[Zweiblumen]

The giant looks over the group once more, then over his shoulder at the ganger in his passenger seat.  She shrugs and nods in his direction.  With a heavy sigh he looks back to Expo.

He reaches forward and shakes Expo's exposed hand.  "TwoTooth has vouched for you, and the three of you are acting on the up and up.  Most call me MeatWagon or EmmDub.  You keep your piece shortstuff, sounds like you might need it."

He turns to the assembled gangers behind him and whistles sharply while raising a finger and circling it above his head.  The group hoops and hollers, and rev their engines.  The bikes peel off doing circles in the street as the gang changes directions.

"Why don't we have a chat about how you think we should do this, since you've apparently scouted the area already.  Looks like you guys have the brain for our brawn," he says with a laugh, knowing that's playing to stereotypes.

[Tecumseh]

Hopped up on uppers, Knucks' thoughts bounce around like gas molecules. Expo seems to have a handle on things so Knucks' attention fades in and out of the conversation.

Is fighting my favorite thing? he thinks to himself, reflecting on Expo's description. Nah, it's bodybuilding. Or is it really just being big? Or is it being an ork? I'm an ork and orks are big and big orks brawl. It's just a logical sequence of events cascading out of being an ork. Which I am, just like my father and brothers.

The huge breeder introduces himself as MeatWagon. Knucks can't decide if that sounds cool or dumb. Not as wiz as 'Knucks', that's for sure.

So here's this big Chuy, he thinks to himself, studying the musclebound man. Seems like an a'ight razor. Pity he's a breeder. If he just had some pointed ears and tusks, he'd be wiz.

Knucks' thinking perilously approaches his own personal scenario and circles back on his original line of thinking, namely that his favorite thing was being an ork, that orks were bangers, and that the world might be better if all the breeder boys were orks and all the breeder lasses were elves. He looks at Uffington and Expo, wondering where they fit into this equation. He shrugs for now, figuring that he'll resolve that issue sometime during his next cycle of downers.

[badneighbor]

Expo breathes an internal sigh of relief as he shakes the big man’s hand. “Best play you coulda made, EmmDub. You won’t regret it. Let’s let Uff’ tell you about what he saw up there, then we can talk tactics.”

[rednblack]

"Why don't we have a chat about how you think we should do this, since you've apparently scouted the area already.  Looks like you guys have the brain for our brawn," he says with a laugh, knowing that's playing to stereotypes.

"This chummer here's both," Uffington says, jerking his thumb toward the taller of his two compatriots.  "He worked out the, uh, proposition deal.  Go ahead, tell 'em Knucks."

He can see the big ork snap back to reality at the mention of his name, and prompts him again, in case the rest of what he'd said had been lost due his inattention.  "Yeah, tell him how everybody can walk away with a little more cred here."

When Knucks has finished, Uffington relates his experience up on the hill.  "They got 'bout a dozen hoops up there, in some kinda rec center or sum'n.  All in all, they don't look too eager to fight, but there's enough anger going on that if they're pushed they'll react like a cornered snake, wiz?  One hoop is keeping it together; he ain't riled at all, ya know what I'm sayin'?  We play this to make cred, he's the one we talk to, make him feel safe, let him know we ain't here ta geek him if he can see reason and that both sides can let bygones be.  If that don't work, he's the first needs to get dropped.  Rest'll scurry or hash it out, but they won't hash it out strong without him.

"Right now security's a little light.  They're focusing on amping up, and big man's focusing on keeping control of his crew.  I can't promise there's no snipers waiting in the windows, but I'll give it another look when we head up, wiz?

That's all I got, EmmDub."

[Tecumseh]

Knucks snaps back to it, aware that it's his turn to share the master plan hatched by his master-ganger brain back when he was thinking a bit more clearly. He also knows that it would be best if MeatWagon were somehow convinced that it was MW's plan from the start, but the ancestors didn't grant Knucks a golden tongue. Plus the generic stimulants bouncing around his brain are making it harder to string together coherent sentences.

"Look at things from up high, savvy? Chulos sling the chems and Technoids sling the chips, neh? You know as well as anyone that if you wanna to double your biz, double your cash flow, then you either gotta double your turf or double your product line.

"Everyone knows the Chulos got the best prod. You got that mamma jamma flowing straight up outta Aztlan like POW! All those Kamikaz freak think they're riding the WAVE but they ain't lived or died until they tasted the Blood of Kali, knamean?" He laughs, semi-coherent and semi-stoned.

"So the problem you gotta solve ain't one of supply but of bandwidth. So if I'm you then I'm looking for new outlets and new pushers. Chuys 'r famous fer leveraging third parties to do their pushing. So much the better when someone else is on the corner in the fog and rain, neh? while you just sittin at home with a joygirl playing seesaw on your twig n' berries." He laughs again, privately shaking his head at the absurdity of human genitals - so small, so weak, so disappointing, so painfully familiar.

"So what's the firewall preventing the Technoids from falling under the Chulos spell?" he asks rhetorically, mixing his metaphors badly. "It's that the Technoids are punk-ass slots who think they can roll down the hill and step to Chuy turf. Now what put the Wyrd Mantis up their hoops? Dunno the answer but they got some pimply-faced hack named WizKid running the show who fancies himself a decker. Don't know if that's true or if he's Daddy's Little Corp Brat that got his hands on some company hardware with too much time and not enough cuff, yeah?" He imitates backhanding an upstart youth. "WizKid's got 15-20 younger kids following his lead, pushing chips, like some sort o' perverted Peter Pan." He smiles that he remembered the reference, then immediately wonders if The Lord of the Flies might have been an even better metaphor. He kicks himself internally at his imperfect literary references.

"Street kids, they do dumb drek, you know? But did they do it because they were desperate or because some rak put 'em up to it or because they got something they afraid of more? So the way you see it, you got two options:
1) go up there and let them know there ain't nothin' scarier on the streets than the Chulos, or
2) go up there and chop off the head and absorb the rest of the organization as your own.

"Turn WizKid into spare parts and the rest of them will fall in line like gravity. Then you got your new pushers and your new street meat and all you hadta do was have one convo and maybe geek one twinkie. Easy, neh? You a smart widowmaker to think of it!" Knucks concludes, his thinking trailing his talking at a safe distance. His thinking finally catches up and wonders if he was really speaking that entire time or if he just thought most of it to himself. He pauses for breath, figuring that the response (or lack of one) will tell him how much of that ended up being internal monologue. It sounded convincing to him at least.

[badneighbor]

Expo flinches a little when Uffington deflects the negotiations to Knucks. Whatever the big ork is on, it has him amped up and rearing to go. Doing his best to play it cool, he worries that this might backfire and wonders if he should have just kept talking to MW himself. Bookended by two grotesquely-muscled combat monsters, he folds his arms and continues to act like he belongs there. He stares at MeatWagon, watching his reactions closely for how he’s taking this information.

Guy really knows what he’s talking about, Expo thinks, it can’t be the drugs doing that. So what’s he need’em for? He doesn’t spare a glance in Knucks’ direction but listens very carefully not only to what he says but how he’s saying it. There’s more going on here than just the big meathead ganger he’s presenting.

No time to wonder about that now.

Knucks pauses for breath and Uffington picks back up, filling in some details on what he saw up the hill. Expo listens now to the elf, rolling through his own account of the facts to make sure nothing got missed. When he’s done, Expo gives a satisfied nod and waits for MW to process the data dump.

[Zweiblumen]

MeatWagon follows the conversation from runner to runner.  He sees Expo running the show well, handing off the details to the "experts" in each case.  Uffington discusses the basic layout and emotional state in the area while Knucks wanders into some kind of socio-economic game plan.  [orange]"Drugs,"[/color] MW thinks to himself ruefully before conceding the big kid has some valid points buried in there.  Pretty soon the short ork has the giant human nodding along.

"You make some good points in there kid... 'Knucks?'"  He ponders this a bit, while the gang is still roaring around.  Looking around he knows this isn't the best place for this, but that they don't have much choice.  "Hold on, I'll be right back."  He goes back to his car and sticks his head in the window, shielding him from being heard.  After a moment, the ganger in the passenger seat looks somewhat aghast before slowly nodding along.  Shortly after that all but 3 of the bikes head back south down the road.  It looks like if anything is going to happen, it'll be quieter.

MeatWagon points up the block a little bit, indicating where he wants the gangers to wait.  Almost respectfully getting out of the road.  What little traffic there is will be able to pass once again.

He points to the alley around the corner and suggests finishing the conversation there.  "Less noise, from us or anyone else, over there."

Once you are there he lays out his offer.  "I don't have the rank to pull off a biz deal with the 'noids, but I got all it takes to smash 'em.  You say we cut the head and the body falls?  That works for me.  We go surgical like right?  Small group, the five of us, plus the three of you.  Take out the lead man and then we call it a day.  We take their stash of chips and let the word get around that this is what happens when you try to sell on Chulos turf.

You get us in place with out takin on the whole group, this goes down easy.  Make it happen and you'll have another friend in the Chulos.  It doesn't work out?  TwoTooth won't be enough to save yer hoops.

This is your show, we'll back you up.  What's the plan?"

[badneighbor]

Expo and the others follow MeatWagon into the alley without comment. For his part, Expo keeps an eye out for any unexpected Chulos in the alley, just in case MW didn’t have their best interests at heart after all. After scanning the area, he returns his full attention to the big human.

“First things first, I think we need to send Uffington back up the hill, take another look around. See if anything’s changed. He should be able to get a good idea what kinda surprises they got up their sleeves. Plus we should be able to pick out the best approach uphill from there.”

He looks now to Uffington, speaking to him now rather than about him.

“Need to know the best approach, yeah? We can plan more once you get back.”

[rednblack]

'Less we separate the big man, we're gonna need to deal with all of 'em," Expo says, following Expo's lead to the alley.

“First things first, I think we need to send Uffington back up the hill, take another look around. See if anything’s changed. He should be able to get a good idea what kinda surprises they got up their sleeves. Plus we should be able to pick out the best approach uphill from there.”

He looks now to Uffington, speaking to him now rather than about him.

“Need to know the best approach, yeah? We can plan more once you get back.”

Wiz, I got summ'n else I need to take care of too."

Uffington takes a seat with his back against the wall, and reaches into the astral.  a bhaineann le Lir, I thank you for answering my call.  You have protected your charge, and I release you from further duty.  Know that you have a friend here, and my eternal gratitude.

He turns his palms up in a position of supplication, as he feels his link to the spirit vanish.  With his eyes still open to the astral, Uffington reaches into his pocket and produces a small tooth, which he begins to rub as he calls forth a very different kind of spirit to assist in their upcoming fight.  Murmuring breathlessly, he searches for a spirit of beasts, one familiar with combat and willing with his crew, and the Chulos.  Soon, he finds a wolf curled around itself, and Uffington wonders at first if this will be difficult.  He gently tries to rise it, waits for the wolf to growl, or yawn, or something, but its eyes shoot open, and the wolf licks its lips in anticipation.  Yes, you shall do nicely.  I am looking for a fight, old one.  My pack needs your help.  Will you assist us?

Will there be blood? the wolf answers, stretching its limbs.

Yes, that I can promise. Uffington answers, and the wolf follows him back to the physical realm.

[Tecumseh]

Knucks licks his lips as he listens to Uffington's recap of his astral reconnaissance.

"They're getting wet, are they?" he asks, emotionally split. On the one hand, maybe there will be a good brawl after all! with stupid roundears getting their stupid smoothie noses smashed in. On the other hand, he's keenly aware that they will be outnumbered on someone else's turf.

His amped-up, dilated cybereyes dart back and forth behind his sunglasses between Expo, Uffington, and Meat Wagon. The prospect of a fight does not deter him; from his gang background in Boise, Knucks is accustomed to street brawls with coked-out teenagers. In fact, he's something a leader in the doped-up-free-for-all field. Maybe there's some happy medium available, balancing the reward of punching humans in the face with the risk of getting sprayed-and-prayed with hot lead until we are dead dead dead.

Knucks decides to comm the shadowrunner team for the purposes of privacy and discretion. His fevered mind bangs out a message of questionable grammar and debatable tactics.

<<@Team going with meat wagon tips our hand theyll know what we r there for. no way to get close to cut off the snakes head that way. going without meat wagon is going without a safety net. course going without a safety net is sometimes the safest way to go knamean? go weapons free they wont suspect nothin until uff is close enuf to murder em with his mind eh ex and i ll clock a couple grab their guns place a call to the chuys to come runnin and wont they be drekkin chulo brown.>>

[rednblack]

<<@Team going with meat wagon tips our hand theyll know what we r there for. no way to get close to cut off the snakes head that way. going without meat wagon is going without a safety net. course going without a safety net is sometimes the safest way to go knamean? go weapons free they wont suspect nothin until uff is close enuf to murder em with his mind eh ex and i ll clock a couple grab their guns place a call to the chuys to come runnin and wont they be drekkin chulo brown.>>

<<@Team [Uffington] Yep, that's the way I see it.  Ex, you wanna see if we can give the diplomacy angle one more shot?  Otherwise, I can make us hard to spot, and I say we use the Chulos as backup.  If we go the stealth route, we can be free to carry if we wanna.>>

"Hey, chummer, way I see it we're still a bit down on the numbers count.  Things look good on the approach, doe.  How hard are these hitters you sending with us? he asks MeatWagon.

[Zweiblumen]

He seems truly curious about what Uffington is doing, some what awed by the presence of Wolf.  His speech slips back more into a street voice again.

"Hard enough to deal with deez chillins.  Word is dey just kids, plus look like you got all de backup youz need here.  Dem can't have nowhere ner de numbers ta deal wit you!"
He looks you over again, "So, you want us ta charge in gunz hawt or do we wait in the wings to snap da trap?"

[badneighbor]

Expo has slipped off his pack and rummages through it. He pulls out a helmet and ballistic mask, painted to match. “Don’t think there’s much chance of talking them out of their hidey-hole,” he says while fiddling with the helmet’s chinstrap. “but it probably ain’t a good idea to run charging in either. I think we can use what Uff saw to figure out the best way in. Get as close as we can before the shooting starts. Then beeline it for this Wizkid.”

As her gears up, he alternates his attention between the others, speaking to the group in general but regarding each of them in turn. “Other option is, we send in a loud team to get their attention, then maybe a second group can sneak in the back and pop this kid.”

“Main thing I’m worried about, we don’t know what they know, tech wise. If this kid or one of this crew can work a deck, maybe they know we’re coming. Maybe they hacked our comms and know a lot more than that. Makes me nervous.”

[Tecumseh]

Knucks blinks rapidly, unsure of what he just heard. Did the dwarf just suggest sneaking in and starting the fight without any attempt at diplomacy? The dwarf is stacked, Knucks thinks to himself, eyeing Expo's pecs underneath his thin disposable clothing. I'll give him that. But he was wearing a corper suit just a tick ago. How did he go from Johnny Johnson to Punchy McPunchface? Knucks reflects on his own pill-induced swings and concludes that Expo might be indulging too. He nods, feeling he has something else in common with the action-packed muscle stack beneath him.

Sneaking in and wasting these smoothies works for me, he thinks. But then Expo suggests that the Chulos go in loud as a distraction, an oh that plan sounds good too! Knucks' critical thinking has been set aside in favor of amphetamines, for the moment. He barely suppresses the urge to say "let's do both!" before unconsciously realizing that it might be a contradiction. He isn't in a position to choose, nor does he particularly care. They both sound like a good, profitable enterprise for the evening.

"Fists and 'hawks don't need no wireless," Knucks chimes in. The others realize he must mean tomahawks, which means it might be a very interesting evening indeed. He glances over at Uffington. "Main main here don't need no wireless to rip a man's mind out and show him horrors, neh? Let them have their wireless."

Still, sneaking around on someone else's turf doesn't sit right with the ganger inside Knucks. He thinks of how well he knows his own turf and how laughable the suggestion would be that someone could sneak up on him on his own land. The very notion was offensive. He tries to stop and think through it as logically as his addled-brain will allow him to. Could someone sneak up on him on his own turf? Maybe, yeah, with magic, he concedes. Professionals decked out in gear like that sweet trid Manhunt.

But we're professionals now, ain't we? We're getting paid for this, neh? That makes us pros, so we better start acting like pros. Pros don't do loud unless they are paid to do loud. Pros control the terrain. Isn't that what they always talk about in Combat Biker? Owning the zones? Controlling the clock? This ain't that different, yeah?

"Why we gotta go to them?" he finally blurts out, his mind a few seconds behind his tongue as usual. "They dumb kids comin on foot, right? No bikes, no rides. If they were driving, sure, maybe they pass over the freeway up at 20th or under down on 25th because fewer turns that way. But they walkin, ain't they? That means they taking the direct route, which is 22nd. Let's just meet 'em along the way and POWCHICKAPOWWOW!"

He stops talking, his mind rapidly trying to catch up and interpret everything he just said. It seems... reasonable? Doesn't seem blatantly stupid at least, not on the surface anyway. But he looks to Expo and Uffington for validation because that's what insecure posers do.

Edit: spelling

[rednblack]

"Fists and 'hawks don't need no wireless," Knucks chimes in. The others realize he must mean tomahawks, which means it might be a very interesting evening indeed. He glances over at Uffington. "Main main here don't need no wireless to rip a man's mind out and show him horrors, neh? Let them have their wireless."

"Wiz," Uffington says, thinking about whether or not he could lift himself, Knucks, and Expo up to the high windows in the rec center.  Raining down fire from above could be a good start, especially with the Chulos bursting in the front doors.  Knucks would probably be at the center of the action shortly, and then Uffington could lay down some of that, What'd he call it, horrors of the mind? to end things quick and fast.

"Why we gotta go to them?" he finally blurts out, his mind a few seconds behind his tongue as usual. "They dumb kids comin on foot, right? No bikes, no rides. If they were driving, sure, maybe they pass over the freeway up at 20th or under down on 25th because fewer turns that way. But they walkin, ain't they? That means they taking the direct route, which is 22nd. Let's just meet 'em along the way and POWCHICKAPOWWOW!"

Another good idea.

"Yeah, that'd work too, I think, Knucks.  Whaddya think, Ex?  Either way, I gotta run back to the spot, and grab my crossbow.  Gimme a blip, and I'll be ready to rock."

Uffington goes back to the gallery, walks in the front door to Marianna's worried look and says, "No static here, wiz?  We're all friendly like."  It doesn't seem to do much to calm the woman's nerves with the pack of Chulos just up the street, but he's the one getting paid to make sure things go well, so she rolls with it.  In the back room, Uffington grabs his crossbow, bolt, and ballistic mask, but decides to slip out the back, lest he scare off anybody in the gallery proper more than necessary.

When he approaches the crew again in the alley, Uffington places the ballistic mask on the top of his head and asks, "So what's the play?"