Daryl Calhoun goes for a wander after a beer at a nearby loyalist bar, venturing into the slums.
The man hears beeping in the distance and rolls his jaw, navigating the dark for a while before
emerging into a nearby courtyard, following the beeping further.
He peaks the corner and squints at the blackness he's presented with, only to be shot at by a single
automated round. It misses, hitting the ground next to him with an audible thud, sending Daryl sideways behind cover.
After a while the man peaks around again, yelling some irrelevant profanity.
Taking a moment to calm down he heads back the way he came, only to be stopped by Civil Protection.
They aren't officers that recognize him.
He's bagged and bound and later charged with 505 Evasion.
Put up against a wall, his plea to their humanity and ability to reason as functioning adults goes nowhere.
He's dead.
He's fucking dead.
He'd be safe and warm if he was in LA.