"I imagine we won't have to make nice for long," she said, as they were directed into a smaller room (B4), the various thugs eying the drone, looking about ready to snatch it for the valuable parts. Once inside, they're met with a pair of armed guards, and a scarred woman with close-cropped hair. She eyes the two newcomers, then dismisses her guards. "Sit, let's talk," she said, gesturing to the nearby table.<br/><br/>Once they were seated, she asked the same questions as at the gate, and got roughly the same answers. "So, lemme cut straight to the point. I got a problem, and you lot look like you're the sort who might be able to help me. You scratch ym back, I scratch yours, maybe help you find your friend."<br/><br/>"I'm listening," Johanna replied.<br/><br/>"So, here's the thing. Couple months ago, we was the toughest gang in the city. Then these Lords of Rust come in, fuckin' murdered my boss, an' put that fuckin' Smiler, Birdfoot, in charge, instead. I can't do shit about the creepy, grinnin' bastard; 'e'd kill me if I tried, and his bosses would do it, even if I did manage to win, but iffin someone else managed it, well, wouldn't be my fault, would it?"