The car comes to a halt inside what used to be an inner city subway tunnel. The benches and support beams have either been cleared away or removed by a strong blast. In either case, all that remains are bent pieces of rebar and chunks of cement where support pillars to the city street above used to stand. Clutch parks parallel to a civilian ground car, next to the deep ledge where a subway train used to ride on the tracks below. He begins to fidget again with the knobs on the dash once the vehicle completely decelerates. Salvo hears the computerized voice of the vehicle once more: "Engine disengaged. Hydrogen fueling cells on autorecharge. Solar grid deactivated. Alcohol level minimal."
Seemingly in reaction to the status report offered by the on-board computer, the driver yells, "Shit!" He quickly gets out of the driver's side door and tucks a pistol away in his belt. The driver's side door remains open as Clutch's voice is heard in a panic, "That retake valve is on the fritz again. I'm losing cyclobenzene all over the fuckin ground. Get your ass in here and fix it right this time- hell no, I aint gonna get up in there. Do I look like a grease monkey to you!"
With a smirk across his wide face, the black man seated aside Salvo grasps his shotgun, shakes his head, and gets out of the car. "Relent, Clutch. We made it here didn't we."
"God only knows how. At the rate of this leak, we're lucky we made it across that damn river," the driver responds in his vocal drawl.
Salvo then hears the grinding voice of another man from outside the car. "It doesn't help matters that you got some poor bastard's hide splattered all over your front end out here."
"That poor fuck was on his way out anyway. Pretty boy took care of him before we got there," replies Clutch.
"You must be talking about the new guy," the grinding voice retorts.
"I don't know what happened to that thief but we pulled out his partner."
The grinding voice then asks, "Does he have the disks? We need to ensure their authenticity right away if you want to get into San Luiz central by midnight."
"Pretty boy says he's got the shit," R.B.'s voice interjects. He then pokes his head inside the car and looks at Salvo in a wide gaze. "Well, you gonna get out, whitebread? We have some dealings with the man to discuss."
Salvo studies the men outside the car for a few seconds, through the glass of the car windows. He closely observes the man talking to Clutch with a raspy voice. With a moderate-sized body frame, the man looks old and weary. His phenotype is apparently of pure strain human stock but Salvo notices that the man looks far too old for the regular human life span. Salvo also takes notice of the man's dark red and violet flak armor, padded from head to foot. The armor barding is clearly custom-made and looks like it could absorb the full impact of a high-explosives grenade. Looking to the man's face, Salvo sees a thick visor extending down from the man's helmet, completely covering his eyes. A large and prominent scar on the man's left cheek stretches out beneath the visor.
Salvo opens the passenger side door, grips his viper rifle with his right hand, and calmly steps up and out of the vehicle. Standing to his full 6'3" height, he remains motionless for a few seconds assessing the situation. Salvo looks over the top of the car at the men gathered around and starts to contemplate how, if necessary, he could kill them all in an efficient manner and get away swiftly. Salvo adjusts the flaps on his black trench coat with his left hand and begins to look around the tunnel. His right hand maintains hold of his viper rifle and dangles the length of the weapon loosely at his side. Salvo readies his left hand to reach for the .45 caliber pistol tucked away in his belt if needed.
R.B. remains poised near the driver's side door. He stands up straight and faces Salvo once he steps out of the car. Both the driver and another man are crouched down low to the ground, near the rear end of the vehicle on the driver's side. They mumble mechanical jargon back and forth to one another and begin pointing around underneath the vehicle's chassis. Salvo hears the sound of trickling liquid on the ground beneath his feet. The scent of alcohol can also be detected emanating from the rear of the car.
"See, I told you, Scrap... the evaporation uptake is warped. Look, that shit isn't even fitting on there right, " comes the driver's voice from beneath the car.
"Don't get your panties in a bundle, Clutch. A little vibro weld across those two braces and we'll have you up and running in no time. You'll need to refill the tanks, though," responds the raspy voice of the other man.
Clutch stands up from his crouched position and walks toward an old entrance of the subway ticket booth. R.B. grasps his shotgun with his right hand and holds out his left in the direction of Clutch. Motioning to Salvo, he says, "By all means, after you, pretty boy. Let's get this bitch started."
Salvo watches as the other man stands up from underneath the car. He's wearing a custom garb of dark red and violet flak gear. He's also sporting a black helmet with a thick visor covering his eyes. He looks old and has a prominent scar across his left cheek.
Salvo glances at the old man as he walks in the direction of the ticket booth. As he continues on his way, he glances around at the surrounding area and looks for any possible place to hole up in case of a fight. Or for any quick exits. "Just be cool," Salvo thinks to himself.
R.B. walks away from the car, past Salvo, and tells Salvo to follow him. He walks into the ancient subway ticket booth alongside the far wall. Once enclosed in the narrow space along with Salvo, R.B. shuts the exterior door and then knocks on a metal door on the opposite wall of the room. A small, metal plate, about the height of a man's head, slides back on the metal door. Salvo catches a glimpse of a molded face peeking through the slit.
"Who is it?" comes an extremely rough voice from behind the plate.
"You're mamma, bulldog. Let us in before I cap your ass," R.B. states in a low tone.
The metal plate slides back into place and the sounds of chains and metal against metal from the other side of the door are heard clinking. The door then opens, exposing a view of a concrete tunnel leading into the darkness. While making his way down the hall, R.B. stops in front of the gatekeeper at the entrance. "Why are you doing fuckin with me like that? One of these days you're gonna have to earn your keep around here and do something productive. Knaw mean?"
The gatekeeper grunts and leans a large rifle against the wall, seemingly amused by R.B.'s comments. After glancing at Salvo, he then grips a communicator with his hand and speaks into the receptor in a gruff tone, "Package delivered, boss; we got your man." There is no reply.
Salvo quickly assesses the gatekeeper. He appears humanoid: stout, short, and bald, with a bulldog face. His eyes look black as coal and he appears strong-bodied. He is wearing a brown T-shirt covered with leather barding, black biker gloves, boots, and belt. The gatekeeper is also wearing green pants with long bandoliers wrapped around each thigh and calf of his legs. Salvo also takes notice of the long barreled, high-caliber, fully automatic machine gun leaning against the wall next to a tan helmet.
Salvo begins to follow R.B. down the narrow passage. After a few seconds of walking, R.B. turns his head over his shoulder and says, "That's Bolor back there... he's all bite and no bark." He turns around and continues walking forward with not another word to say. Salvo continues walking down 30 feet or so of concrete passageway. The passageway turns left and then descends another 15 feet or so on a concrete stairwell. Once at the bottom of the shaft where the stairs terminate, Salvo notices another passageway going further into the darkness in the opposite direction of the stairwell. Another metal door stands closed at the base of the stairs.
An audible "click" is heard and the door suddenly becomes ajar. R.B. enters the doorway and motions Salvo to follow him. Once both men are inside the room, the door closes. A large table is seen situated in the center of the room. Seated about the table are several post-apocalypse office chairs, apparently restored to excellent quality. In the chair closest to Salvo is seated a man clothed completely in a mottled gray uniform. Only a small patch for his eyes is left open from the gray facemask concealing his white flesh. Salvo gives the man a quick once over and observes quite the assortment of weapons and gear on his person. He appears very calm and collected.
Standing against the western wall, Salvo catches the glare of Arinar's dark eyes. Arinar raises an eyebrow at Salvo. Quickly turning away, Salvo focuses his gaze to Doc, seated alongside the conference table.
A yellowish light at the head of the table completely illuminates the head chair. It's a large chair. It looks more like a throne than anything else. Coming into the light of the room, Salvo sees a sleek figure standing to the right of the chair. The man-shaped figure is encased in what looks like a red spacesuit, completely enclosed with apparently no gaps. It's difficult to decipher whether the figure is sentient or android. A large, armor-enforced blue chest piece stands out on his torso. In bright silver etching is the emblem of a king cobra on his chest. It then occurs to Salvo that every man that he has met thus far has had this same emblem somewhere on his body in one color or another. The emblem on this new figure's chest, however, is by far the most pronounced.
The figure in red stands beside the throne-like chair and grasps a modified M-16 rifle with a huge scope across his chest, military style. Coiled in the throne itself is a large snake-like creature, some 15 feet long. Its torso is human in form, as are the arms and most of the creature's head. The lower torso and pelvic region are merged together into a thick tail of a snake. Covering the entire body of the creature are gold scales with green and copper iridescence. The creature's ruby-red eyes glitter as its tail wraps around the inside of the throne. It is seated in an upright position with its arms spread out across the table. Salvo sees no weapons or possessions on the body of this creature save a metal wrist band with two cylinders across the top and a monocular chained around its waist.
Salvo spots one last man in the room. He is seated between the man in gray mottling and the black, sandpaper-like skin humanoid. This final man appears displaced from the rest of the crew. His body is garbed in a dark jumpsuit while his gear remains completely mismatched and rather unorganized. The man appears to be packing everything from an ancient long sword sheathed on his belt to a fully automatic machine gun.
The man in the dark jumpsuit glances quickly over at Salvo and then turns his attention back to the room. He says, "If you got a job for me, I can get it done. But understand I'm no crusader." He then stands up and continues, "I don't follow blindly or sell myself cheaply." The man casts a little smirk and then mumbles, "I am very good at what I do." He then wanders back to his chair, sits down, and laces his fingers together. A few of the men in the room offer a raised eyebrow or a furrowed forehead to the strange man's speech. After a few uncomfortably silent seconds, the man goes on, "You give me good info and I'll give you good results." Appearing nervous while everyone in the room is staring at him, the man leans back in the chair and says, "I don't care what your cause is, you want to save the world or rule it, fine by me." He finally leans forward and adds, "just tell me what part you want me to do."
Once the man has finished his monologue, the golden snake-like creature draws his attention to Salvo. The creature takes a deep breath while staring at Salvo long and hard. It then turns its head to the side so one large ruby-red eye is facing Salvo.
"Sorry for the delay, boss," R.B. utters. "Pretty boy here had to take care of some unfriendlies back in town. Zeiliff is dead but we think that he passed off the materials to this guy here before he got ran down. Either way, here's you man." Salvo looks in the direction of the snake man and then slowly takes a vacant seat at the table. Once seated, Salvo places his viper rifle on the table in front of him. He then begins to search through all of his pockets, starting with his two outer trench coat pockets, in search of something that Zeiliff might have slipped him without his noticing it.
Without finding any anomalous items in his exterior pockets, Salvo continues the search in his backpack and quickly notices that one of the lateral pocket flaps is somewhat folded under. He examines it closer and finds some unfamiliar material placed in this pocket: two small items that do not belong to him. They are disks, enclosed in small jewel cases about four inches by four inches wide and a quarter of an inch thick.
Salvo places the two jewel cases on the table in front of him next to his rifle and says, "Here you go. Now why don't you fill me in on what all the commotion has been about."
Salvo sees an arm reach across the table in his peripheral view. Turning slightly to look at the person beside him, Salvo sees the old man with the scar on his cheek. His shielded visor refracts the purple light of the room as he turns his attention to the disks that Salvo has provided on the table in front of him. Apparently, the man entered the room from behind while Salvo was searching his gear. Salvo recognizes him from the garage above.
The snake creature perks his head up and says to the old man, "Would you mind verifying the authenticity of those disks, Mr. Scrap Iron?"
"Not a problem," Scrap Iron replies in a rusty voice.
R.B. continues to stand at the back of the room like a warden. Scrap Iron takes a chair on the far right of the room, a few chairs down from the man clothed in gray mottling. He places the disks on the table in front of him, opens the jewel cases, and begins to look closely at them through a cubed lens. Every few seconds, he mutters a fragmented sentence in self-thought, "the isomers look right... serial code is as I remember... the lining might be a little damaged..." Then after a few long moments of silence, he concludes aloud, "This is what we were looking for."
The snake folds his arms across his broad chest and smiles widely. He then becomes very animated but yet quite serious at the same time. "Excellent! Now, gentlemen, allow me to fill you in on the happenings as of late. For most of you, you are well aware of the fact that we are at war. But this is not a war of massive gun battles and tyrant armies. It is a war of technology. He who has it, wins. Thus, the question is not who wants to be with us according to how much monetary benefits we offer (which, might I add, is quite substantial) but who wants to be in allegiance to the victors. There will be one cell controlling San Luiz. And that cell, gentlemen, is going to be ours."
Salvo notices that the snake creature clearly likes to talk. He seems to enjoy the sound of his own voice and relishes in his own ideas. He continues in a authoritarian tone and announces, "At the moment, San Luiz is controlled and operated by the Restorationists party. They seek to regain the knowledge of the Ancients. And with that knowledge comes power. Most non-pure strain human forms have been ostracized out of the city and banished here, to East San Luiz. They will not be part of the new collective once the Restorationists find what they seek. This is now our call to arms, brethren. We will stop the Restorationists before they finish their assault on the new order of sentience! It is we who will control the city."
From the facial expressions of the other men in the room, there seems to be a bit of confusion over just what this creature is talking about. "Recently, the Restorationists have discovered a facility once housing many secrets of the Ancients. Within this facility, they came across a laboratory that contained several important machines. We had an informant thief thoroughly integrated into the Restorationist ranks. He relayed this information to us and told us of these machines. From his description, and with the aid of Mr. Scrap Iron, we have determined that these machines are what the Ancients called Rejuvenation Chambers. Their function is simple. They are a mechanical equivalent of the Gods. Once inside, the wounded will become healed. The maimed shall become whole and the dead shall revive. I shouldn't have to point out to you the power that this technology will offer our small forces. With only a few dozen men, we can take the city against their hundreds. But if the Restorationists gather the needed technology from these machines first, we will have lost. Noticing this grave danger, we gave orders for our thief to acquire the essential data disks. Without these disks, the machines are inoperable. But in time, the Restorationists will learn the secrets of these machines just the same."
The men in the room remain attuned to the snake-creatures words as if affixed on his gaze. "Our plan is a simple one. Mr. Scrap Iron has thoroughly investigated this building of the Ancients. After the data disks were stolen, the Restorationists significantly increased the security within the building as well as the laboratory itself. The laboratory is guarded incessantly by two well-armed security officers. And the halls are littered with security cameras and sentinels. Essentially, gentlemen, it is utterly impossible to enter this facility through a gunfight. We don't have the firepower nor man force to get in and out alive. And if any of the alarms are sounded, the entire complex will be flooded with Restorationists soldiers. We have devised a much stealthier plan to accomplish our plan. The laboratory is visited frequently by Restorationist technicians on a rotating basis. These technicians are sent to learn the knowledge of the Ancients via their encrypted computer system. Two security officers, in addition to the pair guarding the laboratory, accompany each technician upon their arrival. Mr. Scrap Iron is to pose as this technician and Mr. Cross and Mr. Salvo (if they accept) will go under the auspice of the two security officers. Once inside the facility, and once past the officers guarding the laboratory, Mr. Scrap Iron will utilize the data disks to operate the machines. He is to download the needed schematics of the machines so that we can build them ourselves once he returns. Then he will promptly strip the central processing unit of the mainframe's motherboard. Once the data collection is finished, the Rejuv Chambers will be destroyed by a demolitions blast. The Restorationists will then have nothing and we will have acquired a very important asset to our plight."
The snake creature looks around the room at each individual man. After assessing their gazes, he says, "Now, if there are any questions, gentlemen, I turn you to Mr. Scrap Iron."
Salvo remains seated while he listens intently to the snake creature's planned course of action. "Sounds like something that I would be interested in," Salvo thinks to himself. "I wonder what exactly I'll get out of this deal, though. It 's a good damn thing I had those discs on me…" He then repositions himself in his chair and places his backpack on the floor to his right. After looking up at the snake creature, Salvo says aloud, "It sounds like a good plan and well thought out. I'm guessing there are more details that we'll have to go over to prepare for our little task. If you have any schematics of the building that I could look over, that would be most helpful."
While nodding its head in approval, the snake creature waves his arm slowly in the direction of Scrap Iron, as if in an introduction. Scrap Iron places the small cubical lens that he was gazing through on the table next to the disks. He then looks to Salvo. "There aren't a lot of details to go over. We go in, I acquire the data, and we go out. I have the lay-out of the building right here," he says as he taps one finger against the side of his head. "All that is required of you is to stay by my side, keep your trap shut, and be ready to waste some Resties if they catch on to us."
Salvo looks at Scrap Iron and retorts, "When do you plan to proceed with this?"
"We're due in the lab in under an hour. They'll have a new tech in by morning and our chances will be blown."
Torin lumbers down the cement subway tunnel, weary of any impending dangers or nasty folk that may be lurking in the darkness. While navigating the decline of the passageway with is his cellulose limbs, he tries to muster all of his inner willpower to be calm and brave and prevent his leaves from shaking. Torin's only weapon is a cocked shotgun slung over his shoulder with 8 rounds in the chamber. A leather bandolier of 24 additional shells remains tightly wrapped around his spiny torso. Torin fights back the urge to draw the weapon and prepare it to fire its stinging death. He knows that he must show confidence, but not so much as to bring a shower of flying metal shards upon himself. If he is to survive this endeavor, he knows that he must not appear to be threatening or hostile. "I need these people to get revenge on those Restorationist wretches… that's all that matters now," Torin reminds himself.
The familiar darkness soon relents as Torin approaches a reception area within the tunnel. Once the ground levels out, Torin finds himself on the perimeter of a subway docking port and takes refuge behind one of the few remaining support beams. With a few twists of Torin's leaves, he looks around the support beam to see a black flit car parked parallel to a blue civilian ground car. Leaning against the flit car, Clutch is spotted smoking a cigarette with his back facing Torin. His attention seems to be focused on a communicator within his left hand. No other persons can be seen.
In a show of bravado, Torin steps from behind the support beam and reveals himself to Clutch within the open docking port. With a calm voice, Torin addresses Clutch. "Excuse me, do you happen to have another one of those," gesturing toward the cigarette in Clutch's hand. "I have never tried to light myself on fire and inhale the fumes," Torin utters with a large grin.
At the sound of Torin's voice, Clutch whirls around in a completely startled stance, nearly losing his balance and falling to the ground. Once his eyes fall upon Torin, Clutch ducks and quickly crouches behind the flit car. "Shit! - Bolor, we got company out here!" comes his nearly hysterical voice from behind the vehicle. Clutch then slowly pops his head up over the hood of the car with his drawn pistol in his right hand. His left hand is clutching the communicator close to his mouth as he continues to talk. "Bolor, I got an unidentified plant out here, please advise!"
"Wooooh, don't point that thing at me, I was just joking. I'm just looking for some people. Word on the street is that the future leaders of San Luiz may be around here and I'm just looking to get in on some of the action… for a small price, of course." Torin tries to not give any indication to Clutch of any sort of tension in his demeanor, even though the air is currently electrified. "Do you have any idea where I could contact these people?"
Cross listens intently throughout the conversation between Salvo and Scrap Iron, while remaining still. Salvo looks to Scrap Iron and reflects, "Damn, that's kinda quick." He then says to Scrap Iron aloud, "I assume you have the proper attire for us to pose as your guards? And if you don't have any other info to share at this point then I guess we'd better gear up and head out." Salvo then looks to Cross, nods, and says, "I'm Salvo, the other grunt."
The snake creature grins widely and turns to R.B. "At your command Mr. Roadblock. I will be pleased to hear of your results later this evening."
R.B. nods in reply as the snake creature uncoils his long tail onto the ground below the throne. Once the snake man prepares to leave, the figure in red plastic armor standing beside him quickly maneuvers his rifle across his chest in patriot guard style. The guard stands up completely straight with a snap and faces forward. In simultaneous unison, the rest of the men in the room take to their feet and raise their right arm across their chest, with their elbows at a ninety-degree angle. They stare forward and remain in silence.
Arinar's communicator crackles and the room suddenly sparks up with a transmission: "We have a hostile out here, over! Repeat, unknown plant in the lobby. It is armed."
The snake creature looks with a scowl toward R.B. as the other men in the room turn to face him, waiting for direction. R.B. points toward Arinar and toggles his hand to the left. Arinar pulls the loader back on his gattling gun and struts toward the passageway with a smile. R.B. then individually points out Doc and the man clothed in gray mottling. He makes a "T" figure with his hands and then points toward the ceiling. Both men run out of the room, drawing their weapons.
Scrap Iron quickly grabs the disks from atop the table and stuffs them beneath his flak-armored chest plate. He pulls a .45-caliber pistol and a black RAR pistol in each hand and begins to escort the snake creature out of the room through a separate passageway. The mute figure in red plastic armor stays near the exit, scanning the room until both the snake and Scrap Iron are through.
R.B. then turns to Cross and Salvo, points to his backside and says, "Stay on it. It's time to earn your keep, boys." He then begins to exit the room with his shotgun poised to fire.
Cross grabs his assault rifle and pushes the safety latch off. He stands from his chair, looks down at R.B.'s butt, then back to Salvo and says with a smile, "Man, you couldn't pay me enough to watch that thing."
Salvo stands to his feet and quickly straps on his backpack. He then grabs his viper rifle with both hands and follows R.B. out of the room. As Salvo heads out of the room after R.B he thinks to himself, "I'm getting paid for this?"
Bolor glances toward Clutch through the clear visor faceplate of his tan helmet. "Are you expecting any visitors?" asks his gruff voice.
"The damn thing talks and everything, man. It looks hostile. I say we wax it," Clutch utters in a scared voice from behind the car.
"If you're looking for shelter, you're knocking on the wrong door. These here tunnels belong to King Snake," Bolor addresses Torin while gripping his rifle with both hands and bracing his body weight on his back leg.
Torin looks nervously back and forth between Clutch and Bolor behind the vehicle. "Hey, hey, wait. I was looking for King Snake, or at least his gang." Torin tries to steady himself; the barrel of Bolor's machine gun looks awfully big from this angle. "The name is Torin. I heard the future leaders of San Luiz live down here and I wanted to be part of that. You kill me and you lose your boss a great ally. Not many of us planties out there and just think of the potential that has for, say, an ambush. Anyway, I already have the green color motif." Torin grins. "I'm not here looking for a fight, I'm was here looking for some work. If your boss isn't interested then I'll leave." Slowly, Torin turns and begins to walk back the way that he came.
As soon as he pivots, Torin sees two figures approaching him down from the passageway that he took from the street above. Out of his periphery, Torin notices Arinar coming in from his left.
"Turn around nice and easy there, plantie," Bolor commands. "Put one limb on yer weapon and we'll dice you up and leave you here for dead."
Torin complies with the gruff voice. He slowly raises his limbs as high as the ceiling will let him. He thinks to himself, "These long arms sure do cause problems at times." Cautiously, Torin turns to face the bulldog-faced man. "I'm not looking for trouble, it's just really hard for a mutie like me to earn some honest creds. So I thought, dishonest creds work just the same, right?" Torin smiles while attempting to turn on his charm.
Arinar holds his position several yards to Torin's left, as Doc and the man in gray mottling stop some ten feet behind him. There is a moment of silence, then the sliding and release sounds of firearm cocking mechanisms are heard.
Clutch stands up from behind the flit car, grasping his pistol tightly. "The damn thing just came out of nowhere, man- took me completely by surprise!"
"Relax, Clutch. This tree isn't going anywhere," replies the gruff voice of Bolor.
"You come alone, plantie?"
Before Torin can speak, Clutch interrupts, "- just wax him, Bolor! He's gotta be some spy or somethin"
"Sit tight. Wait until R.B. gets here. He might be one of them other recruits..."
R.B. exits the room with Cross and Salvo in tow. He quickly navigates himself around the frame of the doorway and then makes a hard left into the darkness, down a separate passageway. Within seconds of following R.B., Salvo and Cross suddenly hear voices and see the light from the subway tunnel outside. Their ambient surroundings instantly change and they find themselves standing outside in the subway docking port, instantly teleported.
Salvo looks about the docking port. R.B. is no where to be seen. In front of his position, some ten feet down the subway tunnel, are the parked flit car and civilian ground car. Standing beside the cars, Salvo spots Clutch and Bolor, both with weapons drawn. Directly ahead of Cross' position, Salvo notices Arinar with his large rifle and a big grin on his face. To Cross' left, tracing back up the passageway toward the street, Doc and the man in gray mottling can be seen. These men also both have their weapons drawn.
Cross peers around the docking port and quickly realizes that the center of attention is a large 11-foot cactus. It appears sentient, is packing a large custom-made backpack full of gear, and is strapping a chrome shotgun with black trim. The plant's 7-foot branches, which are apparently used for arms, are strung up in the air while the creature attempts to converse with Bolor.
While scanning the area and assessing for potential danger emanating from the plant, Salvo sees what appears to be a slit of light floating adjacent to the vehicles. The phototrophic anomaly stretches some 6 feet long and remains stationary. As soon as Salvo notices the floating strip of light, he sees a leg protruding through the slit. Seconds later, to everyone's satisfaction and to Salvo's amazement, R.B. steps out from the floating strip of light and onto the concrete docking port below. The cactus remains stationary. R.B. approaches the cactus slowly while examining him with a scowl on his face.
While staring at the cactus, Salvo says out of the corner of his mouth to Cross, "What the hell is that?"
"Ya know, if I'd met an eleven foot cactus before, I would have remembered it." Cross then uses his telepathic mutations to scan the cactus for any signs of sentience. He discovers that the cactus, self-proclaiming to be "Torin," does indeed have a mind and is rather intelligent. Cross reads an emotion of confidence underpinned by fear from the plant. After sizing up the cactus in whole, Cross announces, "Looks harmless enough, for a giant pin cushion."
Salvo continues to study the plant, trying to determine what its intentions are and if he should see what the insides of a walking cactus look like. From the movements of the cactus and the apparent sentience it seems to have, Salvo determines that it appears friendly enough, even if a little lost. He begins to slowly walk toward R.B., standing adjacent to Torin. Salvo's rifle is held across his chest. As he's walking, Salvo says to R.B., "You know, R.B, an 11-foot-tall cactus dude may come in handy...and besides, he looks friendly...if a bit uninvited." Salvo stops beside R.B. and pontificates to himself, "…another new guy may aide in my survival beyond these other bastards… and I sure don't want to be the one stuck with the job of cleaning up cactus guts."
R.B. whirls his shotgun up and props it on his right shoulder. He holds the weapon very loosely. R.B. then looks over at Salvo and then back toward the man in gray mottling, standing behind the cactus. "What do you have for me, Firefly?"
The man in the gray camouflage tilts his head to the side and then lowers his weapon somewhat. He then speaks very calmly and clearly, "He's not hostile... feelings are genuine... I think he's telling the truth, boss."
R.B. then looks at Torin with a firm glare and says, "Under a normal situation, I'd mulch your ass right now- with you walking up in here like cowboy cactus and whatnot. But my man says you're good to go and this isn't one of my normal mornings, if you know what I'm saying. We don't got time to screen you and it's not my black ass on the line if you decide to roll over on us. If what you want is to smoke some Resties, you've come to the right place. But you'll be working with them, not me."
R.B. points at Cross and Salvo with his last comment. He then turns to Salvo and says, "He's your responsibility if you want to take him along. Just be aware that if he steps out of line, my boys will cut both of you down. We aint got time for any side-steppin." He then turns in the direction of Arinar and yells, "Arinar, get Scrap's hide up in here and let's get these cruits off to the lab. I want Doc covering the street and Firefly at the exit tunnel with enough pounds to level the entire structure if things go south. You're staying with me, Arinar. R.B. then turns to Clutch still standing somewhat cowardly behind the flit car. "I expect smooth results, Clutch. You got this damn thing up and running?"
"It's tip-top, boss," returns Clutch's twangy voice as he taps the hood of the flit car.
"Good. The two 'cruits and Scrap are with you in the flit. Throw the cactus in the cargo bay. Firefly and Doc will go ahead in the ground car..." R.B. then looks around to each individual's face and says, "Now, if there isn't anything else from you girls that I need to take care of, I have a mutt to feed." He turns back to Torin, "Lucky for you, Junkyard don't like Cactus." R.B. then addresses the entire crew of men once more. "I expect the hardware and those schematics by nightfall. There's 5,000 creds for each one of you that comes back here with the juice. If things get shitty, Firefly's going to abort the mission and blow the whole complex... so you best get to running as soon as he gives the word. We shouldn't have to do that fellaz, if all goes right. We need that technology but if we don't get it, the Resties aren't getting it either. Doc will provide any backup fire from the street above. Once you're inside, you're on your own. Stay frosty, boys. I expect results." R.B. then turns away and starts to walk back toward the old ticket booth, behind the vehicles.
Salvo watches R.B as he walks away from the encounter, then turns his attention to Torin. Salvo eyes the big cactus man for a few seconds then says, "I'm Salvo, I guess you'll be working with Cross and me for awhile." Salvo then looks in Cross' direction and says to Torin, "That's Cross, he's also a newcomer and part of our trio, so you should fit right in... if that's possible."
Torin leans down to Salvo and asks, "So, what's our part in this job? I understand that it's a salvage job, but what positions are we going to be in? …I know you don't know me, or probably trust me. I don't trust you either! But, I don't want my buds getting shot off. If you want me to do my job, I need to know what that is." Torin then stands to his full 11-foot height and waits for a response from Salvo.
Cross walks up to Salvo as he stands talking with Torin and says, "5,000 creds, huh? Well, we all have to make sacrifices on a new gig." Cross then begins to scratch his chin and looks up at Torin, "Man, aint you going to look great in a guard uniform!" "Name's Torin right? I'm Cross." Cross extends his right hand towards Torin in an effort to shake his hand, as he says "Don't worry, I'm prick proof." Cross smiles at Salvo, "Just ask R.B."
Torin cautiously shakes Cross' hand. Salvo gives a small smile toward Cross then turns his attention back to Torin and says, "I don't know who you are or why you're here, but I figure a little more newbie help may aide Cross and I...we're a little outnumbered at the moment. If R.B says you're in, then you're in. We leave in a very short amount of time to acquire some information from the Resties. Cross and I will pose as guards to Scrap Iron, whom you will meet shortly. Scrap is the local Mr. Fixer. He'll be the one doing most of the work. Our job is to make sure his ass don't get killed, nor ours. As for what were going to do with you...I'm not entirely sure. You're coming with us, so you will be aiding us somehow." Salvo then looks over Torin again. "What exactly can you do? I mean, you're packing a shotgun, very nice by the way, and you're a big mutha freaka. But what abilities do you have that will help us to not get nuked? Can you camouflage yourself somehow? Because I don't think that putting you in a guard uniform is going to make people think that you're a Restie."
As Cross and Salvo converse with Torin, the other men slowly begin to disperse. Just as R.B. is about to enter the door through the old ticket booth, out steps Scrap Iron. He stops to talk with R.B. Their tone is too low to decipher what is being said. Scrap Iron nods and mutters small phrases while listening to R.B. R.B. makes several motions toward Salvo and seems to be gesturing a plan of action to the old man.
Clutch holsters his pistol and looks around nervously. Firefly and Doc both make way to the civilian ground car parked beside the ticket booth. They seat themselves inside the car, turn over the ignition, and speed off with squealing tires. The car quickly disappears up the passageway toward the city streets above.
Just as the car disappears into the distant shadows, R.B. steps inside the ancient ticket booth and enters the cement bunker, followed by Bolor. Scrap Iron approaches Clutch and says in a raspy voice, "Disable the navigation computer and double check that benzene seal. We don't have any time to spare and we need as much power as that helix will muster."
Clutch jolts towards the flit car, opens the door, and quickly disappears beneath the dash board, clearly fidgeting with the on-board computer systems. The old man slowly approaches Salvo while keeping his head turned toward Clutch. He then stops, continues to stare for a brief moment, appears satisfied, and then turns his attention toward Torin. Scrap Iron cocks his head and strokes the short stubble beneath his chin with two spindle-shaped fingers. The dull light from the dim halogen bulbs above the ancient ticket booth reflects off of his visor. His eyes remain completely hidden behind the thick plastic. He then sighs and looks down toward the ground. After reaching into his side pant pocket, he retrieves several red pieces of cloth. Scrap Iron unravels each strand very slowly while apparently deep in thought. The old man then selects a particularly long piece of cloth and wraps it around the top of his black, form-fitted helmet. He arranges the cloth so that it conceals the engraved insignia of a cobra head on his helmet. He takes a similar piece of cloth and wraps is around his upper left arm, again concealing a red embroidered cobra insignia on his armor.
After Scrap Iron finishes securing his last band of cloth, he shoves his left hand inside his chest plate and produces several white arm bands. Each has an intricately-patterned blue dove stained onto the bright white cloth. The old man takes one of the arm bands and rolls it up his right arm so that it exposes the blue dove pattern to the exterior. He then hands a similar arm band to Salvo and Cross.
"Place these on your right arm like this, "comes the old man's raspy voice as he turns to show the manner in which he's wearing the arm band. "If you have any obvious clan insignias on you, you best conceal them. The dove is the sign of the Restorationists. All Resties have them. They are produced exclusively at the mill factories inside San Luiz. Without them, we aren't going anywhere."
The old man waits until Salvo and Cross both arrange their arm bands as he demonstrated and then he turns his attention to Torin. "My name is Scrap Iron and I'm in charge of this show for the time being. I haven't planned for an extra cruit this evening- let alone a plantie- but we'll have to make due. So this is the situation, fellaz. Listen up. I've been inside the Rejuv lab once before. I know the lay-out of the building. There's sentinels and robotic units scouring the entire complex 24-hours a day. And there's also armed Restie guards as we've discussed earlier. After the data disks were stolen, the security has been increased significantly. We don't quite know what to expect. But what we do know is that if we go in shooting, we're coming out in body bags. We're out-manned, out-gunned, and don't have nearly the tech that they do."
As Scrap Iron continues to speak, Clutch exits the driver's side door of the flit car and crawls beneath the rear of the vehicle with a small flashlight and a chrome tool.
"Our mission is simple. The Rejuv chambers are serviced and researched every two hours on sequential shifts throughout the night. The Resties are currently trying to bypass the Ancients' software gateways to the operating systems of the Rejuvs. They can't operate the chambers without the data disks that we've stolen, but they can learn enough about them to build their own and compromise the software. We're going to steal the tech before they learn of its secrets and then decimate the whole lab from within."
Clutch rolls out from beneath the car and runs to the driver's side door. After a brief pause, the roar of a powerful engine echoes throughout the docking port. Clutch's hand then sticks up from the driver's side window with his thumb up. "We're good to go, Scrap!" comes his twangy voice.
Scrap Iron looks toward the flit car and then back toward the group of men. "I'll continue to debrief you in the car. We best get going..."