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“...Dogtown? Really?” You question as the Thorton rolls on further through the busy streets of Westbrook, “Isn’t it basically a warzone? NCPD can’t go there.”
“And what would the pigs do if they could? Oink at the arms dealers? Give the Barghest a ticket? Bahahaha,” Maeve cracks up, throwing her head back and laughing darkly at your statement, “They’d skin them alive. It’s a Combat Zone, Kai. No cops, no <span class="mu-i">fucking</span> corps, none of that bullshit. Barghest zero any corpo rats or badges at the gate if they try to go in, even shoot down AVs sometimes. …All the preem deals in pacifica happen in dogtown.”
“Must be perfect for you then.” The words come out colder than you expected, Maeve’s unconcealed disgust for the NCPD pressing a lot of the wrong buttons, “A little paradise for raffen in all the rubble.”
“Yep. A shithole full of murderers.” Maeve agrees, letting out another grim laugh. Her grin slowly fades, replaced by a harsh, probing look, green eyes judging you once more, ”...You’re a new blood, aren’t you?”
“Never done anything like this.” You admit, motioning vaguely around the bed of the Thorton before glancing toward Jan’s corpse with a grimace, “...Are we just going to bring the body… uh, Jan, the whole way with us?”
Maeve chews on her lower lip for a moment, considering your point as she look up at the footbridges, balconies, and overhanging offices that rise high above the busy roads of Westbrook. It is almost a solid canopy of concrete, steel, and flashing advertisements, a mish-mash of japanese styled facades and neopostmodernist highrises. You’re well into Japantown now, Tyger Claw graffiti, steel imitations of kawara roofs, and bright red torii gates a common sight. Traffic is pretty bad, not quite bumper to bumper but you’re moving along at a crawl that’s beginning to make you nervous.
People can <span class="mu-i">definitely</span> see into the Thorton’s bed.
“...Keep forgetting she’s dead, cunt’s been a walking corpse for years. Too much chrome to just throw in a dump.” Maeve leans way over and grabs her discarded jacket, shakes it out once, and then throws the ratty leather over Jan’s bloody body - it makes it a bit harder to see her, “There. Better?”
“Really? Just throw a jacket on her?” You ask in disbelief, “Someone is going to see.”
“Would you prefer a tarp?” Maeve snarks, but as she looks at the jacket covered body there’s a momentary lapse in her harsh expression. A hint of deep pain, real regret. ”...People move meat all the time, even in the open. Mullet over there handled the badges, and we have iron. No one’s gonk enough to try to stop a nomad <span class="mu-i">leaving</span> their turf. So chill, choom. You’ll be fine, just need a stiff drink and this’ll all be behind you.”
>”How’d you know her?”
>”You’ve been doing this a long time, I take it?”
>”...A drink sounds preem right about now.”
>Wait out the ride.
