Rat Informant

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:19 Pacific Time on Sun Mar 24 2002.

Industrial Sector, Southwest Side

Several blocks encompassing the southern ends of 13th, 14th and 15th Streets extend in an area poor and abandoned, with but a few businesses struggling to survive. Along the northern edge of the district is a junk yard filled with old washers, dryers, tires, and the myriad other elements of human-created unrecycled waste. Smoke pours from a few factories, and the more productive factories to the east combine with it to lay a thin film of dark ash across much of the streets. Other factories, and warehouses between them, lie abandoned or are home to the poor; at night, from some of those with windows, the orange glow of oil drums used for heating and light shine dully through the grime. Small shops serve the few factory workers who remain in the area beyond the end of the working day, or during the lunch hours grudgingly allowed. In the northeastern corner there is slightly more activity in bars offering drinking and even some gambling in dark corners. Along this stretch of street, the alleyways have stairways to second-floor rooms, with the occasional alley entrance occupied evening and night by painted women making blatant offers to the male passersby. Southwards, on the southern side of Grym Broders Avenue, the train station falls into disrepair similar to the rest of the area.

Obvious exits:

MacGregor's Junkyard Filthy Alley Abandoned Factory Medina Coffees East North

J.C. is sitting on the curb near a little mom 'n pop store. Yes, it's _that_ mom and pop store; repairs are still in progress, now stilled as the sun goes down. J.C. watches people come and go, occasionally wiping at her runny nose and chewing on something.

Striding down the dark and dangerous streets is Alicia, moving as if she owned the place. She is the cock of the walk, her strut completely eyecatching. How can it not be? With those baggy jeans, baby halter top that shows everything off, and the clicking of her boots upon the pavement. The trench coat which dips down at her ankles swishes about her body, making her look all too comfortable here in the night.

J.C. eyeballs Alicia for a few moments, waiting for the chick to pass through speaking distance before piping up. "Hey, friend, spare'a buck?" The thing she's chewing is a small wad of gray gum.

Pausing, Alicia glances over to the girl and raises up a brow, then shoves her hand deep into her pocket. Fingering out a few bills, she crumples them up and hand them over, revealing a slightly scarred arm.

"Thanks," says J.C. with an automatic, practiced grin. She sniffs, then wipes at her nose with the back of her hand. "It goin' good?"

"I suppose. I'm not dead yet." The Gaian says with a shrug of her shoulders, dark eyes staring at the girl for a few moments before glancing back out into the dark, desolate streets of this run down neighborhood. "Other then that, its all in the norm."

J.C. wipes her nose again. "Cool." She nods toward the little shop. "I hear some serious shit went down over there. Y'hear 'bout that?"

Alicia idly glances over towards the store and rolls her shoulders a bit in a shrug. "Hear what?" She asks cooly, shifting her gaze back to her.

J.C. sniffles. "Vigilante shit, cops 'n robbers wi'out the cops. Wham, bam, two dead, one out. Was in th' newspaper."

"Ahh. Well.. good for the vigilantes I guess eh'? Nice ta'know someone is ganna do something instead of sit around and be killed themselves." Alicia shrugs her shoulders and lets out a breath, blowing cold mist in the air.

J.C. blows a meager, pitiful bubble and snaps it back into her mouth. "I hear th' cops is pissed. Y'know what?"

"Didn't know that, but I don't blame em' I guess. Buncha fat ass donut munchers sittin around doing nothing on their thumbs." Alicia smirks and glances over to the store again, then back at her.

"Yeah, but I feel kinda sorry for the heroic ma'fuckers if the one guy wakes up." J.C. wrinkles her nose, takes the gum out of her mouth and, while holding it between two grubby fingers, hawks and spits out a wad of greenish yellow phlegm.

Alicia shrugs her shoulders a bit. "Billions of people in this huge city, you think that guy is ganna finger any of them? How bad of a beating did he get?"

J.C. shrugs. "Bad 'nuff to put a guy inna coma's pretty bad, right? But yeah, yer right. Though, yanno, I hear one'a them heroes was pretty fuckin', yanno, _recognizable_." She pops the gum back into her mouth and chews.

"Oh yah? Why ya say that for?" Alicia says, flexing her fingers a bit, head tilting to the side. "One of them wearing pink spandex and a yellow cape with a huge red X on it?"

"Heh. That'd be fuckin' funny, wouldn'it?" J.C grins, showing off crooked teeth. "Nah, I jus' mean one'a 'em be easy t'pick inna line-up, is all. I mean, I din' see it myself, I just hear stuff."

"Yah? Which one would it be?" Grinning, Alicia peers at her. "You seem to know more then what that newspaper said. You got me curious."

J.C. snorts. "Ev'rybody knows more than th' fuckin' newspaper. Like I said, I hear stuff. People gossip, even if they don' say shit t'the police." She snaps the gum.

"Well I don't know anything, so fill me in." Alicia grins and reaches into her pocket, fishing out a fiver, waving it teasingly before the girl. "Whats going down?"

J.C. is easily bribed. Hell, street people will do anything for a buck, right? Or at least spill anything. She makes the fiver disappear. "They say one guy was a big scary ma'fucker with scars like some dog tried t'bite his fuckin' eye out."

"Thanks, thats all I needed ta'know. Whatcha name?" Alicia asks with a smirk upon her face, sliding her hands back into her deep pockets of the baggy jeans, rocking back and forth on her boots.

"M'friends call me J.C." says the young street-woman, wiping at her runny nose again. "You?"

"Ah'm Arizona." With a wink and a roll of her shoulders, the Gaian says the name easily as if it was her own. If anything, the title is known quite well upon the streets, at least up until a year ago when she disapeared. Nevada and Arizona, two tough motherfuckers who ran and owned the car stealing biz', now gone, like a ghost.

J.C. shows no sign of recognizing the name. She must be new in town, new enough that she hadn't heard of the escapades of two toughs named after states. "Nice t'meet'cha."

"Nice ta'meetcha too, J.C." Alicia glances back over to the store and smirks a bit, brushing away her red stained bangs from her face. "Ya ganna follow that story some more?"

J.C. scratches at her chin. "Mebbe. If turns out t'be interestin' enough." And there's a sly undertone that says, And if it's worth my while, hint hint.

"I'm sure it will turn out ta'be quite interesting. I'll probably run into you again real soon." Studying the girl for a few moments, Alicia turns and starts off back down the sidewalk.

J.C. calls a "See ya!" after the departing urban bombshell.