning, providing protection to the establishment's guests.

Across the street, more buildings tower over the sidewalk. As is the case in almost every street level environment, the most readily accessed buildings are storefronts, hotel lobbies, and restaurant dining rooms. Over these are the conapts, condos, and full apartments of the High City Residents, offices, and clubs that host the elite of society with entrance fees to match. Occasionally, holes open up in the gray, boiling clouds spilling forth their contents to reveal the underside of the upper streets, or a view of the starscrapers continuing to climb into another layer of clouds.

"We're about five clicks from the school," Blossom reports, her optic display activated and synched to her agent. "That way," she points to the right, towards the tunnel. "Do we take the direct route, or make like mice in a maze and wander frenetically all about to throw potential tails?"

Vegas came to Starlight's aid as quickly as he could.

He finds her still alive, in spite of all the blood resulting from a shot through the Trapezius Muscle (the muscle between the shoulder and the neck). The small hole just inside her coat's neckline is pumping blood in a rhythmic flow that is likely matching the beautiful woman's heartbeat. Her baby blue eyes are wide and filled with pain, fright, and frustration. Blood spatter from the gunshot wound speckles the underside of her jaw-line and dots her right cheek in sharp contrast to the lightshow from her active Techhair®.

"Son of a bitch!" she groans against the pain upon Vegas' sliding arrival. She struggles to pull herself up on her elbows and winces as she collapses partway into the red-washed, rain-soaked concrete, barely supported by the newly arrived solo. "What the hell was that?"

"That was a group of Boosters from the Rat Pack who disagreed with my songs and bedside manner!"

Vegas' experience with patching up wounds is practically non-existent. In the past, there have always been medtechs on hand to deal with the trauma. One thing he does know is to put pressure on the injury and this he does by pressing the butt of his left palm into the woman's shoulder eliciting a sharp cry of pain in the process.

"For the love of all," Starlight hisses through her teeth, her little body tensing with the shock. Her right hand feebly reaches up and pats around her ribs and then breast. "Where's my frellin' agent!" she groans and allows her body to go limp in Vegas' soaked lap. "If my agent isn't damaged," she breathes listlessly. "An AV should be here any minute now."

Vegas keeps the pressure of his left palm on the bleeding wound, while locating the Agent and placing it in Starlight's right hand.

"Here's your Agent,""replies the Solo, "none the worse for wear!"

The fixer raises her head and looks into the dapper solo's tired-looking blue eyes. "Get me on that AV, choomba. I'll be fine. But I want a—" she coughs and a weakly wipes the rainwater from her lips. "—a frellin' report on the run. Santa is looking for a letter."

Vegas lifts and transfers Starlight into the AV as gently as he can manage.

"Santa Will Get A Letter When We Have Something To Write!" shouts the Chairman to make sure Starlight hears his words above the noise on the street and in the AV.

After awaiting any further responses or instructions from Starlight, the Solo makes sure she is properly attended to, before drawing his weapons to provide any necessary cover fire.

The Dapper Solo then turns his attention towards his companions Casino and Fixer, as a 'Burning Vengeance' rises within him and ignites twin fiery flames in his previously tired baby blue eyes!

(OOC: Vegas surveys both his own immediate surroundings, as well as the situation confronting his partner Casino and Fixer.

Vengeance is flaming in both of his baby blue eyes as the Frank Sinatra look-alike somewhat cautiously makes his way to aid his comrades, intent upon providing more cover fire as needed.

He is also on the lookout for anyone who might provide any information on where to find either Dauntless Dog or where the rest of the cowardly Boosters hang out.)

Ghlahn scanned the way ahead. His experience helped him pick out a few items of note. There was a security camera above the door which he pointed out to the others. "Gotta be careful we stay out of its vision." Before the others had a chance to move he noticed movement, "Patrol car in the AV lane". Looking at the hotel he took in the security. "We'd best avoid the hotel, those guys are packing for trouble. That road requires a toll. Not sure if it matters to us. The escalators and elevator seem equipped with a credchip device. Lucky the stairs are free so..."

Outside The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:39 AM PST Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Casino watched his 3 rd burst seemed to have the desired effect causing the car veer to the right, smashing parked cars before finally rebounding into oncoming traffic and crashing headlong into a van with a mighty impact.

Moving quickly, reloading the MPK with a full magazine, he made his way to the boosters car to look inside......

Automatic weapons fire explodes from the inside of the car, bullets flying past his face, from a booster still alive and fighting from the back seat. Barely diving away. the brunt of the full auto burst misses him, yet the big solo feels two bullets slam into him as he goes down. Pain flashing through his upper left shoulder and right bicep, angry at his own carelessness and Fixer and Vegas's stubborn arrogance, that the boosters posed no real threat. he switched from burst to full auto himself. Sitting on his ass, he poured a mass of full metal jacketed 9mm slugs into the interior of the car. His anger growing he stood, slinging the MPK around to his back, and once more moved to the car. Drawing one of his 44's he moved more carefully and peered in. His anger full bore by this time he trained the 44 at each booster, dead or still alive, and put a bullet in each ones head.

Only F*****g way to be sure

Moving slowly he holstered the 44 back under his left arm. Though his anger was still there inside him, seeing the head's of the boosters explode like ripe watermelons under the power of the big 44 caliber slugs, was enough to get it back under control. Moving up to Fixer he noticed the techie had also not gone unscratched.

"Your hurt, how bad?" Casino quickly moved to exam the Tech's leg. "S*** that's gonna bruise and hurt for awhile. Where's Vegas?"

Turning to over look the scene his worst fear about coming outside had come true. Starlight down on the street with blood from a bullet wound.

"Oh F***" moving to the Frank Sinatra solo, he watched as Starlight came up bitching, struggling to her feet with Vegas's help, but very much alive.

"Son of a bitch!, What the hell was that?"

"That was a group of Boosters from the Rat Pack who disagreed with my songs and bedside manner!"

At Vegas's reply, Casino could not help but roll his eyes and shake his head, feeling the pain from two bullet holes that should not have been there but for his partner's ego.

"For the love of all...." Starlight hisses through her teeth, her little body tensing with the shock. Her right hand feebly reaches up and pats around her ribs and then breast. "Where's my frellin' agent!" she groans and allows her body to go limp in Vegas' soaked lap. "If my agent isn't damaged," she breathes listlessly. "An AV should be here any minute now."

"Here's your Agent," replied Vegas handing the smart phone secretary to Starlight., "none the worse for wear!"

Casino watched as Starlight raised her head and looked straight into Vegas's eyes. "Get me on that AV, choomba. I'll be fine. But I want a—" she coughs and a weakly wipes the rainwater from her lips. "—a frellin' report on the run. Santa is looking for a letter."

As Casino moved to help, he saw Vegas had it easily in hand as he lifted Starlight into her AV before drawing his weapons and looking around as if to join the already over fight.

"No worries choomba, its all won and done." Casino informed Vegas before turning away. Moving off the street and back towards the clubs front wall, his pain editor working over time, he reloaded the MPK and 44. With his back leaning against the club's exterior wall he waited for the cops or Lady Campbell's people to take charge of the next few hours......

"Work your magic. If we can get a free ride it beats walking."

"There you go," she pipes up. "I configged our way outta here."

Echo is the first to respond, "Nicely done, Chica!" she quickly steps forward and grips the handle. "You boys ready?" she asks, looking back at Ghlahn and Bloodbank.

Bloodbank took a deep breath to clear his mind and nodded. He needed to be focused.

Pulling the door open a crack, the pretty nomad peers through and into the night. Cold, wet wind slaps her face and blows in through the door, penetrating the hall beyond. "We're clear," Echo informs everyone while opening the door further. "At least for now."

Bloodbank was the last one to get a glimpse out into the world beyond their dingy tunnel. He had a couple of moments to survey the surroundings, noticing several things worth noting before his companions spoke up.

"We're about five clicks from the school," Blossom reports, her optic display activated and synched to her agent. "That way," she points to the right, towards the tunnel. "Do we take the direct route, or make like mice in a maze and wander frenetically all about to throw potential tails?"

Ghlahn scanned the way ahead. His experience helped him pick out a few items of note. There was a security camera above the door which he pointed out to the others. "Gotta be careful we stay out of its vision." Before the others had a chance to move he noticed movement, "Patrol car in the AV lane". Looking at the hotel he took in the security. "We'd best avoid the hotel, those guys are packing for trouble. That road requires a toll. Not sure if it matters to us. The escalators and elevator seem equipped with a credchip device. Lucky the stairs are free so..." ***)

Echo turns to the group, "Stay inside for the moment until the patrol car passes, he could turn around really quick!" she cautioned, pushing them back inside. "And yes, those hotel goons are bad mojo", she agreed with Ghlahn.

Turning to the netrunner she asks, hope in her voice, "Chicka, can you scramble that camera above the door for a bit to hide our exit?"

"I'm familiar with the system that runs the toll machines, my tribe would, umm," Echo looks a bit uncomfortable as she speaks, "'get passage' in a way. I'm pretty sure I could rig it to work for us in the same fashion," she says with a hopefull smile.

"Work your magic. If we can get a free ride it beats walking." Glahn said.


Bloodbank leaned against the damp, tunnel walls, looking at the group of them. "I concur," was his simple reply. "So, Blossom scrambles the camera if possible, and then we make a bee-line for the elevators?"

Fixer could see that the driver of the van was injured but alive, at least that much would not be resting on his conscience this night. A burst of gunfire brought his attention to the side where he saw Casino roll backwards and out of sight, not knowing if the man was injured. Weapons fire came from where the solo had taken cover at and fixer hunched down once more into cover.

Not knowing if anybody was still alive from within the car, he was not one to take a chance at such. He fixed his uzi's sights onto the side door and fired off a pair of bursts. He would be a bit cautious before approaching the bullet ridden vehicle.

(Okay....going to fire off a pair of bursts and then approach the vehicle in a combat glide or crawl if necessary. Combat glide --- think where you see infantry guys hunched over a bit and walking to where they're about half to two thirds their normal height. If can get close enough will open the door a bit and just fire a good burst into the back seat; dont even need to get a good look. If he's dead by what Casino's post says then fixer will rendezvous back up with casino.)

(*** Echo is the first to respond, "Nicely done, Chica!" she quickly steps forward and grips the handle. "You boys ready?" she asks, looking back at Ghlahn and Bloodbank.

Pulling the door open a crack, the pretty nomad peers through and into the night. Cold, wet wind slaps her face and blows in through the door, penetrating the hall beyond. "We're clear," Echo informs everyone while opening the door further. "At least for now."

We're about five clicks from the school," Blossom reports, her optic display activated and synched to her agent. "That way," she points to the right, towards the tunnel. "Do we take the direct route, or make like mice in a maze and wander frenetically all about to throw potential tails?"

Ghlahn scanned the way ahead. His experience helped him pick out a few items of note. There was a security camera above the door which he pointed out to the others. "Gotta be careful we stay out of its vision." Before the others had a chance to move he noticed movement, "Patrol car in the AV lane". Looking at the hotel he took in the security. "We'd best avoid the hotel, those guys are packing for trouble. That road requires a toll. Not sure if it matters to us. The escalators and elevator seem equipped with a credchip device. Lucky the stairs are free so..." ***)

Echo turns to the group, "Stay inside for the moment until the patrol car passes, he could turn around really quick!" she cautioned, pushing them back inside. "And yes, those hotel goons are bad mojo", she agreed with Ghlahn.

Turning to the netrunner she asks, hope in her voice, "Chicka, can you scramble that camera above the door for a bit to hide our exit?"

"If any of us have enough cred to use the elevators or escalators, I'm okay with that, although if there are alerts to any of our names or faces, we're hosed. I'm perfectly fine with the stairs, but some of us are injured yet and the climb might be difficult. As far as the tunnels, I know my clan used to be able to rig the devices in vehicles to be let thru the tunnels without actual toll payment, but I'm not exactly sure how they did it, I just know it worked." Echo looked hopefully at the others, "Do any of you have the knowledge to rig 'em?"

(OOC - sorry for the misinformation. I made an incorrect assumption based off of info given me by Brom)

Outside The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:39 AM PST | Combat Phase 3
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

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"Son of a bitch!" the small fixer groans against the pain upon Vegas' sliding arrival. She struggles to pull herself up on her elbows and winces as she collapses partway into the red-washed, rain-soaked concrete, barely supported by the newly arrived solo. "What the hell was that?"

"That was a group of Boosters from the Rat Pack who disagreed with my songs and bedside manner!" Vegas' experience with patching up wounds is practically non-existent. In the past, there have always been medtechs on hand to deal with the trauma. One thing he does know is to put pressure on the injury and this he does by pressing the butt of his left palm into the woman's shoulder eliciting a sharp cry of pain in the process.

"For the love of all," Starlight hisses through her teeth, her little body tensing with the shock. Her right hand feebly reaches up and pats around her ribs and then breast. "Where's my frellin' agent!" she groans and allows her body to go limp in Vegas' soaked lap. "If my agent isn't damaged," she breathes listlessly. "An AV should be here any minute now."

Vegas keeps the pressure of his left palm on the bleeding wound, while locating the agent and placing it in Starlight's right hand. "Here's your agent," the solo informs her. "none the worse for wear."

The fixer raises her head and looks into the dapper solo's tired-looking blue eyes. "Get me on that AV, choomba. I'll be fine. But I want a—" she coughs and a weakly wipes the rainwater from her lips. "—a frellin' report on the run. Santa is looking for a letter."

A decisive glance about the scene reveals to the dapper soldier that the AV hasn't arrived yet. More gunfire screams behind him but Vegas isn't able to tell where it originated from when he twists about at the waist.

"Santa will get a letter when we have something to write," responds the alert Chairman.

"Where's the rest of the team, Vegas?" Starlight grips his trenchcoat's collar with her petite fist and looks him dead in the eye. "Santa isn't a patient sort, savvy?"

Automatic weapons fire explodes from the inside of the car, bullets flying past his face, from a booster still alive and fighting from the back seat. Barely diving away, the brunt of the full auto burst misses him, yet the big solo feels two bullets slam into him and he goes down to his back, splashing in the greasy puddles covering the street. Pain flashing through his upper left shoulder and right bicep inciting his Pain Editor to immediately kick on. Angry at his own carelessness, and Fixer and Vegas's stubborn arrogance concerning the boosters, he switches from burst to full auto with a flick of his thumb. Sitting up, legs outstretched before him, he pours a mass of full metal jacketed 9mm slugs into the interior of the car through the door. Cybernetics mellow the pain to a dull throb as he swivels his legs beneath his bulk and turns his seated position into a crouch, smoke rising from the heated barrel of his submachine gun.

Fixer could see that the driver of the van was injured but alive—at least that much would not be resting on his conscience this night. A burst of gunfire brings his attention to the other side of the booster's damaged vehicle just in time to witness Casino roll backwards and out of sight. Not knowing if the man was injured, the techie considers his options but weapons fire coming from where the solo had vanished makes up his mind for him and Fixer hunches down once more behind the cover of the rear fender.

Glass shatters, blown out from the interior of the vehicle's back seat, to bounce into the waters gathering on the street in front of the techie. Not knowing if anybody is still alive within the car, he isn't one to take a chance. Fixing his Uzi's sights onto the rear side door he fires off a burst. He is determined to be a bit cautious in approaching the bullet ridden vehicle.

His anger growing, the leather-clad solo slings the MPK around to his back and snatches the Armalite .44 from his left shoulder holster upon hearing a three-round burst roar from the other side of the vehicle. Cautiously moving to the car, Casino peers in through the shattered window. Movement from the other side of the back seat instantly catches his eye; the back door is opening and the barrel of a weapon is slid within. Another three-round burst penetrates the back seat of the passenger side, jerking the already slumped body of a Grease Monkey punk like a marionette.

Blood paints the white synth-leather interior of the back seat where two boosters' bodies are sprawled out. Frothy pink bubbles have formed on the lips of the gang member who had opened up on them to begin with, his weapon is still clenched in his hand though it now rests against the floor of the sedan. He stares at Casino with the blank gaze of the dead, draped against the body of the other gangbanger whose head has been exploded all over the back, passenger side interior.

His anger full bore by this time, Casino trains the .44 at the booster's head and drills a round through the cranium just above his right eye. Only F*****g way to be sure, he rationalizes as he pulls his weapon back and takes hold of the driver's door handle.

Positive that he's no longer the target of gunmen, Fixer still involuntarily jerks when Casino fires a round into the booster's head. Swinging the door wide after firing a three-round burst into the front passenger's back, the techie steps back just enough to allow the passenger side, back seat gang member to fall unceremoniously out. Pinned by the body of his dead ganger friend, the man's destroyed head, shoulders, and upper body is about all that manages to roll partially from the car. A perfectly timed glance across the roof of the sedan and Fixer's meets Casino's steely-eyed gaze just before the big man opens the driver's door and puts a round into the driver's body.

Moving slowly, Casino holsters the Armalite back under his left arm. Though his anger is still burning inside, seeing the heads of the boosters explode like ripe watermelons under the power of the big .44 caliber slugs, was enough to get it back under control. Walking calmly around the back of the once pretty vehicle, the large solo approaches the techie and looks him over quickly with a critical eye.

"Your hurt? How bad?" Casino drops to a crouch to exam the Tech's leg. "S*** that's gonna bruise and hurt for awhile. Where's Vegas?" Standing, he turns to look over the scene.

Sirens sound from somewhere nearby. The street is a complete standstill, people in sight of the incident have vacated their vehicles, others have made the attempt to get turned around, and still some more further down the line have managed to do so and are speeding away. Quite a ways down the street and up in the air traffic levels, the sleek, dolphin-like shape of an AV with blue and white lights flashing is speeding their way. For an edgerunner, sirens are something that is memorized, and those that are sounding now are police sirens. The cops will be there within seconds, and that will likely mean the rest of the night in lock-up at the very least.

"No worries choomba," Casino informs Fixer before turning away. "It's all won and done."

Moving off the street and back towards the club's front wall, Casino knows that his pain editor is working overtime. Retrieving his Armalite once more, he reloads while he walks.

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Maintenance Tunnels | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:40 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"There you go," Blossom pipes up. "I configged our way outta here."

Echo is the first to respond, "Nicely done, Chica!" she quickly steps forward and grips the handle.

"You boys ready?" she asks, looking back at Ghlahn and the medtech. Bloodbank takes a deep breath to clear his mind and nods. He needs to be focused and their recent jaunt through the empty tunnels has given him time to allow his thoughts to turn inward.

Pulling the door open a crack, the pretty nomad peers through it and into the night. Cold, wet wind slaps her face and blows in through the door, whipping her hair about and penetrating the hall beyond. "We're clear," Echo informs everyone while opening the door further. "At least for now."

Ghlahn steps quickly to the door and takes a look for himself. His experience helps him pick out a few items of note. A security camera above the door he points out to the others, "Gotta be careful we stay out of its vision." Before the others have a chance to move he notices movement in the sky lane, "Patrol car in the AV lane." Looking at the hotel he takes in the security detail. "We'd best avoid the hotel, those guys are packing for trouble. That road requires a toll. Not sure if it matters to us. The escalators and elevator seem equipped with a credchip device. Lucky the stairs are free, so..."

"We're about five clicks from the school," Blossom reports, her optic display activated and synched to her agent. "That way," she points to the right, towards the tunnel Ghlahn has just reported is tolled. "Do we take the direct route, or make like mice in a maze and wander frenetically all about to throw potential tails?"

Echo turns to the group, "Stay inside for the moment until the patrol car passes, he could turn around really quick!" she cautions, pushing them further back inside and stepping away from the door herself. "And yes, those hotel goons are bad mojo", she agrees with Ghlahn.

Turning to the netrunner she asks, hope in her voice, "Chicka, can you scramble that camera above the door for a bit to hide our exit?"

"There's a chance if it's connected to a wireless network," the small Asian woman responds quickly as she blindly works over her agent delivering a series of commands through muscle memory.

Bloodbank steps up to the doorway to get a glimpse out into the world beyond their dingy tunnel. He has a couple of moments to survey the surroundings, noticing several things worth noting and confirming for himself Ghlahn and Echo's assessment. Stepping back away from the portal, he leans against the damp, tunnel walls and looks at the group of them. "I concur," was his simple reply. "So, Blossom scrambles the camera if possible, and then we make a bee-line for the elevators?"
"If any of us have enough cred," Echo responds. "To use the elevators or escalators, I'm okay with that; although, if there are alerts to any of our names or faces, we're hosed. I'm perfectly fine with the stairs, but some of us are injured yet—" her head dips towards the netrunner. "—and the climb might be difficult. As far as the tunnels, I know my clan used to be able to rig the devices in vehicles to be let thru the tunnels without actual toll payment, but I'm not exactly sure how they did it, I just know it worked." Echo looks hopefully at the others, "Do any of you have the knowledge to rig 'em?"

"Good news!" Blossom chirps. "The camera is wireless. I can attempt to block the feed, but the block will only be good for as long as I'm within range of my agent's wifi signal. Maybe a hundred feet, or so.

"And as fer that rig you're shiny towards, Echo, sweety," the tattooed platinum blond smiles broadly. "That'd be where that sullen little technician we met back at the fish factory would come in. I mean, if we had the time I'm sure we could get Starlight to find us something to attach, but I don't figure we've got that kind of time, or dough."

Holding up her agent, the netrunner shows the screen to any who deigns to look. "Besides, five clicks ain't nothin', and there's no need to climb stairs, take elevators, or ride any escalators if we're just hoofin' it across town."

The map she's displaying shows the location of the school (OOC: see below). "There's no need to go up, down, or crossways. I say we cut across the street and then make our way through the alleys as far as we can before cutting towards the school. Stay off the main streets and hopefully avoid cameras along the way. I'll keep scanning for wifi signals along the way and hopefully will catch any signals associated with Big Brother before they catch us. Any other ideas?"

"Ok, we make our way to the school using back alleys as much as possible. Best to avoid contacts or more people are gonna end up dead. I'll cover our rear. Ready when you are."

Outside The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:39 AM PST Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Casino leaned against the front wall of the club he knew thanks to Vegas's and Fixer's underestimation of the boosters that with the arrival of the police the run was in jeopardy. If all three of them stayed they would surely end up spending the night in jail at the very least. The worst of it would be the loss of their personal firearms as no way would they get those back from the cops being better then what the cops themselves carried. Seeing Vegas crouched beside Starlight, the Sinatra looking solo unharmed, as was the techie himself there was no choice in what would need to be done to keep the run active. Looked for Fixer and catching the techies eye he mentioned him over.

"Ok cops get here and run is done pretty much for whoever stays.. Now me I'm shot up bad and need a medic, pain blocker gonna quit soon. Starlight is hurt too so pretty clear I'll stay with her till her AV gets here and pulls her out. I figure cops will get me patched up. You and Vegas need to get out of here to keep the mission on track"

Moving to Vegas's and Starlight's side with Fixer behind him he sat down next to her pushing Vegas to the side. Taking over the care of the lady fixer the big solo spoke to his partner as he did so.

"I got her, you and Fixer need to get out of here now and get back in touch with the others. This run is still on choomba no need for all three of us to get jailed. No bulls*** this time Vegas, the run is first priority like always" Turning to Fixer he handed the techie his MPK, it's extra ammo and grenades and the Armalite he had used to deliver the headshots with.

"Now take these and you two get the f*** gone!"

((OOC: If Vegas or Fixer refuse to leave he'll draw his second Armalite and point it at them to force them to leave. As mad as he is right now very good chance he will shoot, no kill shots, but he will cause them pain with grazing hits.))

Echo looks at Blossom and grins, "If you can handle it, so can we. Let's go!" and heads out the door after one final peek to see the way is clear, and keeping an eye about them for any who may see them as suspicious.

The sirens. Fixer heard them every night, but he never thought that they would be coming for him. However, he did just get into a firefight in public, caused total damage to a vehicle that was not involved in said firefight, and would be held responsible for any medical bills of passenger of said vehicle. This was a night of firsts for him. A quick glance looked around as Fixer retrieved the firearms lying in the car, no need to let them go to waste. Extra parts could be needed or could be sold if it came to that.

With a slight limp, the techie headed to regroup with his companions. The three of them were in front of the club as Casino spoke up, "Ok cops get here and run is done pretty much for whoever stays.. Now me I'm shot up bad and need a medic, pain blocker gonna quit soon. Starlight is hurt too so pretty clear I'll stay with her till her AV gets here and pulls her out. I figure cops will get me patched up. You and Vegas need to get out of here to keep the mission on track"

Moving to Vegas's and Starlight's side with Fixer behind him he sat down next to her pushing Vegas to the side. Taking over the care of the lady fixer the big solo spoke to his partner as he did so.

"I got her, you and Fixer need to get out of here now and get back in touch with the others. This run is still on choomba no need for all three of us to get jailed. No bulls*** this time Vegas, the run is first priority like always" Turning to Fixer he handed the techie his MPK, it's extra ammo and grenades and the Armalite he had used to deliver the headshots with.

"Now take these and you two get the f*** gone!"

"Will Vegas know how to get in touch with you once we're done," Fixer posed the question as he put the sidearm along with ammunition and grenades into his pack. The tech was very careful to place the grenades in side pouches of his pack where they fit snug and would have a least chance of going off. The SMG was strapped to the side (in whatever manner he can manage).

Now hefting the more heavily laden pack onto his shoulder, Fixer spoke up once more, "Don't like leaving a person behind, but got my word that we'll come get you when we've got the chance. I'll keep ahold of these for ya."

Fixer knows the meaning of a sacrifice, and looks to Casino for a lead. These are his streets.

"Ok cops get here and run is done pretty much for whoever stays.. Now me I'm shot up bad and need a medic, pain blocker gonna quit soon. Starlight is hurt too so pretty clear I'll stay with her till her AV gets here and pulls her out. I figure cops will get me patched up. You and Vegas need to get out of here to keep the mission on track"

Moving to Vegas's and Starlight's side with Fixer behind him he sat down next to her pushing Vegas to the side. Taking over the care of the lady fixer the big solo spoke to his partner as he did so.

"I got her, you and Fixer need to get out of here now and get back in touch with the others. This run is still on choomba no need for all three of us to get jailed. No bulls*** this time Vegas, the run is first priority like always" Turning to Fixer he handed the techie his MPK, it's extra ammo and grenades and the Armalite he had used to deliver the headshots with.

"Now take these and you two get the f*** gone!"

Vegas did not like this one bit.

Over the years he had gotten used to the mood swings of his partner, so being pushed aside and 'ordered' to clear out and get in touch with Blossom and the others for the sake of the 'Run', had long ago not become offensive to the Dapper Solo.

But he still did not like it one bit.

So he moved away from Casino and Starlight, before the latter could sound any protest or add any further orders, as the Frank Sinatra look-alike made his way to a nearby drain pipe to wash away any remaining traces of her blood from his hands and clothes, that the drenching rain may have not removed from his person.

"Will Vegas know how to get in touch with you once we're done," Fixer posed the question as he put the sidearm along with ammunition and grenades into his pack.

Looking over his shoulder, the Chairman called out to Fixer, "We Have Our Ways!"

He waited a few more moments, using the rainwater as best he could to remove Starlight's blood from his person, allowing Casino to answer Fixer's question, before heading further down the street in the direction from where the Boosters had driven.

Vegas was intent upon paying the remaining Grease Monkeys a visit, possibly launching one of Casino's grenade launchers into their lair, in hopes of smoking out a Stoolie, if any of them were able to survive the blast.

However, the thought of Dimples incurring any type of injury from an act of revenge, just did not sit well with the Dapper Solo, so Vegas dismissed his boiling raging thoughts, before motioning to Fixer to follow him.

Vegas was still intent upon finding Dauntless Dog and Dimples had given him a lead, although in all the excitement, the Frank Sinatra look-alike had all but forgotten about it.

She had told him that although she had no idea where Dauntless would go at this time of night, she did reveal that the Mob he ran with hung out at Frizzoli's Restaurant, about a five minute walk from the Rat Pack.

So that is where Vegas was now headed, hoping to gain a respite from the approaching police sirens, by taking a seat in a 'den of lions' where the police might avoid looking for anyone who had been involved in the shooting minutes earlier.

"I Got Some Unfinished Business," was the Dapper Solo's explanation to his 'New Partner' Fixer, "but first a Hot Cup of Tea and a Warm Plate of Spaghetti Sure Would Hit the Spot About Now!"

Ducking into a nearby alley for a bit of cover, the Dapper Solo only explained to Fixer that he was pausing to send a message to Blossom, regarding a rendezvous point.

Vegas hurriedly tapped out a few 'innocent words' to Blossom on his Agent, sending an 'invitation' into the Deep: "Been A Bit Busy Darling. Got Time On Your Calendar For A Breakfast Date?"

(OOC: Vegas is heading to Frizzoli's Restaurant with Fixer, attempting to blend in with any passersby, avoiding any police, until they can get inside the Restaurant out of the rain, order something to eat, await a response from Blossom and see if they can pick up any clues or bits of conversation regarding Dog or a 'Missing Boy'.)

Outside The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:40 AM PST Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

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The sirens. Fixer hears them every night, but he never thought that they would be coming for him. However, he did just get into a firefight in public, caused total damage to a vehicle that was not involved in said firefight, and would likely be held responsible for any medical bills incurred by the occupants of said vehicle. This is a night of firsts for him. A quick glance around tells the techie that he has moments to make some good happen from this mess. As Casino starts back, Fixer reaches over the body of the Grease Monkey draped out of the door and snatches the exposed Militech Arms Avenger from the body's waistband. The Ingram Mac 14 submachine gun that the shooter used is lying on the floor on the passenger side as well, so the techie snatches that up too. Extra parts could be needed or the weapons could be sold if it came to that.

With a slight limp, the techie heads over to regroup with his companions. Once the three of them are in front of the club again, Casino speaks up.

"Ok," the big solo growls, "cops get here and the run is done, pretty much, for whoever stays. Now, me? I'm shot up bad and need a medic; pain blocker gonna quit soon. Starlight is hurt too, so pretty clear I'll stay with her till her AV gets here and pulls her out. I figure cops will get me patched up. You and Vegas need to get out of here to keep the mission on track." Moving to Vegas's and Starlight's side with Fixer behind him he sits down next to her shouldering Vegas to the side in the process. Taking over the care of the lady fixer, the large man speaks to his partner and this time, he's the one giving the orders.

"I got her. You and Fixer need to get out of here now and get back in touch with the others. This run is still on choomba, no need for all three of us to get jailed. No bulls*** this time Vegas. The run is first priority, like always." Turning to Fixer he hands the techie his MPK, its extra ammo and grenades, and the Armalite he had used to deliver the headshots with leaving him with the other Armalite tucked under his right arm. "Now, take these and you two get the f*** gone!"

Vegas did not like this one bit. Over the years he had gotten used to the mood swings of his partner, so being pushed aside and 'ordered' to ‘clear out and get in touch with Blossom and the others for the sake of the run' had long ago not become offensive to the Dapper Solo. But he still did not like it one bit.

He moves away from Casino and Starlight before the former could sound any protest or add any further orders. The Frank Sinatra look-alike makes his way to a nearby drain pipe to wash away any remaining traces of the wounded fixer's blood from his hands and clothes that the drenching rain has not already removed from his person.

"Will Vegas know how to get in touch with you once we're done," Fixer poses the question as he puts the sidearm along with ammunition and grenades into his pack along with his newly acquired weaponry. The tech is very careful to place the grenades in the side pouches of his pack where they fit snug and will have the least chance of accidentally going off. The SMG is slung to the opposite side of his bag.

Looking over his shoulder, the Chairman calls out to Fixer, "We have our ways!" He waits a few more moments, using the rainwater as best he can to remove Starlight's blood from his person, and allowing Casino to answer Fixer's question further. The sirens are growing louder and nearby, the AV is loudly moving into position over the street.

The drenched and dapper solo strides further down the street in the direction from where the Boosters had driven, the pending police and the arrival of the Trauma Team® apparently having no effect on him. Vegas is intent upon paying the remaining Grease Monkeys a visit, possibly launching one of Casino's grenades into their lair in hopes of smoking out a stoolie were any of them able to survive the blast. However, the thought of Dimples incurring any type of injury from an act of revenge just does not sit well with the dapper solo so, Vegas dismisses his boiling, raging thoughts and turns enough to motion that Fixer should follow him.

Now hefting the more heavily laden pack onto his shoulder, Fixer speaks up once more, "Don't like leaving a person behind, but you got my word that we'll come get you when we've got the chance. I'll keep ahold of these for ya." Fixer knows the meaning of a sacrifice, and looks to Vegas for a lead. After all, these are his streets.

There's no place for the sleek Aerodyne to land so it continues to hover overhead as the team of specialists lower a gurney, the door gunner eyeballing their surroundings for any further issues. Two of the paramedics with the Trauma Team® drop down on ropes and rush the gurney to Starlight's side.

Vegas is still intent upon finding Dauntless Dog and Dimples has given him a lead. Although, in all the excitement, the Frank Sinatra look-alike has all but forgotten about it until now. She had told him that although she had no idea where Dauntless would go at this time of night, the Mob he ran with hangs out at Frizzoli's Restaurant about a five-minute walk from the Rat Pack. So that is where Vegas is heading, hoping to gain a respite from the approaching police sirens, by taking a seat in a 'den of lions' where the police might avoid looking for anyone who had been involved in the shooting minutes earlier.

"I got some unfinished business," is the dapper solo's explanation to his 'new partner' Fixer, "but first a hot cup of tea and a warm plate of spaghetti sure would hit the spot about now."

Ducking into a nearby alley for a bit of cover, Vegas only explains to Fixer that he is pausing to send a message to Blossom regarding a rendezvous point while he pulls out his agent, the screen highlighting his face beneath his hat, rain rolling from the brim. Vegas hurriedly taps out a few 'innocent words' to Blossom on his agent, sending an 'invitation' into the Deep: "Been a bit busy darling. got time on your calendar for a breakfast date?"

"Stand aside!" the first responder from the AV moves in on Starlight whether Casino obeys or not, pushing him away. Starlight points her left hand at the big solo and calls out to him as she's hoisted easily from the ground to the gurney.

"Remember, Casino! No media, no heat!" Just as the fixer begins her ascent into the hovering AV, the reflected lights of the squad cars begin their play across the rain-soaked ground, windows of nearby buildings, and stalled ground cars in the street. Further down the street, in the alleyway Vegas and Fixer have just ducked into, the two watch as three squad cars whip past, lights and sirens.

Left on his own, bleeding profusely from his arm, Casino watches the pretty little woman get secured in the AV just as the machine tilts to the side and peels away from its hovering location. Trauma Team® support is an expensive monthly cost, but well worth it for those who find themselves in troubling situations as often as edgerunners do. The sirens are loud and the sounds of doors being slammed shut can barely be heard over the Aerodyne's departure, but they are enough to draw the leather clad soldier of fortune's attention from his departing employer to the approaching officers.

Decked out in riot gear that includes helmets and body armor, the NCPD number six strong. Each approaches from a spread of approximately five meters apart, four with H&K-2020 submachine guns and two with Militech Bulldog Assault Shotguns aimed right at him. As they draw closer, seeing that he's not offering a threat, three peel off to inspect booster's vehicle while the other three continue up to a few paces away; just far enough out of reach that if he were to lunge at them, they could still get a shot off. Even if her were boosted.

"Keep your hands where we can see them," the lead officer barks. "Get down on the ground, face first and put your hands on the back of your head."

(OOC: assuming compliance)

One of the officers approaches quickly as Casino follows the orders he's been given and lies down, belly-first, on the wet concrete. The officer straddles the large solo's back and clamps reinforced steel handcuffs on his wrists as he twists the injured man's arms around to his lower back.

"You have the right to remain silent," the cop begins reciting the Miranda Rights as he finishes up his job, "and not answer any questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have right to an attorney,"

Now cuffed, Casino is practically hauled to his feet, though most of the work is still handled by him. His Pain Editor is still functioning enough to keep the injury to a pulsing ache rather than the screaming heat he would otherwise be feeling. While the cop that cuffed him stands behind him, the cop with a shotgun keeps him covered and the third pats him down, removing all weapons and bag before placing a small device at his temple and activating it.

This is where the pain begins. Whatever that little device is, Casino's cybernetics are rendered inert and with the Pain Editor shut down, the damage done to his arm is something he is very aware of. Toughing it through, the large man is able to keep focused as he's led to the squad car. He ducks his head and with a little help, is pushed into the back seat, the door closed promptly after.

Within a few seconds, two cops enter the car: a driver and a passenger. There's a protective bulletproof screen between the front seats and the back, and these officers are confident enough in it that they remove their helmets. The driver is a man with a shaved head while the passenger is a bit younger with blond hair cut short about his ears.

"Call it in," the driver instructs, and the younger officer obeys.

"Car Alpha-Delta-Two-Five-Three-One enroute to Night City Regional Hospital with a suspect in gang violence. ETA ten-minutes."

>

While the cops are dealing with the aftermath of the team's encounter, Vegas and Fixer return to the main street as passer-bys and begin their trek towards Fizzoli's restaurant. The two watch as the cops cuff and load Casino into the back of the squad car, passing the scene close to the buildings in order to not draw attention to themselves. Fate is on their side as they make it through the area without a single cop paying them any mind. Those citizens brave enough to stick around and answer the police officer's questions pay them no mind as well, and within seconds the pair have made it out of the hot zone.

Keeping a pace that won't draw attention, the paid of edgerunners hunch against the storm and do their best to keep from hacking and coughing as the poisonous air scratches and bites at their throats and lungs.

Not a minute from the site of the firefight, life in the Night City Integrate continues as normal. The city certainly does not sleep whether the commotion is caused by people employed at one of them any shops, eateries, or offices that line the street, or the hubbub consists of those just hanging out on a stoop preferring the weather to the confines of their conapt, Vegas and Fixer are not alone. The activity is comforting as it provides a means to blend into their surroundings more and despite the weight of the events they've just endured, Casino did have a point. He was going to get patched up, and if he plays his cards right, the gambler could be out fairly quickly. Starlight's use of the Trauma Team® means that she is most certainly taken care of, and that means that the two of them can focus on the run.

Fizzoli's Restaurant's sign is bright red neon on a cheese wedge marquee that juts out beneath an extension of building overhead. The two edgerunners have to cross the busy street at an abortion clinic, arriving on the same side after dodging a couple of honking cars in front of a busy laundromat. Passing a kitchen and cutlery storefront, they pause at the street corner to wait for a cab to make its turn. Once the vehicle has passed and the hooded sign across the street indicates it is the pedestrian's turn, the two make their way to the front of the restaurant and duck into the alcove containing the establishment's glass doors.

Fizzoli's looks like a nice enough restaurant from through the windows, but at this time of night the additional neon sign in the window reads, "CLOSED" and the hours show a dining time of 11:00 AM to 12:00 AM. At close to 2:00 AM, the only lights on in the place are security lights.

Some miles away, the squad car pulls into the Emergency Room delivery lane. The officers exit on their respective sides before Casino's door is opened and the younger officer pulls him out by his injured arm's elbow. Despite the constant, gnawing pain of his wound and the aggravation having his arm pulled on causes it, the tough solo is able to grind his teeth and endure. Led into the hospital through sliding glass doors, the bright lights of the facility wash over him, forcing a squint.

"We need a doc to look at his arm before we book him," the older officer informs the admitting nurse seated behind the bulletproof glass administration booth.

"Have a seat over there." The nurse is an older black woman with a bit of weight sitting upon her bones and blond-dyed hair cut short to her scalp. The sight of a bloody, leather-wearing, cyborg doesn't seem to phase her.

"All right," the older officer turns to Casino and directs him to follow further instructions with a wave of his hand. "You've been a decent fellow thus far. Let's not ruin things."

Seating Casino between them, the two officers make sure to take chairs further away from the general populace of injured and sick people. There's no point, after all, in making the citizens of Night City any less comfortable than they already are.

"Well," the older officer begins once they're seated. "How's that arm holding up?"

(OOC: assuming a tough guy answer.)

"That's good." Shifting in his chair, the cop looks up a little at the giant solo, his gaze severe. "You've got a long night ahead of you that could turn into longer days to come. There's three dead, I saw an AV taking another wounded away from the scene—rest assured we'll find out who that was—and reports were that bullets were flying all over the place. That traffic accident wasn't nothing to ignore neither. You got an explanation for me?"

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Maintenance Tunnels | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:40 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

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"Ok," Ghlahn decides, "we make our way to the school using back alleys as much as possible. Best to avoid contacts or more people are gonna end up dead. I'll cover our rear. Ready when you are."

Echo looks at Blossom and grins, "If you can handle it, so can we. Let's go!" and heads out the door after one final peek to see the way is clear, and keeping an eye about them for any who may see them as suspicious.

"Whoa there, Turbo!" Blossom grabs the nomad's trenchcoat and pulls her back from the door. "Let me get us hidden, no?"

That said, the netrunner pulls up the software on her agent and begins to plug in the correct commands connecting her device to the wifi signal. Her thumbs work across the large screen typing out code into the interface while her neural link helps inserting the snippets of pre-generated code where appropriate. Thirty-seconds of this returns the results she is looking for.

"Bingo!" she cheerfully declares. "Now we can go traipsin' through the daisies. Oh! Wait."

The small icon of her agent's avatar pops up on the side of the screen and makes the typical anime motions of yelling while a pop-up box displays a message: Been a bit busy darling. got time on your calendar for a breakfast date? At first the message confuses the young wardriver, but then she realizes who it's from and looks up. "Vegas just sent a message. I think he's trying to arrange a meet."
(OOC: room for suggestions, interaction, etc. and assuming the message doesn't change the group's direction.)

"Got it," Blossom holds her agent up triumphantly, "and sent. OK, let's get on the move."

Opening the door, Echo glances about once more. There's no sign of police, the hotel security has moved its VIP inside and have removed themselves from the street, and traffic is acting normal. Even the man with the dog is nowhere to be seen.

The all clear given, the motley group of edgerunners make their way in casual form down the street a ways before crossing between heavy traffic and cutting down a covered alley. Odors of decay and mold wash over their noses with intense ferocity. Pools of water have collected from rain runoff and trash lines the areas of the alley where winds make their deposits.

Echo's sharp vision takes in their new surroundings quickly and is able to determine no threats, so she leads the group down the corridor without delay. This is the practice that carries the troupe across the living city and those five kilometers they need to cover. Echo in the lead, Blossom following a few paces back picking off wifi camera feeds as she comes across them, Bloodbank helping Ghlahn keep an eye on their six and the man of little words bringing up the rear, his rifle slung once again over his shoulder, keen eyes frequently turned to the way they'd come.

Standing in the shadow of a large living starscraper across the street to the East of the Bartholomew School, the team of edgerunners takes in the tall metal security fence surrounding the grounds. While the school itself is nice, the surrounding area is most certainly an eyesore for the High city residents. On every side of the school, what was once likely nice structures has turned into slum housing due to the volatile nature of the construction cores and their lifespans. Signs of material reharvesting can be seen in the structures, including the one that the team stands beneath, with flickering firelight in windows or flashlights giving away locations of occupants within. The fence itself is three meters tall with overhangs leaning both outward and inward topped by razorwire—more of a prison than a school by appearance. Spotlights shine over the gate and entry and are placed every six to seven meters along the fence. The fence itself is completely opaque providing privacy from the fallen social structure beyond and making it impossible for the team to see in.

The gate is a standard iron gate with a guardpost that includes a bulletproofed booth manned by at least one heavily armed guard. The decrepit starscrapers on either side eventually converge overhead providing the school with a space of a few hundred feet between the top of the school's tallest building the the underside of the starscrapers overhead.

"Ok," Blossom looks up from her agent once more. "There's no wifi signal, so that means that security is all on a private network. I'm gonna need to wardrive and that means I'll need to get into that guard booth if we're wanting to go that route.

"I was able to pull up an old building schematic of the school that they used for parents, but I don't think it is to scale or anything like that. Still, if it's correct, the dorms are in the southwest corner of the campus.

"So, what's the plan?"