A Scavenger always has a backup pad, even if it’s a storage shed or a hole in the back wall of an old warehouse. Mine was the second story of a building that was under construction until the gov’t stopped funding construction for anything weapons related.
Among the exposed beams and wires I weaved to my secret stash of necessities and weaponry. First, I reconfigured my cochleal cell to another service and number so calling out wouldn’t triangulate my position. I armed myself with a tasersabre, and a dagger, because sometimes a good old fashioned gutting is better than stuns or shocks.
And I was free again. I was ready to come at Mephisto from another angle, I just needed to plan. The best place to plan was a bar, and the best bar was the Black Roach.
The bar was smoky and dark, lit by neon and cigarette lighters. The dull chatter and piano music provided the ambiance I needed to focus on the tasks ahead. I sat at a booth alone and fingered the hilt of my sabre while I waited for my _ gin martini_.