It was not long after the initial conversation ended that heavy barrel lead slinging block of a gun found itself nestled back in its cradle under the now battered coat of another combatant in the Zone. A good faith gesture between them, the sort of "I won't murder you and you won't murder me, at least tonight." conversation. That and that this other drifter had finally somehow, someway, beat himself back to a sense of coherency. Fortunately the call put out at the terminal went smoothly as well, the voice on the other end taking it as calmly as any other. At least now there was a bright flare fired off into the murky sky that flat out said where he was. That helped curb the bad odds, especially as the party-to-be opted for the most sleazy, scummy, types of places to make this a business endeavor in. Realistically it wasn't, just that bit of thought in Theron's mind outright made it feel that way.

Shady folks had a habit of making all of their business even more sketchy, the type of deal where one was never sure who else they were making deals with to forge it. Never did the thought to complain or comment cross his mind though, [i]this[/i] was getting interesting. Turn after turn made it abundantly clear as the quarry found itself hauled around until the room was left to just them. That and an inordinate amount of all too unsettling tools and bits of hardware.

Theron wasn't some decker or ripper, he had no idea what half of this stuff was to do, but all of it screamed damn loudly between its mess of wires, tubes, fluids and vials, and whatever on else someone decided to throw in here, that it was a far cry from good news. The sooner they got this over with, the better, and that was right when his newfound informant decided to pipe up, at least addressing him this time. As the story evolved and expanded some parts of Theron wanted to take note but the last thing he wanted was to skeeve the speaker out by making him think the game was up; the guy nearly sank his index through his palm already just by having a gun hefted at him in a tense conversation. It was better to just take it all in and let him work his side of the deal.

"You know," He began, checking the display on his jacket's wrist before dismissing the array of lights, "I like you a lot more when you decide to explain things rather than twitch uncontrollably. So I will give you that, kudos to you. That said, we keep working out business like this and I will keep playing ball nicely. That said, as long as the merchandise isn't ruined, have at him. One thing though, just to sweeten our deal."

The man's fingerless gloves wiped at the fringe of his nose with the knuckles, he could still smell the pulverized concrete, singed blood, and the city outside, "There's one piece you probably would like that some freakshow scav lifted off him, one of those 'spider' things, or whatever in the fuck their new harness wants to be called. Point being, gimpy here is missing a laser disk. No idea what it did, where it came from, why, how - any of it. That's what I have that's up your alley by the looks of it."

Part of the admission was to help settle any potential questions about just where it went, the other was to generate a tad more good faith, but the most prominent was, was that the hunter had no idea what made it valuable. At a glance it was worth more than just what it appeared to be; spiders were gizmo junkies. Whatever was on it was at least in part worth the effort and it certainly wasn't anything like a booster or chip to teach old Golemeth karate. Either way, Theron dusted his hands against the slack of his jacket, scanning for any responses that might be evoked from Tracy.

[@Terminal]