Outside in the backstreet, behind the Hypermall, 8D-7 nods at Doze and strolls up to the bike.
Keeping his hands where Doze can see them, hanging on the lapels of his worn coat, he pulls the coat open slightly, exposing his chest beneath.
A robotic articulated cable coils out like a metallic serpent from a data-jack wired into his chest, and attaches itself to the bike's control panel. He turns to look at Doze, and spreads his arms wide, palms open.
"
Hands off, right?"
He grins.
Seconds later, his grin turns into a frown.
"This...this isn't your bike...the owner is recently deceased and...oh shit...he's got a private medical contract with ACGS! An ERT is on route!"
+ + +
Meanwhile, just as Sen and Zola walk outside of
Ol' Trusty Joe's Ripper Clinic they hear the sudden sound of a warning siren, before an armoured Emergency Response Team Ambulance drives
straight through the front door of the building with a loud shattering of glass, screeching to a halt between
Pet Tech and
Hard Luck Coffee. The shoppers inside the mall begin screaming and running about like headless chickens. A canister of white smoke is thrown from the vehicle and begins to fill the mall with a hiss. Through this smokescreen, a heavily-armed four-man ER Team come striding through, assault rifles raised, ordering everyone to remain calm and get down on the ground.
"Kingdoms and empires pass away like mist from the sea; the people shout and triumph and even in the revelry of Belshazzar's feast, the Medes break the gates of Babylon."
— Robert E. Howard, The Gates of Bal-Sagoth
