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Rizzo listened to the recording.





Now poor Rizzo was really confused, "What's this?" Rizzo said, "You got in a fight and recorded it?"

He wouldn't try to stop her from whatever she was planning to do, but he looked at the recording scratched his head, took a few moments to think, said, "I'm not sure I get it."

Rizzo pulled himself out from under the car,

"Geez, he's not the friendliest fella, but I don't think he'd kill someone," he said, "Ah geez, this is going to make trouble. I hate trouble."

Rizzo pounded his forehead, as if he was having trouble thinking, "I know, why don't you let me handle this, I'll talk to him about it. I don't think he'll do it again, I know he won't."

Rizzo smiled anxiously, awaiting her answer.

"Sure thing," Rizzo said, "I'll talk to him as soon as I get a good opportunity, just wait a little bit. I'll make sure he doesn't do it again, but actually, I think you already made sure."

He slipped the recorder in the pocket of his jeans and rolled himself under the car.

"Well," he said, "Would you like me to show you how I remove these gearboxes like this without getting hurt. It's kind of a haphazard method, but I developed it myself."

If she would oblige him, it would mean quite a few hours on the ground watching him work and listening to him explain everything about the inner workings of this particular vehicle, as well as obliging him and assisting as he worked on his other vehicles. It would also mean enduring watching him blush awkwardly everytime he looked at her without explaining an auto mechanism.

((Things might get a little more interesting here now))

In the middle of one of Rizzo's lectures before noon, Gil happened to step outside and see them and looked as if he would swallow his cigarette when he saw Stephanie around and unharmed. He went back inside and didn't come out again.

It was approaching three O'clock when Rizzo and Stephanie would be finished dissecting old transmissions and picking out parts that would be suitable for the repair of older vehicles. Rizzo seemed to know everything about transmissions, and when he explained the intricacies of each system and how they worked, their differences and similarities, his methods for dissection and assembly, he did so with glowing enthusiasm. Rizzo even let her do a few things on her own to get the general idea of his craft, as long as she didn't mind getting her hands dirty, which she certainly didn't.

Finally he blushed again, "Wow," he said, smiling. "You really seem to catch on fast, and you actually listened to everything I said. No one cept the boss ever listened to me before, and he stopped a long time ago."

Well," he said, blushing a deep red, "I suppose we better go inside. You'll have to help to Gil for a while, cause I have to work on some technical stuff in the back."


If she asked to help, Rizzo would insist on having to do the work alone, and he wouldn't budge to readily on that.

Inside, a small portable TV would be playing the news, it would just so happen, ((Wow, what a coincidence.)) that Edward Yaits was on TV again, this time it was live. A broadcast of his speech against the undead at Latent. Rizzo threw Gil a dirty look before going to the back. Gil just grunted, layed on a rolling board, and pulled himself underneith an 80's Camaro he was working on, refusing to look at Stephanie or even talk except to tell her to go clean something.

Ichiro was in the office looking over papers between sips from his bottle, he wasn't drinking quite fast enough to overcome his high alchohal tolerance, so he wasn't overly drunk. At least not yet.

As the end of the day approached, Gil disapeared into the back room, went down into the cellar where Rizzo worked, closing all the doors tight behind him. Rizzo was working on Joey's leg, putting the components together, when Gil approached.

"Riz," he said nervously, "What's that b***h been tellin' you."

"Hmm," Rizzo said, standing up. "You saved me a trip."

He punched Gil so hard in the nose that the little man flew back into the shelves with a loud thud.

"That's for putting a beat down on Miss Stephanie," Rizzo said, "I want you to lay off, here."

Gil got up, swallowing the blood running down his throat, yelled, "You Feking moron!, I didn't put up a beat down her,"

Rizzo pulled out the recording and played it.

"s**t," Gil said, "That don't prove nothing, give me that a second."

Rizzo handed Gil the recorder, and Gil played it again, "Who the feck takes a recorder into a fight! And how the freak was she able get away!?"

"You did have something to do with it, didn't you?" Rizzo growled.

Gill threw the recorder at the wall in a fit of rage, smasing it, then he ran out without saying another word to anybody.

In the neighboorhood not far from his apartment Gil would run across his buddies. They would hem into a back alley. The teenager, his arm heavily bandaged to cover the patches in his shell, would be the first to speak.

"We don't appreciate being decieved buddy," he said, "If she's a cop, we could be in some very big trouble because of you. I'm afraid your gonna have to learn a lesson about telling lies."

The big tall man smiled, approaching with his crow bar.

"This'll never work."

"It will if you stay cool."

In a two seater, the nervous driver pulled up to a city perimeter checkpoint and waited for clearance. In the passenger seat was a man with a cap pulled down over his face. Everything would be seem to be just fine until another guard approached the car on the passenger side.

"... Yeah?"

"ID?"

"...."

"How about letting me see your face?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"Alright then wiseguy, step out of the car."

As the man stepped out, he kept his head down. But the cop thought it'd be a good idea to snatch off the guy's hat, allowing the light to shine in his face and make him identifiable. Was it a mistake?

"...Rei....ko!"

Probably.

Nothing else happened besides the obvious. Just the guards at the entrance would be given an early retirement. Because one was an a*****e and the other was just honestly trying to do his job.

Oh well. Ruining lives one encounter at a time.

Anyway, Reiko was back in the car with his hat back on and his feet on the dash. His "driver" was now increasingly nervous on a freakish level. He now knew the shady stranger he decided to pick up was well... worth 200k.

"Y-you're..."

"Yeah. Does this mean you won't take me where I want to go?"

"...."

Reluctantly, the guy continued driving.

"By the way. Did you notice how that person in the motorbike behind us made no move to do anything?"

"... yeah?"

"We'll have to make another stop soon."