The Fireman nodded in greeting to<strong>Synth</strong>. "Good of you to drop by in person." It wasn't said with any malice; more the assumption that street-level people had that Netrunners tended to work from poolside with umbrella drinks on hand, and jack-out at the first hint of trouble. He leant back in his chair as he watched the assembled group; the stainless steel squealed a little under protest. It may one have been able to take the weight of a cyber-soldier, but the years of Night City nights hadn't been kind to it. As he watched their green-tinged faces he couldn't help but think how<em>young</em>they all looked. Young and hungry. But then that's how everyone started. The idea of an<em>Old</em>Silverhand or a young<em>Blackhand</em>just seemed somehow incongruous to him. Better to go loud than the go quietly. His organic eye had lost focus as he introspected.<br/><br/>"The problem is that Westbrook is<em>seething</em>with people. Refugees. You can't take a shit without five people watching, and at least two offering to help. That's where the wheels come in. Need to go somewhere a little less ... reputable-looking. And if you can do that without letting the powers that be find out? All the better. Corpos aren't going to like you taking one of theirs. And if the shit hits then you've got 7-10 minutes to get out. Maybe longer if you can scramble their nav. But prevention always better than cure."<br/><br/>He stood, stretching. There was a pneumatic popping noise - which didn't sound healthy or natural - from his shoulder; clearly more 'cutting edge' Soviet tech, cleared his throat and then continued to speak.<br/><br/>"If things go south, then you're on your own. I've got AirCav ready to ride to your rescue. But then there's several places in what used to be China- and J-Town that you can regroup in. Not exactly quiet, but the various gangs tearing chunks out of each other'll just as happily tear strips off of corpo strike teams.<strong>Old Man Watanabe</strong>'s a ripperdoc who owes me a few favours. If you can keep your guts from falling out long enough, he'll put them back together. Watanabe's discrete but not cheap."<br/><br/>Nodding to himself as if he'd just delivered some kind of profound message or passed on deep wisdom, the Fireman turned to leave.<br/><br/>"Oh. Almost forgot"<br/><br/>He tossed a set of keys onto the table.<br/><br/>"Your ride's out front. The<em>All-Foods</em>van. Best I can do, and hey, I hear they deliver fresh meat..."