"Let's roll then," declares Jink, ushering out anyone who is coming along in the swagger wagon.
Jumping into the Rover, he pops his fibreoptic cable in and commences rigging, the hull of the van becoming his body, the twitch of smile breaking through Jink's sleepy looking form as he enjoys the raw power of his thrumming engine-heart. Gunning the beast once or twice for theatric effect, his synthetic voice comes over the speakers as folks file in...
"Next stop pawn shop," he states, his voice fading to black DJ style as he cranks up the bass heavy tunes, the subwoofer in the back playing havoc with passengers' ability to talk among themselves. The rotating disco light keeping time with the base doesn't help either.
Rolling off the curb, the old biker waits for Motoko's tank to take the lead. Damn but that thing's got some armour on it.