Ganger's page

FYI: Edmund's player is stepping away. Slight Ret-Con: everyone took Red's vehicle to the Squatter's Mall, so no pickup truck to worry about.

The ganger eyes you warily, looking your gear and equipment up and down before speaking. "'Spec ya kin 'ford ¥100. I'll git da boys ta keep nicelike eyes on yer ride. 'Tain't gon' be none step ta mess wit ya drek."

He holds out his hand, a small ARO hovering over his palm. It looks strangely like an old-school drawstring purse with a big golden nuyen symbol embroidered on it.

Assuming you pay the parking fee

"Wiz, 'migo. Shop til ya drop, neh?" he chuckles at his own joke and motions to a pair of gangers. "Clutch, Patches, sit on dese fraggers ride. Nicelike. Don' frag off, or I'll tear ya a new hoop!"

Question: how do you leave the vehicles? Parked out in open? Does anyone stay with them?

As you approach the front entrance, a few things come to your attention right away. Firstly, the doorways stand open, the glass and steel frames long since recycled into spirits know what. Second, fairly robust blockades stand just inside the doorframes, composed of plasti-board, cinderblocks, and other detritus of the city.

Behind these coverpoints stand young humans, mostly men with a few women, wearing gold colors over filthy black clothes. No-one has a firearm in hand, but everyone carries weapons of some kind or another. Knives, chains, and clubs hang from belts or stand close to hand.

One of the young men holds a hand up as the group approaches. "Hoi, omaes. This be Gypsy turf. Youze lookin' ta tussle, youze gon' get perf'd right quicklike."

In a glance, you'd guess a firefight here in the mall entrance would be dicey, at best. They have cover, numbers, and who knows what kind of hardware behind those blockades.

"Call me Gyro," the young ganger continues, "Whatchu got biz here at da Mall? Sellin', buyin', or whorin'?"