Burying the Lead

"We need to disarm the tracking on this drone. Anybody have any ideas? Something to block signal?"

Brett hears Sergei and his eyes fall int he case in Numa's hands.

"Hey my buddy in the case! Can you disarm the tracker on the drone?"

you can do it all on our way outta here. Let’s fkn shut this roof access and go! They may send air support and then we are all zeroed!

In Comms to Carlisle
"Hey, Car! You got an emergency kit in that thing?"

Brett quickly scans the inside of the vtol for an emergency kit

Brett looks for an emergency blanket in the kit

The "new" nomad, that is going by the Neon Prophet handle in the circles - what will become apparent soon enough - lights his own cigarette from Carlisle's fire and says to him, in comms because machine engines wouldn't allow any normal conversation:
"So those are the freaking kids I will be driving with from now on? 'k... could be much worse. Maybe I won't have to babysit them after all. Hope Father is right about them."Neon is middle-aged man. Could be in his late 30ties or even 40ties - as apparently life has brought some toll on him. But in the same time when he stands up to give a helping hand to next team member jumping aboard the VTOL - one can see that his moves are light and brisk as he could be a little younger then he initially looks. Gray coat, BIG Colt AMT at his right hip and Kendachi's folding machete at his left.

Messy hair... or careful hairstyle arranged to look this way? Face with "perseverance" written all over it... but one very curious and always observing eye. As in the place of the other eye socket is a metal-looking eyepatch, very crude, almost old-school... or could it be just semi transparent cover for a hidden cybereye? All of this made an image of a man that certainly wants to be perceived in one way, as traditional almost cowboy-like nomad... but in the same time there is too many contrasts in him... to allow a careful observer settle and believe he is only that.

After helping the next team member getting on the VLOT Neon will turn to Mr. Brett and says in the comms:
"Name's: Neon Prophet. But you can call me Neon... or Prophet - whatever you believe more: I am" - he smiles - "Do you need any help with this, boy?"

Neon is a man in the prime of his life. He could be in his late thirties or even early forties, but despite the signs of wear and tear that life has taken on him, he moves with the agility of a much younger man. He wears a gray coat over his broad shoulders, a BIG Colt AMT pistol holstered at his right hip, and a Kendachi folding machete at his left.

His hair is unkempt, but there's a suggestion that this might be a calculated style choice. His face is weathered, marked by lines of determination, but his one good eye is bright and observant, scanning his surroundings with a hunter's gaze. The metal eyepatch covering his other eye socket is crude and almost old-fashioned, or could it be a semi-transparent cover for a cybernetic eye? Either way, the overall effect is of a man who wants to be perceived as a traditional, almost cowboy-like nomad, but there are too many contrasts in his appearance and bearing to make the picture completely clear.

Numa takes the offered hand and climbs aboard. "Mwen kontan rekonèt ou," he greets the new guy. "The name's Numa."

call me Flesher, daddy the medtech can’t help but flirt although she knows from first sight that there’s nothing there with this VTOL operator. She climbs aboard making full use of his help, not from need but more from stroking the male ego. She’s feeling rather playful knowing that once they are in flight, she has wounds to attend.

Brett hands the e blanket to Sergei

In comms
"Wrap this around the drone! So they don't follow us!"

Then, while boarding the vtol he turns to Neon Prophet as he speaks. He looks him over then turns to Carlisle

In comms
"You get fuckin old or something, Car? Why the replacement?"

Sergei takes the Mylar blanket and completely wraps the drone, effectively blocking any transmissions.

Sergei grunt’s approvingly at Brett and boards the VTOL. He looks the newcomer up and down expressionlessly.

"Try not to die New-Carlisle. If you live long enough, I learn name. Most do not."