It's a quiet ride in tense silence, at least conversation-wise. Noise in the bed of the electric truck is mostly the rattle of loose boxes of parts and junk, and the tires sucking at wet pavement. Its jamaican driver is quiet now, though his warning is fresh in Cali's mind. "Dem a rudebwoys dis, ya fine dem been chase by cop'rets," Louis said. "Bring heap a trouble, my yuut." His daughter peers through the back of the truck cab's window, unable to resist staring at the two 'contractors' that Cali rescued. The big man called Ito has contented himself to find at least a marginally comfortable way to sit amidst the junk, his ruined cybernetic arm resting on a box while his bandaged leg can be stretched out over some plastic containers. The red stain on the dressing wrapped around his thigh no longer seems to be spreading. The lean woman called Anya has been tight-lipped since turning her firearm over to Cali, sitting with her back pressed to a wall, arms crossed over her ballistic vest, her cap tugged low
over her eyes.
Cali sits with his back propped up against one wall of the truck, his legs crossed at the ankles as he turns the firearm over in his hands. There's something distant in the way he stares at it, drawing a fingertip along the metallic surface. He glances up at the duo from time to time, one ear turned toward the man in the front seat and the other trained on the mercenaries; it would look a little funny if the darkness in the back of the truck didn't do so much to obscure his outline. He can see and smell Ito's wounds well enough despite the lack of light, though, his feet shifting impatiently against the cold floor. "They needed help, Louis." He clears his throat and leans forward, turning his head toward Anya and her wounded companion. "Which way should we be headed? Is it far?"
The .45 in Cali's hands is a heavy, brutish thing even with its magazine extracted and the slide locked back, and it looks like it's been well loved. The matte black finish is worn down in spots. Its owner glances at Cali when he speaks, but then looks at Ito expectantly. The cyborg looks over his shoulder somewhat awkwardly, unable to really twist around comfortably. "Ah.. Chinatown's our best bet. I know a doc on south King Street. Anya, when we're clear of the conflict zone, update our contact, we're going to have to make the drop from there. I think it should be okay."
The cheetah turns the handgun over, letting it lay barrel-down in his open palm as he raises and lowers his hand once or twice, getting a feel for the weapon's heft even without a full magazine. Turning his eyes to the back of Louis's chair, he speaks up again. "You get that, Ruddy? Chinatown." His voice sounds more overzealous than patronizing. He catches the girl's eyes while they're staring out of him and offers up a reassuring smile and a short inclination of his head: he's fine, the two guests are safe, and she shouldn't worry, if the dark doesn't steal anything in translation.
If Katherine looks worried, she at least looks equal parts fascinated, the whites of her wide eyes stark in the dim light of the truck and against her dusky skin. Louis says, "Chi-town, dread. We jus' gon drop 'em off though, seen? You take what dem gib us, but y'take kya, my yuut. Don' wan' no rass clot mek hackle fer us, seen? Fas', quick." The truck lurches a little as it takes a turn.
Cali keeps his eyes on Kat as her father speaks, his other ear coming around to assist in deciphering the man's triple-thick accent. It takes him a short while and visual hints from the girl to ascertain the specifics, but the message is clear enough. "I can't just drop them off and forget about them. For one, he's a little too heavy for Anya to carry on her own, and for two..." He shifts in place, glancing back at the two. "I do believe they promised me a share of their pay once we've got them safe and sound. You do this for me, and I'll gladly split my share with you for the trouble. You could buy new windshield wipers."
The junkman just grunts, but doesn't protest further. The corporate band radio that Louis had on earlier crackles. "Update status, bravo three six." "Tracking no targets." "Status, charlie two four." "Tracking no targets." "Mechanized reports units down in area." "Asset vector contact retained?" "...Negative. Negative, containment failed." "Copy. Proceed to dustoff." "Roger." "Roger."
Ito lets his breath out in a sigh. "Whew." Even Anya looks a little relieved, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
The radio's unexpected revival sets Cali's hair on end, his hand tightening briefly around the firearm that still lays across his palm. He holds his breath as the alien voices come crackling through, the young man not convinced the news is all good until he hears the contractors sigh as if on cue. He forces himself to relax, dropping his weight back against the vehicle's side with an audible thump. "So... we're good, then? You can call your friend, Anya?"
Ito looks guardedly optimistic when he says, "I think we gave them the slip." Anya almost looks disgusted, though more with herself than anything, shaking her head. "I never would've believed it, but... I guess maybe so. I'll give us some more time to get out of range and then tell our contact where to meet us."
A few minutes later, Anya has a quiet and cryptic one-sided conversation, speaking into her headset. It's intelligeable to Cali's sensitive ears, but it still doesn't make much sense, seeming to consist almost entirely of codewords, but it apparently serves. The lights of the city around the truck change subtly, soon dominated by glowing Chinese characters in neon, the buildings around them embellished with a distinctly asian style far different from the sterile environment in Zheng's compound, or the ramshackle sheet-metal dwellings clustered around the scrapyards. A park has an arch of red with its own sweeping tiled eves, from which stylized dragons twine, while below chinese lion-dogs stand guard, painted in red and gold. By now, Ito has managed to heave himself back upright (sort of) and struggle over to the cab's window, pointing through it. "You can pull in through that alley, there's a loading door in the back. It's cool, I promise. We've got no reason to screw you guys, especially when your bo
boy has Anya's piece."
Louis nods reluctantly, and the truck is swallowed up by the alley, pulling close to a plain-looking door next to a larger loading bay.
Cali pouts a little at being referred to as a 'boy', but if he had to be someone's, Ruddy isn't such a terrible pick. He tries to read each sign as it passes by, and while some of the characters are familiar many seem lost on him, his mouth silently forming the words he can make out. He's shaken from his efforts when the car comes to a halt, sitting up straight and glancing about to make sure the vehicle has stopped for good before rising to his feet and walking, hunched-over, to the back door. He casts a careful glance over his shoulder at Louis before popping the latch and stepping out onto the damp pavement. He turns around and holds an arm out for Ito, the fourty-five cradled carefully in his other hand. "Can you get his other shoulder, Anya?"
The whipcord lean woman picks her way over boxes of scrap and ducks down by Ito, getting herself under his damaged arm enough that she can support his weight. With Cali getting the other one, they're able to ease the big cyborg down from the truck bed, and he supports as much of his weight on his good leg as he can. "The doc's expecting us," Anya says, indicating the door. "We can let ourselves in." Louis pokes his head out the truck window. "Y'wan' me come wit', star?"
Standing up as straight as he can with Ito's heavy arm slung over his shoulder, Cali stuffs the gun into his belt and reaches up to grab ahold of the truck's rear door. "I think I can take care of it. I wouldn't want to leave Kat out here alone, you stay and watch over her. I don't think I'll be too long." With that, and a parting glance at the girl that says she's as much in charge of keeping Louis safe as he is her, he shuts the door and begins to make his way toward the building's rear entrance. "This doctor of yours... he's not going to ask too many questions?"
Ito shakes his head, hobbling along. "No, no she's cool. That's why we stick with Sing Lam."
Anya makes something of a face. "Despite her 'bedside manner'," the woman says.
"Yeah, she's all business," Ito says. He gives Anya a slightly bemused look. "Not unlike some people we know."
Anya snorts.
Cali would likely be more amused by the pair's antics if one of them wasn't bleeding all over his good coat; it might have a couple holes and more than a stain or two, but it's still the best he's got. He opens the door for them, propping it with one foot as he helps the wounded man over the threshold. He walks backwards a couple steps, waiting until Anya's let the door fall shut behind her before raising his voice and calling over his shoulder, "Hey! A little help, please?"
The alley door opens, and a very, short asian woman emerges. She might be five foot straightened out, but the lady stands with a slight stoop to her shoulders. Her face is square and severe, deeply lined, with grey hair pulled back into a tight bun. A lab coat is worn over a simple business jacket and knee-length skirt, the woman standing on short-heeled shoes. One arm is crossed over her front to cup the elbow of the other, her opposite hand thumbing the ashes off a cigarette. "Tcha. You really think I gonna throw my back out, drag that guy in here? You got him this far, you can get him the rest of the way inside. I show you where you can drop him."
Cali eyes the woman warily, making his way toward her with slow, careful steps. He takes a deep breath before he responds, his voice ringing with strained respect. "You'll have to forgive me, we're all a little banged up." He comes to a stop near the door and waits for the woman to lead them inside, tapping his foot at the edge of the shallow puddle near the threshold.
The lady gives Cali an appraising once-over, takes a last drag on her cigarette, then drops it, grinding it out with the pointed toe of one shoe. She turns around and walks inside, leaving the door open and trailing smoke.
Cali doesn't have the time or the presence of mind to worry about the woman's discerning gaze, hoisting Ito up a little higher on his shoulder. With one last glance at the truck, he starts his trek into the office proper, the uncomfortable gun held against his waist making him hobble a little extra with every step.