"Thanks, John, I'll be there."<br/><br/>Grey checks her gear, stowed behind a chair near the door for quick use, slips into her skintight urban camo armor and shrugs on her lined overcoat, hanging her enfield under her right shoulder, drums stowed in the bottom of the gear pack.  The predator goes into the concealed holster under her left arm, silencer pocketed just in case.  Her short knife goes behind her back, horzontally, and the rest of the gear goes into inner pockets of the coat.<br/><br/>With a last check to make sure nothing of importance is left behind in the apartment, she head for the door.  She checks the maglock on the way out, force of habit, and starts for the bar at a ground-eating jog.