"I've been out of the city for a while myself," Spook continued to talk to the silent woman. "Know any good places nearby to eat? I think I missed lunch in all the excitement." She kept her eyes on the pistol pointed her way, figuring if WatchTower wanted her dead she'd have been shot by now. It was always possible they cared more about the clown bikers than a random Dreg punk who'd wound up in over her head. Hell, maybe they'd let her off with a warning or something.<br/><br/>Those thoughts were dashed when she was abruptly thrown to the ground, blindsided by another corp goon. She'd barely registered the approaching footsteps before being pinned down on the street, it was unreal. The crash earlier must have taken more out of her than she realized to have been so slow to react. That's what she told herself, anyway. It didn't matter now, the servos in her good arm whined pitifully from trying to pull away from the powerful grip which held her. Spook did her best to keep a level head and stopped her token resistance, fighting back was going to get her shot. She ignored the gathered civilians, their blank stares and unsettled exclamations were meaningless to her. Residents of Pangea were just docile cattle wandering through their soulless lives, even the appearance of the guard dogs which kept them safe was enough to cause them panic.<br/><br/>More of WatchTower's units came into her limited view, taking care of the bike, moving the crowd along. It gave her a bit of hope that this disturbance was their priority, meaning Cat, Mary and the others hadn't gotten fucked by her impulsiveness. Maybe nothing short of gunfire caused them to react, she hadn't run up against any PMCs before, she didn't know the rules of engagement. Spook kept her composure as the woman had her silent conversation with the one pinning her down until their ride showed up, it looked like they were planning to keep her. She wasn't convinced that was a better alternative to the bullet in her brain that the gun pressing against her skull promised. She trudged as slowly as she dared toward the black vehicle, before getting easily pushed inside.<br/><br/>Spook blinked in the utter darkness, eventually giving up on her eyes for the moment. They hadn't bothered to restrain her in any way, which seemed stupid to her if they weren't aware how jacked up her arms were at the moment. Given time to breathe, she throttled down her PTM to figure out just how hurt she really was. Mostly cuts and bruises it seemed like, pretty good considering what she'd just gone through. Her arms had taken most of the damage, which meant no long term harm assuming she could get them fixed up. Her right arm still wasn't responding to any signals her brain sent it, the feedback it relayed was garbled but it seemed like there was a disconnect somewhere. Was the limb pulled out of the shoulder socket? She reached over with her left arm to try and get a tactile assessment of the damage.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>