[Csjarrat]

___SIllasion____
Bon. You sound like you can handle yourself. We have a race tomorrow against a more local chapter. We got our asses handed to us yesterday because our mojo-slinger was a no-show. You ride with Pierre, I'll introduce you in the morning. You keep their mojo off our backs and I'll slip you a couple' K. You don't, well... y'know.
Sound good?

[Csjarrat]

___Lumen____
No sooner were you off the boat than one engine roars to life, sliding the boat back at an odd angle.
It appears to slide through the water unevenly, keening slightly to its left.
You see dunk further up the beach, wrestling with AR controls. Dunk had obviously done an amazing job to get you this far with such a damaged craft. He was good.
The boat barely gets 50m off the shoreline before you hear two dull, percussive thuds. The boat continues a short way and begins to ride lower in the water. Dunk kills the engine and gestures for you to give him a hand inside.

[Lumen]

Knives sighs, "I was hoping for a boom.  Oh well let's get a move on mate.  We gotta check out this car and get movin."  He helps Dunk limp back up to the house.  Once he sets Dunk down on the couch Knives heads to the fridge in search of beer then it's on to the garage to inspect their ride.

[Sillasion]

((French))"Tres Bon! Been a bit since I've been on the back of a bike. Where should I meet you in the morning ... Know of anyplace out of the rain to crash that's on the low cost side? Can't go sleeping in the rain when there's work to be done next day." She leans back in her chair tilting it onto the back two legs.
*Zis ist gut. Vat luck. Maybe I vill even get a place to crash from zis haha!*

[Csjarrat]

___Sillasion____
There's a spare bunk in the dorm out back if that works for you. Full of truckers normally.
There's a Euro-Mart back down in town if you need toiletries. It don't smell too pretty but it's dry. Mostly! HA! Anyway, to a great race tomorrow!
Both of the gents fill their glasses, top your up and gesture to down it. Prost!

[Csjarrat]

___Lumen___
The fridge is pretty well stocked. There's enough synth-meat, soycheese and wheybread to knock up a round of sarnies and a 6 pack of small french stubbies. the label says they're only 2%, but they're better than nowt at all.
The ECG trace beeps along, but at a higher rate than before. Mantis seems more alert and is struggling to read what is on his commlink screen while the drone continues it's treatment.

Dunk limps over to the sofa and takes a seat next to mantis, gesturing with an open hand at the 6 pack you're inspecting.

[Sillasion]

"Parfait! Sounds like we have a plan and some fun ahead!"
Syberix raises her filled glass to the toast, "Prost! Du bist länger tot als lebendig!"

[Lumen]

Knives grabs three brews from the six pack and walks into the living room.  He hands one to Dunk and Mantis before popping the top on the last one and taking several large gulps from the bottle.  "It's not the best but it's better than nothin'." 

He kneels down and takes a good look at Mantis' injuries, "You gonna make it mate?  We need to get moving.  Interpol is gonna twist our bollocks off if we don't distance ourselves from that boat.  Drink up and let's roll out lads."  He raises the bottle at each of the other two men, "Cheers!"

[Csjarrat]

___Sillasion____
Drinks are drunk, lips are loosened and everyone gets into the spirit. A couple more of the gentlemen's friends arrive, looking as rough-shod as the first two you met and before you know it the bottle is empty and you feel pretty pissed.
The shorter one pats you on the back, pulls you to your unsteady feet and bids you goodnight.
"See you in the morning my friend. We will win a glorious *hic* victory *hic* ahahaha! good night, good night!"
The dwarven barman takes the hint and calls time, switching the main roof lights on and revealing the details of the shit-tip bar for the first time.
Feeling the effects of the vodka yourself, you grab your kit bag and head out merrily across the parking area to the bunkhouse, seemingly oblivious to the rain.

[Csjarrat]

___Scawire___
The drone pulls your hand away from the wound on the back of your head, spraying it with an antiseptic spray and dressing it with a stick-on clean patch.
[spoiler]first aid (2) test
pilot 3, profession 3, medkit 4 (10d6.hits(5)=3)
1 net hit over threshold. heals 1 box of your physical damage. you're still running with 9 boxes of stun until a good rest.[/spoiler]

[Scawire]

Mantis grabs the beer hoping that the beer could cut some of this pain, fat chance on that one but you can always hope. Mantis decides once he sees Knives that the drone is not some trick set up by the law to get info out of him. Mantis decides to tell the tin can who he is and what his age is. Well as you heard I'm Mantis and right now might feel 102 I'm only 29 years old. Mantis tries to get him self slowly moving as not to hold up the team from getting out of the sights of Interpol. Tin cans these days one tries to kill you the next one does it's best to fix up what the other did to you. Just like alot of those Meta Humans in the streets. I love the shadows minus the headache.

[Csjarrat]

___Scawire___
The drone appears satisfied with your answer. It shines a light into your eye, jabs you with an auto injector and advises regular wound checks and rest.
It moves over to dunk and begins a similar routine, attaching ECG RFIDs to his body and administering pain relief.
Knives passes you a beer, it is ice cold and hits the spot beautifully.

__Knives___
The beer tastes pretty good. You lean back against the wall and slump to the floor, exhausted. It'd been a long day.
Your body slowly caught up to you. How long had it been since you'd eaten or drank? The cold beer hitting your stomach reminded you how hungry you were.
Dunk was thinking the same.
"Anything edible in that fridge mate? I'm fucking starving. If you're all better now Mantis, check out the garage. We need to roll soon."

[Scawire]

Mantis wishes he had a cane to walk with right now but takes his beer and starts to scoop out the garage. I guess I'll see what kind of ride we have, I hope we got something one of us can drive. If we luck out we should take what we can from here with us. I'm thinking the quicker we can get out of here the better. If Interpol is on us we best get gone and fast. Mantis does his best to use hope from one piece of furniture to the next as he makes his way to see what the team has for a ride. I hate when a run turns into some kind of vehicle chase I always seem to hit something.

[Lumen]

Knives nods to Dunk, "Yea brill mate, there was drek in the fridge to make some sandwiches.  I'll throw some together."  He slowly gets to his feet with a few audible groans and he hobbles back into the kitchen.  In what looks like a half awake stupor Knives slaps synthesized meat and cheese in between two slices of bread, making the minimum requirements of a sandwich.  He comes staggering back out and passes the sandwiches out to his team.  "Chow quick mates, let's get on the road."   

[Sillasion]

Syberix laughs, drinks and tells the night away. She seems to thrive off the crowd gathering around her, enjoying the revelry. She regales them with tales, whether or not they want it, including the ork she fought and won, as it would seem obvious... fighting an ork is much like fighting a tiger - you may get a shiner, but if that's all you came away with you obviously won.

As the lights come up, the place looks better than she figured it would.... or that could be the vodka talking. Either way, she would need to remember to come back to this place... She manages to her feet, grabs her bag and stumbles out the door with a wave, "Bon Soir mes amies! Demain".... she pauses a moment to try and remember the word.... *Scheiße*.... "Sieg!"

With her mixed message she leaves and disappears into the bunk. She sits down and takes a look around the room, and when she gets a chance - before passing out, she pulls a small pocket knife from her survival kit and finds somewhere to etch an upside down cross into. She has herself a good chuckle, reboxes the knife, and face plants into her pillow.
<Robot, you are setting ze alarm for the morning.>
She barely manages to get the message to her agent before succumbing to the liquor and fatigue.