So if the HQ’s out, why not pick another Lone Star facility, one of the "station houses" elsewhere in the sprawl? The Cutters can’t possibly have a gold team watching every one of them. Well, I’ve also got a reason not to do that, chummer, and it’s related to my cover story. A cover isn’t worth squat if anybody other than your direct control knows it’s a cover. So that means the Lone Star street monsters and patrol cops all think—if they know of me at all—that I’m a gang-banger through and through, run to Seattle to avoid the big heat in Milwaukee. I’m supposed to be a fragging cop-killer, omae! Part of my cover is that I greased a patrol car full of Lone Star Milwaukee personnel—pumped three grenades into it, then cut down the two survivors as they tried to climb out of the burning wreck. That kind of background builds credibility and rep in gangland, and it also explains why I’m not still in Milwaukee if I had such a good time there. What it doesn’t do is endear me to cops.