This story took place immediately after the Whiskey Memorial.

-Dampers and Flare Comp Are the Best Cyber for a Drinker-

Haze’s head pounded as he stepped out into the bright morning cloud cover of Seattle.  The usual taste of the air was overwhelmed by the awful taste left in his mouth by the previous night’s extravagance.  He circled the building, watching for easy vantage spots and zones of cover.  Spiraling out he made a note of all those spots and began looking for escape routes from the building.  Checking for quick routes through surrounding buildings, hunting for access points to old utilities and drainage systems.  Making a note of which bolt holes were dead ends, and which ones allowed for continued running.  He slowly sketches it out on his commlink, including photos of entrances and exits tagged to the various locations.  He also did what he could to estimate which bolt holes would work for the substantially larger or smaller members of the group.  Once he’d mapped out three different routes away from the safe house the pain killers started to kick in and the throbbing in his temples started to die down.  His stomach, still queasy began rumbling, demanding a sacrifice of grease to appease it.  He tossed all the data together into a data blob and sent it off to the rest of the team as he headed off to the touristy side of the Barrens to pick up some breakfast while doing his part to provide the atmosphere the slumming wage slaves so craved.