[i][b][color=ed1c24]Several days prior...[/color][/b][/i]

The group of gangers lurked in an alley, twitching and looking about anxiously, obviously waiting for someone or something.  Two of them talked incessantly, arguing about Blue Wurm, the new drug recently introduced to the streets.  As they went on about it versus other drugs, the third one shut them up.  He was the leader and while they were all somewhat dangerous in their own part, he was a cut above.  While the other two stole for creds because they were addicted to drugs, he enjoyed the power that came along with hurting people.  He liked the control.  

While the others twitched because they needed a fix, he twitched because his muscles were ready for action and they were bristling at the chance to hurt someone, or at least do something to feed his need for adrenaline.

The two waited a few moments, then started to pace around anxiously when what they were waiting for became visible.  It was a First Response mobile ambulance, and it was what they were waiting for.  They’d successfully robbed 3 now, taking the crew (with a varied degree of violence that has been escalating) and robbing them and the vehicles.  They then took what they could and sold it off as they saw fit.  

It’d been a cake walk because this area wasn’t an overly hostile or dangerous zone, so these ambulances had no security.  The trio would simply go in, rough up and threaten a person in order to get them to activate their service and the First Response group would come to do their job.   Then, the gangers would do theirs.  

Per usual, the two tweakers would head up front to get the drivers and the leader would vacate the back in case there was a third medic or security.  “Go,” he said to the other two as they approached the vehicle.  He waited for the all clear sign that the crew was subdued, but instead, he could hear the two talking as they opened the door.  After a moment, they came back with confused looks on their faces, and that confused him in turn.  “The hell is the problem?  You kill them?”

One spoke up meekly and quietly.  “The uh, problem is... Well, there ain’t no one in there man.  Musta been autoed in or somethin’.”

“Well, screw it then.  You two open the damn doors, I’ll keep look out.”  He turned sideways to the vehicle as he looked around, wondering if this was a set up.  He saw no cop cars and there were a few people on the street, which meant that the cops weren’t here.   If so, they’d have (most likely) cleared the streets or something to avoid collateral damage.

The doors opened and he turned a moment later just in time to see a form fire two several shots at them.  There was no sound and he could hear the electricity in the air, so he knew it was a stun round of some sort.  The other two yelped, but as he was the last target, he had time to spin and avoid the shot.  As he spun, he moved towards the man in the ambulance, grabbed his wrist and tossed him over his head with strength born of a combination of tailored drugs.  

The man grunted as he slammed onto the hood and dropped the stun weapon, but he managed to break his wrist free of the thug.  The uniformed man on the hood looked up just in time to see the thug raise a fist and bring it crashing down.  The guard spun however and avoided the hit, which smashed a large dent into the hood.  As he spun and his feet faced the thug, he kicked out, catching the drugged out ganger in the chest and pushing him back long and far enough away to allow him to hop off the hood and onto his feet.  

Wasting no time, the criminal came at the guard aggressively.  The guard, who’s nametag read “MACKEY” angled out of the way of the blows and to the side so his back was no longer to the car, affording him more room.  The ruffian launched out a side kick at the mid section of the Mackey, who countered by bringing both elbows down and away in a blur, smashing the leg and redirecting the blow away.  

The man’s body wasn’t prepared for the blow to be redirected and his body was now at a stretched and vulnerable position.  Not missing a beat or wasting the energy created by momentum, the guard’s fist came across in a hook that connected with the thugs temple with a sickening, squelching crunch.  The man was out before he knew what happens and his body fell to the ground like spaghetti noodles.  

He looked around at the scene and made sure  the three subjects were secured before radioing in on his comm system.  “[color=f26522]Scene secure.  Three subjects apprehended.[/color]”  He looked at the thug combatant, laying face down and bleeding from his mouth, nose, and ears onto the sidewalk.

“[color=f26522][color=f26522]One in need of severe medical attention.[/color][/color]”