Anya wouldn't hear SIGINT snickering to herself, like some sort of madwoman atop the bridge. _{"Oh man, bullet-filled piñata, that's a good one..."} Some 'angel'. Well, although the girl didn't have visual on her anymore without the security cameras, it sounded like she had met a friendly, at least. "The backup g█nerators in that building ar█ probably done revving up by n█w, so I think you and y█ur new friend should hurry █p and get a ro█m. A different room█"

"Als█— oh, hey, th█t's new." The radio came on shortly, before suddenly cutting off again. "Rem█mber how you told m█ not to get shot on th█ bridge again? I might be ab█ut to get shot on the bridge agai██"

---

A hooded person, wearing a slightly dislodged mask and bearing the unmistakable shape of a gun, pointed to the opposite side of her, at the building she had been staring up at a moment before. SIGINT turned to face them, still with one elbow on the side of the bridge, returning a wide-toothed, brace-bearing smile that was somewhere between curious and manic. Seemingly unabashed of her orthodontics, as Giggles approached closer, the facial stain of a not-insignificant degree of acne could be seen, previously hidden with some strategically-applied concealer that had been washed off during her waterslide adventure. Between that, and the dirt on her face (it wasn't a very clean waterslide), the six was beginning to look more and more like a four. Or maybe a three.

...That bodysuit probably had an abdominal brace in it, too. Two?

"Oh come on, I've been scurrying all day. Gimme a break, will ya? I'm just here to grab a beer and watch the fireworks." The girl returned the same pose, placing a hand on her hip in a mocking gesture. And meet a friend, but she's running late...oh well. Guess I gotta handle this one without the help of the Flying Window-Shagger. Even though the person in front of her was carrying a weapon, she didn't seem at all afraid. It was less of a poker face, and more like the obvious tell of someone holding a full house — as long as they were reading their cards right, of course

Opposite side of the bridge...perfect. As long as they don't cross the divider in the middle...

She leaned forward, wet bangs sticking to her forehead and leaving brownish, muddy outlines where they did. "Also? People in glass houses shouldn't throw headwear, masky." As SIGINT adjusted her glasses, the brief moment where the lenses reflected the moonlight hid the movement of her eyes. That ocular equipment was definitely advanced...she could tell at a glance that it wasn't civilian gear. Looked like it was hooked up to more than just the eyes, too, but the olfactory segment was switched off at the hardware level. Nothing she could do about that.

In any case, those eyes...could she steal those eyes? Well, even assuming she could, it was really more a matter of how quickly. If they were just really fancy civvie binocs, then it wouldn't be a problem, but that getup almost looked military-level. If she started now, and kept the person talking long enough, then maybe...


"You don't look like police. _{Not that I'd listen to police anyway.}" The girl squinted, an overeager motion that made it clear that she was giving Giggles a thorough inspection. An exaggerated level of emotiveness was clear in almost all of her actions, but it seemed to come naturally to her. Like an alligator's jaw, the moment she began speaking again, her metal-clad teeth took part in a vile smirk. "Heh, you look more like you should be inspecting the sewage drain way downstream. If you're the 'big girl' in town, I gotta wonder, are they just leaving everything to bounty hunters these days?"

"If you saw what was under this mask, panties would drop," said Giggles flatly and without a second's hesitation. "Bullshit you've been running anywhere lately. Your beer belly says otherwise."

His feet wandered as he spoke and he flicked his head, kept himself moving just enough to pull the strange girl's eyes. To have one's gear nicked by proles was the expected fate of a dead mercenary, but Giggles didn't want her paying attention to the rest of Colin's work. It didn't seem like he'd have to wait long.

Closing the door behind you is a well-known chase tactic. Until you've been caught, everywhere you run you get to first and won't visit again. Tossing debris, lighting fires, setting traps... Raising bridges. Giggles knew he could catch this girl, if he had to. So long as she stood still.

"And hey, thanks. They say you are what you eat, so I'm glad I'm real glad I didn't turn out looking like a cop." Giggles thumped his chest and gave the sign of horns in true anarchist fashion, subtly flicking a 'wait' signal to Colin as he lowered his hand. As casually as possible, he turned his pacing back to the bridge.

Don't panic. You can still run. Everything is fine.

"But hey, maybe I would be better off dealing in shit. Looks like you'd recommend it." He shrugged as he stepped onto the bridge. "Enough of that, though. I'd rather roast bigger fish. Did you just walk straight into that bullet? Because you don't seem like someone worth shooting at."

Except she did. She absolutely did, in all her snaggle-toothed glory. And confident as she was, Giggles didn't want to risk her running off into the woods without a gun on her side.

Almost as importantly, he didn't want to lose his merc-bait.

...But he didn't have to tell anyone that.

@SIGINT@LPRKN

---

"Team A, come in."

Bark on the airwaves. "Operative Seong, copy."

"I think the sniper ran off in the crowd. We had an, uh, incident. Benson and Jolene are down but we're maintaining pursuit west of the river. Fanning out in pairs and on high alert."

The grey-clad man with the rifle nodded, though no one could see.

"We have..." Distortion, as if of words spat out while their source was glancing at something away from her speaker. "Reason to believe that the target is still alive."

No shit, Shan, thought Seong, eyes flicking to the grinning face on the stoplight at his left.

"Maintain pursuit downriver. Get drone assistance. She could easily have hijacked a vehicle by now." Seong opened his mouth. "Oh, and make sure you check the bridge again. Target was unarmed when we left her, I don't want that to change." More muttering. "Fuckin' bitch shot some good warriors."

"Copy that. Over."

"Over."

Seong raised his rifle a little higher and continued his way north as the faint whine of drone wings passed him by.

By the time he was within sight of the bodies, he could see a man and a dog tampering with them. Seong narrowed his eyes and stayed quiet, inching his way towards the newcomers.

---

"Bitch please, if you knew how much money I was worth, your balls would drop." The girl fired back, her better judgement bruised and battered through years of constant abuse. "As much as you talk out of your ass, you should have a gas mask rigged up to your other set of cheeks."

Feet on the bridge. But on the other side. Not too close yet. Getting closer. But not too close.

Key length known, brute-forced about 66% of the available bit-space. Just a bit further. Just a little bit further. Keep him talking. Any second now.

"Oh, hey!" SIGINT was honestly surprised to see the horns, returning the gesture with aplomb. Her voice seemed to make a hard shift from 'aggressive' to 'pleasant conversation' literally between sentences, almost as though she were talking to two separate people. "Heh. You know, I used to be a state-socialist? I was waaay more idealistic, back then."


'A better system'. She had spent her childhood enamored with that idea. Overthrow the rotten system, and replace it with a better one.

But as she grew older, she slowly came to realize — all things rotted. No matter how well-crafted, how benevolent it was constructed to be, a 'system' would inevitably be undermined, corrupted, and used as a tool for exploitation. Perhaps overtly. Perhaps quietly. But it always happened.

Change the clothes, and the clothes grow dirty once more. How often does a country do its laundry?

The moment her life changed was when she realized, that the only system that could guarantee freedom, was no system at all.


SIGINT's head snapped up, as though she heard something from far away. In a sense, she had — her brain was still picking up their radio chatter. Intercepting signals was something she could do passively. If it was a device that sent out signals of its own accord, and she had no intent to modify, all she had to do was decrypt them locally. It was when the device didn't normally broadcast, or when she wanted to actually do something to it, that she needed to send a signal of her own. And that meant either commandeering a nearby proxy with a sufficient signalling range of its own, or giving away her location to anyone savvy enough to track it.

"Fuck. More of 'em." The girl muttered, "And they've got drones, now? Man, this is bullshit. I had to go and leave my drones at the base. _{If a cheap hotel counts as a base.}" She raised her head, blowing a wet bang away from her forehead uselessly. "Maybe I can just take one of theirs...nah, I'd probably need to open it up for that..."

Oh, wait, that other guy was still here.

"Uh." One thing was clear, at this point. If her angel wasn't coming to her, she'd have to go to her angel. "Look, this is fun and all, how about we settle it with an old-timey duel? We both walk eight-hundred-thousand paces, then turn and fire." The girl, who was clearly unarmed, held up a finger-gun with a toothy, metallic smile. "Here, I'll start."

whrrrrrrRRRRRRRR———CLUNK

SIGINT blinked, honest distress coming across her face for the first time. "Uh..." She stammered, looking down at where the motor of the bridge was, underneath the metal — not that she could see it from here. "L-Like I said, I'll sta—"

RRRR———CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK———WHRRRRRRrrrrrr_rrrrrrr


Well, shit.

---

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

'Mechanical failure'!? What the ass-flavored toaster pastry—

Nevermind. Whatever. What else is in the area?

No choice. Omnidirectional ping, going out. If that drone tracks it, I'll just have to move. They already know I'm alive, anyway.

Is that...is that a hand-held device under the— fucking cuntweasels, he has an accomplice!!

What are they? Bounty hunters? No, he would have shot me on sight, I'm dead-or-alive. Not a cop. Not corporate. What do they want!?

Shit shit shit shit shit, what else, what's coming back from the ping, what can I use—

Floodgates!

Floodgates?

Floodgates.

Diana kept the revolver trained on the Sykrott. She watched as he realised his situation, considered, then came to a decision. She saw the muscles in his exposed back tense. He was not planning on anything peaceful.

She went to pull the trigger, but the Sykrott was fast. Before she got a chance, his hand was pushing the barrel out of harm's way. His other hand gripped a sword, and not the Ecetopian one either. Details didn't matter, the point was that this thing would cut her skin just like anyone else's. She ducked the swing and punched him in the side with her own free hand. Metal hit metal, and sparks flew, but the Sykrott didn't even flinch.

Suddenly there was a hand around Diana's throat. She was lifted into the air, the Sykrott's other hand still holding the sword and preparing to finish her. Then a number of gunshots piercd the air.

The Sykrott flinched, and Diana saw her chance. She brought her knees up to her chest and kicked, hard. The Sykrott dropped her and she hit the floor with her shoulder, her armoured skin protecting her from the impact. She took the opportunity created by this moment of surprise to shoot. She unloaded the revolver, six shots hitting the Sykrott, his body jerking with each. He was knocked to the floor, maybe dead, maybe not, but certainly not far off either way. Regardless, Diana had new problems to contend with. She reloaded her gun and set off in the direction of the gunshots, swearing loudly as something exploded.

---

Soon enough she caught up to a scene between a pigtailed girl, whose smirking face was plastered all over the city, and someone dressed, well, strangely, and not clearly visible from where Diana stood. As she got closer, she saw the second figure had a gun, so she withdrew her own.

They appeared to be speaking. The second figure's voice seemed familiar. What they were saying wasn't all that interesting, a lot of sass followed by something political. Obviously, though, there was more to this. Who carries a gun in that kind of conversation? Only someone like that conman she met in No-

That explains a lot.

"I knew it. Too good to be some random piece of good, old-fashioned street trash, hmm, Giggles?"

Marco walked through the streets. Night had fallen by now, and he gazed at the towering skyscrapers that formed the concrete maze he'd lived in. The shop had been the only thing tying him down, and it was dying. So long as the guys he'd left in the bar could get him off world, he couldn't care less if they made off with his entire stock. Ever since his father had been arrested, his worst fear had been dying on Frixion. If the wretched slum he lived in was the only life he was destined to live, he didn't want to live.

He strolled into the VR arcade/bar. Called "Han's Bar" and located just a few feet away from being completely under the drawbridge, it was a gathering point for the city's rougher elements. He was tempted to play some of the games there, but right now, he needed to set things up for leaving Frixion. He took a seat at the bar, motioning to the barkeep.

"Marco." The bartender said, nodding. He was polishing a mug. The dishrag was so dirty that it didn't seem that mug was going to get any cleaner. If Marco had been contemplating buying a cold one, he wasn't anymore. "What're you here for?"

"Just business. Have you seen Tony?" He asked. Marco had inherited all of his father's business contacts. Mostly raw supplies people. The materials for his weapons had to come from somewhere. The guy who he went through acquired it through...Well, Marco had no idea where they were from, but he wasn't sure it was legal.

"Yeah, he's right there." The barkeep said. Sure enough, Tony was right next to them...And a woman with too many teeth had a spike to his throat. She was pretty, but Marco was a bit too worried about what those hands could do to have that sort of thing on his mind, especially if the large collection of bottles she was saving was any indication. The bartender was still polishing the mug. This was a normal night in the slums of Frixion prime.

"Nice spikes." He nodded at her, before following Tony to the table.

"Marco! My friend!" The man said, wrapping the young man in a bear hug. He was clearly a little drunk and clearly still worried about Alexis. "You have your gauntlets on you, r-"

"Yes." Marco said. It was known that he was well versed in combat from his father. Running a gun shop, you needed someone to hand out free samples to customers that didn't want to pay.

"Good, good. Shame about your dad. What can I do you for?" Tony asked, taking a seat in the booth in the corner of the bar. Marco sat down across from him.

"I'm selling the shop." He said.

"Don't mince words, do you? That's sudden." Tony said, sipping his beer.

"It's not making much money. Dad trained me as an enginner, not a businessman. I'm going offworld." Marco said.

"Right now? There's a travel ban, you know." Marco's dealer said.

"Like that stops anyone. You can get me a guy if I get off Frix, right?" Marco asked.

"Well, sure, but I can't help you. I do materials, not human trafficking." Tony continued.

"That's fine. I've got a riWhat the hell." Marco said. The TV in the bar was taken over by a picture of a brunette with twintails and glasses. She might have been cute, except she had the smarmiest expression he'd ever seen.

"Bah, some hacker. Anyways. Get off world, then contact me." Tony said. Marco nodded, then got up.

"Nice seeing you. Next time I see dad, I'll tell him you said hi." Marco said, taking out his phone and hammering a text out to Giggles and Colin.

"Get away from the Five-0 okay? What's with the babe on the screens?" He wrote.

@Ashevelendar @Antarctic Termite

Please ignore.

The bridges motor sprung to life, called by the girls mental commands. However, Colin's gremlin tinkering worked like a charm. Tested, folded, tampered steel rolled into the cogs, like teeth on rocks, the motor choked out.

Colin scratched Hound's ears, " See that, good work boy. Strange breaking stuff when we so used to fixing em.". Colin's SHIPBUDDI let out a cheery Oi Oi Oi notification and he frantically clawed at his pockets to silence it. It was a message from Marco,

"Get away from the Five-0 okay? What's with the babe on the screens?"

"Well that's some bloody obvious advice." Colin murmured to himself before typing back in a blur, "5-0 not te issue, mercs, giglz in a stndoff wit scrnbabe, drwbrdge west of shop, culd use a lift *wide grin emoji*" SEND.

Colin pocketed his SHIPBUDDI as Hound sniffed the air, his ears perking up at something near by. Colin didn't notice, he was more concerned that his Brit-Punk notification tone had revealed their location under the bridge. Well now that the girl's escape trick was ruined, he thought he would attempt to calm the two divas top-side, before they drew claws. He clicked his tongue for Hound to follow and climbed the embankment to the top railing behind Giggles. Once they both had eyes on her he spoke quietly to Hound, pointing at the still drying girl, " Hound lock target, Heel, Hold." Then he raised his voice for the girl to hear," Hi lass, I must apologize for ruining your escape plan, and Giggles unabashed need to back sass. Me names Colin, this me faithful friend Hound. See, we would love to know what happened with the lads downstairs, and how they came to be so... you know...dead. We are not the coppers clearly, more concerned passerbys with a lack of love for corporate stooges. What say you join us on our side o'da bridge and we get as far away as we can from the decomposing boyyos." Colin continued to walk towards her, past Giggles, to stop and straddle the barely raised bridge. Hound stood beside him, head lowered, tail swaying back and forth, panting, with his glistening silver teeth on display.

@Dark Light



The lights suddenly went out and Lucca swore in Gaelic. "Bloody, 'ell," he snarled. "Can't a guy get a fecking decent motel to rent a room from?"

The female on his bed asked him if he was going to introduce himself or not, sounding irritated. Oh she was fecking irritated? If anyone had a right to be irritated, it was him, and feck, was she going off on him? Ballsy, cursed wench!

"Tis no' my fecking fault ye doona have any fecking common sense, ye mouthy chit!" he snapped. "Who the feck jumps through a goddamned window like fecking movie stuntman? And as fer the bed, ye hateful brat, I figured twas better than groaning in pain on the thrice-dammned floor!" Oh, yeah. His sailor's mouth got even worse than normal when he was pissed. His eyes flashed yellowgreen in what little light shone through the window, the slit pupils wide and eerie. The light also made his face look as if it was carved out of stone. She was silent for a moment, and he could hear her take in a few breaths.

"There's a bar downstairs right? Take me there. Oh and bring my suitcase," her words were softer this time.

"Listen here, ye silly chit," he ground his teeth. "If ye were no' hurt-which i can tell by yer smell and labored breathing-I'd paddle yer ass. But since I can see in the dark, and ye obviously can't, I'll play nice. Oh, and I'll tell ye my name when ye tell me yours. Who are ye anyway," he grouched, finding his way over to her suitcase, onto which he scratched the words, "Mind yer manners, wench. ~L. Valentine."

"Fecking berating me on my fecking manners for nor introducing myself at the next possible moment, when you're the one what's bein fecking rude, who also threw herself into my fecking room," he added. "And the only one to really blame for whatever injuries ye have is yer own thrice-damned self." He growled-literally-deep in his throat as he made his way over to her. He gently but firmly grabbed her by the neck and half pushed/half dragged her off the bed and onto her feet. Once he was satisfied she was standing okay, he held onto her wrist.

"Doona try to wrench your hand from me," he warned. "I'll leave ye here in the dark fer whatever bastards may try to turn you into a 'bullet pinata.' Besides, how else are ye gonna find the bar, aye?"

With that said, he began to lead her out of the room, warning her when they came upon the stairs.

A pouting smile curled upon Anya's lips as she looked right at the man as he ranted. (Although she couldn't see, void of focus she stared at him the way the blind look to someone.)
Mid conversations she feigns a yawn and lays back down, impatiently rolling her eyes. "Sarah." She interrupts from the bed when he mentions names. Not that it mattered. It was then another voice spoke directly to her in her ear. Sigint.

After speaking the man not-so-gently pulled her from the bed and began leading her downstairs by her wrist. Anya didn't fight it. There was a light at the end of the stairwell, apparently the bar had a separate power supply.

Sigint was still there, "Phew" she said with an unexplained smile.
Suddenly, as soon as entering the fully lit bar Anya froze as a look of concern flooded her face. Those around her couldn't hear Sigint's voice in her ear, so they didn't understand when she suddenly said.
"Is it the guys from earlier? Get the hell out of there!"
Snapping back to her current position, with the attention of a few patrons now on her, Anya makes a scene by over-exaggerating the dramatic snap of her wrist as she frees it from the mans grip. She stumbles a few steps for dramatic flair and puts on a face of worry as she looks back at the angry Irishman. The only thing she didn't have to fake was the constant twinge of pain running from her shoulder.

"Just gimme my clothes back!" she loudly demands in a shaky voice. Pointing to the suitcase with her good arm. Suddenly having lost all the confidence and attitude from earlier.
"Look, I'm leaving. I, I just want to go now. Keep your money, you can't just throw women around. You dislocated my arm!"

Anya was good, tears even began to roll down from her eyes. Her voice wavered with distress. Sure this was a rough neighbourhood but there was still always someone ready and willing to jump to a pretty girls aid and usually at least one other who was drunk or violent enough just waiting for any excuse to fight someone.

@Styxx Acheron@HeroicSociopath@SIGINT@Ashevelendar

>device: Ocular-Photonic Headset and Neurointerface (OPHAN) v.7.0.1
>synchronising feed to radiometric sensor...
>success
>decrypting hard drive...
>...
>... 66%
>... 67%
>... 68%

Things that seemed to be moving slowly at a surface level started to accelerate.

Giggles felt a few jolts below his feet and then smiled. "What balls, babe?" he crooned, snapping his own finger gun. He was still moving forwards, but not at an idle pace anymore. This girl had the skinniest legs he'd seen since the flamingos on Ecetopia. Let her run if she felt like it.

>... 74%

"What's up, Hound?" murmured Giggles as the dog fretted and followed them over the bridge. Colin introduced the two of them succinctly enough but the tomboy's attention was elsewhere. "Drones? Followers?"

>... 83%

Seong crouched behind a concrete wall and lowered his HUD visor. Blood stims thrummed in his veins.

>... 89%

There was a shadow ahead, some way down the street- Giggles saw it and hardened with tension. Someone in a coat.

>... 96%

The barrel of a heavy rifle peeked out of the block they'd left behind. Giggles's gun whipped into the air-

>... 98%

-a spray of bullets roared from the bridge as two explosive rounds hammered into the concrete at SIGINT's back-

>... 99%

-half a dozen shots smacked into Seong's vest as two more cracked his bulletproof visor into his face-

>... 100%

The universe blinked out and Giggles was blind.

Muscle memory threw him to the ground with a charcoal blade in his hand. The parang swung low across the bridge, finding nothing and narrowly avoiding Colin's ankles, and when the reflexive game of blind-man's-buff was over and Giggles didn't seem to be dead, he threw a hand to his face.

He tore off the left eyesac, taking a few capillaries with it, and fixed SIGINT with a rapidly swelling green eye. "Yeah, real fuckin' funny," he said in her general direction as he started to run, freeing his other eye and feeling the rush of water somewhere distant. "Colin, grab this minx and move. That merc isn't dead. Go anywhere, I have your back."

But his gaze and gunpoint were already elsewhere. The submachine gun was facing somewhere to one side, where the shadow in the coat had last been. "Come out, motherfucker! I saw you!" Giggles gestured off to one side with the machete as he yelled, bidding the two non-combatants to make haste.

@LPRKN@JaceBeleren@SIGINT

Marco was sitting in the bar, trying to relax and failing. Part of it was that there was a couple arguing behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and a woman was crying. He didn't consider himself much of a hero, but his father had always taught him that if a man was hurting a woman, he needed to step in.

"Oi, mate. Hold up, what's going on here?" Marco asked, putting himself between Lucca and Anya. It looked like things were going to come to blows, and he didn't want that. "Listen, if you have her clothes, give them back. Did he take your mo-" It was then that his phone vibrated. He took it out, reading Collin's text. It just so happened that both Lucca and Anya could easily read it if they felt so inclined. He swore under his breath. He didn't have time to deal with this.

"Hey, hey, you." Marco said, tapping the bouncer on the shoulder. "This guy and this lady are having a quarrel. Maybe make sure they don't kill each other?" He asked, before heading out of the bar. He was close to the bridge already, but he needed a vehicle. He didn't own one himself. He glanced around the lot. He'd stolen a car before. Just once, when he'd been a stupid teenager. Leaving the planet illegally was one thing, but he didn't want to steal. But then he saw it. A motorcyc;e, with the keys still inside of it. He looked at his phone again. If he didn't do it, he'd never get off this rock. And, he reasoned to himself, Collin and Giggles might die.

The motorcycle revved as Marco started the bike, firing off a message to Collin.

omw Was all he had time to write. He had to get to the bridge, fast.

Lucca raised a dark eyebrow when the girl-he was ninety percent sure that ‘Sarah’ wasn’t her actual name-made like he was being an abusive prick who wanted to buy her for a night of sex. He curled his lip as she stumbled around, telling him he could keep his money and whatnot.

“Listen here, lass,” he drawled, brogue thickening with annoyance. “The most I’ve done to you is pick ye off the floor and lead ye downstairs. Take your bluidy suitcase, woman,” he tossed it at her feet, the scratched side landing face down, a lil surprise for her for later. “And as fer yer arm, well, now. It wouldn’t be dislocated if ye had no’ tossed yourself through the fecking window.”

He rolled his eyes at the big fat crocodile tears that began to roll down her face and crossed his arms. He turned to leave, only to bump into some a blonde male, one who probably bought the conniving, ungrateful wench’s lil sob story.

“Move,” Lucca growled.

"Oi, mate. Hold up, what's going on here?" the male asked, putting himself between Lucca and Anya.

“Well, lad,” Lucca cracked his knuckles. “Ye got the wrong picture here; I've no' hurt her, but who am I to disillusion ye?” Lucca let his features assume a relaxed position, but it was a mask-he was on high alert in all actuality.

"Listen, if you have her clothes, give them back. Did he take your mo-" the male's phone vibrated, and Lucca tore his gaze away from him as the male hurried off. He closed the few feet that seprated him from the girl, grabbed her shoulder and dislocated arm, and slammed the limb back into it’s socket with a loud popping noise. Granted, he did it rougher than was necessary, but he was fucking pissed, and if she tried to accuse him of anything, he could claim it was from putting the bone back in place.

“Doona go flying into any more windows, lass,” he advised her, getting into her face. “Find a sling fer that arm or ye might lose the ability tae use it. Oh, and it’s a tad bit rude to insult the lad who tries tae help yer sorry lil’ ass, the way ye did me. My last name’s Valentine, by the way.”

He muttered an insult in Gaelic as he turned away from her, one that roughly translated to "Fucking two-faced, ungrateful, shithead bitch."

If someone were to come up and ream him for being an ass when that simply wasn't the case, they'd get firsthand experience with his claws.

He went outside to where he'd parked his custom built hover-cycle, only to see the male from before was on his bike. Ohhhh, this fucker was gonna get his fucking face clawed off. Lucca growled as his nails lengthened into claws. And he'd stupidly left the keys in it.

"Oi," he yelled, running to his bike. "Get the fuck off my bike before I claw you off!" He grabbed the blonde by his shirt and pulled him down to face level, eyes flashing yellow. "If you need a fucking ride, fucking ask, boyo. But doona go stealing my ride, asshole"

---

@Dark Light@HeroicSociopath@SIGINT@Ashevelendar

This was it. Her one chance.

SIGINT had put her hands up reluctantly (though, not reluctantly enough to wipe that stupid smile off her own face), when the man with the handheld and Doggo came into view. Even if her stealth suit had been functional at that point, it wouldn't have mattered. Thermo-optic camouflage doesn't stop you from being sniffed out, and she sure as hell wasn't outrunning the little guy either.

The hydroelectric dam, upstream, the source of the canal...it was part of the same water control system that she had broken into in order to control the drawbridge, but that didn't mean that it lacked its own protections. It was a major piece of city infrastructure, after all. She could do it, but there was no time frame. The "Keep Them Talking" plan had held out for just shy of long enough to hack into a pair of ocular implants (which were, admittedly, pretty sweet, now that SIGINT had their specs...damn that's a lot of input, though...) It just wasn't going to buy that kind of time.

The agent coming up the side, and the stealing of one of her assailant's eyes, made the best window she could have had in this situation. If she was lucky, she could turn tail and book it while the two groups fought.

...But, she hesitated.

The drawbridge, half-raised, creaked and groaned as if under the weight of her own uncertainty.

Which direction to run?


It's...strange.

Talking with someone just to buy time, and realizing that you treasured such a short exchange.

Having your plan foiled, not with a gun to your head, but with an open hand.

I guess I just...got used to people trying to shoot me all the time.

Or only talking to me because they needed a favor, or wanted some kind of leverage.


Heh...

Hey, that little argument we had, back there...

...Did you have fun...too...?


That moment of hesitation saved her life. Had she backed away immediately, those explosive rounds would have been a direct hit. Instead, they threw up dust and debris behind her, as she ran forward.

In a way, she wasted her chance. She had played her last card in a bid to escape, only to run right into the arms of her pursuers.

But, in another way...wasn't this a chance within itself?

"Not often I get outsmarted...! Normally, when I lose, it's because the other guy brought a gun. This is actually fun!" The girl called out to Colin, the battered soles of her stealth suit pounding against the groaning bridge. "Hell, if it's you or the drones, don't expect to pull my arm too haOHSHI—"

Speaking of drones, the girl ducked to the side as a spray of ballistics covered her shoulder. The bullets didn't penetrate her armor, but god damn did that shit hurt. "Motherfucking— I am so done with this bridge."

---

"St█tus update.█Got shot on th█ bridge again█"

"Gon██ try not st█nding still on █t this time██I'll let yo█ know how that goes█"

Marco didn't even have time to hit the gas when Lucca rushed over. As he was pulled off the vehicle, his eyes flicked to Lucca's, then back to the claws. It was the same guy from before. Then again, if what he'd said was to be believed, he hadn't been the bad guy in that situation. Those claws were dangerously close to his throat. Marco knew panicking would only get him killed. "I'm sorry! It's an emergency." Marco said. And then the man said that he wanted to be asked?

"Really?" He asked. "Can I borrow your bike? My" He paused, just barely perceptibly. "My boyfriend is in some trouble with his ex. Hired mercenaries. They already got her sister. I just need to get to the bridge." He felt a bit of a twinge for taking advantage of this guy, but his story wasn't too far away from the truth. "She was the girl that was just on the TV." He continued.

Anya watched as some new strange guy tried to steal Valentine's bike. Valentine clearly wasn't having a good day and it made Anya feel just the slightest bit guilty for the way she treated him, but still, she didn't let that change the fact that she was going to be the one to steal that lovely bike.

Arm back in place Anya snatched up her suitcase and ran outside. Noting a beautiful red head at the bar with some sort of sensor beeping away on her arm as she exited. As soon as she stepped foot outside she realised what caused that beeping.



They had found her! With a complete disregard for property or life, the large vehicle came thundering madly down the street. Taking a clear path right through Marco and Valentine. Anya didn't stop moving as she exited the building instead breaking into a run as she launched herself at the distracted duo on the bike.

She couldn't save the bike but hopefully her momentum would be enough to just get the guys out of the way.

---

In a matter of minutes six vengeful, ex-military, heavily armed, private operatives would flood from the vehicle. They are operating in radio silence. One remained in the vehicle and is tracking Anya with thermal imaging. These guys meant business.

Lucca wanted to bash his own head in as he listened to the blond haired male's reason for attempting to steal his bike. He scented a bit of a lie in there somewhere, but the brunt of it rang true. At this point in time, He fucking hated his life. Today was most certainly not his day.

"Feck it, get on the bike, boyo," he growled. "Yer riding behind me. Doona play anything funny, aye?" Then he turned his head as a motion in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

Ohhh, fuck me, Lucca thought as the girl from earlier launched herself at him and the other dude. He was knocked back, crashing into his motorcycle, still fisting the blond guy's shirt as all three of them, including the bike were knocked out if the way of a goddamn gigantic tank-like thing that was barreling down the street.

"Fucking hate my life," followed by Gaelic curses could be distinctly heard as the dark haired cheetah in human skin landed on his bike. He took a moment to groan in pain, then picked both Marco and Anya up. He set his bike to rights, set both on them on it behind him and twisted the key, igniting the engine.

"Hold tight ye two," he told them. "Shit's about tae get real fecking chaotic," he added.

Today is not my day.

He growled again as all three of them nimbly avoided the tank and obvious bad guys, taking sharp curves and rearing the front hover end of the bike up to avoid another car at one point, both actions nearly knocking the extra two passengers off.

"Ye better have directions, boyo," the Celt shouted. "And ye better give em tae me right fecking now!"

---

@Dark Light@HeroicSociopath

"East exit bridge!" Anya yells loudly from her her tight squishy spot in the middle of the bike. Marco behind her would of got a face full of hair as they took off. Anya suddenly didn't mind her position as a hail of bullets whizzed past them, narrowly missing the bike as Lucca narrowly avoided another car.
"Ráicleach!" She hisses clawing madly to get a good grip on Lucca to avoid falling off.
Her left arm and suitcase flung around from the side of the bike having no room to be anywhere else.
"It's two blocks to our left, don't crash and don't stay in a straight line!" Once again Anya had to yell to be heard over the roaring wind. As if to prove her point another spray of bullets hurled past them causing a car crash up ahead.

Someone delete this

The world began to pop and fragment around them. Colin thought he had stabilized the situation, but a new crack in this day sprung a new chaotic leak. Like some kind of deranged jig, Colin flinched and jumped when the bullets rained onto the bridge. Eventually he gained enough composure to run over and lend a hand to the girl that got them in this mess. He was sure she was going to be a bleeding mess, but it seemed her armor bore the brunt of the ammunition. Colin looked at her bodysuit, then Giggles armor as he blind-fired over the retaining wall, realizing how naked he was in this situation.

As he helped the girl up, another drone came in low along the cracked painted divider line. Bullets peppered a path before it. Right before the rounds reached Colin's fleeing heels, the drone was snatched out of the air by Hound like a low flying waterfowl. Titanium teeth shredded the armor and stilled the blades, a violent thrashing of his head shook it apart. Hound unceremoniously cast the shattered drone aside, its rended corpse landing by SIGNET's feet. Snarling he paced the bridge looking for his next target.

Colin finally drew his Rilke for the first time, the stubby pistol looking so miniscule next to Giggle's SMG. He offired his other hand to SIGNET before making a beating hasty retreat, " Come on, we cant be caught out in the wide fucking open! Lets get cover in these buildings!"

Colin attempted to lead everyone back to where deserted and boarded up buildings were beside the bridge. Behind him the hum of incoming drones. Before him he could hear more gunfire and the screeching of tires.