Joe needed to walk, that was all. Too much talking. All these runners palling around, acting like they were people. Joe couldn't stand people. She could already feel the normal tension creeping up her spine to poison her thoughts. She was feeling the need to work again already. She would kill one of them if she didn't get away for a while. Maybe the native. He's so quiet it's possible the others wouldn't notice until another of them died. No, the nasty razorgirl with all her guns. That's who she would kill first. Take her head off with a manhole cover. Joe was already starting to calm down. They say a man thinks about sex every seven seconds, so perhaps thinking about killing a man every seven seconds wasn't too far off base...
She stripped down to her blur suit, turned her comm to text only and went out into the night. Alone with her thoughts again, she walked until she reached another nearby warehouse with a gravel drive. It had been a while since she'd worked in gravel. Facing the warehouse wall, she started toward it in a crouch, scooping up hand-fulls of gravel and tossing them, left then right then left again, like blasts of buckshot shearing through the old walls. Each hit let out a dull *pank* as it tore through, not allowing the metal time to reverberate. After six hand-fulls, she stood up and walked to the wall to inspect the impact pattern. Groupings were good. Spread was a little short of two meters, probably enough to hit a couple targets at once with diminished force. She'd never had a chance to try it on a living creature before. Maybe the ruckus she'd made would bring her some practice targets.
