Calypso checked his watch, humming along to the music bursting out the club windows. He could feel the vibrations through the wall he was leaning on. Sounded like Ketro Chicken, maybe Dr Waves. Both artists he would have enjoyed under other circumstances, but now- 

A car pulled up to the pavement, headlights cutting clean through the night. Stainless titanium rims, tumbler tyres, tinted glass and a shiny red finish. 

Well, at least he had the right guy. 

"About fucking time," he said, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. The driver's window rippled, becoming transparent. The geezer begind the wheel hardly looked the sort to have adjustable tints. 

"You're Blackjack?"

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The old pile of bones gestured to the back of the car. His meaning was clear: Get in. 

Calypso stared at the man while he weighed the offer. His gaze didn't waver. In the end, it was the cold metal of the gun pressed against his leg that decided him.

"Well, who am I to refuse a ride? And such a nice one, too." he said, opening the door and taking a seat. He had barely closed it when the car started up again. The engine's gentle hum continued, even as their surroundings became a frightening blur. 

"Not bad, is it?" a voice beside him said. Calypso jumped. The man was shrouded in darkness, except for a glowing visor - two bands of neon red where his eyes should have been. Calyspo found himself reaching for his gun. He wouldn't draw it, of course... but he sure as hell liked having it close. 

"Relax," the man said. An invitation? Not really. More like a masked command. "you're the guy looking for a fusion engine?"

Calypso glanced at the driver, "Uh, well, I-"

"Relax," the man said again, "you can trust me. As long as you don't cross me."

The car came to a stop.