[Mean Streets, Cruel Towers]The Milk Run

"Good, 'cause you and The Mummy over there might want to take up positions on the roof. This guy was clearly worth a lot to somebody and for all we know they're sending a team for him. One of the big corps." Jack says, before whipping out his terminal and typing furiously.
 
Igo Tyrell


The assassin's face hardens. Without a word, the mask is placed on the face, hat on the head, and finally taking the briefcase in hand. Though his thigh screams at him for respite, he ignores it, even as he feels the chill of sweat break out across his back like a cold wind. There would be time for painkillers later. Because now there was work to do.


Hurriedly, Igo hobbles upstairs.
 
Ritz


"Mummy! Where!?" Ritz looks around anxiously before realizing. "Oh right. Be careful with that, curses are the real deal." She laughs at the whole joke, nervous that they might be insulted by it but fuck it, her body her jokes.


"On it though." Ritz hurridly unpacks her rifle, hoping to god the few shots she took didn't dirty the barrel too much. Holding the long rifle awkwardly, she hobbles after Igo. Her steps mimicking the assassin.
 
Shrei


For the most part, the feline had been steadily doing her Pilates and Yoga stances with graceful unconcerned ease in corner while the Boys patted out the business venture.


She had given Sawbones a shake of the hand upon his entry - her gauntlets no withdrawn for use of her fingers - before he had gotten to work on Igo.


A grimace and a withdrawl of gaze when what's left of Arc seeps out of the bag and gets carved up.


... the mention of the million credits however... practically earns a "Nyh?" in bewilderment.


If she actually had the cat features she so closely resembled they'd be pricking and swishing in excitement.


You can practially hear the hamster wheel and the Ding of the penny dropping,


"... Yessir~" eventually once everything has processed, the gauntlets expand once more, saluting energetically, "So where am I needed~?"
 
Arte


Sawbones just said threadless what? Arte stops fretting over how his sweaty fingerprints are ingrained in the woven handle of the duffel.


[dice]855[/dice]
 
"Make sure the case gets here before the bullets do and it's yours."


Ten gods damned grand. Forget the royal family, it was the whole dynasty. The things he could buy with that...provided he could put up and get home alive with it. If Jack wasn't talking out his ass here, the latter bit would be the hardest part of the evening.


Better get the lead out before someone puts it in him.


Drowning out the background noise, Sawbones focused on the task at hand. Isolating the augs and clearly exposing them, he started marking out the best method of removing them.


[dice]884[/dice]


[dice]885[/dice]
 
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As the working begins, you feel the Magic begin to run out of control - but rein it in and carry on.


Over the course of two ominous hours, the augs are extracted and stored in a stasis tank. Jack pays up promptly and gets the hell out of dodge.


Looks like no one is coming for the corpse. At least, not now.


You're all on your own until the next job.
 
Ritz


An hour of guard duty and he got it for free. Pfft. Dumb of her. Maybe it might look good if he wanted another job done.


Now back in the warehouse and having just split the reward, Riley looked unsure of what to do next.


"So then, we just leave? Anyone want to do anything? My night is open."
 
Arte


He keeps his eyes averted from the dissected remains. "We can't leave... the place like this can we? Is Jack coming back with a scrub team?"
 
Igo Tyrell


The man sidelines a glance at the bandaged woman, shaking his head in the negative.


"From the ache when I breathe, I'm pretty sure I have a cracked rib. Add that to the chunk out of my thigh, the missing quart of blood, and the pounding godsdamn headache right behind my eyes, I think I'm done for the night,"


Looking at the body of their former comrade, Igo snorts, walking past it.


"As for that, where we're concerned he doesn't exist. Leave it. We weren't paid to be cleaners,"


Getting a card from the sawbones on the way out, the wetwork technician leaves in the most banal manner possible. He walks to the nearest train station, resisting the powerful urge to start swallowing painkiller as the agony in his thigh slows his stroll to a crawl. When he arrives, he waits fifteen minutes for the next train, and waits a further thirty minutes for it to get to his stop. Another fifteen minute walk occurs as he limps to his apartment.


Finally, the twenty seven emblazoned plate of his apartment door shines dully in his sight. Three locks turn with a series of clatters, and he dutifully steps inside. Three locks close, three heavy door chains follow, and three thick dead bolts slide into place.


There's a beat of silence, and Igo exhales, letting go of the thick knot of tension in his stomach, finally allowing himself to relax. He checks that each lock is properly engaged, each three times, just to make sure. Certain that they were indeed operating correctly, and satisfying his Rule of Three, he collapses onto the couch.


"Hey there little girl, how're ya doing?" he asks Henrietta, leaning over to peer into her terrarium. He always made sure to feed her before he ventured out, just in case he didn't come back.


Now out comes the painkillers. He counts out three, lines them up on his little table, then swallows them. Then, to indulge his Rule of Three, Igo proceeds to line up three lines of three pills, again and again, forming neat little squares of medicated goodness. It's rhythmic, easy, requires no brain power, and slowly eases the remaining anxiety in his belly. The television is on, providing comfortable background noise. It's some nonsense about rockstars remodeling houses or something, but Igo doesn't care. It provides a pleasant depth of noise that smooths over the jagged sounds of the inner city outside.


Soon, with the narcotics taking care of his pain, he drifts off to sleep, still sitting in front of a quietly rambling television set.
 
"If Jack wanted a scrub team, it would have come with the case." Ignoring the corpse, Sawbones blithely washed his hands of the affair and collected his money. Oh the things he was going to do with all ten thousand of these beauties...it made him briefly forget the rough throb from the temperamental spell.


"You are all of course free to do what you wish. My advice is to make yourselves scarce very quickly. The possibility of someone looking for him is not zero. Being here when the body is found would be quite unfortunate. Should you ever have need of discreet services, please don't hesitate to call. Then, a pleasant night to all of you."


Tipping his hat to the assembly, Sawbones distributed his card before stepping off into the night. A brief and profitable night for a scant two hours of work. In all likelihood it would vanish far more swiftly.
 
Ritz


"Sure, I've got credits and need to change my bandages. Know a place we can go that won't mind seeping wounds?"


She inhales deeply, letting the euphoria of a job well done wash through her. It was almost as good as the feeling she was going to have peeling off the water infused bandages from her burnt skin.
 
Right. Same as technicians and programmers waiting for a valid charge code before beginning work. ""Makes sense." He turns his back to the body. Good-bye, Arc.


He's almost programmed to hear the word 'drinks'. Takes a moment for him to remember it's not the same as in the towers. Takes another to remember the duffel bag. "The guns, can someone take them? My place isn't exactly secure."
 
Ritz


"I'd take them but I'm living in a tent hanging under a bridge. It's a bit tough on room between me and my gun and to add a whole batch of new guns would just cause problems. Handguns are the worst at sharing a sleeping bag."


Flipping her goggles back to reveal her eyes, she looks at the kitty standing upright.


"Have you room? Otherwise just well them off piecemeal to at least twenty different pawn and gunshops."
 
Shrei


She nods, "Got an apartment just on the outer ring. Small, but I'm sure a couch is better than nothing,"


"Can leave the guns in my safe. Trying to flog them right now would have the cops raining down on our location,"


She slings the duffle full of loot onto her back with alarming ease, "Also you'll love the bars round were I live~"


She giggles, offering the crook of her arm.
 
Oof. His own shoulders still ache from lugging the merchandise around. Time for downtime. "Well, since good company's already been assured," he smiles and takes the proffered arm.


To the mummy, he asks, "So, uh, will it be Ritz or Riley?"
 
The bars Shrei frequents are strange. Snaggle toothed merry drinkers among old kinetoscope posters and mish-mashed clashing furniture. Spiderbear skin rugs and signed pictographs of famous people who'd stumbled upon their doorstep. Music softly playing somewhere between rock and stoned completely.


The atmosphere is at least relaxed and pleasant.


She orders something called a "Grugeonghast Cocktail" ... a tall, orange tinted glass of steaming bubbling liquid that smells like absinthe and death.


She quoffs it like a champ.


"What can I getcha?" she grins, pointing at the menu, "I've had them all, so I can recommend anything~"
 
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