| abstract | - Storm Pool At two hundred feet long and almost half that wide, this is the largest open space on Level One. The ceiling rises twenty feet above the surface of the pool that occupies most of the room. The pool is churned up into tempestuous waves that easily reach most of the way to the ceiling and whirlpools that swirl down to the bottom of the pool's twenty-foot depth. Floodlights on the ceiling flicker in time with the deep bass rumble of the machinery that keeps the water seething. The overall effect is that of a full-force gale, and a rather convincing one at that. Steel doors at the edges of the room lead back out to the hallways on Level One. Amid the echoes of wind and waves, just beyond the reach of drenching spray but still in range of the cool mist at the edge, Nathan stands with his chin raised and his hands clasped behind his back. Bremont enters the area from the outside corridor with her hands placed firmly into the pockets of her coat. A short glance around the room is made before the woman decides to venture further into it. Her eyes eventually settle on Nathan. "Enjoying the view?" "Always!" the man answers, his voice raised to a shout just to be heard over the roar of the tempest. Nathan's head turns just enough that he can regard the woman who's spoken to him from the corners of his eyes. "Cute," she calls back towards him while taking a few steps closer. "You have to have some confidence to stand that close. It would not take much for anyone to be pushed in." Bremont's words come off especially dry as her eyes shift over to the pool itself. This remark makes the man turn completely to face the woman, blue eyes affixing on her face while his hands slowly disentangle from one another and swing down to his sides. "I take it we have something to talk about," he shouts over the gale. One of the doors on the other side of the pool opens wide and a pair of Zangali push through, dragging a man by the arms. Marcuccilli follows, and shouts--not loudly enough to be heard across the room, but obviously louder than absolutely necessary. The man the Zangali hold struggles; those with good eyes might notice that he's tied hand and foot. Bremont keeps her hands firmly in the pockets of her coat, but her head moves slightly to watch the man as he moves. "Idle chatter," the woman states dismissively after examining the man closer. Her eyes move back to the pool itself. "Unless you are the one that needs to talk to me." Bremont and Nathan are standing a few feet apart from each other near the pool, but not too close to the pool. "Funny way of sayin' hello!" Nathan answers Bremont and turns from her to face into the storm. "Most people save the morbid shit for their friends." If he's watching the action across the pool he doesn't show it; with the waves and strobing lights and the roar of machinery it might not be noticed at all. Marcuccilli gestures at the Zangali, who give the man a toss about thirty feet out into the pool. The Don watches as he bobs once, twice, and goes under; that unpleasant business done, he turns to leave. Bremont idly watches the body's brief voyage into the pool before turning towards Nathan. "The mood goes with the scenery." Bremont reports dryly. "Or perhaps I am just a bit rusty." "Yeah," Nathan answers Bremont, now squinting into or across the waves with something that looks like intent, which is probably why his reply to Bremont doesn't seem to match what she said. "Listen, if you wanna talk, let's head downstairs and do it over a drink. Alright?" Bremont looks over the man again before briefly shrugging her shoulders. "I'll follow." With that, the woman turns her back on the pool and waits for Nathan to make the first move. Nathan turns away from the pool and starts toward the door, but only makes a few steps before he turns halfway back to wait for Bremont to fall into step with him. Bremont doesn't say anything else as she simply follows Nathan. Level One Corridors The hallways on the first level of the Warren are rather cramped, no higher than seven feet and no wider than four. The ceilings droop along the centers of the hallways, falling about a foot from the edges, and the sound of running water is nearly always faintly audible. The lighting is sparse, consisting of floodlights strung at intervals along the ceilings. Stairways lead downwards to the Bazaar at each corner of the building, and another leads up from a point on the wall, thirty feet away from one of the corners. Steel doors are scattered in a seemingly random manner about the corridors; a few are thicker than the rest, sporting electronic locks and signs unceremoniously proclaiming 'Authorized Personnel Only'. Once the steel doors clank shut the roar of the Storm Pool is shut out, leaving only the dank smell of water damage in the walls and ceiling of the Warren hallway. Nathan's pace isn't slow or hurried, and he tends to move close to one wall so he can keep Bremont in the periphery of his vision even if she does move behind him. "So you got a name?" he wants to know on the way to the staircase at one corner. Bremont decides to walk slightly to the side of Nathan, about a foot away and slightly back to his side, but at his side regardless. The woman hesitates slightly before answering the man,"Bremont. Call me Bremont." She finally answers. Nathan answers, "Nathan," and then keeps his teeth together the rest of the way down the hall, stairs, and through the Warren. The Expanse - Bar The first thing noticeable about the Expanse is that it is /bright/. The walls, the ceiling, and the floor all provide illumination, a white with a slight tinge of blue. The lighting shifts slightly and regularly, and patches of subtly darker blue and brighter white are somewhat visible on the surfaces of the walls and ceiling. The lighting seems to suggest moving through the interior of a cloud, and it does so well. The room is laid out as a rectangle, perhaps twenty feet by sixty-five, the long sides parallel to the walls of the Bazaar. A dull metal bar emerges from the left of the back wall, stocked with nearly everything one might ask for. Booths are set into the walls along the front side of the room, the walls around them darkened slightly to allow a small measure of privacy. The remaining space is taken up by a number of tables, arranged in no particular pattern, each surrounded by four of five chairs. A door, of a light-colored wood, leads into the casino through one of the Expanse's short sides. It might seem outdated, but before passing through the door into the bar Nathan pauses to hold it open for the woman with him. Bremont stops and gives Nathan a look as he holds open the door. Bremont then looks over her own shoulder before entering into the bar and waiting for Nathan to lead on once more. Inside on Bremont's heels, Nathan puts one hand on the woman's elbow and steers her toward the metal bar itself. "You lost or something?" he asks as he starts moving with Bremont. Bremont was busy looking over at the numerous booths and other sights of the room when Nathan touches her elbow. She noticeably stiffens at his touch and she instinctively moves away from the man and continues towards the bar. "I'm not -lost-." Nathan gives a dull rap on the bartop with his knuckles when he and Bremont reach the long countertop, and when a bartender looks his way he gestures between the woman and himself with one thumb. "Y'look like it's your first time," he observes. "You fresh off the landing pad?" "I avoid being in common places such of this, but I have been here on Tomin Kora for almost half a year." She glances at the numerous bottle of alcohol behind the bar before looking back at Nathan. "I could say the same about you. Your look and manner don't match." The bartender arrives with a pair of beer mugs which get set on the bar and pushed across, the handles together to be managed with one hand. Nathan gives the man a nod and reaches for the stein closest to him before he asks, "Meanin' what?" "Meaning the same as your statement. Pointless. Looks don't mean a thing here." Her hand reaches for the mug, but she makes no move to drink out of it. Nathan asks, "You afraid me and the 'tender over there are in cahoots to poison you," Nathan pauses to lift his mug and slurp some of the head off his beer, "or you just too good to drink with me?" He looks straight at Bremont for a moment before he says, "And you're right: Looks don't mean much. Still, lookin' like a tourist is a good way to get in trouble in Shadowheart." Bremont casts a discriminating glance down at the mug before looking back up at Nathan. "I'm afraid of bad tasting -beer-," rattles the woman off dryly before taking a sip of the beer. "You think I look like a tourist?" The man lifts his glass up to his eye-level and studies the carbonated amber through his smoky-colored mug for a moment, then takes a whiff of it just beneath his nose, and finally takes a long swallow off the rim. "Tastes like beer to me," he concludes. A few moments pass in further silent contemplation before he goes on, "I think if you're armed, you're hiding it. Personally, if I'm packing, I want everybody to know it. Don't mean I want them to know about -every- piece I've got, but I want to make sure it takes enough balls to tackle an armed man before somebody tackles me. Cuts down annoyances in the darker corners. It ain't too common for folks to strike up conversations with random people, either," his eyes travel to their corners to regard Bremont. "So you got some business you ain't ready to talk about and you got the kind of reputation people around here won't fuck with whether you're armed or not, or you're lookin' a lot like a tourist." "The people here -know- who I work for and they are most likely wondering the same question that you just uttered to me." She turns her back to the bar and rests against it. "But, who are you to question me?" She eyes the man now. "Hostility now but not before?" "I don't question jack or shit," Nathan's broad shoulders roll with a shrug and he turns sidewise to the bar so he can rest one elbow against it, facing Bremont, and he takes another drink from his mug. "You asked if I thought you looked like a tourist, an' I answered you. If I was gonna show you hostility, you'd be lookin' down my Midvyet emitter instead of in my face." Bremont keeps her gaze on the man. "Now, why do -you- posture? There is enough of that in this place. Constant posturing and threats uttered aloud and whispered." She keeps the mug in her left hand, but she sticks her right hand back into the pocket of her coat. Her right hand leaves the pocket of her coat almost immediately after returning and it is raised to her forehead. "Just...enough." Nathan asks, "Threats?" with an injured expression. "I'm just talkin' here. Answerin' questions you're puttin' to me. Where's it come down to threats?" Bremont turns away from the man and takes a drink from the mug. The woman ignores Nathan's question and idly looks out over the room at large, choosing not to say anything else at the moment. Nathan grunts, "Huh," at the woman's response and stands away from the bar just long enough to move down until three stools sit between himself and Bremont. Then he bellies back up to the counter, leans on one forearm and stares sullenly into his mug. At Nathan's movement, Bremont turns abruptly towards him and move her mouth wordlessly. A faint frown appears on her face as she too turns towards the bar itself with her back now to the room. She places the mug down on top of the bartop and abandons it there for now. "So who -do- you work for?" Nathan asks Bremont from where he stands, not looking up at her but speaking loud enough that she can hear him with the space between them. "Boss Murovny." Bremont replies simply. Her tone is not of out right anger, but it is not as calm as it once was and her frown is still prominently displayed on her face. Nathan is silent for a few moments while his jaw cants to the right and twists his lips thoughtfully, and then he asks, "What'd I do that got you so twisted? It bother you if some goon on the street thinks y'look outta place?" "It does not take much to twist me. As I said before, I am a bit rusty with these sort of things." Bremont explains awkwardly as she her gaze cycles through the numerous bottle of liquer on the wall in front of her once more. "Which sort?" Nathan straightens up again and turns to face Bremont, his posture identical to the one she called threatening but the distance between himself and the woman making it unlikely to be confused for an attempt at intimidation. Bremont glances over at Nathan. "This sort. No one talks to me and I talk to no one. This is how it has been since I came here." She pushes the beer slightly away from her. "The only one who breaks this rule is Boss Muro and he likes that it is this way." Nathan points out, "You're the one who walked into the Storm Pool and talked to me, Bremont." "I am but human." Bremont replies as she shifts her glare away from Nathan. "Isolation for so long has its side effects." Nathan says, "So what's with the zero-contact rule? You contagious?" "It is a complicated situation, but at the time it was good for both Muro and my interests. He needed someone...detached...like me as much as I needed him." Bremont explains no further as a look of anger sweeps over her face. "Why are you so interested?" Nathan can't help but break into a grin and let out a soft laugh at that sudden, sharp question. "Mostly because I don't wanna catch it if you -are- contagious," he answers. "Partly because I need a job, partly because I'm still waitin' to find out if this is really a random conversation or if you tracked me down at the Storm Pool for a reason." Bremont raises a hand in disgust and turns away from Nathan. "This is why I...." Bremont trails off and frowns. "...to avoid people like this. I regret saying a word to you now." The man's left eyebrow rises while the right one lowers over his eye, but rather than answer Bremont or pose another question to her he takes a drink from his rapidly disappearing beer. "Why did you take me....nevermind. I will only get a smart-ass response from you in return." Bremont waves another hand angrily through the air before pushing away her mug from herself. Nathan says, "No," sharply, and then commands, "Ask." He seems to be out of amusement or tolerance, himself. "No." Bremont now says in defiance. "I no longer care about why you took me to this bar of all places without any words exchanged along the way." She flickers another glance towards Nathan and a myriad of expressions seem to pass across her face from frustration and anger to general dismay. "I don't like to talk about anything but what I'm doing and I'm not big on shouting to be heard," Nathan answers whether the woman cares or not. "You wanted to hear my thoughts on the reeking corridor, the narrow stairway, and the bazaar shouted over the roar of the storm chamber and the din of the marketplace?" "I don't know what you want from this encounter." Bremont says nothing more and turns to head for the exit, leaving her half full beer mug behind on the bar counter. Nathan watches Bremont leave with a perplexed expression on his face, but before she actually reaches the door he gives her a shake of his head, a shrug of his shoulders, and a silent lift of his mug that serves as a salute. "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart," he calls out. "Next time I'll take ya to a dark alley so we can duke it out and the winner can rape the unconscious body of the other." Bremont stops right in her tracks and turns toward Nathan. All expression has fled from her face and she takes a few steps towards him. "If you have such a death wish then that can be taken care of." She says with a sneer. "Postures and threats, right cupcake?" Nathan asks, and his right hand falls to grasp the butt-end of his pistol. At the loud exchange of words and the open threats, the bartender is quick to shout, "Hey! Get that shit outta my place!" Bremont makes no move to grab a weapon of her own. She just stands there with her hands at her sides. "You don't have it in you to shoot me, and I don't think you are stupid enough to break the Golden Rule here in the Warren. So, I am calling your bluff." "You're right and you're wrong, sweetheart," Nathan answers without removing his hand from his pistol. "And runnin' your mouth ain't callin' shit. You wanna find out what cards are in my hand, you're gonna have to shut your piehole and pull up a chair." "Thats the funny thing about this situation is that you are still entirely full of yourself. You have no -cards-...you have nothing except a gun on your hip that is going to get yourself killed if -your- mouth doesn't get yourself killed first." Bremont turns her back to Nathan and heads for the door, her hands still at her side. Nathan answers, "That's what I thought," and turns back to his beer to find the bartender standing across the counter with the mug in his hand. "I said get out," the Expanse's keeper growls, and rather than argue the stubble-headed man turns from the bar to follow Bremont out. Bremont doesn't look back at all and proceeds towards the Bazaar proper. Nathan's mouth is set hard and his stare is affixed straight ahead, either at Bremont's back or somewhere past her at the path ahead. Whether he's following her because he's going to take her up on a fistfight or because he's been thrown out isn't indicated. Bremont walks out into the busy bazaar itself and moves into the crowd of people, her destination is quite obvious as she is plainly making her way towards the exit of the Warren. The man's step quickens to keep up with the woman as she weaves into the crowd, now very obviously following her toward the way out. Bremont continues on her way through the entryway of the Warren, her steps are short but quick as she continues to make progress towards making it out of the Warren. Still on Bremont's heels, Nathan's hand stays wrapped around the butt of his gun, his arm swinging with the motion of his leg. - Shadowheart The massive framework construct of the aerie, where ships used to land back in Cabrerra's day, has toppled over the thoroughfare known as Aurora Strand. Before the fall of Tomin Kora in the aftermath of Majordomo Grim's rampage, the spacious avenue had been home to numerous neon-lit businesses. Now, it's a boulevard of broken hovercars, skeletal remains of crashed spacecraft, and drifts of rubble. The remnants of the old Tomin Kora spaceport, cracked from impact by the aerie's collapse, loom nearby. Bremont steps out onto the boulevard and makes her towards the glowing neon lights of the casino on the one end. Her pace and manner is the same as before. "You really think I'm gonna take that shit off some crazy bitch?" Nathan raises his voice as soon as he steps onto the street, and he jerks his pistol angrily from its holster. At the sound of Nathan's voice, Bremont's hand slips into the fold of her coat to remove her firearm. She turns swiftly on her heel to face the direction of the shouting man. Nathan doesn't wait for Bremont to get her weapon out before he squeezes the sliding trigger of his pistol and sends a blast of energy into the air. Bremont attempts to get out of open space and seek cover from her attacker, but fails. The woman winces in pain as the energy shot burns through her outer clothing and her armor underneath. Bremont then lowers her own firearm and discharges a round of her own towards her attacker. The impact of a lead slug was unexpected, tearing into Nathan's heavy vest and pulling him halfway around as a trickle of blood starts down the tan armor layer. He starts moving then, too, seeking cover in the rubble and firing across his body at the retreating woman. Bremont's attempt to dodge fails once again and she is hit on the shoulder by a grazing energy shot. The woman has had enough of this and decides to make an attempt to retreat towards the Casino, using what broken cover there is on the street itself. Nathan finds a chunk of twisted steel collapsed in the street and gets his body behind it, reaching over the top of his cover and resting his pistol against it to brace his aim. He squeezes off another shot at the fleeing woman. Walker walks out of the Warren, rather spry of step as he walks down the side of the street. That is, until he notices a bright flash of light. He makes a dive for cover behind a rusted hulk of an old hover car that's been pushed off to the side near the Warren entrance. "God damn," he mutters to himself as he tucks his legs in and reaches for the weapon in his holster, "I forgot how much fuckin' hate this place." Ignoring everything else around, including a whizzing energy shot, Bremont all out sprints toward the lobby of the Casino. Her right arm is tucked close to her body as she runs as it still burns from the grazes of the previous energy shots. As Bremont flees into the casino Nathan shouts, "The name is -Nathan-! Make sure you don't forget it!" Walker brings his head up over the hood of the derelict vehicle and glances about the scene, weapon drawn but down behind the car, then focuses on the shouter. "Nathan?!" he shouts back incredulously. The sound of someone else shouting in the street prompts Nathan to drop down behind his cover, where he ejects the energy cell from his pistol and slides a new one into the slot. His finger works the activator to start the weapon charging while he peers cautiously around the twisted mass of girders he's chosen to hide behind, looking both toward the Casino his target's just disappeared into and also toward the source of that as-yet-unidentified voice. "Hey fucker!" Walker shouts as he drops back down to a huddled sitting position behind his cover, "I've been lookin' all over for your ass. Where've ya been?" He glances around the front of the hood and down the street. "Tryin' to stay outta trouble," Nathan hollers back as he turns forward again and rises up to peer over his cover at the street ahead. "Doin' a damn good job of that I see too," Walker says with a hint of irritation, "What did ya do now?" Bremont reappears onto the boulevard from the entrance to the casino. The woman heads back towards where the original fighting began, her shotgun jostling slightly in her arms as she moves with the weapon. Nathan shouts, "Fuck you," back across space at Walker. "I'm just makin' sure people don't get in the habit of fuckin' with me around here. You wanna lend a hand?" The reappearance of Bremont in the Casino's door receives a moment of careful aim across the chunk of steel the man crouches behind, and then a shot. Walker glances back around the corner and spies Bree. "Ya know," he says cooly, "I don't like the idea of putting /my/ life on the line for /your/ fuckin' name, boyo. So ya better fuckin' think fast of why I should even bother savin' your ass, 'cause it looks like you lit the fuse on her tampon." The crack of an energy shot sounds through the air and that noise is soon followed that by Bremont hitting the ground of the street. A loud grunt escapes from Bremont as her leg gave way from the energy shot and resulted in her fall. The dazed woman just does whatever she can to drag herself to cover. Nathan stays crouched behind that chunk of debris he's chosen for himself, peering intently through his sights at the woman he's just blasted to the ground. As Bremont starts crawling he shouts, "Hold it!" and fires a shot that scorches a tiny crater in the dirt near her body. Walker glances back down the street again. "Well," he says to himself, "Seems he's got it on his own." Bremont keeps her body in a prone position with her shotgun at her side. Still disoriented by the whole affair, Bremont obviously is unable to say anything and just hard breathing can be heard from her. The wound on her leg is unchecked for now as she keeps her eyes are focused on what lies before her. Seeing that the woman intends to obey him, Nathan keeps his pistol trained on her and shouts across at Walker. "Choice time, bub. We got common interests and there's strength in numbers. You want in, this is the time." He pauses just long enough to draw a breath and then shouts back at Bremont, "Toss the weapons!" Walker glances up over the hood and down the other side of the lane before standing up. He strolls cautiously down the lane and up to Nathan, gun in hand swinging by his side, but finger away from the trigger. A glance down at the woman and his expression sours for a moment. "I give the damned orders here," Walker says glancing at Nathan, "You were put in my charge, not me in yours." Bremont's shotgun is indeed abandoned at the moment as the searing pain in her leg becomes overwhelming. She slowly rolls over onto her back and her hands instinctively move down towards where her wound is. The wound is not touched directly, Bremont touches close enough to it to cause her to grimace again in pain. All other activity is ignored by the wounded woman. With Bremont unarmed and laying in pain down the street, Nathan stands up to face Walker squarely in the eye. "I quit that job," he answers levelly, just passing along the information. "We make our own arrangements, or we don't. Either way, it's a conversation I'd rather have with a beer in my hand than a pistol." His own weapon hangs at his side in a mirror-image of Walker, his finger on the trigger and his knuckles white with the tension of the shooting exchange that's just taken place. "Right now," he raises his empty left hand to gesture at the wounded woman, "there's something needs doing." A grin flashes across his face. "Participation does not imply obligation." Walker stands steadily, sidearm still in hand. His eyes go to Nathan. "Quit, eh?" he says with a smirk, "Ya fuckin' took 'im for a shit load of credits and just jet, eh? A man after my own damn heart. As Nathan's expression changes as he gestures to the woman, Walker studies his expression. "What the hell ya on about?" Bremont straightens her back out and tries her best to block out the pain in her leg. Her hand moves to where she left the shotgun to inspect her wound. She reaches down to put a hand on the stock of the shotgun as a manner of a final self-defence if need be while she cranes her head around to get a better view of whats directly near her. Nathan ignores the remark about the conditions of quitting his employment, instead making a sharp gesture of his head to indicate Walker ought to come along if he wants to find out. Then he turns back to hunker behind the twisted girders he chose as cover, aim his pistol down the street at Bremont and shout, "I said toss the goddamn weapons!" at her. Walker simply shrugs and follows. Bremont's hand lingers on the stock of the weapon as her gaze aims skyward. Whatever she is deciding, Bremont eventually gives up on the shotgun and uses her elbows to pick herself off the ground so she can see her surrondings. Her leg prevents her from moving much, she forces it into a position that allows her to sit up slightly. Nathan watches the woman sit there with that disoriented look on her face, and then gets up from behind his cover to move around the twisted hunk of girders he'd been crouched behind. In the open street, he keeps his weapon trained on Bremont and moves slowly toward her, knees bent to steady his aim. He keeps repeating, "Toss the weapons!" as if repeating it enough will get the point across. "An' what the hell ya plan to do," Walker says, eyeing him, "She's fuckin' done, ya made ya point." He glances down at her and walks back over to her, kicks the shotgun away and looks back to Nathan. "Let's be done with this shit!" he says, standing there by the wounded woman. Bremont's left hand slinks down to the wound on her leg while she attempts to see if she can put any pressure on her at all. Her other hand is braced against the ground, used to support her movement. She still appears a little dazed from the turn of events, but is recovering. "Well," Nathan watches Walker just plow his way into Bremont's vicinity and remove her weapon from reach. "Jesus Christ, man," he shakes his head and approaches the woman, pistol still trained but now with only one hand. "If she didn't yank up that scattergun and blast you, she's still got a little slug-thrower somewhere on her," he uses his left hand to pull back his jacket lapel and display the broadening patch of blood that seeps into the surface of his armored vest. After a moment of staring at Walker like that, he jams his pistol into its holster and crouches down next to the woman to start patting her down, hands seeking into her pockets. Bremont grits her teeth as Nathan moves to search her. She reels back and removes her outer coat and tosses it on the ground beside her, numerous items fall on the ground out of the inner pockets of the coat. She then uses her good arm to remove the holster with attached pistol from her flak jacket and tosses that on top of the coat. "There, if thats what you want. That is all of it." Walker grins back at Nathan. "Bah, she's too fuckin' dazed to pull anythin'," he says, pistol still in hand and he jostles it a little, "It'd have been the last thin' she did. As Nathan begins rummaging around in the woman's pockets he quips, "Ya got no fuckin' respect for women, do ya?" He holsters the weapon and glances down at the woman then kneels down, tearing off a section of his shirt and begins dealing with her wound. Nathan collects Bremont's belongings and stuffs them into his pockets without a word, until finally he's collected all she has on her and straightens up to collect the shotgun from where Walker kicked it off to. He takes this last item in his hands, studying the construction of it with one hand on the grip and one wrapped around the pump. Spastically, he racks the sliding handle to send one unspent shell flying out of the ejector and another into the chamber and then he steps toward the woman and levels the wide bore on her face. "What'd I tell you about hostility?" he demands through angrily clenched teeth. Bremont flinches as Walker starts to wrap the shirt around the wound. She lets out a few mumbles of pain, but that soon stops as a shotgun is pointed at her face. Bremont is unable to do anything at all except for turning her head away so she is not looking directly down the barrel of the shotgun. Walker looks up at Nathan and glares. "Stow that bravado shit," he says irritably, "All it's gonna get ya is more fuckin' trouble." He wraps the piece of shirt tightly then looks back up at Nathan. "Take the power cell out of that damned stun stick and give it to me," he says idly. Nathan says, "I want you to remember this moment," from behind the long barrel of the stolen weapon as he stares at Bremont. "How it could have gone, and didn't. The name's Nathan. Remember it." His eyes dart toward Walker, and then he kneels down to brace the shotgun between his knees while he handles the stunstick. The cell, not the weapon, is passed over to Walker. "What's that gonna do for a plasma burn?" he wants to know. Bremont is unable and unwilling to do anything else at this point. All she does is react to the pressure being applied to the wound and continue to breathe heavy throughout the ordeal. She keeps her head turned away from the shotgun still and nearly presses it against the ground. Walker takes the stun stick and works it into a tourniquet. "This damned thing won't stay cauterized forever," he says as if it should be obvoius, "Ya did quite a number. Now put that fuckin' gun away before ya finger twitches." "Fuck her," Nathan intones. "That crazy bitch come up and bother me while I'm watchin' the storm pool do its thing, wouldn't leave me be, so I invite her downstairs and buy her a fuckin' beer. Next thing I know she's tellin' me I'm an asshole and the rules are nobody talks to her, an' I'm an extra special fuckin' prick for buyin' her a beer. Then she threatened my life and called me a chickenshit right there in front of the fuckin' crowd. She done this to herself, so she can patch her damn self up. She's lucky I don't take her goddamn head off." Bremont lets out a small yelp of pain as the shirt is tightened even more around her wound. Her hand also instinctively comes down to slightly above the wound during all of this. All of her attention has been drawn to the pain in her leg and and the lingering burns on her right shoulder and arm. "That fuckin' attitude'll just get ya killed here," Walker says, still looking down at the injured woman. He looks to her face and says, "Here, hold this." A jostle of the stun stick in the tourniquet brings any question of "this" to a painful clarity. "If ya don't stow it, Nathan, ya gonna have a shit load of enemies and ya never know when ya just might off a Domer, or worse yet, one of Cabrerra's boys. Hell, ya might even get a fast ticket out a fuckin' window if you kill the right one. Think with ya fuckin' head." Nathan says, "You tellin' I'm just supposed to let every big-mouth jackass in Shadowheart tell me I'm a sack of shit? What'll that get me but knifed in a back alley by some low-rent punks who wanna hawk my shit for their next spike? Fuck that, bub. I'll take thrown out a window by Cabrerra over subject to every bitch and tit on the planet, thank you." Bremont grasps out with her hand to take the tourniquet and stop the man from any more twisting. She lets it go for a brief moment, allowing some of the tension to be lessened before grabbing it tightly once more. The woman turns onto her side and onto her good leg which she balances all of her weight on it. At this point she rests before attempting any further movement. "Then off those bastards," Walker says, "But if everyone killed off everyone that just pissed 'em off here, there'd be no one fuckin' here. This here is what we would call fuckin' overkill. A punch in the face, maybe, but fuckin' guns?" He shakes his head. Nathan says, "Last thing came outta that dumb whore's mouth was, 'Your mouth'll get ya killed.' Hers ought to have, callin' me out and then tellin' me I ain't got the guts to stand up to her in front of everybody in the goddamn bar. Word don't get around about what I did to her for it, word gets around that she's right. I ain't havin' that." Bremont continues to attempt to perch herself up on her good leg. With a groaning effort, she manages to get to her to her feet. Ignoring the the two men, she heads for the casino in a heavy limp. Whats left of her coat is left behind on the ground, obviously forgotten and abandoned. "And it fuckin' will," Walker replies, "Just because the fuckin' "civilized" world thinks we're savages down here, doesn't mean we really fuckin' are. Ya'd best learn that, and fast." "Yeah," Nathan answers Walker as he grips the shotgun between his knees and uses it to propel himself to his feet. "Well, savages or not, crime is a business. It's not a hobby, it's not a daytrip and it's not a job. That right there," he jerks a thumb at the limping retreat of Bremont, "that's a business reference." He hefts the shotgun up into both hands to look it over one more time and then says, "Come on. I'll buy ya a beer and we'll decide whether you want a cut of what I just took off the mouth." Bremont finally reaches the doors the of the casino and pushes through them. Her eyes are solely focused on the task before her and she even forgets about her wrapping as she walks. The wrapping begins to unwravel slightly, but Bremont simply pushes on into the lobby of the casino after nearly stumbling into a leaving patron who utters his own insult as he passes. "Bah," Walker says rising to his feet finally, "Another time. I need some fuckin' sleep." Nathan's invitation to a beer declined, he turns away from Walker and heads toward the entrance to The Warren with Bremont's shotgun cradled in one hand and the crook of his elbow. Walker heads off down the street, just shaking his head.
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