Up 50 floors, in an elegantly furnished office, with a window overlooking Neo-New York's skyline, sat the CEO, flanked by his two employees. The company logo- FalconTech was splayed across the outside of the building, and its insignia emblazoned on the desk as well as their uniforms. All well and good, except the men were armed. And were trained killers. Yes, in the modern age, there was no better way to launder money than to start an honest to goodness corporation.
The amber glow of a setting sun filtered through the large windows as the Don- also the CEO - perused some files on his desk. He methodically reviewed each item. Every scavver operation, drug and gun running hustle, even prostitution rings - he had a hand in them, and made sure they paid their dues to the top- in exchange for their protection. And of course, he checked the operating costs and profits of the FalconTech corp - the front - as well. Can't go wrong with developing and selling VR - and with the blood money they've gathered- the best engineers and talent were in the palm of their hands, poached even from top megacorporations such as DiermanBit and Yamaguchi Heavy Industries.
Usually, his quick audit ran by without a hitch. Today, however...
"Tommy, Paul, need you two to go on down to 13 and check on Rex. Turian fucker's behind on his tithe."
"Don, didn't you hear? The APD got him."
"The fuck? When?"
"About 2 weeks ago..."
Don Falcone's eye twitched. "And none of you bright gentlemen thought to tell me about it!?"
The mafioso blanched. "Well, y'see, um. Guys that bring you bad news tend to get hurt."
"Fucking idiot!" Don Falcone stood from his leather chair, strode around the mahogany executive desk, and jammed his cigar butt into the mafioso's arm.
"Aghhh! Mercy!" The mobster screamed in agony.
"This is what happens- when you bring bad news two weeks after the fact!" He withdrew the cigar, then slapped the young mafioso a few times across the face. "I need to keep tabs on everything that goes on in my operation. That includes the guys on the bottom running my scams for me, all the way up to my own capos. Nothing gets past me. Little Jimmy no nose's son dies, I wanna hear about it. Turian scavver running one of my operations down in 13? No shit I need to hear about it. Are we clear?"
A feminine metallic voice emerged as she entered the room. Vela, the female Turian, and representative of the Turian Cartel- a recent ally of the Falcone Mafia. "It's good to see that our human allies care about Turian losses- even if it's simply because of money." Lithe and athletic, she was also rumored to be the Cartel's top agent. As a hitman, she was as a ghost- her kills clean and untraceable. But she'd found her true calling in the seedy politics of the underworld.
The Don's expression softened superficially. "Ah, Vela. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"As always, to discuss business." Vela said, walking past the injured mafioso without so much as a glance. Two fully armored and cybernetically enhanced Turian enforcers flanked her sides, acting as her bodyguards, each of them sporting a top of the line plasma rifle.
The Don's mouth spread into a toothy grin. "By all means, have a seat. Always happy to discuss business with our Turian friends." Truth be told he wasn't happy. He didn't like it when the Turians came. Especially unannounced.
Tommy rubbed at his burned arm but recovered his position at the Don's left side, while Paul remained stone faced at his right, his hand resting on the handle of his handgun beneath his coat.
"Easy now." Falcone whispered to Paul. "But you've got the right idea."
Vela sat herself into the plush cushioned armchair across from the Don. She paused to examine her talons, before opening her mandibles. "As I'm sure you've noticed, the APD's been pushing on our operations lately. But that's the least of our worries. The Red Lotus is making its move."
Falcone scowled. "Goddamned chinks, Japs, and suit-rats. What are they up to now?"
Vela held up a hand. "I'm getting to that. Take a look at these photos."
She placed a couple of polaroids on the desk- each showing either a Turian or human (of Italian ancestry) body with its stomach cut open and its entrails splayed across the ground.
Falcone gagged. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph. Goddamned animals!" He quickly gestured the sign of the cross.
Vela ignored the outburst, and continued. "They've been targeting Falcone and Cartel men. Possibly as retaliation for our pushing into Little Rannoch- our little raids into suit-rat territory. It appears we've severely underestimated just how close Red Lotus and the Quarian Collective have become. In fact, it may be safe to say they're one and the same, at this point."
The Don recovered from his gagging fit and sipped on some water. "The Turian Cartel and Falcones - I would like to see that for us as well."
Vela laughed and waved it away with her talon. "My dear Don... our partnership is purely based on mutual - monetary - benefit. Do not forget that. The Turians still remember how your men treated us when the first wave of refugees settled in 'your' territory."
The Don's expression deflated. "We've since made amends. Water under the bridge."
Vela shook her head. "Turians do not forget. But that was not why I came here today. The Red Lotus are challenging us. And we must similarly display our own show of force, lest they walk all over us."
The Don nodded. "I'm inclined to agree. But what about the APD?"
Vela's mandibles contorted into a sneer. "Dogs are easily bribed. The treat just needs to be succulent enough. Have you made any attempt at all to reach out to them? The Chief, or perhaps the city council? Throw the dog a bone, see what happens."
"We do have a few council members in our pocket, but there's only so much they can do." The Don frowned. "I'll send a few guys to talk to their chief again."
"Good. And any overachieving do-gooder cops on the force - make sure to approach them as well. But I expect you don't need me telling you that. A human doesn't get to the top without brains."
Falcone smiled. "Of course. And VladstokCorp? How's the Russki mob factor in all this?"
Vela shook her head. "They've kept mostly to their territory in the east part of town. Them and their Krogan mercenaries are no joke. I would prefer we not poke the bear, though if we can negotiate an alliance with them... it may give us the edge we need to wipe out the Red Lotus once and for all."
"I'm getting a half chub just thinking about it. How do you figure we do that?"
Vela sighed. "Do I have to do everything for you? Figure it out. The Russians must want something. Give it to them, and get on their good side. In the meantime, get your guys ready for some search and destroy. We need to hit the Red Lotus back - and hard."
"No disagreements here." The Don nodded.
"It's settled then. I'm late for my mani pedi. Ciao, Don Falcone." Vela left the office, waving a talon as she went, her silver plates shining almost as bright as the marble upon which she walked.
Falcone turned to his trusted right hand man. "Paul. Get in touch with a few of our moles. I want to know just who it was that had the palles to not only take a case in District 13, but to actually bring in someone under Falcone protection. Maybe he's gagootz, maybe he didn't know better. Find out. And we'll see if we can't make him an offer."
"Right away, sir." Paul nodded deferentially, before heading out the office as well.
The Don sighed, and leaned back in his chair. It's not easy being at the top. "And Tommy, make yourself useful and top off my scotch, ya goddamn maroni."
"Y-yes boss!"
...
As always, the city was under a light drizzle of rain. Gordon massaged his temples, barely touching his ramen. Another morning, another hangover to cure.
"Rough night, chief?" The man behind the counter said, as he threw in some fresh spices into the broth.
"Rough as any other, Hiro." Gordon said.
"You gotta kick the habit. Osake tastes good in the moment, but it will kill you eventually." Hiro lectured. The man was twice Gordon's age, with weathered skin, and a strong frame.
"I know that. But with the shit I've seen on the job... Let's just say finding relief in the bottom of a bottle is a package deal with being a detective."
Aela sauntered up to the counter. "Bathrooms in this place are surprisingly clean, for a human owned restaurant."
"-Especially when you have a partner like her. HQ put me up with another xeno partner. Says she hates humans. Can you believe that Hiro?" Gordon jerked his head to his right, where Aela had taken a seat at the counter.
"I'm right here you know." Aela hissed.
Gordon rolled his eyes.
"Hey, give her a chance. She seems nice. And I know you'd never admit it, but that Turian fella you came in here with sometimes- I know you had a soft spot for him too."
"Bullshit. He died cause of me." Gordon spat. "And, for the record, I'll castrate my balls before I'll ever 'have a soft spot' for a metalhead fuck."
Hiro chuckled. "Noted." A waitress called out some more orders, and Hiro ran off to cook them. "Talk to you later, Gordon." He tipped his chef's hat to Aela. "Nice meeting ya miss. And just so you know, Gordon's really not a bad guy. Known him since his Academy years."
Aela scoffed. "I'll be the judge of that."
"Shut it, suit-rat. Your voice is like nails on a chalkboard to my hangover."
"Maybe you shouldn't drink so much then, piggy." Aela began sucking up her ramen through a straw - something she insists is called an 'emergency induction port.'
"God, just let me finish my breakfast in peace, I'm beggin' ya."
Just then, the doors to the restaurant opened, and two men and a Quarian swaggered into the place. The men were heavily tattooed, with colorful dragons entwined in sleeves along their arms. The two men were obviously strapped, having made no attempt at a concealed carry. One of them also carried a bat. The Quarian, for her part, also wore colorful red clothing patterned with dragons and kanji, in lieu of actual tattoos. She came unarmed, apparently.
Hiro paled. "Oh come on. I already paid the dues this week! You guys are killing me."
The one with a bat spoke. "Too bad, Gramps. Special wartime dues. Dago fucks and their split-jawed metalhead butt buddies been movin' in on our turf. And you'll need our protection so they don't burn your little shitstick noodle joint down." He swung a bat down hard on a nearby table, breaking it in half.
Huh. Must be augmented.
"Alright, alright already! Stop breaking my shit. I'm barely getting by as it is... Wait here, let me get your goddamned money." Hiro sighed dejectedly before popping open his register and gathering the bills.
Aela jabbed Gordon in the side. "Psst.. You're not just gonna sit by and let this happen are you?"
"Of course not. Hiro is like family to me." Gordon hissed back under his breath. Then, he held up a hand, counting down from 3 fingers.
3...2...1...
He got up from his stool, drew his Carnifex, and jammed it at the man with the bat's head. In response, the rest of his crew immediately drew their arms.
"Uh uh uh. Not so fast. No funny business, or your friend here gets his head blown off." Gordon began, as he held the gun tightly against the side of the ganger's head, who was shivering and muttering "Be cool, be cool man."
Aela had her gun pointed at the other guy. "This is the APD! Drop your weapons!"
"Do as she says... don't try anything. Cop killers don't get off easy." Gordon stared them down.
"Lower the gun. Now." Aela repeated to the man.
Suddenly, a flash of metal, and it seemed like time had slowed down. The Red Lotus Quarian girl had drawn a knife and rushed Gordon.
Quick as lightning Aela shot the guy with the gun in the chest, knocking him to the ground, his spasming body letting off two shots at nothing in particular before he gurgled to death.
In the same instant, Gordon blew out his hostage's brains before kicking the body towards the rushing Quarian, throwing her off balance and sending her to the ground.
He stomped a foot on her knife arm, and she squealed in pain before loosening her grip.
Aela kicked the knife and it clattered safely away, while Gordon flipped her over while locking her arm with a Jiu Jitsu submission hold before cuffing her.
"Oh my god... you killed James! Kenji? You alive? H-hey! Let me go! BOSH'TET, kezid! You killed both of them! PIG! Fucker!" The Quarian in red thrashed violently, but it was no use.
Hiro merely stood behind the counter, hand still holding the cash, and with his jaw slacked open.
"Bravo. Bravo! Well done. You two were like a machine. So in sync! You sure you hate each other?"
"Positive." Gordon said, catching his breath, while keeping his knee on the restrained Red Lotus' back.
"There's nobody I hate more." Aela confirmed.
Then a flash of fear crossed Hiro's face. "Oh, but the Red Lotus won't like this. Two of their guys dead, in my restaurant. They're gonna go after me."
"Not if I can help it. I'll send a few uniforms here for a few days, keep you safe. Meanwhile, get a gun, hire a mercenary. And you know you can always call me if you need anything Hiro."
Aela picked up the dead mens' guns and examined them. "Guns are fake. Looks like these aren't really Red Lotus. Just wannabes. I think you're good, Hiro."
"MURDERER!" The Quarian was still screaming.
"Shut the fuck up, or you'll soon join your friends in hell. Fucking suit-gyp." Gordon snarled.
"Hey, ease up on her. Looks like they were just kids." Aela said.
"Kids don't hold up stores or rush guys with knives." Gordon retorted.
"...Fair."
Hiro interjected with a sigh in relief. "Oh thank God they were not really Red Lotus. Still, thank you for helping me out. Here. I want you to have this."
"Naw man, I can't take that."
"Please. It would've gone to those wastes of space bleeding out on the ground anyway if not for you."
"Come on Hiro. I was just doing my job."
"We. We were doing our jobs." Aela corrected.
Hiro shoved the money into Gordon's hands. "Not taking no for an answer. And your meal today's on me."
"Thanks Hiro. Appreciate it."
"So, the broody curmudgeon of a detective does have a heart." Aela snarked.
"Bite me."
...
Paramedics and cops swarmed the little ramen joint down in Japantown within minutes. Gordon and Aela gave their statements and wrote up their reports before handing off the Red Lotus Quarian off to the uniforms to book.
"Not even clocked in yet, and already some action." Officer Chang remarked, bumping Gordon's fist as he arrived on scene.
"Trouble has a way of finding me, I guess." Gordon grunted, returning the greeting.
"We really need more cops like you, Gordon. I mean it." The officer tipped his hat at Gordon. "If every cop was like you, Neo New York would be cleaned up in a day, lemme tell ya."
"Well thanks. That means a lot." Gordon said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
"Trust me, we really don't need more racist pigs like him." Aela snarked.
Officer Chang completely ignored Aela and kept speaking to Gordon as if the xeno didn't exist, which Gordon found amusing. Their shared prejudice against the xenos was what made Gordon handpick him as one of his uniformed backup on APD ops.
Aela rolled her eyes. "Typical chauvinistic, xenophobic human pricks." She spat.
...
The car began self-driving towards the station.
"Can we really leave her with that racist?" Aela spoke up, after a silence.
"Who?"
"The Quarian gangster wannabe from this morning." Aela said, sighing in exasperation.
"She's in good hands. Why?"
"Because that guy- Officer Chang was it? And his team are bigots just like you. What if they hurt her?"
"She's scum. Why do you care?" Gordon scoffed. "Just cause she's a suit-rat too?"
"Well, to be honest, yes. But also because I'm a decent person?"
"Oh fuck off. She'll be fine. Officer Chang does things by the book. Really, he's softer than me on the xenos. Don't you worry your suit-rat head."
"Well then good. By the way, how'd you like the nightclub I took you to last night?"
"Hated it. I told you, no suit-gyp establishments. And you took me to one anyway."
"Piggy, just because the place allows 'xenos' to enter, doesn't mean it's a 'suit-gyp bar.' The drinks were cheap, and they were good. You have to admit that much, seeing as you drank yourself half dead this morning."
"Oh fuck off. Make yourself useful and help me brainstorm on things to say for the inevitable ass chewing we'll get when we're at the station, will ya?"
"What's there to say? It was clearly self-defense, and we've got plenty of witnesses in the restaurant to back us up."
"Let's just hope the Chief agrees..." Gordon sighed.
...
"Oh hell, Gordon." Chief Macmillan began. His red mustache practically bristled in anger. "What did you do this time?"
"Saved the day." Gordon said, looking the Chief in the eyes.
"Gunning down two men in broad daylight is 'saving the day?'" The Chief's nostrils flared. Gordon had never seen him more red in the face.
"They were waving guns around."
"FAKE guns, Gordon. Fake guns."
"How the fuck was I supposed to know in the moment?" Gordon snarled. "Be reasonable here Chief. Maybe you oughta get off your fat ass and do some field ops once in awhile, so you remember how it's like out there."
Macmillan slammed his fist on the desk, tipping over a cup of pens. "Watch your tone. Gordon, if you weren't such a great detective, I'd have taken your badge centuries ago. You're a loose cannon. A racist one to boot. Put yourself in my shoes, Gordon. How do you think we look to the public with all these killings? Thank FUCK you brought in the Quarian alive, especially an unarmed one. We would've been crucified by the press if you didn't. The city council's changed in recent years as well. They would've hanged us both." Macmillan sighed, cradling his forehead with one hand.
"That's your problem. You deal with the suits, and I'll do my job cleaning up the streets." Gordon replied flatly.
"You just never listen, do you." The Chief shook his head. "But nevermind that. Detective Aela. You've been quiet. Tell me, how are things with Gordon? You two getting along? Brought in a big name collar together the other day, or so I've heard. Turian by name of Rex?"
"He's still as big of an asshole as always. But yeah, I guess we somehow get the job done together. I'm still waiting on that transfer, though." Aela said, glaring daggers at Gordon.
"There you go, you heard her Chief. Put me out of my misery, will you?" Gordon pleaded.
The Chief sighed, then pointed a finger at them. "No transfers. Learn to get along together. Don't have to be friends, but at least learn to respect one another. And Gordon, try not to kill any more civilians on the job. Okay? The Batarian and the Krogan you body-bagged down in 13 we can write off as district 13 shenanigans. But right in Downtown and especially on unarmed folk? Learn to use some restraint. Dismissed."
...
The briefing room erupted in mock applause as Gordon and Aela entered.
"With mock admiration: Give it up for our heroes in blue - Gordon and Aela, the District 13 conquerors, and killers of unarmed men."
Snickering and gossip abound. Mostly, the other detectives were jealous that Gordon had the balls to go to District 13, and also that he was the detective with the best stats in both Academy marks and number of collars brought in. He made them look bad, and they knew it. And most likely, he was one of the few detectives not yet sold out to a megacorporation or taking bribes from a crime family.
"Oh, can I get ya autograph?" A portly man called out from the back of the room.
"Shut it, Frank." Gordon snarled.
"With snark: Ooh. Touched a nerve." The elcor was enjoying this. "Nonchalantly: Well, that's enough of that. Professionally: Let's get back to business."
The Seargeant flipped a switch and again, the projection to his back lit up with images and case notes.
"Gravely: Gang violence is on the rise. Red Lotus/the Quarian Collective are at war with the Falcone Mafia and the Turian Cartel." He flipped to a picture of a Quarian with his mask faceplate broken. Pus was streaming out of every visible orifice, along with blood.
"Keelah..." Aela muttered.
"Christ." Gordon spat out, and grimaced in disgust.
"With disgust: Gentlemen, what you are looking at is just one of many gang-related homicides that have been popping up across Downtown. I don't expect you to solve all of them. But just so you're aware. If you have to patrol on their turf, don't get caught in the crossfire."
"I say we start a task force, get rid of these scumbags." Gordon said, clenching his fists.
"Dismissively: easier said than done. First off, we lack the funding for a dedicated task force. Secondly, nobody would volunteer for such a suicide mission."
Aela grabbed Gordon's arm. "Don't."
He shook her off. "I would gladly."
"Humorously: Then you and your partner- would you be willing to go undercover then? Gather the evidence, and break up the gang from the inside? I've heard the Red Lotus is always actively recruiting..."
"I'll do whatever it takes." Gordon said, nodding. Even if it meant rubbing shoulders with suit-gyps and gangsters.
"I was joking. But- we'll keep that in mind. Moving on - here's the orders for today. Gordon, Aela - you two are headed out to investigate one of these gang homicides. Vic is a Quarian male in his 20s, no name on record. Undocumented, and born to a family of undocumented refugees living in an enclave in Little Rannoch- a little slice of greater Japantown. As you've seen from the picture, he was brutally killed. Looks like torture. Get on the scene, gather evidence, find who's responsible. I'm not holding my breath."
"Poor guy." Aela said, holding a hand over her mouth. "From the look of the pus, looks like they left him alive to die from the infection..."
"Probably a Lotus scumbag. Nothing of value was lost here." Gordon grumbled. Though he was having a hard time keeping his breakfast down seeing the pics.
"Have some compassion, Piggy." Aela sighed.
The Elcor flipped to another picture, this one of a Turian in black durasteel plate armor on his knees, with his stomach cut open and entrails spilled out in a sea of blood. "And here's another case for you, after you're done with the Quarian. This one's suspected to be Turian Cartel, killed by Red Lotus. Fits their MO - they've forced the vic to disembowel himself in ritual harikiri. Nasty business."
"Good riddance to another metalhead fuck of a ganger." Gordon snarled, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe I don't want to catch his killer."
"Angrily: It's your job to, Detective." The Elcor's stare bored into Gordon.
"You bigoted piece of shit." Aela snapped.
"Whatever. Let's get going then." Gordon stood up and prepped to go, but the Elcor got in one last word.
"Oh, and Gordon - do be careful out there. Gang war's abrewin'."
"Aw. Didn't realize you cared."
"Wait, before we head out, think you could give me a quick rundown of the local gangs and their turfs? I only recently transferred to this precinct."
"With exasperation: Fine. Fucking new guys." The Elcor displayed a map of Downtown NYC, which was divided into four pieces, three sections and one central zone carved out.
"First- the Red Lotus. From what we know, they're an amalgamation of the various Yakuza families, Korean mafia, and the Triads who've joined forces a long time ago out of necessity and are now one and the same. They control the Northwestern section of the city- comprised of Japantown, Koreatown, and Chinatown. Sometime around fifty years ago or so, the Quarian refugees came, and concentrated in Lotus territory- carving out a little enclave we know as Little Rannoch. Surprisingly, the Red Lotus welcomed the community with open arms, viewing them as fellow immigrants and brothers. The Quarians quickly formed ranks with the Red Lotus - with the Quarian crime group the Quarian collective joining hands with the Red Lotus and effectively being annexed into their forces. The Red Lotus primarily focuses on drug running, gambling, and illegal street racing. But they do dabble in other things. Their front is Akatsuki Finance- which launders money through financial products, loans and the like, in addition to leasing out agents trained in corporate espionage to contract out to the various megacorporations.
He then highlighted the Northeastern section of the map.
"And here is Vladstok territory. The Russian mob. Their front is a mid-sized corporation- creatively named VladstokCorp. They've carved out and maintained their empire through force of arms, having attained a monopoly on the Krogan mercenary crews making their living on Earth. So long as they credits keep rolling, the Krogan will back them. And over the years, their partnership has blossomed in the form of cheaper mercenary deals, and VladstokCorp supplying the mercenaries with equipment. Vladstok focuses on gun running, scavving, and trafficking, as well as strong arming businesses/extortion and racketeering. They also deal in security, which is what their front company trades in- leasing out Krogan and Russian bodyguards to all takers. They've been known to play both sides of the rival Red Lotus and Falcone gangwar, profiting greatly from the mercenary contracts and arms deals.
Then, he highlighted the Southern section of the map.
"This is Falcone territory. Martin Falcone had seized power having unified the various crime families in the region under his rule. The Seratos Mob, the Cardoza Crime Family, all of them, serve him now. And, I'm sure you've gathered, they're currently allied with a Turian gang called the Turian Cartel. They weren't always friends, however. When the Turians first came over after the Citadel fell, there were violent clashes between the Turians and the Falcones, and the community largely rejected the refugees who tried to carve out a slice of Little Palaven on Earth. The Turian enclave was burned down- repeatedly. Until finally after a particularly bloody war, the Turian Cartel and the Falcone Family made peace and allowed the Cartel a small section of territory in the Southern sector to call their own. Today, they've decided to join forces. The Falcones have a hand in all manner of street hustles. From implant scavving and organ harvesting, to gambling, prostitution/trafficking... But their specialty is in their political control. There's rumors they've got a hand up a few members of the city council's asses- and their information network is the stuff of nightmares. And their front company, FalconTech is actually pretty successful as far as fronts go. Their VR sets are selling like hotcakes."
Finally, the Elcor highlighted the central portion of the map, of which the three sections border. "And at the center of it all, is Corporate Square. Where all the oligarchs and megacorporations have their main offices. This is where Central/HQ is located AKA where your keisters are parked right now too. This sector acts as a natural buffer zone/ neutral zone for all three gangs, though they've tried to muscle in in the past. It never ends well for the guys that try. MegaCorp BlackOps agents are not to be fucked with. Top of the line cybernetic augments, blackmail and information control, you name it, they've got it. Hitmen - the best that money can buy. The APD and the Corpos down in the Square have worked closely together at times. They follow the law, we have no problems with them. And they donate generously to us as law enforcement."
Aela tilted her head. "So they expect us to look the other way when they do something less than legal."
"Sarcastically: What do you think? Maybe that haven't totally bought us outright yet, but we tend to stay out of one another's hair." The elcor said.
Aela sighed. "Figures."
The Elcor droned on about a few more things regarding the crime situation before finally stopping for a breath.
Gordon stifled a yawn, while Aela was still eagerly taking notes.
"Any questions? Tiredly: I'm parched after all that." The elcor sipped on his coffee.
"That was very helpful, thank you." Aela nodded.
"Can we go already?" Gordon groaned.
"We should head to the armory and gear up if we're headed to a warzone."
"Yeah, no shit." Gordon was already out the door.
...
"You look like one of those robocops."
"Shut it, suit-gyp." Gordon said as he adjusted his full plate visor, which obscured his face fully, replacing his natural vision with a HUD camera feed.
He gave his rifle a once over, then looked over at his partner. "You ready?"
She checked the shield generator at her belt, patted down the armor plating around her envirosuit, and racked her shotgun. "Ready."
"Good. We're headed to the suit-gyp scene first."
"Oh Keelah. Not looking forward to that one. The look in his face. And all that pus..."
...