[i]Walking with a deactivated police droid through the garbage-littered streets of Downtown to a rathole of an apartment isn't easy on the back, even when you've got a cybernetically reinforced spine. Or when you're exhausted from a near death experience. I had escaped from the scene of a brutal attack on the tram system. Some how, I'd had the idea to take the droid with me. It was heavy, but I'd only set it down once to remove a tracking chip that I dumped down the only non-flooded weather drain I'd seen all day. It washed away in dirty water. When I got to my apartment, I only wanted two things: scotch and sleep. Instead, I worked on the droid, casually stripping it. Most of the stuff could be sold, or used as replacements for my own augmetics. I had solved my money problem - or would, if I could scare up any buyers.[/i] It takes Markov several days to break down the droid. He keeps the armor and the weapons separate, modifying them beyond recognition as standard police gear. The rest he puts into a pile to sell. He's in the middle of work when his Tac-Pad makes a sound. Wiping his brow, Markov takes a look at it, ignoring the pull of the thick power cables running from his arms to a nearby outlet. There's a bounty out from Jack Rabbit. It sounds like just what he needs. (( /End ))