(AN: Bonus chapter 2/5 this week for staying in top 30 golden tickets/powerstone rankings!)
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Wait, stop!" said Mothman. "Fucking yellow bellied cowards. Net connection's up now – we'll get Rocket Man to broadcast that all of you are leaving. You think the people and police still here will take kindly to that? They'll tear you to pieces before the variants get to you!"
Racefiend paused before he spoke up. "Any flyers here, if you want a fat bonus to your cred account, then come with me. If you got family here or want to just die, then that's cool, that's all on you.
But all of you that don't to suicide yourselves down there, I'm up to pay you out."
Rocket Man, a short, balding man with square glasses that looked like he belonged at a basic office desk, and indeed, he was seated at the front by the controls, turned in his swiveling chair and pointed a stubby, accusing finger towards the leavers.
