[b]An Alleyway in Fuller Park
6:31 pm[/b]

The door opened, and Sting was proven correct. Big Rig. Trucker vigilante extraordinary. How nobody tracked him with this monster of a vehicle would forever elude Sting, but he shrugged it off. Extending his hand, he launched into an explanation of his disturbance. Country music played off the truck's radio, and explosions could be heard in the distance

"Bonjour.", Sting stated almost matter of factly."The name is Sting. I, too, am a vigilante. Now, Mr. Rig, may I call you Mr. Rig?", Sting asked, channeling as much charisma as could be channeled behind a piece of Roman art. "As you probably know, the Iconoclasts are out hunting tonight. Safety in numbers, right? I figure I could tag along in your truck while the whole thing storms over. I have experience with mechanical engineering and whatnot, so I could service your truck whilst you shoot some 'baddies'. What do you say?", Sting asked, extending his hand in an amiable manner. Strike them fast, that's how the used car salesmen always did it. But this was a far lesser evil.