Grakar – Mrs Johnsons chip supper.

Piling the bodies up in the Garage, Grakar quickly searched their pockets and bags. Most of this gangs belongings were rubbish, but there was some small arms, and armour that could be repurposed into something useful. Makro and Medic beckoned him over, and MF grinned at him while she slid her blade over the two more sleeping guards throats.

In the small office, a safe sat against the wall. It required two keys, but none of the guards had been carrying keys. Each of them in turn tried to open the locks with the auto-unlocker, but the instructions on the tool were a little unclear. Between them, they unlocked the top lock, but the second wouldn’t take.

Medic kept looking over his shoulder, listening for the sound of engines, and MF was jittery as hell. Looked like she was coming down off something. Grakar shook his head, and sighed. Elves always liked living the high life, and almost every elf he’d met spent half their time partying. This poor girl needed watching. He’d mention her later to his sister, Deka always knew what to do.

He grunted to the others to round up the loot, and hoisted the safe on his shoulder. It wasn’t light, and he wouldn’t be able to carry it far, but it’d get them as far as the car.

They dumped the stash in the car, and piled in. Blackout was in zombie-land, obviously still watching them from afar. Medic gestured to MF for her lipstick, and drew an extra set of eyebrows on him, above his existing set.

They headed back to the truck.

Once there, Deka turned away to ignore their loot encumbered entrance. She disapproved of Grakar’s chose profession, but tolerated it. It gave him a purpose, and, after all, had provided her with a platform to show off her culinary skills.

Grakar called over to her once their prize was inside. “Deka, you pack up da bus, we’re keeping moving while we got dis, don’t want to be traced.”

Deka nodded, and the staff packed up the bus like a well oiled machine. The driver, a relatively new recruit by the name of James, hopped up to the cab, and took them out.

After a few miles, Grakar motioned to James to pull over.

Medic was hunched over the safe, trying to open the last lock again. each time it almost caught, but he couldn’t quite get the angle he wanted. Grakar was getting bored. It was an easy exercise with spray-blo. One simple trigger, and he could blow the doors off. He grabbed a can from his bag.

Medic’s eyes widened, and he shoved the auto-unlocker into Grakar’s hands.

Grak curled his fist around it, and poked it tentatively at the lock. Medic stopped him, and rotated the tool so it was being held correctly, and Grakar poked the end into the lock. He squeezed his fingers, unsure exactly what he was supposed to do. Something went sproing clunk, and the door popped open. Dejectedly, Grakar put the spray-blo back into his bag.

Inside was the prize they were after. There were also a few credsticks, and an assortment of other chips. Grakar looked over to Blackout. He was still out, and sporting a twirly moustache. the Bus crew had also started a game of empty bottle jenga on him. He currently had 13 empty bottles of water balanced on him, and James was desperately trying to balance a 14th.

James pulled it off, and swaggered away, his oversize vest hanging to his knees. On anyone else, this would look like gang-wear, or possibly an imposing runner, but on his frail frame,  it gave the impression of a lamb in wolfs clothing.

Medic and MF sniggered at his gait, and Medic murmered something to him about smoking. Grakar didn’t quite catch the words, but he knew the tone. Seconds later, James took a pull from a distinctly unhealthy looking smoke. Seconds later, he stumbled from the cab, coughing his guts up, and dry retching.

“James, are you ok?” Grakar asked?

“<cough> not James <splutter> I’m Slayer!”

“Ok Jame-Slayer, Yu take some deep breaths, and hop on back up. Lets get going.”

Grakar flipped the prize chip to Makro, and tucked everything else away in the battle room, for analysis later.

He leant in close to Makro, and whispered “I’ll give da lady a call, set up a meet. I’ll give you a ping where and when later. Just going for a ride so I dont tell her where we is.”

James dropped Grakar at his bike, and the bus rumbled on. Grakar kicked his bike into life, and took a circular route to the buses next stop. He pulled up alongside a store, and dialled Mrs Johnson.

“Hullo, mission complete. where do you wunt to meet?” he started.

The normal disdainful tone was instantly replaced with one of surprise. “uh, we’ll meet at the Quality Star cafe, I’ll be there in one hour.”

Grakar hung up, and pinged the location on to the team. He pulled out from the kerb, and headed for the Bus.

James had parked up next to one of the few remaining parks in the Barrens. Being the Barrens, the park was full of people carrying out illicit deals, and using whatever wares they’d just purchased. As such, the rat burgers were selling like… well, like food to inebriated people.

Medic pulled his car around, and they headed to the rendezvous point. Sure, they were going to be early, but what better way to catch a potential ambush. Makro and MF headed for the cafe. Medic sat in the car a little up the road. Grakar prowled around the block on his bike, looking for the perfect ambush location.

“If it were me, and I wanted to do the killings of the runners I’d hired, where would I wait?” he asked himself. a few locations stood out, and Grakar parked up his bike, and checked each out in turn. Above a tattoo-parlor, Grakar caught a glint. Could just be neon on glass, but could also be the scope on a rifle. was it worth risking it?

Grakar pushed open the door to the shop. The owner instantly drifted over, sizing him up for potential sales.

“Sir, sir, welcome, what can we get you today? I’ve the latest in digital tattoos. A lion? A tiger? Something eating your head? We can source anything you want.”

Grakar drew a blank. “uhh, I’m looking for a friend. I wunt to buy him a gift, but I dont know.”

As soon as Grakar spoke, the salesman lost interest. Grak scanned the shop, and spotted the door to the next floor. It wasn’t sporting a “staff only” sign, but from its location, it almost didn’t need to. Grakar turned to the owner.

“Perhaps you show me your tattoos? I’d like to see some of your work? see how good it is?”

The owners face lit up again, and he pulled his top off to show a winding dragon around his midriff.

Grakar oo’ed and arr’ed, and reached out to touch the dragon.

“What it feel like?” he asked, and rested his cyber hand against it. The shop keeper looked confused, then the shock charge hit, and he crumpled to the ground.

Grakar turned back to the store entrance. closed the door, and flipped the sign to closed. He dragged the owner through the door at the back, and dumped him on a balding mattress.

He cautiously climbed the stairs, and checked out the next floor. Nothing moved, and as he moved closer to the window, he could see a fallen pipe resting against the broken glass. He had a clear view into the diner from here, and as he looked, an armoured cab pulled up outside. The harrassed looking driver hurried around to the door, and opened it for the occupant. Mrs Johnson stepped out, and walked straight into the diner. A few minutes later, Medic ushered MF into the diner, and she joined Makro at the table. Grakar couldn’t hear the conversation, other than the words Makro was broadcasting. Mrs Johnson stood, and headed out the back, and Makro commented on how he’d not be leaving a public place to carry out a deal. Grakar, sensing a double cross, bailed on the tattoo parlor, and headed back to the street. By the time he’d reached the front door though, MF and Makro stood outside in the street. Mrs Johnson climbed into her cab, and left.

Grakar climbed onto his bike, and pulled it over to the other side of the road. Makro climbed on, and MF slipped into the car beside Medic. Being incredibly careful not to follow the cab, they headed back to the bus to divide the spoils.


A week or so later, Makro called. Grakar had just finished paying a small gang of kids for a brace of rats. Makro had set up a meeting with a potential client, He, and Medic were meeting the mark in a club. Could Grakar and MF be on hand as backup if needed?

The club was in one of the nicer areas of the barrens, but Rat burgers sold almost anywhere. Grak pulled up at the bus to find a very pale MF staggering out. She looked like hell, and whatever she’d taken waas having a worse effect than the time Grakar had tried to added plant life to his burgers. He distracted her by telling her of this weird experiment, then lead her safely away from the bus to an alleyway. He did the kind thing, and pulled her hair back while she threw up in the ally. Didn’t want to put the customers off the new Bur-rat-ou’s they were selling.

Shortly after, Makro and Medic showed up. They’d not been paid up front, but this job had certain long term benefits if pulled off. Grakar wasn’t really bothered by this, so long as he had the chance to hurt people. They filed back into the bus, and Makro pulled the footage provided up on screen. The vid showed a gang of Halloweeners (or wieners as Grakar used to call them. It always made him chuckle) stopping a truck. They buzzed it first on bikes, then something caused the feed to cut out, and this location was the last known location of the truck. Grakar wracked his brain to remember where the wieners were last operating from. It was a relatively large block, but there probably wasn’t many places there to hide a truck.

Makro pulled up a streetview, and overlayed known deadzones over Grakars gang map. This gave them a round 2 mile square window to check, and that would mean a search pattern to carry out in the morning. Medic motioned Grakar back into his chair, and started gently chanting. A small puff of light flashed from the stove, igniting a pool of fat in the drip tray. The flash scurried along the floor, stretching in length, and growing flaming fur. A small fire elemental, roughly the size and shape of a rat playfully batted at MF’s feet. Her eyes focused briefly on it, before rolling up in her head, and passing out. The playful spirit looked inquistively at Medic, then vanished.

Grakar lifted MF gently, and lay her down on a couple of empty potato sacks in the corner.

Medics eyes flicked open again, and he muttered “got it”. He relayed images from the fire spirit to the team. The stole truck was found. Now all they need to do, was sneak in and steal it back, without accidentally destroying the cargo (along with everything within a two block radius).

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