518 ended communications with 399, while Narchi put on a kilt. Narchi raised an eyebrow as the wounded Scav's head sank back to the floor-plates in his APC. 518 sighed and remarked, "She cut the armored door down to the water-line. Unfortunately, the door extends about four inches below the water. SO--there is now a 4 inch square metal bar on each side of the door holding it up. If we can think of a way to cut one, the weight of the door will snap the other side loose and drop the door into the river. At least the people in ther won't suffocate now." Narchi put his head through the loop of his 'loot' bag as 518 asked, "WHere are you going? What was that explosion out there?" Narchi explained as he looked for his hat, "That was a Trow work-bee being shot down by the Trashtowners. Your humanitarian masters on City 64 had some poor slave play catch with the rocket to keep their paint-job intact. The poor bastard went down on the other side of the Firetown fence. The CP cells DIDN'T explode on impact. Those things are worth their wieght in gold, now! I'm hoping this close to sun-down AND it landing in Firetown will keep humans from crawling all over the wreckage. I should have time to get to the wreck, salvage the power-cells and loot the place before dark, and be back before last light." 518 watch Narchi put on his hat and couldn't help but laugh. Narchi flicked him his middle finger and grumped, "Aw, fuck you. You're just jealous, 'cause you don't have a hat! I'll seal up the APC. You'll be able to go out, but if you do--you won't be able to get back in. Keep an eye out for that crazy girl. Gotta go!" The girl's pet Panchetta bug, Coodle, crawled up onto the Scav's chest, peeping loudly. 518 stroked the furry, cat-sized animal and it quieted down. Narchi shook his head at the sight and ran the ramp. He used his Remote and closed up the APC. He strode quickly down the coolant pipe away from the Atmospheric Purifier. He hoped that the pilot had died from blunt trauma, so he he could get a new pair of boots and maybe a pair of pants, too. The pilot might be a Trow woman. He wasn't sure he'd do then. He headed past the Firetown fence with the "DANGER: RADIATION" signs rusting in the late afternoon sunlight, and went toward the crash-site with visions of loot and boots dancing in his mind. Media is Vue 5 Easel. I had to do one of Narchi with some clothes on. Poor guy just didn't get a chance to get dressed when all hell broke loose last time. Yes, I know he looks strange, but he's poor and the pickings of clothes when that size and shape are few and far between. Narchi doesn't care. ^__^