!!KXY0i5Og9kN 02/23/10(Tue)02:00 No.8236428
You'd need to go see Hugo to get any guns bigger than the .45 sidearm on your hip or the 9mm SMG in your hovertruck. Investigation is an option. Revenge you are already bent on.
You have few old friends to call on, save for an arms dealer (who you could go to directly at a more opportune time), and a trucker. The trucker may or may not have some services of value to you. As for inventory, it has not changed since the last thread: a .45 ACP sidearm, cellcomm, eyepice/headset, and some cash. (55 creds, plus account access key). You are wearing jeans, boots, and t-shirt.
You can get coordinates on the fly by calculating distance and angle from the city center via your cellcomm. You already have the coordinates for the deli, Freya's, and the old academy annex. You can air-drop things, if for a price. It is wellm within your budget, but it would be frugal to reserve such services for direct combat insertion or emergencies.
As yu go over your options, you hear a fresh bout of wailing from Mort's niece, and you can see the cop is doing his best to comfort her, but really has no idea what to do. Your mouth is dry and the choked sobs only drive home that Mort is dead. You don't even know her name, but still you feel you owe her something. Something for her uncle who cared for her deeply. She's a pretty young woman in her early twenties, maybe even late teens. A tad young if you plan to make a move on her. She has long auburn hair that falls straight to frame her tear-stained face, and even in anguish, she is hauntingly attractive. Her white apron is smattered with bright red, slowly congealing to the dark reddish-brown you are more than familiar with. Her knees shake, even as she leans on the big cops chest and soaks his shirt in tears.