Was there anything sadder than a stray without a home? Perhaps feeling a strong connection to a curled up animal wearing its worn collar, lying dead in an indoor parking lot. Pathetic to ideally consider that they’ve finally escaped this dark, cold space to sleep in a brighter and warmer shelter separating their poor soul from life’s storm. Moving forward with sluggish sauntering steps like what the cat dragged in — well — more accurately drugged in excessive amounts of pain medication meant to last longer than the paint chipping off the many abandoned cars stored here, hollow vessels crafted by somebody else’s hands to look aesthetically pleasing and used as tools to transport whatever they desire. Finding a strange solace in her isolation while pacing in a place forgotten and lost between the numerous cracks in the concrete. Bought and supposedly maintained by a subsidiary company of The Fortress years prior to obscure involvement, designated for meetings of this specific nature, not that Scarlett knew about their existence. Her time was draining like every coin inside a gambler’s wallet, a commodity she had little of and couldn’t be reclaimed. But just like a fool and their money being soon departed, the slimmest chance of a promised success kept her mind trapped like the helmet covering her head assured that it was for her own well-being above the rest. Telling herself to remain calm and that the Runner received the message as planned and should be expected to be arrive shortly, but Scarlett's patience was probably left in her other holster. Casually counting the bullets in her Beretta’s clip to allow her to kill a few moments, instructed that her health monitoring chip was currently sending false information to lure the opposition tracking her out, meaning going AWOL and relying solely on her own wit. Bestial growls emitted from the pit of her stomach interrupting the bleakness, if only she’d brought lunch to satisfy her cravings... Approaching the emergency exit toward rooftop staircase, sniffing the suffocating scent of oil thick enough to burn her nostrils as if it was dripping from the ceiling. Her arms swayed in motion like a pendulum, staying quiet if only to prevent the paranoia from echoing back as she exhaled to release the building tension from her lungs. However, the fact remained that she had no other outlook from her limited perspective. Deciding as her side pushed against the handle to peer out, sharp eyes immediately noticing the roof's cameras although they appeared inactive. She darted behind the door and clutched her racing chest. [i]“That’s what I needed. The additional concern others watching me...”[/i] Swallowing the lump in her throat and choked down determination to begin ascending higher, sparing one second thought on the third step before calmly climbing to the top, impossibly far from reaching the clouds. The chilling air caressing her face like the devil’s fingertips, stripped of her helmet, allowing the breeze through her fur. Cascaded with artificial light of the surrounding buildings highlighting the secluded rooftop from the blood and bullet drenched city that she desired so desperately to be cleansed in fire, instead of the heavens shedding their salty crocodile tears. Stepping near the ledge to view the streets below, guarded by a tall chain-link fence reminding her of a prison cell. Because this landscape wasn’t a display of this city’s beauty, but a constant reminder it’s pretentious wickedness. And trust me, she’s as sick of hearing her inner thoughts repeating as anyone else... “You wanted my attention. Well you’ve all got what's coming to you...” Her bitter words spoke aloud to nobody, but it was effectively the final outward call refusing to be lied to and those that crossed her and lead her by a leash, would eat lead... [hr] Meanwhile a mere half mile away, an assembly of armored security vehicles paraded across the Northside unprovoked, distancing themselves from their intended target. A scowling man suited up appropriately for someone ready for war, or maybe equipped to excuse fighting those who might mock his fluffy eyebrows and recently acquired eye-patch. Sitting in the driver’s seat with several muscle-bound thugs, chatting amongst themselves as they chuckle and clean their weaponry. “Hey. Why aren’t we following the monitor?” The guy hunched over in the passenger side questioned while scarfing down tacos, his breath reeked of questionable meatiness, licking the grease from his fingers. “Briefly turning offline and dramatically shifting location? It’s a tell...admittedly blatant if it's supposed to be a trap. Regardless, I’m picking my battles wisely. The Fortress is far too enigmatic for an small scale militia to easily eradicate. Scarlett is who I want, I won’t be satisfied until she becomes a pelt on my bathroom floor.” As they continued driving through the night, gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to strangle it. “Yeah I get that.” The guy uttered, scratching his crotch carefree, muttering as his shoulder leaned on the door. “You never stop mentioning—” He stopped to unsubtly clear his throat to change the subject. “Don’t you think we’re also acting reckless hiding in plain sight with so much stolen police equipment? All to bring down a Reaper?” “We’re not just after Scarlett.” He quickly corrected with a raised combative tone, biting his lower lip and changing to scheming calculation, “Davison is still everyone’s most important target. Yet, strangely no corporation or criminal organization has found him. At least according to the information we can find. So assuming he’s alive and hidden somewhere in the confounds of this city. Knowing he couldn’t be hidden this long absent help, could you hazard a guess who has immense resources and protection from surveillance and outside threats...with a non-profit motivation who also wouldn’t betray‘em in a heartbeat?” The guy scoffed grabbing his last taco and rolled his eyes at the absurdity as he crammed it in. “Sounds like you’re talking about a gaggle of preachy religious yuppies…” He nearly spat everything out, fist covering his cough, looking grimly as the rest of the thugs growing eerily silent. “You [b]ain’t[/b] suggesting that—” The man smirked. “That we kill two birds with one stone? Precisely. We’ll storm the church and allow the brainless masses to meet their god. By splattering their innards across the stained glass of the cathedral. [b]Eye for an eye, Scarlett.[/b]” He growled through clenched teeth. The hardened criminals had fear swept over their bones, unbeknownst to residents of Night City. The battle between beast and monster would soon arrive on Heaven's doorstep...