"Good evening," said the man in the helmet. "You seem to have lost your way."

The rain was starting to pour down, bouncing over Carter's helmet, and drizzling down his uniform. Though the shell was waterproof, his uniform was not. He'd be making his way back to the garage soaked tonight.

[i]Here's hoping that soak remains just water, not blood.[/i]

"Look," said the short man, continuing to back down the alleyway. He kept looking over Riot's shoulder, and around him, his eyes on the alley entrance. "I already dealt wit' you friend in the red tights, a'ight? I din't do nothing. That fruitcake is crazy!"

"Not a friend," said Carter coldly. "And I doubt you're all that innocent."

Carter stood up straight, holding the shield, and pointed to the man with his off-hand.

"You tell me who you are. Now," said Carter. "Or I leave you to him."

The short man looked at Carter, then around him, and then back at the walking man-tank in front of him.

"I'm... My name is..."

"Hey!"

Carter recognized Reverb's voice behind him. It seemed that the kid hadn't been gone long, doubling back rather quickly. Carter did not turn, but the short man seemed to take the new arrival's cue to shut himself up tight.

"Oy, Riot!"

[i]Well, it seems that my reputation preceeds me.[/i]

"You mind me taking this little fuck down, I did the brute work on his crew and all. I appreciate you helping me find him, and I really do appreciate it." The bleeding vigilante began to step forward, offering a smile.

Carter planted his shield down right in front of him, turning slightly.

"These are criminals, not bounties, kid," replied Carter, getting a little annoyed. "This isn't some game."

"But that son of a bitch there is my target," continued Reverb, unphased. "I got the papers on him too."

Just the wording by Reverb here was starting to grind Carter a little. Papers? Since when did vigilantes need papers?

[i]We don't do this because we have permission. We're just as illegal as the criminals we stop. But we do this because these idiots [b]need[/b] to be stopped. They need to be brought down. The common people don't deserve the hell they're being dropped into.[/i]

Reverb reached into a pocket, (how anything stayed hidden in skin-tight pockets was beyond Carter's understanding), and produced a folded up bundle of papers, which were starting to catch the rain.

Carter grasped the papers out of Reverb's hand, unfolding them quickly. On the top was a warrant list, with the name Benjamin Tramunte, a.k.a. Benny the Knife, circled in black pen. It seemed that Carter had gotten the name he was looking for.

Benny the Knife was a rising star in one of the lower families, with a small crew, but big ambitions. It seemed that he wasn't all that satisfied to be small-time any longer. Could this be the person calling the shots here in West End?

"I'm Reverb by the way," said the young man in red. He offered a hand to Carter. " I think we could work this asshole over together, maybe even team up for a bit."

Carter handed the papers back, and beneath the shaded lens of his helmet, his teeth grinded.

[i]Perhaps we can go along with this little game for bit. I can get what I need, and move on.[/i]

"This is the same man I'm looking for. I need him alive - I need some questions answered. I get my answers, he's all yours."