“Redline”
- Eddies
- 205,860
The streets of Heywood pulsed with their usual nocturnal rhythm, lowriders creeping past, neon saints reflecting off polished chrome, and the murmur of street deals being made in dark corners. Ryan knew this part of town better than most, hell, he grew up here. Cutting through alleyways and side streets until he rolled up to a Valentino chop shop buried between rundown garages. Flipping down the brake, he saw the metal roll-up door was half-open, a skeletal Luchador mural grinning back at him like it was in on some joke.
Ryan killed the engine on his Yaiba, swinging a leg off the bike as he scanned the faces lingering around the shop. A few familiar Valentinos loitered outside, smoking and watching him with casual, knowing glances. Without hostility, they took note of who was stepping into their space. Standard Heywood etiquette, a Valentino enforcer threw up a nod, giving Ryan course to throw one back in return.
He didn't bother with pleasantries, walking up to the nearest banger elbow-deep in a gutted Quadra and leaned against the frame of a stripped-down Chevalier.
"Lookin' for Bella."
The gearhead barely glanced up from his work, then jerked a thumb toward the back. "Inside."
Redline pushed through the garage, weaving between stacks of stripped parts and crates loaded with stolen goods. The deeper he went, the quieter it got until he found himself in the back room, where @Isabella Santos supposedly was handling some business.
He spotted her quick, a childhood friend annd Heywood native, her attention locked on whatever deal she was closing. She had that same Valentino edge as always, her ink tracing stories up her arms, her dark hair pulled back in a way that meant she wasn't about to waste time with small talk with a long white streak coursing through. A half-disassembled Militech AR rested on the workbench behind her, surrounded by ammo boxes and a bottle of tequila missing more than a few pours.
Ryan didn't interrupt, he moved against the nearest workable and leaned, waiting with his arms crossed. He cleared his throat obnoxiously, throwing off a smirky grin when he was sure he had her attention.
"Got some biz I need handled," he said, tapping on a couple money shards between two fingers. "Need some extra scratch cleaned, @Beau Frost can't digitally clean it all, at least not in the timeframe I'd need it done. I figured you had people who could move it quiet."
His other hand pulled a fat stack of cash from his jacket, setting it down beside the first. "And I need a Sandy. Military-grade, none of that bargain bin shit." He met her eyes, letting the weight of the request settle between them.
"And while you're thinking on that, I want you in on the next gig. @Red Bulloch job, decent payout, supposedly low risk as it's been scoped to hell and back.." Ryan reached in his pocket, retrieving a pack of smokes. He drew a cigarette and lit it up as it touched his lips.
"..we both know damn well how corpo snatch and grabs really go."
He took a drag, letting the moment sink in.
"It'll happen in the badlands, got some nomad contacts willing to help, but I could use another iron I trust. You in?"
Ryan killed the engine on his Yaiba, swinging a leg off the bike as he scanned the faces lingering around the shop. A few familiar Valentinos loitered outside, smoking and watching him with casual, knowing glances. Without hostility, they took note of who was stepping into their space. Standard Heywood etiquette, a Valentino enforcer threw up a nod, giving Ryan course to throw one back in return.
He didn't bother with pleasantries, walking up to the nearest banger elbow-deep in a gutted Quadra and leaned against the frame of a stripped-down Chevalier.
"Lookin' for Bella."
The gearhead barely glanced up from his work, then jerked a thumb toward the back. "Inside."
Redline pushed through the garage, weaving between stacks of stripped parts and crates loaded with stolen goods. The deeper he went, the quieter it got until he found himself in the back room, where @Isabella Santos supposedly was handling some business.
He spotted her quick, a childhood friend annd Heywood native, her attention locked on whatever deal she was closing. She had that same Valentino edge as always, her ink tracing stories up her arms, her dark hair pulled back in a way that meant she wasn't about to waste time with small talk with a long white streak coursing through. A half-disassembled Militech AR rested on the workbench behind her, surrounded by ammo boxes and a bottle of tequila missing more than a few pours.
Ryan didn't interrupt, he moved against the nearest workable and leaned, waiting with his arms crossed. He cleared his throat obnoxiously, throwing off a smirky grin when he was sure he had her attention.
"Got some biz I need handled," he said, tapping on a couple money shards between two fingers. "Need some extra scratch cleaned, @Beau Frost can't digitally clean it all, at least not in the timeframe I'd need it done. I figured you had people who could move it quiet."
His other hand pulled a fat stack of cash from his jacket, setting it down beside the first. "And I need a Sandy. Military-grade, none of that bargain bin shit." He met her eyes, letting the weight of the request settle between them.
"And while you're thinking on that, I want you in on the next gig. @Red Bulloch job, decent payout, supposedly low risk as it's been scoped to hell and back.." Ryan reached in his pocket, retrieving a pack of smokes. He drew a cigarette and lit it up as it touched his lips.
"..we both know damn well how corpo snatch and grabs really go."
He took a drag, letting the moment sink in.
"It'll happen in the badlands, got some nomad contacts willing to help, but I could use another iron I trust. You in?"