In the chaos that ensued, the Netixel decided to see what she could snatch. Tables had been toppled and much of the ware was on the ground or in now unattended crates. She knew the direction to the vendor she was looking for, and specifically where the 'nades and wire she was after. So with almost a practiced waltz through the haze and chaos, she managed  to make her way to the former stall. Once there' however, things became trickier.

"YOU THERE!" the scawny voice of the elderly that tended the stall. Looking straight at her, the man was small and gray, scaley and had a absurd looking toothy maw and glassess slightly too large for his face. "I know your face, Netixel SCUM. Get you'r filthy paws off my shit!"
The cock of a shotgun and Feraî immediately jerked to the side, quickly snapping out her hand, and jerked it from the grip of the man. Tossing it behind her she simultaneously pointed her gun at the mans head, and fired next to him - A warning shot.  

She looked at him sternly, nodding to the loot, indicating that he had no choice in the matter. The man nodded in surrender and fell back. Feraî immediately got to the right box for the wire - a class AA wire of conduction, a illegal tool mostly sold to poachers to keep large beasts at bay with the electrisity that could go through these wires. 

They also happened to be a great binding rope and an exellent tool of torture to get information off her bounties.  

Next up was the crate of flash'nades she was looking for. The combination between a regular flash grenade and a pepper-spray bomb laced with a temporary neurotoxin that paralized the inhaler was genious. The effects: painful on the exposed but non-leathal. A great neutralizer for the un-masked. But where was the damned box?

More shooting could be heard from afar, but it was definitely coming closer. From the west end she could hear the shouts of the enraged salesmen picking up as well. They were being funneled... She would have to find the 'nade quickly or else she'd  get stuck in it aswell. Having never pointed away her gun from the elderly salesman, she tapped quickly on her coms which then spoke mechanically for her;
["[i]The K/ON 'nades. Which box."[/i]]
A crooked finger pointed to slightly behind of her, and as she opened, htere they were. The beauties that had helped her captured oh so many people, and neutralize so many situations. 
She grabbed a couple and attatched them to her back pouch and two to the belt. As she was reaching for the fifth, a stray shot hit her wing joint and she silently shouted out in pain. Annoyed, but alerted none the less, she stood up and left, with swift steps torwards the bay, back to her ship. 

Surprisingly there was little to no-one there and as she got in she looked admidst the chaos that she was about to leave behind and thought:
[i]
It was fun while it lasted, Orgon. But then again, shitholes like this arent meant to last. [/i]