Tracy began swearing up and down as he shot glimpses towards the ring of scavengers around Golemeth while descending the exit ramp. The Hardware Spider had taken the CD and was already in the process of backing away; the thugs began to ply their tender mercies to the immobile solo to exact their pound of flesh. The Spider slinked out of sight, fading into the smog and murk of Night City's streets and likely about to duck into any one of countless remotely-opened electronically locked doors for the nearby buildings or even for city maintenance tunnels. He would be long gone by the time Tracy reached the bottom ramp - and seeing as none of the bozoz picking over Golemeth's now dormant hardware were objecting to each others' ministrations, the chances Tracy could stir up any trouble amongst them was close to squat. Even as he reached the bottom of the exit ramp Tracy was slowing, surprising the urge to pull her his out and scream in sheer frustration. Why did all his efforts and half-implemented plans mean so little when he put himself at such great risk...?

Moving off to the side from the bottom of the exit, Tracy ducked behind the corner-alley of the nearest building, crouching behind a dumpster as he peered beyond it to watch as the vulturs grabbed what they could and hauled it off. Which when Tracy observed something peculiar - the poser from earlier that he had shot at was standing back, coolly surveying the scene as if he had all the time in the world and nowhere to be.

Peeling off in pairs as they managed to yank out Golemeth's bits and pieces, the gangers split the scene, trailing long streamers of previous compressed, shivering cords and wiring had spilled from every divot and gap in the torn chassis of the appropriated hardware. Tracy peered back anxiously over the side of the dumpster and watched as Theron graciously hauled Golemeth's now substantially trimmer and lighter remnants up onto his back.

Doing some quick mental calculus, Tracy reevaluated the poser - no, the second [i]solo[/i] as they dragged what little remained of Golemeth away down the street. Now that he had a better look of the guy, Tracy could tell there was a little more than him than was apparent at first glance - and not just because he was able to haul Golemeth's chassis around with little discernible effort. His jacket had a faintly raised contour, and the texture of the material looked enough like leather but was ever-so-slightly [i]off[/i] - and Tracy was reminded of the ballistic fibers he had seen in storage aboard the [i]Phantasmagoria[/i]. The solo had some discreet hardware, or maybe even wetware.

But he was also laden down with Golemeth's carcass, and was still out in the open. So all Tracy needed to do was get him to stop in his tracks for a single, scant moment. Without making any effort to hide himself any further, Tracy peeled out and away from the alley and walked up behind Theron, one hand assuming a relaxed position atop his swaying duffel-bag while he adopted a carefully calculated slouch.

"I have some business with your friend there. I can see he's still alive." Tracy spoke softly, projecting his voice as best he could at Theron without actually shouting. "I don't know who you are, but I can make it worth your while to help me get him cogent again."

Tracy did not bother trying to hide the anxiousness in his voice, but did go out of his way to keep his own motions and the cadence of his voice as steady as he could - he wanted to give off an air of shadiness, not twitchy panic. 

[@The Harbinger of Ferocity]