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"I guess you could say business, pleasure, and chance...but a little less of the former two and a little more of the latter." He stretched and then stood. "I guess I have some business to finish up with Herr Maeda." He said the name with a little struggle, as if he were pulling it out of a dream or a long dead memory.

Trau looked into the distance, squinting his eyes and rubbing his chin. "Next move...hell, I usually just figure things out as I go along."

"Kinda dumb," mumbled the old gypsy. Trau continued looking off into the distance, pretending he didn't hear the man.

He turned to Leadstorm, "The name is Trau. What about you? You have any plans?"

"Sorry, pal, no can do; I've been out of this city for 18 years. The only runners I know that I would lend a buck to are in the European block, and they won't do anything cheap." Trau stood up, and fished around in his coat for something. He produced a half-shredded piece of photocopied paper. "But I have an idea where we could get a runner."

He hands Leadstorm a flier for the Club Cyberia re-opening. "But I'm willing to guess they aren't gonna want to work cheap."

"I don't see any problem with that; we run into your pals, it'll be a little more of a fair fight." Trau turned to the old man and nodded. "Thanks for the help, Chavez."

The old man waved his hand, 'away, away,' and then spoke up. "It was the least we could do. Just don't be a stranger. Most importantly, don't be a greedy familiar."

"Never, Chavez."

The old man chuckled to himself as he lit a cigarette. Trau looked to Leadstorm. "Where we off to?"

"Unless you have a bike hidden somewhere in your pants, yeah, that'd be a pretty good assumption." Trau took a step towards his bike when the old man coughed, cleared his throat, and then coughed again. Trau paused and turned to the man.

The old man grinned around his cigarette and nodded to somewhere behind one of the tents. Or a tent. The nod was pretty vague. The old man was looking at Leadstorm. "I might have something I could sell you for a decent price. Or favor."

((fine with me...he's to be used!))

Trau watched Leadstorm climb onto the bike. It wasn't the best bike, but it ran well. This much Trau could trust his second family...his only family...with. Whatever the details of the deal, that was between Leadstorm and Chavez. Trau nodded to Leadstorm. "You lead the way."

(within his own world, within his own madness, the TURBOjew sells his services, his goods, and his SOUL for the prospect of a better day, a better world. a return to naturality is at hand, the world has come full swing, the hand change is at the ready and the world will seem anew to those who even lived hundreds of years prior to this even)

*to himself*
yes, i have nearly all that is neccisary for it to be complete! All will be in the hands he who rests within Ryleh!

*though he does not realize it, in the dead of night others can here the mad monolouges of this gregariously esoteric character through the broken windows of his hovel where day and night no boy, no man, no creature, foul being has been driven enough to risk themselves nor their sanity to investigate the structure that has so seemingly awakened into liveliness from the erily pulsating lights, deathly sounds, and ungodly Evil smell that accosts the senses in a way far more profound than mere distaste, but reaches down to the bottom of the SOUL and pulls at that wich exists within us all. The sense that has existed for the entirety of human existance, it is Fear, and most of all, FEAR of something that is not known, seen or heard, but felt within your bones. It is the smell of evil, the aura of hell, and the fear of the unknown!*

*the crazed man trumps out of the building, entrenched in a seemingly unshakable darkness that follows his jutting, mechanical movements through the streets of butchers feild*

He had taken the two hour time limit he had had to get here and left his house with the basic things he'd need to hack the AI in question and was now waiting for Leadstorm to show up.

He wasn't someone people would notice or believe him to have the skill set he had. He was young and had no care about what he wore, clothing being a hassle he didn't need to deal with, especially when there were other things he could do in the time it would take to shop for them.

Thus, he stood there, looking not quite out of place and harmless, waiting for Leadstorm, who was expecting 'chaos' not Joe.

~Leadstorm came careening around a pile of rubble as Joe came in to sight. Not what he was expecting, but it was better than an ambush by Chromers or worse, company boys. he laid on the brakes and came to a stop. "Chaos send you to lead me to him?"