Pathfinder tensed up – just a little – when the thing was pressed into her again.  “Right…see you tomorrow,” she told Kanae, giving the address of the place in Tarlisar to the wolf-girl.  She then left, heading out on her motorcycle, presumably to her home.  She arrived at home, locked the door, dropped her stuff, and then went to go and check the couple of pieces of gear she would need for tomorrow.  She found the gun easily enough, checked the action.  Good.  Pathfinder sighed.  She hated having to use<em>this</em>gun instead the other one…she was better with the other one.  It was bigger, too, made more of a hit against her opponent.  She couldn’t afford to, though.  The other gun was definite military hardware, and if either another one of the Sons – or Lone Star, assuming the long-odds chance it investigated – found out that this sort of thing was used against a mere street gang, questions would be asked.  Questions that might lead back to her, which she couldn’t have.  Not now.  Her job done for the night, she went off and had a peaceful sleep, waking up early enough to clean up, pick out the disguise, and be in it for when Kanae showed up at her door the next morning.<br/><br/>“Okay, so, I went through what I have, and this’s the best that I’ve got!”  She showed Kanae the outfit in question, having gone through her footage of what people wore in the Barrens, and trying to match that.<br/><br/>Key word,<em>trying</em>.<br/><br/>This was wrong.  It was<em>all</em>wrong.  They had said<em>gang</em>girl.  Not<em>school</em>girl.<br/><br/>Pathfinder’s outfit needed more…slut.  More tramp.  More ‘my ass is hanging out because I bent over more than three inches.’  Even though Kanae would no doubt adjust the outfit to that level, there was a problem.<br/><br/>Pathfinder was too<em>nice</em>, too<em>pretty</em>to be some gang girl…<br/><br/>…a ganger’s piece of on-hand<em>pussy</em>, however…