The capture of BPA finest, Superintendant Hone. Now in Chains! Again...

[Marcus]

A fist slammed into the mans's stomach, causing him to bend double.

"I said, bugger off you creep."

As the man walked away a little unsteadily, and a little out of breath, Casey leaned back against the wall and turned her eye back to the center of the makeshift arena. The area had basically been cut out of a large pipe section with a floor welded in. Back in the dimly lit stands Casey idly watched as Hone measured up his opponents. She didn't know why they were bothering to send her in here to get this miserable excuse out of here, and she didn't particularly care, she got paid enough to rescue him and not enough to care what shape he was in. She wandered around the outside wall of the stands, scanning to crowd. Swiping a glass of whiskey from a distracted waiter on her way past she spotted the Gaoler at one end of the fence line, laughing with the other guards, placing bets on how long he'd last and slapping each on the back. Slipping around behind to a few meters back she listened to their carousing. They'd bet 20 credits he'd last to the last few standing, idiots, she'd bet 10 he wouldn't last half way.

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