Edge sat down on a couch in the back room, his arms and legs spread wide, he was glad to be sitting down properly, those damn bar stools weren't exactly ergonomic. He popped his gum back into his mouth before adding a stick of some more to add some flavour, it became harder to chew at first but eventually his jaw was moving away, masticating to his hearts content. He lounged back slightly, listening to the rest of the group begin talking about their skill sets, along with how they were going to approach each target. Edge didn't really care about planning or finesse, he just wanted to get the job done as quickly and as smoothly as possible.
He wasn't used to working in groups. Even back in his Cutter days he was a lone wolf, he never made any friends, not that anyone in those days could ever be counted as a friend anyway or trusted as such. Listening to the group squabble did his head in. They needed better, what was that word? 'Group Dynamics' Yeah, that was what they needed alright. All he really wanted was some stronger booze and a place to lie his head. He thought about investing in a audio mods, so he could just block out the world with music, just like he'd right to do right now, but then again Edge thought, perhaps that would only make matters worse, you need to listen some times, to know how to use people to your advantage.
As he watched the Johnson leave, Edge was disappointed that his daughter didn't stop to give him a second look. He had heard before from her that it was too dangerous of course, but he still thought she would give him some kind of secret sign, maybe slip a note into his pocket or something, hell if he knew what romance was, but it seemed to be dead. Meh, she was probably not into him anyway, using that whole "my father would not approve" shtick as an excuse. Edge wondered why he was getting so hung up about the girl, he knew there are plenty more fish in the sea. But none like her. Hell, it was just something about her, he couldn't help but dig asians, along with elves.
As he blew another bubble with his gum, he heard an offer from a fellow member.
"I'll take part in the hit on the target, but I'm willing to outfit and customize anybody's weapons. Anyone have something they need upgraded or fixed?"
"Unless you want to sharpen my knives, I doubt there's that much you can do for me mate..."
He relaxed back into his chair, mulling over all the conversations that were being had, wondering where he would fit best.
" ...and you, Edge. Your flailing isn't that great, but it'll get the job done on most chromes, provided they don't have that new reflex system they came out with last month."
'It'll get the job done'? I'll show that arrogant ass just what my 'flailing' is worth.
"Reflex mods are bullshit, they're only as good as the punks that use them. A real pro doesn't need augs to get the job done well, I can outmatch any ***** chrome on NeoNets payroll. "
Edge watched as a small altercation broke out between Wulf, (damn he's an angry one), and the drunken cowboy that people called Clay. He thought about stepping in, but that would only make things worse. It wasn't his business and he'd gain nothing from doing so, better to let the guys sort it between themselves.
Plus, he wanted to say what furrball would do.
"Don't even reach for those guns, Two-Thumbs. I can jump over this table, break your arm and pin you to the ground with it before you have a chance to clear the holster. Much as you think you're being quiet, leaning over and seeing your mouth flop around gives a better indication of what you're doing. So lay off the booze and either get the fuck out of here, or actually do the job."
Not only can he walk-the-walk, but he can talk-the-talk too. This guy's impressive... would've done well with the Cutters, shame he was with those Ancient scum, but maybe by using him...
"As for the team thing, I think five of us would be sufficient to get into the Archives, hack into them, and get out, with or without the alarm sounding. I may be wrong, but the team should probably consist of Me, Venaticus, Edge, Roberts, and either Jamal, or you Chromad"
"I'm game for whatever you guys want to throw me into, just point me in a direction and I'll cut a bloody path to the objective, or, as the Russkies say, I can be as light as a feather. Just letting you know that I emphasise the "Runner" part of the job; I'm a traceur, if that means anything to the lot of ya'"
"You saw the brief, security isn't shabby around the grounds.
"That sounds right up my street. Places like that don't account for the simple ways of getting in"
