"No." Skater made his way into the blood-spattered doorway and gazed outside. Elvis left the van’s lights off as he drove the vehicle toward the apartment tower. The DocWagon markings on the side partially explained its presence, or would at least hopefully slow Luppas’s gunners from firing immediately. All of the markings were magnetic appliques, highly illegal but things they’d used before and kept in storage at one of their equipment dumps. "Can you slow Lone Star down?"