[rednblack]

The Phoenix glides her Shin-Hyung nearly effortlessly through the thick downtown traffic.  At the right times, she dips back and changes lanes, but never loses sight of Minami's BMW.  Soon, the bright lights and polished AROs of downtown give out to the rough-worn plascrete exteriors and occasional deserted car that is Dallas south of the trickle of blueish green water that used to be known as the Trinity River.  A few turns more, and the Phoenix has to drop back even further, taking each corner just in time to see which way Minami has turned, as he slowly wheels through the apartment complexes, churches, liquor stores, and the bars and restaurants in between. 

Wraith, keeping a running tally of which taco joints are in the area, narrows it down to the one that would make sense given Minami's route, so the Phoenix takes a side street that will give the team a better vantage.  Pulling to the curb of the Veranda Gardens apartment complex, the runners see Minami's BMW parked across the street and down the block.  The taco stand is a small truck, surrounded by picnic tables chained to concrete anchors, most of the umbrellas worn away by wind, or acid rain, or perhaps the occasional bullet.  A few patrons mill about, drinking beer and sampling the wares.

Minami exits the car first, holding a beast of a blade in his hand.  It's more machete than katana, and he's followed by three other yaks.  One is trailing a little behind, looking uncomfortable as the troupe approaches, and Minami cleaves one of the remaining umbrellas clear from the table, causing a patron to duck.  He catches the falling cloth in his free hand, and hurls it at the order window before opening the back door to the truck and stepping inside.  It's unclear what's being said, but it's easy for everyone to imagine.  Half a minute, then a minute goes by before Minami exits the truck, slipping something into the breast pocket of his suit, and nods for his men to follow, who have been playing crowd control.  They get into the BMW, and as it starts to back out, they see the proprietor, a rather small ork man stumble out of the taco stand, cradling his right hand.  The crowd, which was widely silent during the altercation, step forward, and take a look at the ork's hand before wincing away.  An ork woman, the man's wife presumably follows him out, shouts something to one of the customers, and the pair begins to walk east along Wilson.

[Jayde Moon]

"Guess I'm not having a taco," Gabriella remarks.  "On the other... hand... I won't feel bad about icing this guy when the time comes."  She winces at her unintentional gag.

"So what's the play now, guys?"

[SgtBoomCloud]

Marissa's pun detector ^TM went off like little alarm bells in her head as she snapped around with wide eyes to look at the orkette, a broad grin creeping across her features in approval of the albeit terrible and unintentional joke.  Up until that point, the human had eyes fixed on the scene before, recording video of the incident and snapping shots of Minami and his posse when able, hoping to get enough compromising info that they needed.  "Wiz all, that should do it."  Sighing, she kicked back in her seat and tilted her head. 

"...you wanna try talking to the peeps that own the place?  Info on how this creep does biz could be pretty handy.  Now or another time, whichever works.  Other than that, there's really no need to remain here or do more tonight...hit the dusty trail, I drop peeps off where they want, and we meet back up with the rising sun?"

[JackVII]

[05 MAY 2075 | 21:45 | DFW | In Phoenix's Car]

Wraith piped up from the backseat, "I'm not sure if it would be a good idea to talk the guy. He either has a chip on his shoulder, which could be good, or he's really afraid of Minami right now, which could be bad. Might figure if someone comes snooping around about Minami, he might ear brownie points for passing that info along and maybe avoiding another kitchen accident in the future. I mean, if someone thinks they can talk to the guy without playing our hand go for it. If you want, I can try to get some background info on the owner before we chat with him."

[Jayde Moon]

"Well, does anyone know anything about the Yaks and how they work?  I assume this guy didn't pay his protection money... so they go around cutting off hands?  Or maybe he stole from them?  Knowing something about it might help us figure out what we should do."

[SgtBoomCloud]

Pursing her lips, Marissa kept pretty quiet for a moment after that question.  After all, she had intimate experience with how the Yaks operate with those they're unhappy with.  That being said, it didn't take much mental searching to pipe up, the Phoenix clearing her throat.

"It might just be the trids hollerin' stuff up, but traditionally, punishment by them involved the removal of a finger..the smallest left one to be precise, followed by the right, and then moving up the hand.  It feels hinky though...that stuff's only depicted to be done by lower Yaks, and always self-inflicted....either that tusker is Yak himself, or these Yaks decided to break from traditions...either way..."  She pinched her brow, one hand gripping the wheel.  "I've tried doing the talking drek, and it usually escalates.  I wouldn't recommend me."

[Poindexter]

Hopeless isn't really watching the action, instead keeping an eye on anyone who might be keeping an eye on them. He keeps his fingers crossed in his lap, and he grinds his teeth a little bit. He's really trying his hardest to not seem nervous, but he is going crazy inside. Finally, phoenix says the words he's been waiting to hear.

"...Other than that, there's really no need to remain here or do more tonight...hit the dusty trail, I drop peeps off where they want, and we meet back up with the rising sun?"

"Agreed!" he pipes up, perhaps a little too loudly. "I just mean, um... yeah, we should meet back up tomorrow morning, like, with all the, umm, all the... all the gear and all, right?" He's almost getting angry with himself now. Things had been going so well tonight until they came out here under the fucking train station. Now he's falling apart and he's terrified everyone in the car knows it. Fucking train station!

"Well, does anyone know anything about the Yaks and how they work? "

Thankful for a change in the subject, Ian jumps back into the conversation. "I'm uhhh... gonna go, and, like...meet up with a, a... a couple people tonight and, like... find out some things about that." He does his best to keep looking out the window for threats. Maybe they'll think I'm just paranoid instead of terrified of making eye contact.

"I've tried doing the talking drek, and it usually escalates.  I wouldn't recommend me."

"Yeah, 1,2,3, not it." he says without a hint of humor in his voice. "I am not the face."

He sends an ARO to The Phoenix of an address about 8 blocks away from B-Know's place in Arlington. "You can just, like, drop me off there whenever you can. Oh, and uhh, I guess... have someone send me, like, a link to the, y'know? the meet-up spot for tomorrow morning. I'll have a lead on some, y'know, some safehouses by then and hopefully some info on the, y'know, ummm... the Yak shit, too." Then, finally getting up the guts, he manages to get out, "And uhhhh...I'll ummm... I'll need about fifteen hundred of that advance, too. Supplies and greased palms and whatnot, y'know?"

"FUCK! I sound like such a wiener!

[rednblack]

@Hopeless

After being dropped off, Hopeless makes his way down to B Know's place and finds him and some of the boys are in the garage.  The door's open, the bottles are out, and the vapor from everyone's NicStiks is pretty thick.  Hopeless recognizes two or three other orks hanging around as longtime friends of B, but the rest of the group if new to him.  Of the unrecognized, they're all wearing colors -- green and gold -- and they eye Hopeless with a practiced disdain as he approaches. Aside from one troll in gang colors, the rest of the group are all orks.

"Hoi, chummer, been a long time," B Know says rising from a sofa that's more tape than upholstery.  He reaches in an ice chest, and pulls out a frosted tall boy, which he tosses to Ian.  "Good to see you, Hopeless.  Let me introduce you around." B Know spends the next few minutes making Ian's acquaintance with the rest of the group, and while the gangers stay standoffish, they give curt nods, and one of the younger members actually extends his hand.

"I'm telling you, chummers," B Know says, "me and this white boy go back a long while.  I know he don't look like much, but damn son, this mug right here can get into some shit.  But the real deal, is he can get out of it.  Chip."

After playing host, and practically forcing another beer into Ian's hands, B Know turns the volume up on the "sound system" he's got hooked up in the garage and leads Ian out the back door into a sparse, gravel-covered back lot.

"Alright, man.  What's on your mind?"

@ La Sombre

It's a little after 15:30 the next afternoon when Grabriela gets a ping from Henry Stokes.

<<@La Sombre [Stokes] Couple things went my way for once.  Ready to meet?  Say Figueroa Cafe in 45?>>

[Jayde Moon]

Gabriella smiles and thanks the spirits for her luck.

45 at the Cafe, I will be there for certain.  Thanks for this!

Never hurt to show appreciation.  Now, if this turns out, that would be better.

[rednblack]

Forty minutes later, La Sombre walks into Cafe Figueroa.  Done up as a Costa Rican soda with an attached soycaf counter, business is brisk, and La Sombre thinks that it's the perfect place to be in public and not feel too worried about being seen.  The line leads to a brief buffet counter, where patrons can order plato typical, gallo pinto, and fried "soyTains."  Detective Stokes gives her a brief nod from one of the counters as she enters, and after ordering La Sombre joins him in an empty seat. 

"Afternoon, Reyes," Stokes says, making a brief movement like he's about to stand at her approach before settling back in to his soycaf and churro.  "How's biz?"

[Jayde Moon]

Gabriella brushes her hair out of her face and grins.  "So far, so good.  It's been rough since the discharge, but looks like I got hooked into a good job, for now, so... asi asi.  Ya veremos.  How about you?  Any big collars, lately?"

Her hands are folded on the table in front of her and she is leaned in, the attentive listener.  A stretch to call him a friend, the two have come through for each other on separate biz-related issues in the past.  This was a relationship Gabriella wanted to cultivate.  He wasn't the highest in the Lone Star food chain, but he was currently moving up, and that counted for a lot.

[Poindexter]

Wraith and La Sombre get dropped off first and Ian moves into the front seat with The Phoenix for the rest of the ride back to his (shitty) side of town. The two of them share a comfortable silence as they roll through the DFW at night. Despite the speed on the highway and the way it whips his hair into his eyes, he keeps the window down, preferring not to be astrally blind outside the car. Hope the wind doesn't bother her. Alot of people with long hair hate having the window down. Ian, as a rule, never closes his third eye when he's nervous and tonight more than qualifies. It doesn't take long to get there, and when she pulls up on the corner he designated earlier, she turns to look him in the face before saying, "See ya tomorrow, chummer." with a small, professional little nod of her head. He returns the nod, smiles, tries to think of some witty response, but only gets out, "Heh. Yeah." before opening the door and stepping out onto the street.

He only stops off at home long enough to change clothes before headed back out the door and taking another taxi out to Arlington to see his old acquaintance, B-Know. The neighborhood might have been nice at one point in the distant past, but these days, it's just another slum; one of the quieter slums, but a slum nonetheless. This is the type of place Ian had spent most of his childhood living in, and he remembers seeing more than a few guys like B-Know from back in the day. He used to think guys like him were the top of the pile; the most anyone born without jing could hope to aspire to. He chuckles at his own former naivety as he walks up the driveway into the light and vapor from half a dozen gangers. Green and gold. Cutters. Yuck.

Normally, Ian might be intimidated by this many heavy hitters in this close proximity, but he knows that B-Know is too paranoid to have let any of them come to his house heavy. Doesn't mean you won't catch an assbeating if you step outta line... Most of the cutters are a bit standoffish, and with good reason. Most strangers in the game assumed Ian was either a cop or a fiend when they first met him, so he's become used to people not really opening up to him right away. One of the younger cats actually extends his fist though. Ian bumps it with his and nods his head in respect, saying only, "Big up." Ian shrugs his shoulders and looks at the ceiling at the compliment from B-Know about getting out of trouble, then sits down and chats with the group for a few minutes before he and the fixer step out back into the gravel pit.

"Alright, man.  What's on your mind?"

Ian looks up at the stars briefly before inhaling deeply and getting right to the point. "I need info about a few Yaks. Most of em low to mid level, but one of em is way up there." He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, removes his own nicstic, inhales deeply from it and exhales into the air, watching the smoke billow up above him for a moment before continuing. "If I give you a list of names and twenty four hours, can you give me a pricelist? Like, price by the name, y'know?"

After quietly reading off the names to the ork, the two of them talk terms and ballpark figures for a moment before concluding business and shaking hands, agreeing to meet up here again, tomorrow night. As they stroll, side by side back into the garage, Ian asks him, "Hey, I need to swing through Cabaret West tonight after i leave here, wiz? Think I might could get a lift? It's only like twenty minutes... I'll get ya a dance, eh?" He gives B-know a grin full of mischief as he waits for a response.

[rednblack]

@Gabriella

Gabriella brushes her hair out of her face and grins.  "So far, so good.  It's been rough since the discharge, but looks like I got hooked into a good job, for now, so... asi asi.  Ya veremos.  How about you?  Any big collars, lately?"

Her hands are folded on the table in front of her and she is leaned in, the attentive listener.  A stretch to call him a friend, the two have come through for each other on separate biz-related issues in the past.  This was a relationship Gabriella wanted to cultivate.  He wasn't the highest in the Lone Star food chain, but he was currently moving up, and that counted for a lot.

"You'll land on your feet," Stoke says.  "And maybe next time, you do a turn for me."  He dismisses her question about big collars with a wave of his hand, and mischievous smile.  "Some bigger than others."

Stokes does well to fill the time while he finishes his soykaf, and Gabriella eats, and near the end he simply places a data chip on the table.  "I assume you've got our agreed upon sum.  I delivered on all accounts.  Bet you'll be pleased.  Unfortunately, I must leave you to it." He stands and finishes off his drink, waiting to be paid.  Once Gabriella passes over the credstick he smiles.  "Watch yourself out there, chummer, and give me a call if you hear anything that might be in my purview.  Maybe we can help one another out again soon."

@Hopeless

Ian looks up at the stars briefly before inhaling deeply and getting right to the point. "I need info about a few Yaks. Most of em low to mid level, but one of em is way up there." He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, removes his own nicstic, inhales deeply from it and exhales into the air, watching the smoke billow up above him for a moment before continuing. "If I give you a list of names and twenty four hours, can you give me a pricelist? Like, price by the name, y'know?"

"Yaks, huh? B Know says.  "You are a crazy fucking white boy.  Yeah, man, get me the list.  Here's the thing, though.  I'm gonna be out of town for a week starting Wednesday.  Think you might be able to mow my lawn for me while I'm gone?"  Hopeless looks out at the dead grass and catches his meaning.  "It's a quiet little spot, not too far from here.  Nobody'll fuck with you."

"Hey, I need to swing through Cabaret West tonight after i leave here, wiz? Think I might could get a lift? It's only like twenty minutes... I'll get ya a dance, eh?" He gives B-know a grin full of mischief as he waits for a response.

"Man, I'm stuck here with the boys t'nigt.  Think Norway was about to head down near there, though.  Want me to ask him?"  Before Hopeless can respond, B Know has re-entered the garage and is practically shouting, "Yo, Norway, my man here has it in his mind he wants to get his face in some titties.  Think you can drop him off at Cabaret West?"

One of the orks in Cutter colors, Norway apparently, stands up, and eyes Hopeless.  "Man, I know a much better spot than that.  He buying?"

"Yeah, sure he is," B Know says.  "You buying ain'tcha Hopeless?"

[SgtBoomCloud]

Luckily to some, it seemed the rest of the drive that evening went by without further events to distract them, the Phoenix focusing on the road and on a map ARO she had to help her navigate to the drop off each of her new teammates indicated.  As they pulled up to La Sombra's point, Marissa cleared her throat.  "Seems like you three are all handling Intel pretty well to get our objective together, eh?  I suppose while you guys are scouting the who's and the what's and the where's, ill go ahead and figure out the how's.  Anything you guys find out on the Feathered can be passed to me, namely their signatures and their MOs? Groovy.". She took a breath.  "Until then, I'll try to stay outta trouble.  I may needtahat last stick but I'll let you know.  Wanna save some jing on a ride, lemme know.  Word"

Wraith was the second dropped off, and Marissa raised a brow as Hopeless switched to the front.  She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself, not sure how to approach the shy man.  never seen a hoop in this biz that nervous.  Huh .  shrugging it off, the redhead didn't seem to mind the windows down...quite the opposite really, her red locks whipping behind her.  As she dropped him off, she gave a small but polite smile.  "till Next time, chummer". She uttered out before driving off.  Strange...by ther direction, Hopeless would hazard to guess she was heading to someplace in Arlington.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Roost.  That was what Marissa had taken to calling her home wherever she went.  Given her name it felt fitting.  Grabbing her tactical bag, the human took care to load up every single weapon she had, bringing it into her apartment and shutting the door behind her.  Flicking the dim light on, the glow gave a rustic illumination to the place, and his the dinginess of the furniture.  The only clean spot in the living space seemed to be a work desk, which she quickly occupied with the contents of her small arsenal.  Opening the bag, she slowly and with loving care set each weapon so that all were on display. 

This was how the Phoenix focused herself.  Casting off her coat, the tank-clad lady stepped into the center of the room, flicking on some music on her link to supplement her practice.  Starting with her unarmed, the redhead started to move and sway, bringing her hands up into fists as she shadowboxed invisible foes with punches, kicks, knees, and a few headbutts.  Her breathing was even and eyes locked in as she wwent through the motions for a good five minutes before turning to the desk, picking up her melee weapons in turn.  Inspecting each with careful precision, any blemish was cleaned, dulling sharpened, before another round of practice, keeping low under the ceiling as her weapons dancedfun her hands.  After that, the guns, starting with the taser, then the pistols, moving all the way up to her riifles and shotguns.  Each were unloaded, dismantled, cleaned, reassembled, and then practiced, dry firing against a seemingly surrounding level of opponents.

There was one common theme with each round of practice: on top of function, form and style were key to the Phoenix.  Motions were smooth from one move to the next, each strike and shot a pose worthy of a trid as much as a tactical stance.  By the end, the girl was breathing hard, sling glistening with exertion as she set her rifle down, grabbing a drink and walking over to the couch.  As she sat, her free hand went to her chest, where her tank collar half-exposed a pink mark on her otherwise fair skin...a bullet scar.  "Yaks...it had to be Yaks..."

[Poindexter]

Ian looks up at the stars briefly before inhaling deeply and getting right to the point. "I need info about a few Yaks. Most of em low to mid level, but one of em is way up there." He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, removes his own nicstic, inhales deeply from it and exhales into the air, watching the smoke billow up above him for a moment before continuing. "If I give you a list of names and twenty four hours, can you give me a pricelist? Like, price by the name, y'know?"

"Yaks, huh? B Know says.  "You are a crazy fucking white boy.  Yeah, man, get me the list.  Here's the thing, though.  I'm gonna be out of town for a week starting Wednesday.  Think you might be able to mow my lawn for me while I'm gone?"  Hopeless looks out at the dead grass and catches his meaning.  "It's a quiet little spot, not too far from here.  Nobody'll fuck with you."

Ian grits his teeth a bit and inhales as though mildly stung. "Oooooooh. Wellllllll... Ummmmmm..." He finally makes up his mind. "Yeah. Yeah, ok. I got your back, chummer. But it's on a couple conditions. One, I aint really know shit about shit when it comes to the proper care of a lawn. I'd need you to give me really specific instructions on how and when shit is to be done. Two, you gotta accept that I aint bout to take responsibility for this shit, wiz? If some hoops come and jack it, that's on them and you. I'll help you find em, cause we're boys and all, but I aint bout to owe nobody no money or no dumb shit like that." He takes another hit of his nicstick before finishing. "Lastly, and this is the big one; You gotta know that if I'm here, in person, not on a comm, askin you the kinda questions I'm askin you, that I'm bout to be kinda busy this week, right? Is this the sorta drek where I check in once a day and do some routine maintenance or whatever? Or is this the typea drek where I sleep there with a shotgun and keep constant watch on some monitors or something? Cause if it's the latter, I'm afraid you caught me on a bad week."

----------------------------------------------------

"Hey, I need to swing through Cabaret West tonight after i leave here, wiz? Think I might could get a lift? It's only like twenty minutes... I'll get ya a dance, eh?" He gives B-know a grin full of mischief as he waits for a response.

"Man, I'm stuck here with the boys t'nigt.  Think Norway was about to head down near there, though.  Want me to ask him?"  Before Hopeless can respond, B Know has re-entered the garage and is practically shouting, "Yo, Norway, my man here has it in his mind he wants to get his face in some titties.  Think you can drop him off at Cabaret West?"

One of the orks in Cutter colors, Norway apparently, stands up, and eyes Hopeless.  "Man, I know a much better spot than that.  He buying?"

"Yeah, sure he is," B Know says.  "You buying ain'tcha Hopeless?"

"Norway, huh? Hoi, yo." Mister Hopeless bumps fists with him quickly. "Naw, for real, I kinda gotta hit Cabaret. Linkin up with my people there, wiz? But yeah, if you gimme a lift over there, I got your two drink minimum, and the first dance is on me." He raises a hopeful eyebrow at the ganger standing before him.