<strong>Red Hands Hideout</strong><br/><br/>At Sarah Jane's knock, the door opened to reveal a tall, dark man in a wifebeater and leathers.  The only hair upon his head was a pair of eyebrows and a goatee, and his thick, muscled arms bore all sorts of tattoos with any number of mythological meanings.  Sarah Jane would recognize the man as 8-Ball.  Vince would recognize him as a man who could probably be beaten in a fair fight, if the building's "bouncer" actually took the time to fight fair.<br/><br/>His eyes drifted from SJ, to Horlicks, then Vince, peering at the fireman for a bit before deciding to trust SJ.  "Yeah, aight, go on in," he said, moving from the doorway to allow them entrance.<br/><br/>Inside, the place looked more like a flophouse than a gang, with various members still asleep, others playing cards, and a whiteboard set up that listed a bunch of information about various police and their routines.  None of the goings-on were overtly illegal, but it was hard to shake the feeling that a simple bit of elbow grease would remove the sheen and reveal the rotten dealings within.<br/><br/>Johnny Seven was set up at a desk with a fairly obsolete computer set up, typing away before glancing up to see his newcomers.  He looked almost too clean cut to be a gang member, clean shaven, his blond hair cropped up in a buzz cut, although his clothes were as faded and worn out as anyone else's.  "Sarah Jane," he said politely, gesturing for her to take a seat at the couch set up opposite his desk.  "Come on in, have a seat.  Who's your friend?"  He had the courtesy not to show any real distrust of the fireman, although such a peaceful and polite attitude seemed almost unnatural in the setting.