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I am gonna [i]kill[/i] Crossbones.

So, we're down at the Chatsubo. Everyone knows it's a runner bar, but we'd never been there, so I figure we keep a low profile and check out the biz. What's the troll do? He asks the barkeep for their strongest kind of booze and buys an entire fragging bottle of the stuff. Way to keep from drawing attention to ourselves.

Lotus does manage to spot a Johnson, though. He's pretty bland-looking, the kind whose face you'll forget an hour after seeing him. He's obviously a fast-tracker. People coming and going pretty quick. Of course, security catches us listening in. Bones tries to play it off as him being a drunk. Lotus and I helped out, though, and amazingly, it worked. Credit where credit's due, I s'pose: when it comes to diverting attention, there's nobody like Crossbones. So I sit down at the table, and of course the Johnson knows that Bones ain't drunk. I slip him a line about some Ares access codes, and [i]konnichiwa[/i], we've got work. Wetwork.

We're supposed to take out this 86'ers bigshot, make it look like the Halloweeners did it. There's a cache in a dumpster somewhere with SMGs, Halloweener colors and all, that we're gonna use for the hit. We even get a fraggin' car, really drive the illusion home.

And then, on our way to the drop, who you think shows up? ACTUAL Halloweeners. Open fire right away.

And I guess this is why we put up with the drunk: Bones just runs up to one guy, caves his chest in with his bare fist. Fraggin' adepts. I try to get a shot or two in, but I'm not a triggerman and everybody knows it, so Lotus and Crossbones get to work while I waste my ammo. Bones takes some serious punishment from the gangers. It's lucky for all of us he's so big. Takes the heat while Lotus smokes the rest out. Cowards run off once Bones and Lotus take down a couple of 'em.

Idunno what we'd do if Lotus weren't a healer in addition to being a grade-A spellslinger. Does some of her mojo, patches Bones right up. Always freaks me out a little bit to see wounds closing, bullets popping out by themselves, you know, so I pop on the 'trix, ask a few questions. See if anybody Whaddayaknow, this kid on ShadowSea's got the deets on the 86ers. Old hotel, penthouse. Even throws in the blueprints for the apartment. Whoever's behind the handle, I make a note of it. Gonna owe this kid a favor or three.

So we pull up to the hotel in this drek-ugly yellow car, right, all decked out with yellow armor vests, yellow SMGs, whole shebang. We pull up the plans, notice this maintenance shaft that leads to an elevator, take us all the way to the top. Glad we didn't have to take the window cleaning platform up. Right past all those windows wearin' Halloweener colors, frag no.

Once we're in the elevator Lotus gets a call from Machete, or she calls him, I don't fraggin' know. Turns out, he's in the neighborhood, and Lotus, bless her soul, gets him to come over, give us a hand. However much I trust the two, I think we're gonna need more firepower. Crazy son of a bitch actually takes the fraggin' platform all the way to the top and doesn't get shot up. Frag if I know how.

We get up, there's a fraggin' [i]party[/i] going on up there. Booze, ladies, you name it. Makes it real easy to take out the old guy. Goes down like nothin'. Then we're in deep drek. Four, five guys, guns blazing. They think we're Halloweeners, all right. I forgot how good Machete is with a gun. This time it's my turn to take the bullets. The 86'ers go down, but by then I'm in real bad shape. We gotta get out, fast. I spot the window cleaning platform. Looks like monofil, should be able to take our weight. So we jump on the thing, punch the button and go down. Then Bones, who's otherwise actually been sober, decides that now is a good time to take a swig of that bottle of Death Gin he bought. I am seconds from strangling him.

There's gunfire everywhere, even out the fragging windows, and out of nowhere two fraggin' [i]hellhounds[/i] drop on us. Suicidal bastards. Bones punches them three ways into oblivion though, and I lay down some suppressive fire. We try to keep the 86'ers on the ground off our hoops while Bones—that's right, Bones, who's just had a nice big sip of astral booze—gets behind the wheel and pulls the car around. This car's gotta be armored, [i]omae[/i], it's taking bullets no problem.

All of a sudden we're in a fraggin' car chase, got three, four 86'er cars on our hoop. Lotus and I are shooting out the windows, doing fine, and Bones, who I'd like to remind you is both drunk and driving, decides to join in on the fun, leans out the window to shoot at the 'sixers. Damn near crashes the thing a couple times. I have no idea why I'm not beating the drek outta him at this point. Well, I do, he'd cave my fraggin' face in with his little finger, but you get the point. This chum is literal seconds from getting us killed. I'm bleeding on the seat, thinkin' we need to throw some fraggin' bleach on this thing when we're done, trying to lay down some fire on these fraggers behind us. And we actually manage to get them off our back! I'm not sure how, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's Crossbones who does it. However he manages it, he keeps the car, which is pretty shot up by now, on the road and shoots down the last one at the same time. No great explosions, thank the heavens, so we can pull into an alley and make the call no problem. Get five thousand each for the run, baby. Even Machete, although the guy's only been here for the fun part. Still, well deserved on his part.

So yeah, we did good. Lotus couldn't manage to fix me all the way up—I don't blame her, throwing lightning bolts around must be one hell of a drain—so I'm still hurting a bit. But I'm up five thou, so I can take it. As for Bones, I think we need to talk some serious sense into him. He still owes me for that time with Renraku. Had to lay low for two fraggin' months. But hey, at least we're not the Halloweeners. Those guys are gonna be takin' some serious heat for the next couple weeks.

Well. That's it, I guess. Another day in the life of the prettiest face in Seattle. Maybe next time we can actually plan things out before shooting things up. Hudson out.

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