Quintus casually laid his heavy blaster on his big shoulder, striding forward and watching the ensuing hijinks with a mild interest. He exuded the philosophy of 'not my problem unless I'm getting paid,' however the Ur-Bot escaping did meet that criteria. He was about to take a shot before Ijin hit it in the leg.

"Noooo, that's not racist. Now callin' him a Clanker on the other hand..."

He noted Silas didn't seem too concerned about Cho, and with that problem more or less solved, Quintus began to whistle as he meandered on over to the Ur Bot. The thing tried to drag itself like a wounded animal, but it was clear it couldn't get far. Meanwhile, Quintus's movements were slow and languid, as if he enjoyed it and didn't much care if there was more of a chase. However, his eyes were locked on the small android. If it made any sudden movements, he would be on it in a flash. "Well, I'm not a veterinarian, but I think your pug needs an oil change, Cho." He placed his boot on the side of the small bot, and tipped it over so it had even less ground to find purchase on. It scrabbled helplessly, and he had to fight the urge to crush it. With one, strong hand, he grabbed it by one of its legs and lifted it up to hold at arm's length.

"Better be something valuable about this guy. If not I can scoop 'em out and use 'em as a money pot."

Silas, the good news is that Cho is probably going to make it. He's got some serious contusions, some cuts and scrape--including a particularly gnarly one above his eyebrow--and a clearly broken arm, but none of that seems life threatening. He almost certainly has a concussion, given his lack of a helmet; unfortunately for you, without a head scan, the symptoms of a brain injury and the effects of being pumped full of psychoactive drugs and tranquilizers look pretty similar.

Can you transport him? If you're careful. Will he make it? Probably. That's about as much as you can realistically say here, doing your examination in a trash-strewn alley under the cover of dark.

Quintus, the small 'bot wriggles in your grasp, but the fight has gone out of it. Cho-Tyrek's head moves, slightly--the first movement you're seen out of him since he fell off the bike.

"Lmgo." The noise fell out of his mouth like a dead fish. "Pm dn." The index finger of his unbroken arm twitches slightly. His attempt at speech draws the attention of the ur-bot; its single optic turns to regard the mangled assassin, and you hear the whrr of servos focusing. It stops struggling, then looks up to you, meeting your gaze for a wordless moment before going limp.

In the distance--though not as far as you might like--you hear the sirens of the district's fire service. House Malklaith sector security is likely not too far behind them; in a district this rough, they're as likely to be dirty as not, but either way, it's going to be annoying at best if you don't clear out before they find you.

You catch a glimpse of the truck behind you, just in time to see a roof-mounted sign advertising the "FIREY INFERNO NOODLE BOWL" curl up and blacken from the blaze that has engulfed the whole vehicle.

It's probably best to find some other way out.

As the ground team secured their targets, Ijin allowed himself a moment of introspection as he observed the goings on from his sniper's perch. The Gweldite wasn't 100% sure, but he certainly wouldn't be surprised if other humans questioned whether or not what they were doing was morally sound.

In their rush to pursue their quarry, two of his fellows had commandeered a food truck and subsequently allowed it go up in smoke. Such a thing likely meant the complete destruction of the rightful owner's livelihood. At best, the proprietor was properly insured and had enough emergency cash tucked away to make this little more than an inconvenient mishap. At worst, they had just ruined someone's life. He doubted such irresponsible behavior was considered moral among humans.

Then their was the target himself to consider. Cho-Tyrek was an assassin of the Ashen Knives who apparently wanted out of the business. And yet here Ijin and his team were, tracking Cho down to drag him back to his employers. At best, they were going to sink their hooks back into the man as deep as they could go. At worst, he would be made a long, slow, demonstrative example to his former colleagues of what happens when one of them tries to walk away. Either way, Ijin felt that human observers would consider his team's hand in bringing about either outcome to be immoral.

And last, but by no means least, was the matter of why Cho decided to walk away.

The assassin's Urbot charge seemed to be childlike in both nature. Ijin knew of a habit that humans possessed that compelled them to see things that look and act like children to actually be children. Even when all other indicators showed that they were obviously not children. Ijin found this the easiest aspect to find the immorality in. Rare was the species that saw harming children as anything other than an utterly reprehensible act of evil.

All in all, Ijin could see how other humans would find what they were doing to be immoral.

The Gweldite himself didn't see it that way though.

In both his eyes and the eyes of the rest of his species, serving one's Purpose was the ultimate moral justification. In the serving of one's Purpose, even what would normally be the direst of sins could be forgiven. Ijin recalled that the humans had a colloquial term to describe such a mindset. 'Blue and Orange Morality' or something along those lines.

The sound of sirens shook the sniper from his introspection then. Knowing that being being seen by District Security would bring them nothing but trouble, Ijin collapsed Finbl into its portable mode as he looked out across the city. The xeno's perfect long distance sight and vision across all of the electromagnetic spectrum allowing him to attempt to map an escape route back to the Cerberus for the rest of his team.