As their two vehicle convoy headed through the Barrens, the entire group was taken by the sheer blight of the region. Factories that looked more like fortresses, buildings near to collapse but still inhabited, people aimlessly wandering, and the general squalidness of the region. The group headed north on the 202, Oddball driving his Land-Rover and Tom squeezed in behind the wheel of stolen Ford Americar. Having the highway mostly to themselves, they easily spotted the two up-armored Eurocar Westwinds speeding up behind them. For whatever reasons that drive go-gangers, they opened fire with a couple of AK-97s which didn’t do much other than scratch the paint on Oddball’s Land-Rover. Unfortunately, the five of them didn’t do much either even with Dax climbing out of the roof hatch on the tricked out Land-Rover and spraying rounds from Oddball’s SMG. Oddball was able to swerve out of the way before being rammed, but Tom wasn’t so successful. Being hit in the rear by a vehicle driven by a hopped up lunatic going 50 mph faster caused Tom to lose control and roll the stolen car down the slight embankment. The gang bangers also lost control and crashed their car as well. Being too cranked up on whatever cocktail mix flooded their bloodstream, two of the gangers survived and climbed out looking around stunned. They spotted Tom as he ripped off the door and clambered out of the little car. They snapped off a couple rounds at him before staggering away into the ruins of buildings nearby. Unfortunately, those rounds finished the job that the ramming, crashing, and rolling had started. Tom fell to the ground mortally wounded. Meanwhile, Bill’s wounds started healing up quickly and he was in good shape by the time Oddball had pulled over and made it back to the scene of the wreck. Explaining that Dax had taken out the other car with some accurate SMG fire, he quickly went about treating Tom’s injuries. Showing his dedication to healing the wounded, Oddball soon roused Tom back to consciousness although he looked like he had just been rammed, rolled, crashed, and shot. Nothing a little bed rest wouldn’t fix (if only he had a bed).
Realizing that the unknown go-gang had done the job they were hoping the Red Hot Nukes would take care of, the group headed back. Oddball dropped Ursula back at Nana’s, Dax back near the club where he parked his beat up Van, and as his last fare of the night in his luxury taxi, he dropped Bill and Tom at a motel with an ATM. There, they used the ATM to take out all the nuyen from the stolen cred-sticks and dropped them in the trash. They used some of the money to get a room and Tom tested the bed springs with his troll bulk while Bill grabbed a few hours rest in the other bed.
Meanwhile, Oddball headed back over the bridges to downtown Seattle. He called Crapgame on the way to say that they wouldn’t be meeting Big Fat Momma to which Crapgame gave him an earful and told him to bring a case of scotch the next time he came by (and not the cheap stuff). He did mention something about a possible job later in the week. After parking the Land-Rover in the secure lot, taking the Tube to his neighborhood, and walking home, Oddball finally got to sleep sometime around 3:30 – 4:00 am only to wake up a few hours later for his day job. Dax may not have bought him a single drink as a thank you for his contract work, but it was certainly a more interesting evening than his contract work at the office.
As Oddball slept between his 1,000 count Egyptian cotton sheets in his luxury apartment, Dax parked his beat up van in the parking lot of a Kennedy’s Used Electronics outlet store and settled onto the floor of his van using his long coat as a blanket. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard the noise only a large group of troublesome youths can make. He looked out to see around a score of Yellow Ponies approaching his van. After coaxing “Music Man” to open his door, the gang members assailed his nostrils with the smell of cheap soy-beer and fast-food vegetarian. After regaling him with their exploits, the intra-gang drama that is their life, and other insignificant rumors, they turned to business. Santana, the young hispanic Ork male with a cheap cyber-leg asked Dax to get rid of a private detective who’s been asking around for Santana in all his usual hang outs. He described the P.I. as a human male with long, wavy brown hair with a distinctive scare. Saying he would look into it with the agreement that if he did, the Yellow Ponies would keep an eye out for him and his van ensuring he wasn’t hassled in their territory, Dax was finally left in chilly peace to get what sleep he could before the Monday morning shoppers started honking at each other in a few hours.
Bill headed out to meet his mysterious contact from the night before at the waffle house nearby. Having nothing to his name, he grabbed one of the pistols he took off the Poli-clubbers, and ran the short way to the waffle house to stretch his muscles and get the kinks out. He met the short, male with blond hair who introduced himself as “Dancer” when Bill gave the name “Ted, Theodore Logan, Esq.” Over waffles, coffee, and bacon, Dancer and “Ted” went back and forth accusing each other of working for Mr. White “The Albino”. Not even knowing who Mr. White was or who he worked for, “Ted” finally convinced Dancer that he wasn’t some sort of trap. Dancer explained that Mr. White (who was in fact an Albino) worked for a company called Veridian Dynamics located the woods Southeast of Bellevue. They conducted Para-animal research and Mr. White was responsible for “picking up two lost strays” in the area, one of who was someone special to Dancer. Realizing that Dancer assumed he was a shapeshifter, Bill/Ted assumed that Dancer was as well and an uncomfortable silence passed between them as the waitress cleared their plates and refilled their coffee. Dancer pressed Bill/Ted to leave town or at the very least, leave Bellevue because he was in danger. When asked, he explained that he was planning on bringing down Veridian somehow, but it was obvious he didn’t have much of a plan.