Julia Meyer. The girl's image filled Sunrise's eyes, which in turn meant it filled her mind. The wide brimmed gambler hat hid her eyes from most angles in the transport's rear seating, but the hologram glow filtered beneath her visual shield and imprinted the target's visage into Sunrise's memory.

"Mm..." She grunted as she leaned forward, lifting a hand to flick the hat upwards and reveal her face to the other members of the crew as she swept a slow gaze around them. "...Little lady'll stand out sore-like. Putting eyes on 'er will be easy 'nuff... Once we find out where she's holed up. If she's anything like me, she's gon' be in the desert with the guilders."

Sunrise leaned back, propping a boot up onto the side of the hologram projector and manually triggering the next slideshow image with her heel. The gambler hat settled back into a neutral position atop her head, a thick curl of crimson hair falling loose and framing her face in the process. She licked her teeth slow before continuing on.

"We'll see soon, by my reckonin'. She's a big item, but she cut and run on her pa; doubtin' we'll have luck asking by name."

She fell silent, giving the others ample opportunity to fill the silence as the Rockefeller made its final descent to Fiction. The thud of landing gear upon ground signaled Sunrise's rise to her feet. When Trey entered the passenger area, Sunrise swept a hand across her duster and let it billow to its full length. Trey's news about the deadline and the incoming peacekeeper forces warranted a silent nod- but his next piece of news brought her own attention to the horizon.

"...Don't like it, I'll let you folk to the talkin' on this one." She commented as she stepped from the shuttle, eyes studying the encroaching suit and his security. She leaned back against the landing leg of the Rockefeller shuttle, sweeping one arm low and brushing the duster back from her hip holster on her left side to grant ease of access and brazen display of her imposing revolver, the Gabriel. Her other hand rose and in silence made the sign of the cross, tapping at her forehead beneath the hat- then pulling it down over her eyes- before centering on her chest, then completing the motion in a left-to-right sweep.

"I dunno," Black Jack Doe says with a shrug. "If she's shillin' for 'em, they probably have lots of eyes on her, too."

Even grabbing her would get them noticed. Whatever they did, it had to be quick and away from prying eyes. They were going to need something non-descript, generic, just like hundreds more still about in the town. Definitely nothing corporate. And they'd need to sweep her for trackers, hope she didn't have something internal.

Without wanting to, his eyes flickered to the girl in the holo. In the streets, everyone said how they were related to this or that corporate bigwig, how one day a limo would pull up and they get whisked away into the lap of luxury, a corner office and more credits than you could know what to do with. Well, sometimes a limo would stop, but what they wanted was an hour or two with you tucked away in some hotel room. It was at least warm, with a bath, and sometimes something to eat before they threw you out with a few extra credits in your pocket "for your time."

Some of them, you were lucky if you could walk out. Sister Mary found him a few times in some back alley, all cut and beaten black and blue, and dragged him to the free clinic or the mission to recover.

And this crazy chicka actually walked out of that, leaving behind all that safety, good food, comfortable rooms, soft clothes, and hot baths whenever you wanted?!? What was wrong with her?

Black Jack's eyes flickered to Sunrise, wonder if she'd...? No. She looked hard, alright, body screaming you can look but you don't touch iffen you want to keep your hand. Probably shot the first guy ever to ask. She wasn't street kid hard. Probably grew up someplace nice, away from the city. If only that judge's kid had handed over his ride when he lost....

He was only dimly aware they had landed, then the pilot interrupted his pleasant daydream, followed by the suit and his muscle showing up. Black Jack wondered what sort of shakedown this guy was gonna try to pull.

The holo-projector's dossier for one Julia Meyer was the center of Flint's attention. In the stuffy air and dim lighting of the cruiser, his goggles and cowl stayed out of his way around his neck, giving his crewmates a view less obstructed than the wide-brimmed lady that sat beside him. Across the projector in front of him, and slouched heavily along the other side's seating was the only member of the newly formed rag-tag gang that Flint had any trust for at the moment. His own sister Steel, staring past the glitchy imagery of their target, her mind was elsewhere. As the hunter that introduced herself as Sunrise threw her two cents in about their shared target, Flint glanced left to resolve her face in his mind. He nodded along with her assessment, his mouth parting to add to it but unable to before the man across the opposite corner of the holo-table spoke his mind. It was the same point that Flint would have made- caution to the many scrying eyes surrounding this girl. Satisfied with the seemingly relative competence of his new companions so far, he let out a small breath of relief and leaned a bit back in his seat.

"At least we're all on the same page about that," he agreed with Black Jack Doe. Well- almost. "Though, 'shillin' isn't exactly the word I'd use. Seemed to me like she's on the run. Sure- she could have orchestrated some faux ransom with someone else to con her own old man out of some cred but..." his voice trailed off, trying to scrutinize any sort of motive on the still image of their target standing between them all.

"Seems a bit more likely she just couldn't stand the guy," Steel finally chimed in, refusing to recover from her slouch as she returned her attention to the ship they were all in. "Don't overthink it. He's a pig, she's a hippie. The two don't mix." Flint opened his mouth to respond but was once again cut off, this time by their pilot Trey who delivered unto the group the news of arrival. He lifted himself with a small "huff" as he slung his rifle over his shoulder

Following the others out onto the ramp that descended from the ship to the dirt below, he rose his goggles as he peered across to their welcoming party. "Great," he muttered to himself in frustration just as his sister found his shoulder to lean herself on. "Great," she hummed to him in sarcastic elation at the same sight. "If things get heated, don't shoot the suit first, gotta see what he knows."

"Don't make things heated and I won't have to."

Steel simply smiled to him as she broke away from his shoulder, standing upright and lifting her helmet to her head.

"What, you guys don't have a mechanic?" Black Jack scoffed, eyeing the escort with open doubt on his face. "All ya gotta do is post a decent offer on any job board, you don't have to waylay them coming off a transport."

Okay, he admitted to himself, playing dumb wasn't fooling anyone here, but if it created just a moment of doubt, they might start to wonder if maybe they got the wrong transport.

Like they see transports all that often, he frowned, taking in the vacant field as he followed Richard back to his ground shuttle, keeping his hands open and away from his weapons. Still worth a shot.

Just how many knew they were coming, anyway? Couldn't that guy keep his yap shut?

The suit's words were of a familiar kinship to Sunrise, his lingo and dialect resonating with her own upbringing. He was still a suit, no doubt about that, but in the end his words reeked of his desperation and fear. She relaxed her posture, letting the duster coat fall back over the holster of her revolver as she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her head to peer out from beneath the hat.

Six goons, armed for bear and kitted like tanks. She appraised them in a slow manner, sucking on the inside of her cheek and chewing on it lightly as she did so; if push came to shove, six on three weren't great odds but she'd dealt with worse and with lower quality companions. By her sussin' and their jabberin', Sunrise kenned that Flint and Steel could square dance with these goons if they had to and that bolstered her own rebellious embers...

But there was a job to do, and this man could be worked. Black Jack's tongue ran smooth and made Sunrise's stomach churn as he yarned at Richard; the lad was a fast talker for sure, she made mental note. In timely fashion, Sunrise leaned forward off her perch and made an easygoing, open handed, sweeping gesture of peaceful intentions that also seemed as if she were embracing the day as she stepped forward.

"Pal, you seem like a Dick to me rather than a Richard. Mind if I all ya Dick? We're appreciatin' such a warm welcome... By my reckonin' this ain't normal formals."

She fell into a slow, methodical, swaggering gait as she trailed behind a few paces.

"It's yer house so you set the tune. How's this gonna go?"

The goons that outflanked Richard looked around and kept their heads on a swivel, staying on the alert and up and up. If any of them looked like they meant business it would have to be these guys guarding the rep. Richard looked around shooting off a shrug of his shoulders as he looked to the group of mercs. He licked the roof of his mouth as he decided how he would deal with them, what could be offered and what could he bargain. His inaction turned into a smile for the time being as he gave them all a once-over again.

His attention turned to Sunrise shooting her a quick smile. "Glad you asked, listen you've come to Godfrey for one reason or another. You look like important types, but so am I and that's why I think we'll get along so well. I'll give it to you straight, this time of year it's hard to get out of Fiction. The sandstorms tend to disable any vehicle that hit the outskirts, simply put there isn't enough shielding. I'll keep it short though, I have a mole problem and it's affecting my boys works in the field. Can't fight a war when you have a hole burning through your pants, listen. I know they're in the city, but it's hard for a corporate-fashionista like myself to find a mole. So, you help me I'll help you get out of Fiction."

Of course the first thing to be dealt with upon touchdown is pleasantries and formalities. Big-wig red tape and double-speak. Steel hated this kind of fluffy ass-padding that these "influential types" loved to dance with. Luckily she had already donned her helmet, or everyone on both sides of the conversation would see her rolling her eyes several times over. Flint however, was more tolerable to this kind of process. While he didn't exactly like it either, he at least could keep a straight face as Sunrise and Richard played their banter.

With the proposition laid before them, it sounded to him like an easy opportunity to prod for a little bit more. His throat cleared enough to take center-stage in the conversation. "We only just touched down, we're not here to sight-see and be on our way," he pointed out. "Safe passage isn't going to cut it as an offer. But it seems that hide and seek is the name of both our games. If you're as connected as you say, you should have no qualms with aiding our search while we aid yours."

"Buddy, iffen you got mole problems, you need an exterminator," Black Jack shrugged, "Not a mechanic."

"Unless it's hiding inna manifold, I don't see how you expect us ta ferret it out. Besides, isn't it most likely to be with you, not in town?" Black Jack scratched his chin. "So who goes ta town all da time?"