Preature checked his pistols and holstered them beneath his trenchcoat. He stood at a table bearing three open armored briefcases. Each one contained top tier pre-war cybernetic parts in mint condition.

The room was small. It was once a manager’s office, but now it acted as an armory.

CURL stepped into the room, her hair flowing from purple to teal in a perfect cascading wave. The other side of her head was shaved clean to show off her neural ports and a tattoo of a circuit board. Her eyes glowed green, layered with darkly edged concentric circles. Her light brown skin was lined with the perfect scars of a variety of street surgeries. She wore a form-fitting pocketed bodysuit that transitioned its pattern as she willed it. Entering the room, it shifted from purple checkers to the same bespeckled pattern as the floor tiles.

Atop the suit, she wore a long jacket made of transparent rubber. She drew her hand from the pocket and rested it on one of the suitcases.

“This delivery shouldn’t be too bad,” she said with a light rasp in her voice.

“We can never assume that,” Preature rumbled in response.

“I just mean that people will be indoors after the acid rain. There might not be as much risk in transit.” She opened a cabinet on the wall, and collected some equipment. She took a stack of pistol clips and magnetically binded them to her sides.

“Even so, this is pristine merch. On the best of days, it’s dangerous to be around.”

Leary strode into the room with his custom heavy submachine gun in hand. “I’m low.” He said in a tense tone. The others knew that he was talking about his meds. He had been a P-Sec longer than most ever get to be, having outlived every one of his squadmates over the years. Yet he was worn down. Decades of this work had left him entirely dependent on drugs to endure.

“We need to make a stop on the way back,” he said anxiously.

Preature nodded. “We will.” He leaned back to peek around Leary. “Is Tinker ready?”

“He’s already in the IFV. Been ready for takeoff for a while now.” Leary looked back into the other room. “He’s nervous about this one.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Preature clipped some EMP grenades onto his belt, locked fresh magazines into his pistols, and slid them to rest in the sleeve holsters of his coat. “But I always am.”

The three finished arming themselves and secured the armored briefcases before heading up to the IFV-24 on the roof. The vehicle had once been used by SOLA-Med, but was procured by Preature and his comrades after its inhabitants had been lost in the outskirts. Normally, this kind of vehicle would be so protected by hacking countermeasures that nobody would have been able to bend it to their will. However, CURL was good at what she did, and Preature knew his way around tech. The IFV had been cleaned and modified to be as stealthy as possible. It made their work much safer, and allowed them to deal their wares much faster. It also made Preature one of the most expensive Vens in the city.

Tinker sat in the driver’s seat. He was visibly on edge, teeth chewing his lower lip. He was a skilled medic, and the latest addition to Preature’s team. His hair was a high top fade with a short lined beard. He wore a red and black armored medical suit, loaded with the best med gear he could afford. He tapped impatiently on the dashboard.

“Hey Tinker!” Preature shouted. “Breathe!”

Tinker looked at him sharply.

“We’ll all be much safer if you breathe,” he elaborated in a calm tone. “You bring more tension into this deal, and someone gets hurt.” He laid his thick hand on Tinker’s shoulder to reassure him. “We’ve all got each other’s backs here. Just like every time before.”

Tinker nodded and let out a breath. He managed a light smile back at Preature, then started the IFV-24 as the team hopped aboard.

The IFV rose from the rooftop and into the sky. Tinker glanced over to Preature next to him. “This is a big one.”

“Yes, it is.” Preature’s eyes were obscured by his silver shades.

“Are you sure this guy won’t try to cause trouble?” Tinker was calmer with Preature next to him. He respected Preature, and trusted his instincts.

“He won’t. He asked for you all to come. He knows better than to ask for that if he was planning an ambush.” Preature brushed his hand over his beard to smooth it down. He rested an arm on Tinker’s chair as he turned to speak to his colleagues behind.

“Leary, be ready and out of sight. Take a sniper post and leave the submachine gun in a close range pickup spot in case you need to take up arms with us.” Then he looked at CURL. “The second this dude shows up, I want you to do your thing. Scan him and get a handle on what cybernetics he’s sporting. Only hack him solid if he makes a wrong move.”

He turned to the front again and took his arm off Tinker’s chair. “Tinker. I hope we don’t need your help, but if we do, I have all the faith in the world that you’re the man for the job.” A small smile graced Tinker’s face.

The IFV glided quietly above the city traffic, blending with the dark of night. A low hum was the only sound it emitted. CURL gazed out the window at buildings passing beneath. It became a neon blur as her eyes glazed over in thought. Several moments later, the IFV slowed to a near stop on a tall rooftop, door sliding open, allowing Leary to jump out. Sniper’s rifle strapped to his back, and SMG in hand, he landed softly as his cybernetic legs absorbed the impact. He immediately stowed the SMG, firing a zip line from the edge of this roof to another one ten stories below. Then he climbed an antenna and peered through his scope, securing the rifle along the structure’s frame. The IFV door glided closed again.