[rednblack]

"Wiz.  Meet y'all back at the spot."

Uffington returns to the backroom of the gallery, where he lays back down on his duffel bag pillow, and murmurs himself into the astral.  This time around he senses more of the history of the place, and the imprints intensify as he whisks up the hill.  He can see the older buildings, no longer standing like silhouettes pressed against the dark voids of more modern construction.  Twice he thinks he may catch sight of a free spirit, a young boy in a newsboy cap and jacket, but whatever it is eludes him when he tries to zero in.  Further up, he can practically smell the Technoids before he lays his astral sight on them.  It's the stench of fear.  It's viscous and muddy, and while a taint of it lines the entire area being swallowed up by the barrens, it's much stronger from within an old, squat black blob.  Uffington enters to find around a dozen metas practically dripping the stuff, infecting others, and then there is the bright and wispy hue of anger.  It encircles some, and escapes from their mouths and fingertips, licking like flames.

Off to one side, Uffington finds an aura that seems unaffected by the general malaise.  It's healthy, optimistic even.  Here's our boy.  He studies him for a moment, gets a feel for his astral signature, and then departs, eager to leave the place.  He gives a brief scan to the buildings surrounding the rec center to orient himself and look for spotters before returning to the gallery.

Back in his body, Uffington sits up to see Knucks donning his "climbing" gear.  He shakes his head and blinks, as he stands up, and soon Expo joins them in the back room in some new threads of his own.  "Alright, we got maybe a dozen total.  Could be more if there was a basement or something that I missed.  They're afraid . . . and angry.  Dangerous combination, but what we were expecting with them going against a superior force.  One in particular is holding it together, so my nuyen's on him being WizKid.  If negotiations fail, and we need to bring him down, I bet that would take the wind outta their little planned party tonight.  He looks pretty young, though, I mean just a kid, so if we could maybe not geek him, ya know, that uh. . ."  Uffington trails off looking at Knucks hardware.

[Tecumseh]

Uffington "wakes up" and finds Knucks pulling on his armored vest. It's a miracle of modern technology that it can contain the massive ork who, through other miracles of modern technology, is not really an ork.

"The secret is to shop in the department for trolls," Knucks says, following Uffington's eyes. He pulls on a thin taupe sweatshirt over the top to help make the vest less obvious. The sweatshirt is conspicuously missing its sleeves.

Knucks then slaps back a handful of pills and swallows hard without water. "My friendly pills. For making friends," he explains with a raspy throat.

Once his vest is on, he makes sure his forearm guards are firmly situated. Uffington looks in Knucks' bag and spots a large combat shotgun.

"Relax," Expo says, tracking the elf's eyes again. "I'm not bringing dessert. I'm sweet enough." He slots a few throwing knives around his person, including a couple in concealed pockets on the forearm guards.

"Wizzer scissors," he says, offering a hand to help the elf up. "The kids are all in one place. I'm happier with that than if they were all spread out all over the place in some concrete canyon of tenements, ready to snipe you from one of a bajillion empty windows if they decided that they don't like you or, worse, that they liked the look of your socks and wanted them."

Knucks does some stretching to limber up as the elf collects his things. "They're just kids, scan, but someone put something in their water that makes them think they call roll on the Chulos. It's either fear or confidence, or maybe both. Maybe WizKid has an ace up his sleeve, or maybe he's been slotting his own product. For the rest of them, from the sounds of your tour, fear might be the winner winner nutrisoy dinner."

He puts his arms behind his back in a pose that's questionably beneficial from a stretching standpoint but certain does much to show off his grossly over-proportioned physique.

"So can you, like, conjure up the spirits of your ancestors, or the forests, or drek? Or are you one of those mind fraggers?"

[badneighbor]

Expo walks a couple of blocks until he arrives at the first shop he thinks would serve to help him blend in better on the streets. He finds a thrift shop he thinks should do the trip. Allowing himself only a few minutes, he does a lap of the store, picking up some old pants, a sweatshirt, and (in a stroke of luck) an armored jacket, all dwarf sized. He holds the jacket out in front of him, looking it over. He makes a face, as it's at least two decades out of style. Serviceable, though, and in neutral, non-gang colors. He pays for the items and hurries back to the gallery, eager to get a move on. If they can settle this quick, there's still a chance he can schmooze a bit at the gallery showing.

He uses the back entrance to get upstairs and rejoin the others. Stepping into the room as Knucks is gearing up/showing off, Expo drops his "new" clothes in a heap and starts working at removing his suit. "Took a little time to find what I needed. Based on what you saw, Uff, what d'you think the best move is?"

[rednblack]

Knucks does some stretching to limber up as the elf collects his things. "They're just kids, scan, but someone put something in their water that makes them think they call roll on the Chulos. It's either fear or confidence, or maybe both. Maybe WizKid has an ace up his sleeve, or maybe he's been slotting his own product. For the rest of them, from the sounds of your tour, fear might be the winner winner nutrisoy dinner."

"With that much fear going around, it didn't look like he was rallying the troops much.  Maybe he has been slottin'.  I hope not, chipheads give me the creeps,"

"So can you, like, conjure up the spirits of your ancestors, or the forests, or drek? Or are you one of those mind fraggers?"

"A little bit of both," Uffington confesses, and looks up.  "I've got a spirit watching the gallery right now.  All quiet so far, but if there's need for it, I can be a mind fragger.  Or a fragger fragger."

"Took a little time to find what I needed. Based on what you saw, Uff, what d'you think the best move is?"

"Depends on how y'all wanna play it.  We wanna walk up like chummers, and start talking, it doesn't give us any easy out, but it'd probably be the best received.  If ya want I can try to make WizKid a little more amenable to your suggestions, but if he's really some hot-shot decker, or, ya know, techno, it'll be harder for me to get a hold of him, and I doubt he'd like me trying. 

"We could try to sneak up and do a little physical surveyance before making our presence known, and I can try to cloud our approach, but holding a lot of spells makes me less good at what I do.  What d'ya plan on saying to 'em anyway?"

[badneighbor]

Expo shrugs. "I say we go talk. Start friendly. If they're as scared as you say, maybe it won't take more than a little push to get em to budge. Whether they run away or sit down to negotiate doesn't matter much to me. Worst case, they get so scared they think they gotta pick a fight," he nods in Knucks' direction. "and I feel like that's what you're here for."

He makes for the door, making a broad 'come on' gesture with his arm

"Let's not give 'em a chance to do something stupid without us, though."

[Zweiblumen]

All of the artists have finished setting up their displays, and Marianna has started to set up the refreshments and generally preparing for the gallery to open in a couple of hours.  Things on the street have maintained their almost eerie stillness.  As each of you are moving around in the back you catch glances of her looking particularly nervous.  She keeps up appearances for the artists upfront, but she is obviously worried about something.

As you all head out the back of the gallery looking like thieves in the night, except that you are actually protection in the late afternoon, you head around the alley to get back on to Tennessee.  In the distance you can hear a cacophony of combustion engines.

[rednblack]

"Let's not give 'em a chance to do something stupid without us, though."

"Wiz," Uffington says, and sweeps his hair behind his right ear. 

When they get outside, and start to make their way toward Tennessee, the trio stops at the sound of multiple engines revving up.  "These, uh, these Chulos.  They ain't a go-gang or anything, is they?"  Uffington looks up and down the street, seeing if the source of the sounds are visible.

[Zweiblumen]

As the three vagabond looking crew rounds the corner onto Tennessee the ruckus of the engines is much more audible.  Knucks and Uffington are able to tell that it's mostly motorcycles with a couple of larger engines tossed in.  Expo looks around trying to locate the source of the noise.  The elf and the ork look off to the left trying to get a visual on the sound.  Uffington can see they are indeed wearing colors, he's not sure, but Chulos are a good guess.  He can see that they are in cruise mode, loud and proud, but no one is smashing things... yet.

[Tecumseh]

Knucks, feeling the transition from a Down state to an Up state, finds himself with attention and energy to spare. He fires up Wild Wild West Wakizashi War on his commlink and pipes the feed to his cybereyes. An AR overlay appears that produces a steady stream of violent ninjas hopping out of nearby windows, vehicles, dumpsters, manhole covers, etc., all of which need to be dispatched with ridiculous handwaving chops and slices. Knucks, incapable of embarrassment, happily walks down the street flailing his arms wildly. He hears the cacophony of motorcycle engines but can't visually disengage from his game, where he is closing in on the prestigious "Taira no Kiyomori" achievement.

"The Chulos a go-gang?" he asks semi-rhetorically, Uffington's question coming at an opportune break between rounds. "Not traditionally, no, but we gotta think like locals, scan?"

He pauses the game, then directs Expo's and Uffington's attention up Potrero Hill. "Pretend for a second that we ain't strong like a dwarf or got long legs like an elf. Think like a little round-ear. Whaddya see? A big-ass hill that their short, weak legs don't want to climb up and down all day. You and me? That hill ain't no thing. Human teen with peach fuzz on his upper lip and balls that ain't dropped? Nother story."

Even with the game paused, Knucks still can't see what's going on. He can heard a half dozen motorcycles and maybe a couple larger engines, but right now the AR overlay is making them look like ponies and covered wagons.

"Whadda we have here," he asks to no one in particular. "A bit early for the jam, neh, but maybe they're getting their blood pumped and war faces on. If it were me, I'd be getting tatt'd up with NoPaint. Other chums call it Numb or PGB. Good for a rumble. Takes the sting off. Name comes from 'no pain' but it's 'NoPaint', get it? But it can drek out after an hour if you get a bad batch, so I don't know why they'd be getting painted up already. Unless they're the Chulos and they're drug runners and they've got buckets of it direct from Aztlan and they basically bathe in it. Which is possible."

He looks at Uffington and Expo, thoughtful. "If they look painted up, don't go for the painful shots. Don't both breaking a pinkie or going after pressure points or doing any of that other biz that will make a normal chummer drek themselves. With NoPaint they won't even blink. Go for the large joints and tendons. Make it so they can't move, even if they can't feel."

Knucks' eyes still can't make out the vehicles. He sees that Uffington seems to have a bead on them though. "Whadda they wearin? Chuys usually in brown. Brown like their skin cuz their Aztlaners, I dunno, don't ask me. If they ain't in beatdown mode then let's go parley."

[rednblack]

"Change of plans," Uffington says, looking at the six bikes, the Gopher, and the Chameleon, the last of which looks pretty nova.  "Chulos is green and white, right?  Looks like half the party's already here."

He looks to his compatriots, seeing that Knucks is still karate-chopping the air, he tentatively puts a hand on the big ork's shoulder.  "Hoi, chummer, come on, man."

He angles himself on the sidewalk so that it looks like he's just talking with his chummers, but he keeps an eye on the gangers down the block.

"Aight, so we could probably still get the 'noids before anything goes down, but number one priority is protecting the nice little wage slaves, wiz?  Plus, if we go now, and they can hear the rumble 'bout to go down, they probably ain't gonna be to keen on believing we can all just talk it out.  Whaddya think, Expo?"

Uffington wishes that he had his crossbow on him.  He can picture the technoids gathering their gear, getting ready to rush down the street, and here they are, just geared up to say hoi.  Frag, I'm feeling like an amateur here.

He tries to do the mental math, figuring out how long it would take the 'noids to get down the hill, versus how much time they'd have to prepare, but he runs out of fingers and quickly gives up on the idea. 

[badneighbor]

Between the ork next to him flailing along to his game and his own internal strategizing, Expo almost doesn’t notice the cacophony of engines until they’re right up the street from them. His eyes roll skyward and he makes a silent “why me” plea, then he regards his teammates, such as they are, to gauge their reactions to this new development.

He looks at Uffington and Expo, thoughtful. "If they look painted up, don't go for the painful shots. Don't both breaking a pinkie or going after pressure points or doing any of that other biz that will make a normal chummer drek themselves. With NoPaint they won't even blink. Go for the large joints and tendons. Make it so they can't move, even if they can't feel."

Knucks' eyes still can't make out the vehicles. He sees that Uffington seems to have a bead on them though. "Whadda they wearin? Chuys usually in brown. Brown like their skin cuz their Aztlaners, I dunno, don't ask me. If they ain't in beatdown mode then let's go parley."

"Aight, so we could probably still get the 'noids before anything goes down, but number one priority is protecting the nice little wage slaves, wiz?  Plus, if we go now, and they can hear the rumble 'bout to go down, they probably ain't gonna be to keen on believing we can all just talk it out.  Whaddya think, Expo?"
 

Expo listens to them both in turn, worriedly rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger for a moment before regaining his composure and dropping the hand. It’s important to keep cool, he repeats in his head a few times, Bad idea to let gangers see you sweat. They pick up on that drek like… He considers, Like a hellhound to a meatwagon.

He makes a face. Not his best work.

Giving his head a quick shake to refocus, Expo looks up at the other two and puts on his best “I know what I’m doing” face. “’Kay, so we got some options. We can likely still get up the hill to try to talk the ‘noids down, maybe it’s not too late to get ‘em to the table to hug it out. Other hand, if these guys are Chulos we can maybe talk ‘em into heading straight up there with us and knocking a little harder on the doors.” Hie head bobs side to side a little, as though literally bouncing between the different options.

“Then again maybe they’re not Chulos or Technoids, and we have another player on the field. In that case this all goes out the window. So I guess let’s find out who we’re dealing with, yeah?”

[Zweiblumen]

As the three of runners look to the south, Expo's commlink pings him with a message from Mickey.

<<<@Émeric [Mickey] Oi Émeric, I'm happy to get you in touch with an Ell Tee from the Chulos.  Even put in a good word for ye, but it's gonna cost a little jing!  A quarter of your racket and you'll be talkin' with 'em in 5.  You know I know the people you need to know.>>>
Having dealt with Mickey over the years, Expo is well aware of Mickey's personal amusement at the last line and mentally rolls his eyes.

With all attention to the south, the three of them saunter into the middle of the street.  Knucks looking like he owns the block, Expo self-confident and assertive but less 'street', and Uffington manages to look the part but doesn't quite pull off a strut like Knucks or the confidence that Expo has.  Walking quickly gets them to the intersection a block and half south of gallery while the 'armada' is still a block away.  Seeing the three of them they slow even more obviously sizing up the three of them. 

[Tecumseh]

Knucks quickly settles into ganger mode, which is as comfortable as an old t-shirt. He licks the tips of his tusks and does his best not to look too insolent behind his sunglasses.

<<@Team [Knucks] Don't let me talk to these round-ear pukes or I'll start snapping necks like matchsticks.>>

<<Expo, you gotta look tough. Gangs respect toughness. Don't get cocky or they'll think we're stepping to their turf. But let them know that you won't back down from a fight and you'll give as good as you get. Smalltooths don't like to bleed.>>

Knucks stands in the middle of the street, waiting for the ganger's curiosity to get the better of them.

[rednblack]

Uffington follows the group out to the middle of the street, and stands a half-step behind Expo.  Partially this is to show that Expo is the man, their leader, the one to be reckoned with and who will speak for them, but also there's a strategic dimension: Uffington knows his weaknesses, and should things turn physical he's much better hanging out.

Shoulda brought the fraggin' crossbow, chummer.

As the armada approaches and slows, Uffington tries to maintain an expression of neutrality, maybe with a certain bemusement, but far from cocky.  They're not on their own turf, after all.

<<@Team [Uffington] Your lead, Expo.  We got you.>>

[badneighbor]

As the three of runners look to the south, Expo's commlink pings him with a message from Mickey.

<<<@Émeric [Mickey] Oi Émeric, I'm happy to get you in touch with an Ell Tee from the Chulos.  Even put in a good word for ye, but it's gonna cost a little jing!  A quarter of your racket and you'll be talkin' with 'em in 5.  You know I know the people you need to know.>>>
 

Expo rapid-taps a response before tucking the commlink away out of sight.

<<<@Micky [Émeric] Better do it now. I’m staring at a Chulos motorcade and if they shoot me I’m gonna blame your slow ass. Ping him quick, you’ll have your cut soon as I get mine. 18% plus I can put you in touch with some goodtoknows.>>>

Knucks quickly settles into ganger mode, which is as comfortable as an old t-shirt. He licks the tips of his tusks and does his best not to look too insolent behind his sunglasses.

<<@Team [Knucks] Don't let me talk to these round-ear pukes or I'll start snapping necks like matchsticks.>>

<<Expo, you gotta look tough. Gangs respect toughness. Don't get cocky or they'll think we're stepping to their turf. But let them know that you won't back down from a fight and you'll give as good as you get. Smalltooths don't like to bleed.>>

Knucks stands in the middle of the street, waiting for the ganger's curiosity to get the better of them.

Studying the ridiculously muscled ork in his peripheral vision, Expo mimics his body language as best he can. He loosens his stance, adopting a relaxed “don’t give a drek” posture while managing to flex the right muscles at the same time. The sleeveless jacket he picked out should hopefully demonstrate how “hard” he is, like Knucks keeps saying. He figures his double full sleeve tattoos will help his ganger look, though he hopes the neo-Rococo style of the left sleeve doesn’t stick out too much and disqualify him.

<<@Team [Expo] Null sheen. We got this.>>

He glances briefly over his shoulder to Uffington:

As the armada approaches and slows, Uffington tries to maintain an expression of neutrality, maybe with a certain bemusement, but far from cocky.  They're not on their own turf, after all.

<<@Team [Uffington] Your lead, Expo.  We got you.>>

<<@Team [Expo] Here goes nuthin’.>>

Expo folds his arms (tucking the left one under) and applies his friendliest smile. He remembers his Aikido training and applies it here. The goal is to present himself and his new crew not as a threat but rather as a Presence: something that cannot be ignored. He plants his feet on the pavement and waits. Micky better act fast.