___Sillasion____
<<Great, see you there about 9pm!>>
The helpful and smiley young elf heads over to clear your table as you vacate your seat.
The street seems a bit busier as you head back up to the bunkhouse. The volume of traffic has picked up slightly and several cyclists ogle your hair-do as you trudge back up the main road to the industrial estate.
It had started to drizzle in the half hour you'd been inside, the overcast sky had darkened slightly and it looked like you might be in for a rainy morning.
Zipping your jacket up, you pop your earbuds in again and brush up on your Troll Rock, streaming an eclectic trixcast mix from Austria. It wasn't great early morning music but it'd make for a decent Thursday night out on the razz.
As you turn the corner into the courtyard, the HGV's had gone and been replaced by a small fleet of Harley Davidsons. The sheer amount of chrome on the heavily customed bikes was impressive, these things had taken some polishing!
A few leathered up riders stood around, tweaking bits on their bikes and admiring their compatriot's machines as you approach, but there are more bikes outside than people. You assume the others must be inside the bar. Alpha was nowhere to be seen.
___Scawire + Lumen____
The gridguide system pings at you to come off at the next junction and you ease back the throttle as you hit the off-ramp, taking manual control from the autopilot.
The offramp lands you onto a wide boulevard with mixed light industrial and commercial units sparsely dotted along either side of the road.
You stay on the main for about 5-10 minutes before taking a turn down a knackered and potholed road surrounded by fields.
Gridguide seems adamant that the route is correct, but something in your gut tells you that something is amiss.
The weak LED headlights cast a narrow Beam of light down the road, partially illuminating scribblings to your left and rtight. Though the first hint of blue hits the sky, it's still to dark to really call it dawn.