Things were pretty much done by the time Tuskaloosa had returned the box with the rifle to where she'd picked it up. The helpful clerk had produced a cart and was loading their purchases on it, along with a couple garments brought with them; it looked like Firefly was going to wear her new coat out. “What did I miss?”
“Seems they got a freight elevator,” Arc drawled, as she stowed her credstick. “We can load up outta it in the back alley.”
Makes sense.
“'C'mon omaes, we burning daylight,” the rigger called out, and headed for the stairs. “Let's get this in the car and get on our way...”
As before, she took her place in the back. A stack of three large pizza boxes waited on the counter.
“Don't forget to take your order,” the chef recited blandly, “and have a nice day.”
She would have asked—or at least checked the boxes--but thought that would probably be rude; like looking a gift horse in the mouth. They weren't light though, and toasty warm. “See you next time.”
“Come hungry next time,” he snapped.
The troll didn't turn back, but did shift her load long enough for a thumbs up before she exited his domain.
_ _ _
She was a little more prepared this time when Yelena stripped at the shore line and disappeared. Marco also pulled back to some nearby brush after announcing that he was going as well.
Arc stood smoking near Firefly; the two were in conversation. Knowing the two were near the entry point and the car—in case their submariners came back sooner than anticipated—gave Tuskaloosa the confidence to do a little scouting of her own downriver.
It was as good a site as they were going to get: close to the bridge, without being the closest route down to the shore beneath it—the Jade Dragons and first response crews would be taking that. A simple access road threaded behind a stand of evergreens to the water, providing cover from onlookers. There was a small marina on the far side; she actually considered it a plus: the water around rich people's little daycraft was going to be the cleanest stuff in the river.
Their entry point was about 250 meters upriver from where the van would plunge; if pressed to retrieve people she could relocate to a train crossing a mere 70 meters. She was hoping it wouldn't be necessary: it would be a much more lit area even in the middle of the night, and be much closer to where she figured the escort would head. Hope for the best, plan for the drek, and expect something in the middle.
Satisfied that she had a rough map of the area, Tuskaloosa worked her way back the way she came. She was in time to see Yelena detach herself from the bank, scoop up her clothes and sprint behind the stand—presumably to the car.
Definitely will need towels, she thought. Enough for...three? Should coordinate more with Arc on this part, so we can meet up quickly. Our guest should be ok while we move out, but we'll want to give those three warmth a lot sooner than the garag--
The troll almost jumped into the river at the sound of Marco's scream of delight behind her. Bloody fraggin'--! She was about to turn around and bite his head off when she caught sight of Firefly's wide eyes and guessed where they were aimed.
She instead took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, returned her Guardian back up her slider and continued back to the car.
Children.
_ _ _
Other than the fact that the person in the back seat with her was conscious and the conversation in the front seat livelier, the ride back to the garage for the troll was no different than the ride to lunch. Her thoughts were already back at Arc's garage and the massive, untested and unfamiliar bike that awaited her there.
A whole lot was literally riding on her and the scorpion tonight. If Plan A works, we're going to want to get clear in a hurry...and if we have to switch to Plan B, Yelena and I will need to catch up to the convoy in a hurry. It'll be a shorter introduction than I'd like. She stifled a grin—I had best be on my best behavior and make a good first impression.
Their driver interrupted her thoughts. “Uh…so the run should be getting going around 1 tonight…We got plenty of time to get ready, which is good, cause uh…I have a date to catch in a few hours…I’ll meet you guys after, I promise.”
“So long as I get the time to acquaint myself with that King, go ahead and go crazy.”
“Null sheen, omae...we're almost there.”
_ _ _
Tuskaloosa had the trunk unpacked by the time Hrock arrived. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, Arc gave a wave over.
Three crates greeted her in the venerable orc's trunk. She choose the biggest and lifted. It resisted more than she thought but not more than she could handle. “I got this one.”
“Over here,” the shop's owner called, indicating a fresh patch of space on the workbench at hand.
She set it down carefully with relief.
Hrock pulled her aside as she came back for another load. “I hadn’t forgotten about ya, miss omae,” he said as he handed her a small box. “One special-fit ‘link just for your pretty hands...Threw in a self-charging induction system into the form factor too. Nothing to worry your head about, right?” he added, as he handed back her credstick. “You find yourself in need of anything more, you let me know, k?”
She held up the box and smiled. “Thanks to this, you'll hear from me as soon as I get my allowance.”
They shook hands warmly and she tucked the box into her duster.
She soon discovered the reason for the first crate's weight: Arc was already elbow deep in motorcycle parts. It took all her trollish willpower to keep from getting near the thing: Patience...the King takes priority. Right—time to go for a ride.
Tuskaloosa was crouched over, checking spark plug wires when Hrock clapped her on the shoulder. “Try not to break that one too,” he said with a wink.
She gave a mock growl. “I didn't break mine in the first place. Shoo.”
He chuckled, waved to all and let himself out.
