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Books. No matter how much time passed it seemed to Ari she was always finding new stories and adventures behind them. Her love for their dusty pages extended past the heroic romance stories in the fiction section to detailed accounts of history in a world left far behind. No amount of dust falling from the shelves like dancing snowflakes would deter her or make her less in love with them. When she worked in the library it seemed as though the world of Paradise was far away, their troubles trivial. Similarly, that's how she felt when she studied the stars. We are all but one spinning ball in a vast ocean of stars.

Nonetheless, this morning was proving to show its trials, determined to sway her bubbly demeanor. Sighing to herself she attempted to keep it together while cleaning the coffee stains off the tattered cover. This would be another report, much to her reluctance. A young adult rented a book from the nonfiction section, wanting to know more on war tactics, likely a future militia recruit. She was certain the coffee stain resulted from staying up too late in attempts to absorb all the knowledge they possibly could; nonfiction books could only be obtained for a day at a time, the Council's method of keeping better control on them. Though this no more than a minor damage to the books aesthetic, there would be more talk of limiting this time limit further. Ari didn't agree with this, knowledge was meant to be shared.

"Muuuch better!" pleased with her job, the stain now a faint discoloration, barely noticeable. "Tell Lady Mirabella I'll write the report later," Ari pushed herself from the desk walking over to the rows, labelled by alphabet, finally finding the place the book belonged for sliding it amongst its siblings. "Just don't forget like last time! I had to write that report for you, you know!" a soft voice bellowed from the back of the office, Yasmine was another worker in the Library, a close acquaintance, "Also, you should head over to Deadman's. Looks like the Reapers are planning another raid and want a star reader to come with." This peaked Arianna's attention. Another raid?! We just came back from one less than a week ago! Waving to Yasmine, she made her way out of the library and opened the large French doors, sunlight causing her to squint for a moment.

The Core poured out before her, bustling with Keepers and Militia performing their daily duties. Stepping onto the cobble of the streets she started out towards the Lanes, her mind still slightly unsettled. The raids were becoming more frequent, the demand for goods becoming evermore consuming. All the more evidence that the world of Paradise was a bowl with water tipping over the seams, threatening to spill forward. Shaking her head as if shaking off the thought, Star put a pep in her step. Only tomorrow knew the days tidings. She could only live in the moment.

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"One more time from the beginning. This is just so fucking retarded I can't wrap my head around it," Dee pinched the space between her eyes seething with frustration. The new recruits were usually pretty brainless; however, this year's lot seemed to be completely devoid of any shred of common sense. The recruit before her was babbling on, clearly losing any confidence in forgiveness as the conversation went on. The stumbling over his words was getting on her nerves. The fact he broke the jukebox, the only source of music at Deadman's and few available in the lanes, was a sin that was unforgivable. "They are going to kill, actually going to kill you. I, on the other hand, am just going to watch since APPARENTLY that's the only entertainment here since your weak ass can't hold your liquor."

This was not how she wanted to start her day. Having everyone pissed off further at the rogues was not on her list for a productive morning. This would be money, and time, and require the expertise of an independent electrician enthusiast or a keeper. Having to go to the latter put a foul taste in her mouth. Goody two-shoes. Dee never did like them. Slamming her hand on the table she stood up. "You!", reaching to the table over she grabbed Aiden by the hood and pulled him over to the table she was previously sitting at, "Deal with this, I don't have the patience". Being able to annoy Crow put a smirk on her face. He liked to swindle his way out of work, a perfect excuse for her.

"Seriously, who starts drinking this early. Damn animals." She made her way to the bar where she notified the barkeeper to put it on their tab. It was going to be a long day. Looking mentally through her faces she pondered on who would be a good electrician for the job. They could probably get spare wiring from the pawnshop, that place was crawling with the stuff. Either way Deeandra figured it couldn't be more than a short. It would be more annoying if they had to replace the speakers, that was much harder to come by.

Even still, they would have plenty of opportunity. Requests had been piling in for the last couple of months. Dee hadn't heard anything about a famine, shortages on food or water. That didn't stop the Council's odd orders, smuggling more and more illegal goods. For all she knew they should have a fortress of the stuff by now. She didn't know what was going on but she didn't like it. It was sketchy, intriguing, and Deeandra was curious enough to want to get to the bottom of it. But that was for another time.
@PrankFox

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It had been a profoundly humbling experience to spend the last week or so living by himself in the Lanes. Nick's first night in his small apartment wasn't so bad but time goes on and the realization that this may be his permanent home from now on begins to set in. The particularly humbling part is the knowledge that this experience isn't too uncommon, considering the other apartments in this building are identical and there are many similar living conditions across the Lanes. The community was very different from the Fields; his neighbors weren't very friendly nor did they want to get to know Nick, but at least he hadn't run into any of the bad things he'd always heard about the Lanes. No daylight robberies, no back-alley murders, and certainly no infected skulking about in the dark. But every morning when he would step outside he would stay on his guard.

Once out on the street he took a brief moment to look to the sky, attempting to estimate the time of day. It was much easier when he lived in a building with a working clock. Not quite noon, he figured. Nick adjusted the waistband on his jeans, slightly moving his hidden handgun to a more comfortable position. Until recently he had never used a gun before, but the Reapers had spent an afternoon teaching him. It'd only been a few days so he still wasn't totally comfortable in how he concealed it but he was told it was better for him to keep it unseen. Nick had never had a problem with the Militia before but apparently they don't like it when people bring unauthorized guns into the Core so it was better to be sneaky about it. Now that he was ready it was time to get something to eat. Never thought that I would miss having a refrigerator so badly.

He had learned of a place nearby that served cheap food. Of course, most places that served food in the Lanes was cheap but this one seemed to Nick to be the highest quality of the bunch. It was a place simply called "Slop" that served a decent bowl of oatmeal in Nick's experience. It was also one of the few places in the Lanes that would sell meat during its dinner hours, though Nick was apprehensive about trying it since he'd heard plenty of rumors about things labelled as "chicken" in the Lanes being anything but chicken. Nevertheless it still was finding a place in his heart. The building it was housed in was rather run-down and didn't have any windows that weren't replaced with plywood, but once Nick stepped inside it was actually kept rather clean. No dust or obvious grime on any of the tables or the floor, though sometimes the counter where they took orders was a bit of a mess. Today seemed to be a quiet day, hardly anybody seated and not a single person in line at the counter.

"Hey, boss," Nick greeted the old man behind the counter. He never knew the guy's name, but he was a thin, sickly old man with a bald head and a thick mustache. He must've had some kind of vision problems because he was always squinting too. "I'll take a bowl." Nick pulled a couple dollars from his pocket and set them on the counter, nearer to the old man than to himself. All the businesses in the Lanes accepted money but the more common transaction was usually made with bartering. While Nick still had some paper money he didn't need to barter, which was a good thing since he presently owned almost nothing of which he could even use for bartering. "Aye, take a seat," the old man spoke, slowly swiping the money off the counter with one hand and pointing to a nearby empty table with the other. As Nick began to sit down he heard the old man mutter something to himself before turning back to shout at the cooks in the back room. "One bowl! Oatmeal!" After a brief moment of silence to himself he heard some shouting from the cooks, followed by one last order from the old man. "Table five!"

A small, dark-skinned man with many scars appeared from the kitchen, setting a steaming bowl on the table before Nick. "Thank you," he appreciated as always, but like always it went ignored as the man silently retreated from whence he came. The people who have lived their whole lives in the Lanes were like a different breed, as Nick had noticed. Many of them didn't like to talk, and many of them had scars or disabilities. He had no idea why it was so common, but if he had to guess it would be from in-fighting when they were younger. Youths that grew up in the Lanes were the ones that would form gangs and commit the violent crimes, but it would seem that the ones that grow old certainly learn their lessons. The people who moved to the Lanes, whether by choice or by necessity, behaved very differently. More talkative, more friendly, but also more jaded. Nobody seemed particularly happy to be here, but as Nick began chowing down on his breakfast he felt a bit differently about it. Out here was freedom.

Once the bowl was empty he stood up from his table and gave a polite nod to the old man at the counter before taking his leave. Now was the time to head out to Deadman's Respite. Nick had been told yesterday that a raid was being organized, but he wasn't told when it would be. It would be the first raid he's been on and the first time outside the walls entirely. The other day he was taken to the walls by some senior Reapers so that he could see what it was like and see where they would be exiting from but they never actually went outside. They said that planning was one of the most important parts of any excursion outside the walls, especially since the trips would often take days. Or on the rare occasion: weeks. There weren't a lot of maps left in the city, as far as Nick knew, but the Reapers had their hands on several maps of nearby areas that were invaluable to the cause. Of course, he hadn't been allowed to look at them yet but he was assured that once he'd been around a while and they could trust him that he'd gain access.

As Nick stood outside the door to the popular saloon he noticed something was different right away, yet he couldn't immediately put his finger on just what that difference was. After stepping inside it felt so much quieter than usual, despite having plenty of people around the place. A small group was gathered around the jukebox on the far end of the bar, and upon noticing them it suddenly clicked. There was no music playing. Music machine must be broken, he thought to himself as he continued looking around the room. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be anyone from the Reapers that he recognized, which meant that he would probably wait around for a while. If nobody showed up he could ask about the raid then he would head to the headquarters, but from his own experience he already knew that most Reapers would rather be at Deadman's Respite than at headquarters so it'd be unlikely to find anyone there but the higher-ups. Maybe Simon will show up, he wondered as he sat down at the bar. I'm sure he'd be willing to tell me what's going on.

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Shifting gears, sheering metal, and burning smoke; that was the everyday existence when inside the back of the Rotten Goods Pawn Shop. Tarak had been back here a few times, either for dealings or for fixing, and never once does the sounds nor smells change. Tarak knew this place well enough, as machines breaking down was a normal occurrence, with the ramping raids being taken by the Reapers, it is often to have an increase in production of recycling and upcycling materials. With the frequency of things going down, Tarak has needed to put holds on some of his outside projects, as oftentimes he had to refurbish parts or even had to figure out how to make whole new parts for some machines.

Today Tarak came in to check up on a machine that they got traded in recently, it was a strange machine that had a rotary needle in the center and a falling needle on the side with some empty space inside it. They assumed it was some circular cloth sewer, but they couldn't figure out where to put the thread without taking it apart. Tarak looked at the strange machine and checked a few things before he let out a laugh as he said, "Haha, no, this isn't some sewing machine. It is used for music, it uses the large black disks people come in with every now and again. I think it's called a Vinyl". Tarak started looking at it, it looks as if it was needing some major parts, the speakers seemed to have been blown out, a few of the main gears had eroded, and it seems like a good few bits of wiring needs to be reworked and replaced before it might even move. Yet nothing too troublesome for the mechanics here, well Tarak hopes, or he'll need to find some books on vinyl records.

Tarak talked a while longer with the mechanic who brought him in, it was a simple chat of nothing special, yet it was better than Tarak normally gets out of people in the Lanes. Honestly, most people seem to be a bit more talkative in certain moods, mattering on what Tarak says or brings. This has led to Tarak bringing food with him every now and again when he is going to be talking to some people, honestly, Tarak has food with him right now, but it seems that learning the news had brought some joy to their day, maybe because the Vinyl player would sell for a bit, or it could be a new source of entertainment for them. Either way, it was something good nonetheless, after the talks, Tarak left and started making a few rounds where he knew people would be, sometimes it is to check up on some people and kids, other times it is to snoop on any new gossip.

It seems that news is going around that the Reapers are to go on another raid. Some people are getting more skeptical of the constant raids the Reapers are undertaking. Others are becoming scared as they think a famine is coming on soon. Tarak is slightly more inquisitive of what is going on, after all, he knew quite a few raids had been undertaken on both sides of the coin. The Rouges were going and smuggling in many goods, while the Reapers had brought in quite a few things each go around. Sure it wasn't enough to be the main source of supplies, yet it should hold over until other sources could provide. Honestly, Tarak knew the best place to get the info he needed would come from going to the greatest source of information, the bar. Tarak made his way over, telling those he knew that he's actually on a quick stop to the Deadman, as he heard there were some problems with the stuff there.

Tarak made his way over without much worry, he knew most of the people here, and many knew Tarak as something a little scarier than just Tarak the Tinkerer. He may have come from the Core with his Father, yet he had spent much of his time down in the lanes and the outskirts. Yet that didn't bring his notoriety, it came from a few of the run-ins he had, many wanted to go toe-to-toe with Tarak, as they knew he must have something on him worth a damn. Yet, they found out an hour later, after they woke up, that Tarak wasn't some scared child to a mere knife. Knives seem to be mere child play to him, and some even say he's bulletproof, most of this is some made-up nonsense, yet it was fun to see kids look at him and ask, 'Can you actually eat bullets?'. Tarak had always played up these notions with the kids, he always thought it was fun to see the kids laugh and giggle as he did 'heroics', which was him fixing things and lifting heavy objects. After which he'd play with them and pick them up and run around with them acting as if they were flying and superheroes themselves.

Yet today wasn't for that kind of fun, today Tarak needed to tell people that he was going to the Deadman's Respite to fix stuff there. Most just accepted that, others were slightly inquisitive to what he was doing, that was when Tarak made up a lie on the spot as he said, "Ah the jukebox needs some repairs". Tarak didn't know if that'll work, if some people investigate he'll need to play the 'I have a secret girl I was meeting' card, he hopes whoever there will be okay with taking the heat on that. He hopes it's one of the newbies so they'll be slightly mad but won't say anything, if it's Dee, he hopes for a swift death.

Yet to Tarak's surprise, it seems like the jukebox was broken, lucky Tarak. He let out a sigh of relief and also sadness. Relief that he didn't need to play one of his few trump cards, of sadness because that meant he'd need to now figure out what's going on. Tarak popped his neck as he made his way over to the box and called out, "Hey what's going on? It sounds quiet in here". Tarak knew well something was wrong but he was hoping to maybe get some info so he could pass it off to someone else, like Jack. Tarak knew Jack would love to tinker with something like this, if not, Tarak didn't care, he just didn't want another thing on his plate, he was here for other things not to actually do his job.

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The day had started off the same as any other Monday for Aiden. Waking up in his mediocre apartment in the Lanes, rolling out of bed a good hour after that to get ready; making sure to grab his backpack and sheathe before heading out and locking the door behind him. He wandered outside and looked up at the sky with a squint, it was too early for this, and went to get himself a shitty cup of coffee from the nearest place that was open. It was the usual exchange of walking in, bartering without much of a greeting, and walking out once he got what he wanted. He, like most other people who lived in the Lanes, had little interest with small talk. It was a miracle they were still able to get coffee so long after the outbreak, but he wasn't about to complain. That was the only thing that woke him up in the morning, and he knew he needed to go to the Deadman's Respite for some raid or other than was being planned. He should've known that they would want him there to help out with whatever planning needed to get done, but if that meant he got to go out on the raid he'd bite the bullet and deal with the paper pushing. He'd been out recently but he was never one to pass up the opportunity to explore outside the walls.

He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced before turning and heading in the direction of the bar. Aiden had lived in the area long enough to know what routes to take to avoid the worst of the pickpockets and bruisers that liked to lurk about. Not that many tended to mess with him. The dark hood and numerous knives across his person tended to warn against anyone trying to screw him over. He did give a nod of greeting to those that he recognized, or had worked with on odd jobs in the past, but he didn't stop his walk to the bar. He was pretty sure the new recruits were going to be there and it was always a riot watching Dee deal with them, especially while drunk. He couldn't help the slight sardonic grin that crept onto his face at the prospect. The newbies were always a mess and this particular bunch seemed to be worse than in the past. He was just glad he didn't have to deal with the idiots himself.

When he pushed open the door to the Deadman's Respite he was immediately hit with the smell of cheap alcohol and the sound of music from the jukebox in the back. It set his mind a little more at ease being in the familiar space. He could already see Dee, along with the newbies, scattered around at various tables. "Bit early to be getting drunk isn't it," he called out to those he could see with glasses in their hands who raised them with a tipsy cheer.

Pulling his hood off he sat down hard in a chair and pulled out some of the shiny bits and pieces he had picked up during the last raid to sort through. There hadn't been a whole lot to find, but there were some coins that needed polishing, a few shards of smooth glass, various scraps of metals, and a few things he left in his bag. He didn't trust anyone here enough not to jump at the opportunity to attempt to take them since he was pretty sure they'd be worth a fair bit; not that he planned on selling them. He went about finishing off his coffee as he polished the coins; keeping one eye trained on the rest of the group as they got more and more rowdy as the morning dragged on.

He had been enjoying listening to the music of the jukebox and was nearly finished putting everything into their respective pockets in his backpack when the sound suddenly stopped. He glanced up to see one of the new recruits backing away from the jukebox and smirked as the recruit stumbled over to Dee to begin blubbering apologies, and what he was pretty sure was an attempt at an explanation, at her. What a way to start the morning, already getting to hear her tear into someone and it wasn't even noon.

The waves of exasperation and anger rolling off of Dee made him chuckle as he zipped up the last pocket on his backpack. The noise quickly caught in his throat as she grabbed him by the hood and pulled him out of his chair. "What the hell?! You think I have any more patience to deal with this idiot? They're your problem not mine." He sent a scowl in Dee's direction before glaring harshly at the recruit in front of him, whose jaw snapped shut as they were about to start spouting off whatever excuses they'd been giving Dee to him as well.

Ridiculous, this is why I don't deal with this kinda shit. He crossed his arms before pinning his gaze on the recruit and making a vague gesture for them to talk. Before they could start he heard the door open and heard a recognizable voice call out. The anger disappeared almost as quickly as it had come, "Hey Wolf," he pointed at the recruit, "Ask this chucklehead, they're the one that broke the damn machine." He stood up from where he had sat at the table, grateful for the opportunity to skirt having to deal with the problem. If Tarak could figure out what was wrong with it and fix it then all of this would be a non-issue anyway. Now he could just wait around until they actually got down to business.

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Jack usually spent his mornings in the library. One may take a first impression of Jack and think he would avoid it like the plague. His very soul was one of academic exploration with hands-on experimentation and his image reflected that entirely. Unfortunately, with the night time power only restriction, Jack could not spend all his time in his ‘lab’ and had to settle for the same old books. There were few books on electronics in the library, far too few. But unlike other days, he had an issue that needed solving.

The endeavours from last night had left Jack without some key components. One wrong wire placed and kapoof! The circuit was gone and he was lucky to get out of it with only slightly burnt hands. Jack was left without precious supplies while on the brink of a big breakthrough. This bothered him to no end. He was so close and yet so far away. And so, it was time to hit up the Rogues. Hopefully, they would have something of interest.

Jack opened the doors to a popular Rogue hang out, some dingy bar that always had drinking occupants no matter what hour of the day it was. Dee was telling off the new Rogue recruits that joined them a while back. It wasn’t as if Dee getting angry at people or the recruits being dumbasses was uncommon. But Jack honestly just assumed they let recruits get away with whatever they wanted. It must have been something real dumb.

Jack sat down at the bar next to Dee after her scolding display. He grabbed one of the empty cups on the counter and swirled it like a glass of whiskey. “Oh Ms Strideeerr, I’ve come across a bit of a shortage when it comes to components. You do any raids lately? Got a car radio maybe?” Jack asked in a playful manner, his questions delivered short and erratic. “And yes, I can take one with bloodstains and head-shaped dents on it.”

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Dee watched from the counter as Crow cornered the lone Wolf into dealing with the fresh meat. Such was the way of Aiden; the kid had a knack for divine luck and for slithering his way out of responsibility. Too bad he didn't account for accidentally using a Rouge name in public. That was surely going to bite him in the ass if Tarak came to notice Tarak always notices. Deeandra was brought back to her immediate surroundings at the sound of Jack's voice, “And yes, I can take one with bloodstains and head-shaped dents on it.” The quirky kid has a sense of humor. "Well if it isn't your lucky day. I'll make you deal of a lifetime. I'll get you a car radio, possibly of questionable quality if you'll tell me what we need to fixed the Jukebox. It's so quiet I can hear myself think. And God forbid if these idiots be left alone with their thoughts. That's what screwed us in the first place."

Reaching into her pocket Dee pulled out a small size flip book and ripped out a page. Pulling a dull pencil out of the spiral she placed both on the bartop and slid them over his way. She would need a detailed list. If Dee was anything, it was efficient. They didn't need to be aimlessly collecting random scrap in hopes of getting the right equipment. The raid was already determined; this would just be a pit stop along the way. The plan was taking a four day journey southeast where there is a military base. The Rogues had raided that area before, confiscating illegal equipment for the Council or the militia. The jobs always paid well. This time was different though. The last haul had some military documents, have tattered and covered in dirt.

That was months ago. Now out of nowhere the Council is wanting them to go back, paying double. Deeandra was at the meeting with the boss and honestly, the Council sounded like a scifi fanatic from one of the library books. They were claiming the intel included information about an underground base and they wanted us to look for more documents, anything that seemed interesting, to bring it all. This sounded rather fishy to Dee herself, but she wasn't one to turn down money. The stern look on the bosses' face put a rock in her stomach, nonetheless. Apparently, areas like this weren't a pinnacle for safety and he had lost a comrade doing a similar raid in his early days as a Rogue. To Dee he just sounded soft.

Turning her back to the bar and looking back into the center of the room she rested back and leaned her forearm against the polished wood top. "Don't take all day, Tarak. We do have actual work to get to. Or do we need to pull your Daddy out of school to give you a peptalk?"

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Tarak was here for only 30 seconds when he heard someone already screwed up in a major way, and sadly it was Aiden. Tarak's voice and demeanor never changed yet Aiden and the other Rouges could see his eyes had changed, almost like he was telling him, you fucked up. Tarak sets his hand down on Aiden's shoulder and silently squeezes down onto it as he says, "Okay! But I'll need your help, I need someone to hold some stuff for me". As Tarak let go of his shoulder and patted Aiden on his back, Tarak moved forward to talk to the recruits and asked them what they did.

The recruits seem to cower as they looked to him like they were gonna shit themselves, yet Tarak was wearing his normal face again as he just says, "Hey, I was wondering what happened. If it was something simple I can get the Jukebox up and running again before anyone gets cranky". As Tarak jokingly gestures to Dee, trying to get them to lighten up a little. It takes a few moments for them to start lightening up as Tarak starts talking to them to finally get them to tell him what they did. Tarak learned that the machine stopped because one of them got too tipsy to stand straight, and that's when they fell and had their drink had fallen over the Jukebox. Tarak let out a laugh as he thought it was hilarious that someone could get that drunk this quickly and early in the morning. As Tarak set his hand onto their shoulder and says, "Haha, it okay, something like that should be easily handled" As Tarak gestured for Aiden as he then says, "Alright Aiden, I'll need your help with this one".

Tarak then walked to the machine as he starts going to the side of the machine and grabs it, normally this would be a 2 person job, the weight and size being a large proponent of it. However, Tarak is a man who is more than capable of such things, as he put both his arms around the Jukebox and lowered himself down. Once he found a nice position, he took a tight grip of the Jukebox as he begins to lift it. There is a bit of stress on him at the beginning, yet he doesn't look like he is struggling with it now properly in his hands, as he shifts his weight and moves it off of the wall and gestures to the wall as he says to Aiden, "Hey, I need you to unplug the wires and walk them with me".

Yet before Tarak can even get started Dee called out to him and made a snide remark towards him, and Tarak just laughed as he said in a more half-assed eccentric nobleman voice, "Ah don't be like that darling, I'll get your orchestrion working again". As Tarak chuckles and starts bringing the Jukebox over to a more open part of the bar so he can work on it properly.

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Tarak's hand had just hit Aiden's shoulder and he went to shrug it off before he felt the grip tighten and there was the click of something in his brain. Ah, shit, right. Code names not to be used during the week. Eh whatever, not like any of these idiots were sober enough to really be paying attention and everyone else already knew who each other was. He had wanted to just slink off to the nearest corner and watch the show, but he doubted Tarak would let him get away with that at this point. At least all he had to do was hold things instead of dealing with people. Following orders was something he could do; dealing with drunk recruits, that was not.

He leaned back against the nearest table as Tarak went to figure out what the recruits had done to the jukebox. It was honestly a shock he could get anything out of them let alone understand it with the amount of words that blended together into a singular mess. At least that was all he could hear. Though from what he gathered one of them literally just stumbled into the thing and spilled their drink on it. Ridiculous.

A brief tune in to Dee's conversation with Jack at the bar told them that they were going to be on the lookout for some number of items while they were on the raid. The guy was always wanting something to tinker with, which he could respect, but it certainly added to what they were already trying to track down, whatever that may be. He hadn't been told exactly what they were doing, just that were meeting up for a raid and it was paying well. Those were the only two things he needed to hear really.

His attention snapped just as quickly back to Tarak when he heard his name. "Yeah, yeah I'm comin'." He followed just behind and crossed his arms; waiting for Wolf to tell him what he needed. He would have moved to help lift the thing, but he knew just as well as most of the people here that Tarak could lift the box along with, probably, at least two of the recruits with little trouble. He chuckled to himself faintly at the thought as he moved to wiggle the wires free from the plug in the wall. God knew when the last time it had been moved was.

Really they just needed to put the wires in a loose knot and Tarak would be able to move the thing just fine on his own, but an excuse to get away and maybe find a space to hole up until the raid started was much too tempting. Not that he knew exactly where they were taking the jukebox, but he'd take his chances. The bar was starting to get more crowded and it was much more fun to sit back and observe than get wrapped up in anything again.