"Mad Gig"'s page

"Sure. Always thought of you as a bartender-type, *gig*.
Don't you need a proper SIN for that though?"

Gig suddenly giggles real hard, sounding a bit like he is choking on something.
"We have an interested mage. Told him to get here at 21:00 tomorrow, ordering real coffee with a pinch of salt... and to wear a funny hat."
At which point he cackles again and takes a long sip of coffee.

Gig continues to rattle on, while everyone else seems still busy sipping (excellent) real coffee.
"I just sent you an unordered, labelled list of action points."

Opening the shared file, you find the following:

>> {A} POINT OF ENTRY
>> {B} CRAFT FAKE TOME
>> {C1} INTEL ON INTERIOR: RESTAURANT
>> {C2} INTEL ON INTERIOR: APARTMENT / TOME ROOM
>> {D} DISTRACTION
>> {E} TOOLS & SPECIALIST EQUIPMENT
>> {F} HIRED CREW: MAGE

"If we look at those, there are certain logic inter-dependencies, so we can order them like this...", another file is shared and auto-opens.

>> {1} HIRED CREW: MAGE
>> {2} INTEL ON INTERIOR: RESTAURANT
>> {2} INTEL ON INTERIOR: APARTMENT / TOME ROOM
>> {3} CRAFT FAKE TOME
>> {3} POINT OF ENTRY
>> {4} DISTRACTION
>> {4} TOOLS & SPECIALIST EQUIPMENT

Gig awakes with a groan and then hurriedly goes to find a toilet for bladder and stomach to empty in. He had eaten and drunk a lot more last night than in some days for he often forgets to do so during extended matrix sessions (or truth be told, when one of paranoid episodes is convincing him how easy it would be to poison his food or water...).
He's first at Al's, but last in, only entering after the other two arrived and he was decently sure no one was shadowing them, at least overtly. When he gets to their table, he dumps a bunch of printouts on it. They show a certain block, centered around a certain japanese restaurant. Using your optics, you notice that the printouts are linked with matrix files, containing old records and in some cases actual live trid streams of the associated areas.
"So this is the operation area", he begins in a pretty serious tone and without any kind of preamble, "Pretty urban, as you would expect, so lots of potential attack and retreat routes."
After a brief pause he continues:
"Their matrix defense is okayish, but far from impossible to penetrate, so that's good. It's even simpler if one of you can gain access to the place and let one of the bugs tap a slaved device of course..."

Gig stares at the Shakespearing in disbelief.
Not getting any meaningful work done during the night?
This is a joke, right?
When would he work? During bright sunlight, poolside even?
Ts.

As Cheddy goes ahead and do this people-thing, Gig pulls out his trusty Microtronica deck and gets to work.
His only nod to cutesy and the environment is the fact that he does occasionally (in intervals which get longer and longer each time) pop out of the limb state that is the telltale sign of a full VR connection.
Each time he does so, he drinks a few sips of a longdrink followed by soycaf and water, nibbles on some of the available nuts and then goes back "in".

Within the matrix, he boots up his work-in-progress assistant-AI, still duped TAR-VI, and sets it to compile a nice stack of information about magical tomes, in particular everything about their crafting and physical appearances and used material.
He himself is starting to dig through street and building plans of their designated target.
What is the area like?
What are notable neighbors?
Where is the closest known Yakuza strongpoint from where reinforcements may come.
Any good observation spots for his various drones, to achieve a 100% coverage of entrances and exits of the target building.
...

Pretty much starting a prolonged matrix search for this, I guess. Same goes for my agent who can act in parallel with a total dice pool of 8, limit(3) for matrix search.

Gig looks bewildered and somewhat confused at the exchange between their (intermediate) employer and Luna with an expression that seems to say:are you serious or is this some kind of joke?
Then he shakes his head and adds his own summary in that odd voice he uses over the comlink in times of danger or stress - a curious mix of forced-calm, militaristic brefity, and feverish impatience with a decent strain of bored monotony of someone having seen quite a bit too much to remain perfectly sane.
"Yes, stealing the book is first prio.
If we get a decent copy together, we'll leave a facsimile behind.
We probably will try to infiltrate the place via social and technical means before the actual coup, hoping to exploit any weaknesses of the sneak's head to keep him occupied during the actual exchange.
To increase our chance of pulling the heist off, we will look into hiring a mage of sorts to fend off any magic traps or security meadures.
We may be interested in continuing after a potential, initial success."

He sends a quick matrix checklist to the others with a series of checkboxes for quickly responding.
1. Get a bloody Mage. Al's candidates or visit the bar and talk (urgh) to runners. Cheddy [ ]?
2. Target Observation (technical). Gig [x]
3. Target Observation (in person). Luna [ ], Cheddy [ ]
4. Build a facsimile. Gig [x], Cheddy [ ]

Already, Gig's mind is racing through approaches, plans, countermeasures and, most prominently, the prospect of creating a fake magic tome.
He is calculating the required materials and techniques and also tries to rank the usefulness of Al's mage contacts.
So it really is not a surprise that a noticeable lack of response slips in, with Gig muttering under his breath, his fingers dancing over the table as if he were typing on a real keyboard.

Eventually he snaps about as another round of trunks are served and he coughs then laughs his trademark chuckle and shows a toothy grin.
"So, I really am looking forward to fake that tome and I think we will attempt it. Which gives us, that means your ... Ehhh, guy, the chance to slip in some kind of surprise into the fake. Now I don't know jack nothing about all that magic nonsense but surely you could lay all kinds of nasty surprises into a magic book, right? Maybe your... Employer, 's the right word, Cheddy?"
He breaks off for a moment before talking on.
"whatever, your guy may want us to casually slip a special something inside the tome? For a little extra ... Bonus, fee, ehh, help me out here Face..."

Gig makes sure to copy the provided trids and immediately sets his agent the task of searching the matrix for an affordable old, leather bound tome.
He is also composing a quick text to Al:
<< Howdy Coffee-Connesseur!
Any spellworm runners good withagic traps and such dreck you know of? May have some business opportunity for him.>>
Shortly switching back to meatspace he asks:
"Any known weaknesses? Skinny girlies, drinking, cards, pride in his little place...?"

"Hmm. Is there a bonus if we can keep it quiet?
One thing that comes to mind...
Do we have good trids of the tome?
Maybe we could have someone fake it and we do that old swapdidoo and hope Mr. Jacuzzi isn't looking at his precious too often and too hard."

"wha- oh. Ya, sure."
Let it go, breathe three times, each a bit slower than the last...
He grabs onto his back and unpacks his cyberdeck and starts tapping away on it while the man continues to explain.
Soon after the restaurant is mentioned, Gig sends a trid stream to you, showing first the location on a street layout, then a bunch of frontal captures followed by a commercial clip of the inside, kitchen and ambiente. A still trid of Takahashi is also displayed.
He looks up at the last bit with a troubled expression.
"Magic precautions, eh?"
He looks over to Cheddy.
"Not really your department either, right? We'll need a specialist for that sort of dreck then..."

Gig had shut up following his slip, only to ask for a mega pint of real coffee (or soy caff) and a bacon sandwich.
Once the Shakespearin starts unwrapping his story and comes to the spicy part, he points several handful of fingers at him and looks triumphantly at Luna.
"See? See!
Group dynamics make people stupid as dreck.
Who would join a gang that is making their members ink the crimes they commit into their flesh?!
I mean, Common, that is stupidity on so many layers that even the wiring schematic of a matrix host would like trivial in comparison!"

Gig let's out a sigh of relief as they arrive at the booth, having followed Luna on her heels virtually clinging to her like a small child following a mother through a thick crowd to avoid getting simply swept away and becoming lost. While he is actually a bit taller than her, he has like less than a quarter of her musculature AND is quite terrified of so many people who, to him, are only one incident away from a homicidal panic rampage.
How anyone could actually crave this kind of crazy was utterly incomprehensible to him.
"One human is an intelligent, rational, sophisticated creature.
A group of humans is a stupid, irrational and blood crazy mob of lunatics."
He says as he sits down.
Then he looks up, quizzically.
Then leans over to Luna and whispers: "I did just talk out loud, didn't I...?"

Gig looks about as happy as his outfit is appropriate to the situation.
Not. at. all.

He simply trudges after Cheddy and Luna, looking a bit like a stray dog following some passerby for lack of better things to do.
His thin frame looks positively alarming next to the bulk of the trolls and he is probably getting a lot of filthy gazes from the assembled would-be-party-goons as he is cutting the line with the other two.

At the security checkpoint he just lifts his frail arms to show he has no weapons holstered.
The only stuff he has on him right now is his com-link (dangling from a corded wire, clipped somewhat randomly onto his overall) and cyberdeck (stowed on a flat-bag across his back), as well as a cred-stick.

Big mum arrives a good hour early and stops a hundred meter short, probably at a nearby coffeeshop or something similar, where Gig will order some soy caff (which he drinks absentmindedley, not caring for the flavor or lack thereof).
Once in place, various drones move out to predetermined surveillance positions.

The only concession (if you can call it like that) he makes for the impending meeting, is to polish his (worn) army boots and tie in a new set of laces and change his flight overall for a new set with noticeable less coffee stains and actually without a single wear-and-tear holes.
Old drills stick with you after all.
Once the time has come and he has reached out to the others via comlink, he meets up with them.

Gig sights deeply.
"Fiiiiine, I'll tag along.
Let's get this over with quickly then, eh?
Anyway, what do you guys think would be a chill name for a swag AI?"

Gig actually makes a grimace as he hears about another high-fancy nightclub.
Secretly he wonders whether it is really such a good idea to have this fancy-pants arranging meetings with fixers and clients. Sure cheesy might feel right at home in such places but someone grounded and down to earth like himself....

"Oh, yeah, sure.
Probably won't be easy to get some extra eyes IN but I surely can set up a decent surveillance around the place.
And I can at least give the place's system a shake down.
Maybe its not a secure as customers might expect.
Can't know what's going through he minds of people running clubs, can you....", he trails off with a nearly pained expression.
"Do I ... have to come along?
In meatspace and all dressed up like a drekkin' peacock?"

Gig breathes in deeply as he has set off the last of his ..., well he still does not really know how to call them actually.
Colleagues?
Associates?
Comrades?
...
Friends?

Anyway he nearly watched one of them die today.
Pretty messily so.
No one should die in a sewer, slashed open and potentially fed upon by a mutated monster.
A monster which may or may not be created on purpose by trice-cursed Aztech for whatever nefarious purpose...

He notices that his mind is taking a downward spiral and does as Dr. Carlyle told him.
Observe what is happening.
Speak it out calmly and aloud.
"My hands are trembling like mad.
Good thing Big Mom is doing the driving.
Why are you trembling, John?
The fight is over - it can't be left-over adrenaline.
Not this long afterwards anyway.
Fright?
Of what?
Seeing a ... close person dying?
Helpless to aid?
Maybe.
Anger?
About possible Aztech meddling with monsters and setting them loose?
Sure.
Frustration?
I could have done better in that fight.
Stupid not to deploy Webber from the get go.
Stupid to have him in a harness requiring someone to actually deploy him manually.
Won't fly when s+~& hits the fan.
Who would want to spent time deploying the drone when in mortal peril?
Stupid, John, stupid.
I need to find a better way.
Yes.
We will do that, right Webber?
Yeah...."

Having find a proper problem to busy his mind with, he spins up an AR design tool and happily starts prototyping away.
When arriving home, WebberCarriage.v17 is already going strong until he remembers that it should still be pretty lightweight.
After all Webber is kinda heavy as-is, so adding a lot of weight for the carriage would probably tip the balance in favor of no one being willing to carry it around...
He absentmindedly transmits the code for disarming the alarm system of his garage and commands Big Mom to drive in, quickly re-enabling the system once inside.
He doesn't even bother getting out of the Van, but starts pacing around the back, drawing open and re-arranging the interior for work.
A foldable workbench comes down from the left side wall, power tools appear from drawers, various crates stuffed to the brim with cables and discarded pieces of hardware are hauled down from overhead cabins...

Time for some good old engineering!

"Ehh, yeah, we probably should.
So where do I drop you off?
I personally feel kinda itchy.
Got an idea for a little project and wanna get started.
So, eh, see you at All's in a couple days?"

Gig nods, then puts a hand deep down one of yhe pockets of his jumpsuite and extracts a silver cred-stick.
"A recommendation is worth a good deal on top of The agreed payment. Thanks."
And as an afterthought:
"And good luck with that beast.
I'll be looking forward to read a proper puplication about this in the future.
See ya 'round, Doc.
Ya know whom to ask when ya need us..."

Gig looks over to Cheddy at this.
"Is this as shady and bad as it sounds?
I mean, Aztek is never up to any good anyway..."

Gig leans in closer as the doctor starts her treatment but quickly turns away as it becomes pretty obvious that she is using magic to achieve the healing.
Cheddy might see him making a disappointed (?) grimace as he turns away.
Sharp ears might also hear a little bit of under-the-breath muttering coming from Gig.

As the talk reaches corporations, he turns back around.
"We noticed some of them lurking outside as we moved out, Doc.
We did our best to shake them off as we set out and returned.
I did not notice any trace of them as we returned though.
Do you know about that?"

He also actives the trid feed from Sauron in his left eye and checks the surrounding of the Doc's laboratory once again from the air.

Gig will make sure to watch whatever the Doc is doing to help Luna careful.
After all, his medical training is not a very deep one.
He just happens to have a keen mind and good equipment...

Gig is about as helpful in a task requiring brute strength as a child, but he at least has the decency to try and help - for what its worth.
When he gets stares of "can't you shove harder", he apologetically shrugs and shakes his head.

It is remarkable how feeble and thin he actually is under his habitually worn jumpsuit.

Strength 1 :-D

"I've got the entire fight trid-captured."
Gig offers very matter of fact.

While they begin the process of unloading the monster from the van and back onto the motor-carriage, Gig addresses the doctor.
"Say, doc, is there anything we can do slot'n'run about Luna's injuries?
I got some training in treating normal injuries.
You know, stabbings, shrapnel, bullets - the usual drek.
But I know nothing about claw wounds from a HMVV monster..."

Once (nearly) convinced that no one is following them, Gig parks the Van with the rear towards the loading bay then opens the rear doors, revealing the rather odd sight of a plastic foil covered interior, covered in lots of different metahuman blood, discarded pieces of medicial equipment, packages and other equipment used from the raid.
Oh, and an unconcious troll-vampire-whatever monster taking up the majority of available space and (probably) the source of most of the blood.
Gig looks at the Doctor and waves oddly.
"Parcel delivery for you ma'am."

Gig actually helps to load in the monster into the back of the van - which goes down a considerable amount once everyone and everything is on board.
As soon as the back doors are shut, the van slowly starts to move and Gig leads Luna to the chair and the prepared, improvised first aid station, quickly nudging Cheddy towards the monster with a very serious expression on his face, murmuring:
"Keep that thing under careful watch.
If it wakes up in here we're dead.
Either because it kills everyone of us, or I will when it hurts Big Mom."

Then he douses his hands in disinfectant and boots up the high-tech medkit and connects to it.
Immediately, AR information starts to stream over his glasses.
"Oh boy, that looks freaking bad..."
He looks up at Luna with an expression of someone realizing he messed up something.
"Ehhh, but don't worry, we'll get all the pieces back to where they belong eventually.
Medicine has come a long way since bloodletting and simple bandages and bodies are surprisingly sturdy considering they are made of such squishy matter...
Yah, I'm just starting to patch you up then I guess..."

And he does.
Pretty quickly and deftly actually.
Quite a lot of bandages and quick injections (mostly pain killers and antibiotics and anti-virus) are used up in rapid succession.
After about a minute or two of frantic work, Gig leans back, wiping actual (and probably a bit of imaginative) sweat of his brow.
"Yeah, best I can do.
Never got round to actually treat a in-the-flesh - gigig - wound before.
I could really do with some more training..."

Meanwhile, Big Mom's autopilot drives through the most speed-limited streets of Seattle on a somewhat indirect route back towards the museum-of-grotesque where Dr. Beauregard works and is about to get a very special delivery.

So, that's 5 wounds back to Luna if I made everything right.

The double door of Big Mom opens invitingly and Gig waves them in with a signature giggle, while the spider drone takes up a covering position, gun rotating slowly back and forth.

"You, ehm, okay Luna?
Hujuck, that hit looked terrifying.
I'd be so dead if I were in your place, hoh-boy!
Lets get this ugly frakker inside and then I'll see to what's left of you. I'm quite decent at it, yeah.
First aid course: best part of basic training, really.
Enjoyed the sticking needles in puppets and applying lots of pressure and... ohhh, ehm, yeah.
I'm not gonna do a lot of that of course.
See, state of the art medkit and all."
And he points at the command chair, now covered in a plastec foil and a mobile workdesk with a spread out docwagon brand medkit, which does indeed look pricey and high quality.

Gig continues to prepare for the arrival of the (quite literally) mudfeet party.
First, he programs the autopilot of Big Mom for a not-quite-direct-but-also-not-much-of-a-detour return route to the doctor's place. He also pre-programs the autopilot for "cozy drive mode" and rigs proximity alerts to be sent to him.

Then he spreads another plastec foil over his favorite control chair and brings it into a comfortable half lying position before unpacking and spreading out the high-quality medkit which is usually packed away under the control chair - for exactly such an opportunity.
If he has time left, he does a very quick matrix search for a refresh-trid on treating animal wounds. He is fairly certain what the most important points are, but it never hurts to double check if you have the time...

Just as Webbig boots up its targeting sub-systems and cycles in a load of slug rounds to finally join the fight in earnest, the beast squeaks and drops.
If you always wondered how a drone looks like when it is surprised and a little bit ... let down, then the spider drone with jumped in Gig is probably a good bet right now.

With a sight of both relief and a tiny bit of annoyance, Gig drops out of Webber and momentarily returns to the presence of Big Mom to once again check the proximity systems, Sauron's watching bird eye and the local matrix to ensure the returning mudfeet are not running into any trouble the moment they leave the tunnels.

He then gets up and produces a couple square meters of plastic film and spreads it over the back of the van. No foul sewer monster is going to soil big mom - no f%#&ing way...

Then he returns to his op-chair and re-enters the matrix to accompany the return party in the form of a watchful webber. He makes sure to give Luna a once over though.

Seeing Luna getting hit, Gigs matrix form convulses and shivers.
Oooouch.
DammitDammitDammit.
Too late. Again...
NO!
Its only too late when they are dead.
Focus.
Focus!

A stream of AR data is coming into your vision again, highlighting muscle strands of the monster.
When it attempts its next attack, a warning indicator flash into existence and maps out the likely attack vector of the claws.

Let's hope this is enough of an edge to keep them alive for another couple seconds...

And with that, he starts the transformation sequence to become the spider drone...
Jump Into "Webber". That's a complex action. Sending the defense augmenting AR data should be a simple action, so I can complete the first half of the Jump this pass, leaving me with a simple action next pass, already jumped in.

Gig takes a trid-pic snapshot of the moment it registers the hit and stores it for later.

After quickly checking for any incoming police activity, Gig continues to analyse the movements of the beast.
Searching for discernable patterns which may be exploitable.
The drug probably needs some time to reach full effectiveness and until then, Luna and Cheddy needs to stay alive after all.
It would suck big time if they managed to stun the beast - but have no one with muscles left alive to get it out of there and back to the Doc....

Combat Tactics roll to provide the group with a defensive boost. => 4 Hits
Round 2 - Starting Init 25 => go again at 15

Gig finds himself in a very difficult situation which feels all too familiar from some he witnessed back in the "Omega" days.
How often was he forced to watch a secret operative being uncovered and either unceremoniously executed or captured for prolonged "interrogation"...
How often was he forced to watch a squad of elite commandos being cut down by a enemy deploying superior number or tech he was unable to hack...
Dammit, that is not haw this was supposed to go!
Focus.
Focus, you fool!
The virtual, amorphous cog shape is hitting its suddenly formed head with a suddenly formed fist to emphasise the point.
Then a couple times more for good measure and because it not really hurts to do so.

His mind racing ahead of everyone else in the tunnel, he curses himself for following the group in the unarmed, tiny Buzz fly drone instead of scuddling alongside the others as Webber. Who IS armed and would be able to do a whole lot more to support the crazy people wandering around the underworld of Seattle...
Another round of virtual fist-to-head later, he activates Buzz's trid capture and instructs the drone to keep focus on the big target.
Regardless of how this ends, he would have at least a live trid-feed for the Doc after this and the fools the would send in ne-
More fisting required.
Several nanoseconds realtime later, Gig sends a message to Cheddy:
<< Put down Webber if you can but don't risk your fine head. >>
After a moments consideration, he grasps for the slowly moving message stream and appends:
<< Cheers from Comfy-Space. Try not to die, you're on record. >>

Giggling despite the situation, the Doc - wait, that was getting confusing... - Carlyle once told him that laughing was a valid coping mechanisms of the body to different kinds of situation, not only inherently comical ones, alongside tearing up.
Still giggling, he draws up several "monitors" bisecting the trid stream into several angles and zooming levels, analysing the brute thing in depth.
How it moves.
How it attacks.
Which body parts it tries to instinctively protect from harm.
Anything which might provide the dirtfeet with an edge in staying in one piece - preferably intact - piece.
Basically the Observe in Detail + Combat Tactics Knowledge
-> 3 hits on the Tactics test
1st pass of the 1st round

Huh... interesting....

He then sends AR objects to both Cheddy's and Luna's gear, overlaying several areas of the monster with red cog crosshairs.
Specifically, the shoulder, elbow, knee and hip joints.
Tiny targets indeed and on a moving target to boot.
I think that's two simple actions (send message) in the matrix, and thus my second pass of round 2

A calm, detached cold settles over Gig as he sees the newest horror coming hurtling out of the sewage.
And that's why you don't go on a stroll down waste lane...
He giggles a bit about his own thought, then tries to determine the kind of horror the crew got sprung upon.

Could this be our target?
Otherwise, I'LL toss a metazoology roll in the discord once I llookes it UP

Suddenly, your AR sight flashes red and danger icons pop up all over the muddy let-us-call-it-water-until-proven-otherwise.
To.emphasise the point, Gigs (pretty excited) voice rings in your ear pieces.
<< Incoming!
Waterside.
Big target closing fast! >>

+++ Before they go in +++
Gig's entire body shiver at the thought of going down the drain, in the dark and gloom to hunt for a monster.
Just. Nope.
What kind of insane person would look forward to something.like that...?
Well, Luna does as it seems...
Add a "tic" and you got her true name...
"Well, good luck then ... I guess.
Cheddy, you want to take Webber along? Never hurts to have a friendly, highly armed spiderbot with you, right?"

+++ Now +++
<< Right and down. Take care, its a thirty degree slope at one point. Slipping, breaking your back and drowning in dreck would be an abysmal way to go ....>>
(just assuming I can navigate them easily. Blind navigate check got 2 hits )

An AR timer value is turning from warning-yellow to a danger-red and starts blinking at the corner of Gigs vision.
He quickly navigates the bug-drone into the cover of a small cavity, allowing its micro camera lense to keep a watchful "eye" on the scratch pole, then installs an automated alarm subprocedure, which will send a message in case any of its sensors trigger (and to keep motionless and hidden otherwise, except in danger).
Then he cuts the (active) connection and returns back to the meat world with a jerk.
He shakes his head as if trying to get (filthy) water out of his hair and ears.
"Well, well, well. Who would have guessed.
A troll-sized, weird-pire is behaving like a cat...
Assuming we trap it and take it down down there, we need some kind of carriage to get it back to Big Mom and the Doc fast enough.
Anyone knows a good rent-a-mule service nearby?"

He walks over the driver seat while talking, flobs down and drives the van a couple blocks further and incidentally closer to the subterranean, suspected hideout.

RP question.
I guess a quick matrix search would quickly find us something like that?
I mean, no need for black market shenanigangs for a cart or wheelbarrow, eh?

<< Pretty deep down.
1013.7 meter from the insertion point and a height gradient of 148.3 meter.
Even if we could ambush it successful down there ...
How do we get that thing all the way back here?
It surely weights a quarter-ton or more...>>

...
<< Indeed!
Basic Produce-Consumer-Concept.
Even ants optimize their nests, such that important locations are close to each other. >>

How far "in" is the scratching pole?

<< Good eyes, Luna, glad you're staying sharp.
I was about to, but wanted to first check whether they continues nearby - doesn't seem.like.it though.
Here we go...>>
A multi-colored schematic view of the scratched rock pops up in your AR glasses / comlinks.
It now only shows a close up, it also features a color-coded image with length (more than three feet) and depth (about an inch at its deepest) measurements as well as a short trid simulation layering multiple scratches atop and across each other to create the final result - making it obvious how many times the _NOT-TROLL_ did scratch and mutilate this stone.
<< Something big and nasty used this thing to sharpen.its claws?
Multiple times too.
Mayne it will come back here to do.it again?
Query: possible ambush location?>>

With a weird gesture, that supposedly is a courteous bow, Gig turns towards his matrix chair-couch.
"Give me a couple minutes to crunch the map and intel we got from the doc to figure out a couple possible locations for the next attack."
Then he plugs in and goes limb.
Twenty minutes, he jerks back to and half-rises.
"Alright, got it. Check your comlinks.
We have a couple likely spots to check out now.
Wasn't too hard.
The Doc has collected a nice amount of raw data and we know the telltale factors of likely attack scenes.
A cross-referencing matching algorithm and a deep matrix search later and we get this list of matches.
I'd recommend we check out number 2 and 5 first, they are close together.
Double the fish, double the gain!"
He looks ridiculously pleased with that last sentence, which is supposedly witty or remarkably funny...

Gig freezes for a couple seconds solid before shaking his head as if trying to get water out of his ears.
"Wellllll,.... we could blindly stumble around in the dark, sticky tunnels and run into all sorts of mutant dreck before even meeting the big, nighthaunter on its own terms...
Ooooor, you give me a day and let me map out the area.
Better know what's down there, know the various tunnels and corridors and maybe even figure out where the hunting ground of our certainly-not-friend is.
Then we prepare a trap and hit it when we are ready and on our terms. I like my limbs attached, thank you very much...."

Gig looks on in what can probably be described as "horror" as Luna smashed the bullets and tranq-vials together.
Like an ape.
Quick!
Ask.
Now.
Or we need to go right back and buy another round!

"Ehem, you ... ehm ... need a hand with this? Reminds me of fiddling with the intestines of my drones and I guess I can do it..."

Gig actually needs carrying help. Several crates of gel rounds are heavy and the explosives come in bulky package as well...
Anyway, once back in trusty Big Mom (and a few blocks away from the dealer's warehouse), Gig cracks open the ammo crates and starts loading gelly-tipped rounds into the internal ammo cylinders of his drones, starting with Webber.

Seeing (someone) start working on the ammo, Gig comes over to watch with clear interest on his face.
He offers the use of his small but well stocked workshop for the work.
It is pretty clear he is eager to try his hands at that task and after a couple of moments of bustling around, he actually speaks up.
"Ehem, you ... ehm ... need a hand with this? Reminds me of fiddling with the intestines of my drones and I guess I can do it..."

Gig is visibly impressed by the speedy arrival of the requested gear.
"Hoooh-boy, you got your business in order, Mr.
Ex-Mil Quartermaster by any chance?
Last time I saw an ... ehm... supply depot that well managed was back in USAC Fort Bellamy."

(so, we pay list prices or how does this work out?)

Urgh, someone is feeling high-and-mighty...
He could do with a couple weeks of military basic training....
"Oh, yeah, ehm, sure.
If you have it, one blocksof military grade C-7 plastics and ten blocks of the commercial stuff - 50-50, solid and liquid."

By the book:
1 * Rating 10 Plastics = 1k
10 * Commerical = 1k
300 Assault Rifle Gel-Rounds = 750

Oh-woah, this is going fast!
Ehm, I should really speak up or this meeting is over and I'm leaving empty handed!
Dammit, come on you can do this.
Its just business!

Gig clears his throat with a somewhat miserable expression.
"Got a couple boxes of assault-rifle grade gel rounds lying around somewhere too?
Sorry, if that is boring as well.
And maybe a couple flash bangs and ... explosives?"