X strolls down back to the bus stop (you guys passed it as you ambled along) and in minutes is whisked away by the bus. Luckily, it's the one (of the two that stop there) that he *needed* to take to go the direction in which he wanted, so it's all good.
Meanwhile, Ace and Block continue their watchful noise-making as they continue to roam through the neighborhood, keeping a sharp eye on things as merrily they roll along. Not a few humorous grins are turned their way, along with a few annoyed glances as people pass by, heading the other way. In all, ace and Block blend in among the locals wandering hither, thither, and yon: always about their own business with a simple if dark efficiency.
A few minutes later Tiny's voice breaks the silence in a bed of static. "...looks like our good friend X has some specialized help somewhere in the shadows. His intel is right ON, and it's making waves at the boardroom level. Wonder how I missed it, at first..." the voice fades out, although this time there is no attendant bleedover from the other comms wagon. He vectors Ace and Block towards the Shake Shack at the corner of Columbus and 77th. "The better to keep an eye out, you know? Maybe one of you could grab a fire escape, climb up to the roof, and practice high guard observation." He chuckles. "Bet it's been a while since either of you two have had to jump rooftop-to-rooftop, hasn't it? Guess tonight is your lucky night." Ace and Block glance between each other, convinced that the "suggestion" is more like a tactical command, on the level of field orders.
"X," Tiny's voice resurfaces in the sea of static, "we've got some strange intel, sources unverified, that Reggie is - in fact - out of the area, hunting with a strangely-outfitted silenced rifle. You might want to clone yourself a few times, see what all you can see - of all of that, there. He's apparently taking some shady routes, hard to pin him down in, but his comms signal just gave him away. Either that," he finishes, "or somebody *sure* wants it to look that way. Glad you're on it!" The channel static sizzles down into silence. On the bus, everybody sits or stands, deeply entrenched in their own little worlds. Very few of the patrons spend their time looking around, and a few brave souls are even physically jacked into the bus's mobile matrix service. For the most part, excusing various stops, the trip on Bus 1 is quiet, peaceful, and uninteresting. The bus is approaching the stop for station 2 crossover...
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