The first few days, the group was to the winds.  No one really did much together and they went their own separate ways.  Kyuzo was totally ok with that as it afforded him time to get his stuff organized.  Truth be told, he was dealing with a mix of depression and anxiety.  He didn’t enjoy leaving places he was familiar with, it just wasn’t his nature.  So far though, the trend was that each time he left, he had fewer attachments than the last place.  Eventually, he’d see if that trend would continue.  

The first thing he did was apprehensively unload his magical bag given to him by his contact.  It was weird to load initially; essentially, you’d reach in with whatever you were loading, drop it and it was gone.  Poof.  Like that.  Like it fell away into nothingness.  So, the bag worked.  At least on the first part of its alleged functions.  

So sitting in his room, when he unloaded the weapons, it was even more awkward.  He unzipped the bag and when he reached his hand inside, a piece of gear seemed to be HANDED to him, as if someone was handing the item up.  The situation was extremely odd, and once he had accounted for the last item and there was nothing else handed up, he zipped the bag.  After waiting a moment, he unzipped again, and sure enough, there was now a black vinyl bottom to the thing.

He spend hours after doing function checks on the gear.  This took some time because he was testing them not only mechanically, but electronically too—making sure that smartlinks and other systems worked upon powering them up.  Good charges, systems linked, symbonds were all good to go.

He didn’t do much but walk around for a few days after that.  He ate here and there, familiarized himself with the layout and streets.  He talked to a few individuals about gang activity and turfs, what areas were more ethnically open or closed, trying to get a quick view of the streets and how life out here functioned.  In between that, he found a small storage unit, rented it for one month, and put a striking bag up in there.  He’d spent more on the bag, finding one that could withstand heavier contact than a typical bag.  It also had smart sensors on it that could help him monitor damage output and things of that nature.  

He didn’t care about the numbers.  He cared about not ripping a bag in half.  

In the unforgiving heat, he was there beating up the bags.  The cyberware that he was sporting was top of the line, state of the art, and that included it’s software.  It utilized a system called “symbond,” which was a system that monitored and analyzed muscle functions at a local level and as a whole.  After doing this, the cyberware and software would react in kind.  If a fighter generally left his left guard down, it would direct more focus in that area, keep those muscles juiced up a bit more to compensate.  Eventually, based on the wearer and the degree at which it focused on developing a symbond, it would initiate training, visual stimuli, or other methods via HUDs or body functions that would actually correct the issues.  

So there he was, pouring out sweat and beating the hell out of the bag.  The ying to the robotic yang was that in doing this, he was still training his muscles and utilizing muscle memory.  The soft and cyberware worked in spite of physical issues.  Well, muscles worked in spite of that same ‘ware, and if it came to a point where he couldn’t depend on his chrome, he still needed his muscles to work.  

At the time the message came in, that was where he was:  beating up that bag in that storage unit.  He had never been shirtless around the team—save Kali, but she probably wouldn’t remember anything of any real detail, but he was as he worked out.  Across his chest in a slightly arced series of letters, “BULLETPROOF” was spelled out in large, sharp letters, just below where the collar of a shirt would be.  Ironically enough, in the U of that tattoo was a large caliber pistol scar and on the PRO were several scars from buckshot.  His body, and the tattoo, was crisscrossed with myriads of other marks and burns, except for his left arm which seemed smooth and perfect.  

Both the scars and drastic difference in skin conditions were causes for him to generally wear a long sleeved shirt, regardless of the weather.  

It was then that he saw a message flash onto his personal HUD.

He personalized names in his comm, so the indicator stated [b][color=6ecff6]YOU HAVE ONE UNREAD MESSAGE FROM [color=9e0b0f][u]TRIX BITCH[/u][/color][/color][/b].

He rolled his eyes and opened it, rolling his eyes again immediately.  Kyuzo had a brief stint running deep in the BTL world, but like most of those vices, they were all part of a...phase.  And he was past that phase.  Kali wasn’t his concern, so he wiped himself off with a towel, tossed it on the floor and put his shirt and jacket on in spite of the heat.  He took a moment to toss his weapons in their places, locked up, and made his way to the spot.  

He grabbed what he assumed was some mix of soymeat, and streetmeat on a piece of pita bread from a vendor and ate as he walked, looking around.  He took measure to walk a route that took him down several empty streets so that anyone or any thing following him would be forced to hang back, or expose themselves before finally arriving at the building.

He was moving to enter the door when it opened in front of him.  He grabbed it and held it and immediately his nose caught scent of some fragrance.  It tickled his nose and smelled of flowers and that soapy clean scent.   Out walked a stunningly attractive human female.  She looked at Kyuzo, giving him a once over and appreciative nod, and was followed by 2 other human males who paid him little mind.  He raised an eyebrow at her in return and made his way inside.  When all was said and done, Kyuzo was somewhat lucky.  He was not on the extreme end of “looking orkish” and if he tried, maybe with a couple minor surgical alterations, he could probably pass as human.  Sure, he was more solid, think and square of shoulder, but again, he wasn’t on the far end of the spectrum.  

He attempted to shake it from his mind but looked back one last time towards the door, smelling her in the lobby and in the elevator when he was riding up.  He entered the room, noting he was the last one there, but arriving just in time to catch the brief.  While the brief was happening, he used his HUD to search what the hell a “CD” actually was.  

He listened and had no immediate questions, so he stood there and waited for someone to dictate the next move, looking on silently and stupidly.

It’s what Yegor would do.

He took a few moments to study those around, seeing for any changes, trying to gauge their overall moods, and moods in regards to the run.

He noted that Kali looked as if she's slept in a dumpster, one that got emptied into the back of a waste pick up truck, driven for a few days, and dropped off here moments before.  Vintage Kali...