2013 07 25

Thu Jul 25 2073 The armored Bulldog GMC comes to a halt two clicks from the drop. Tyson turn around in the drivers side passenger seat to look at his team. Caleb, the hired merc on this job, remains stoic despite a gunshot wound to his right shoulder. Torques consciousness exists in the NAVSAT for now, keeping the Bulldog on target for the arranged safehouse. Tyson can only imagine what the feeling of bullet holes ripping through the reinforced aluminum body must have felt like as they battled the MTC-sec team during the fragged extraction. Torque grumbles something under his breath. The lights of Denver glisten from beyond the Warrens wall. The decker Dot.Matrix wipes blood from her keyboard and checks the vitals on their passenger/quarry, I put him out with a few sedatives. Blood pressure and heart rate are steady. Mostly just banged up. Tyson counts his blessings and hopes they can hold out till the pick-up and then get paid.