London 2056 - A CyberPunk RP [Game thread - Started]

Legion · Dec 23, 2014

[HEADING=1]Welcome to London 2056.[/HEADING]

The Setting
The Characters
The Characters Cont'd
The Beginning of the Story

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[HEADING=1]The Setting[/HEADING]

The world has recently recovered from a global conflict that as a by-product, has drastically sped up technology in relation to human enhancement. Cybernetic implants and augmentation are fairly common within the military and law enforcement. Those with the money or influence are also able to gladly reap the benefits of this new technology.

The rest of society can afford it to varying degrees. Minor enhancements are reasonably priced and there is a black market for that of a more serious nature, such as enhancements that are illegal for civilians. Military-Grade hardware is naturally tightly regulated and not allowed amongst the civilian populace.

Due to the increased danger that such technology brings, the law enforcement agencies and military are much more closely entwined than they have been in the past. Surveillance is everywhere and the response to law breaking is both swift and often brutal.

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[HEADING=2]The Organisations[/HEADING]

The sudden advancement in technology has also benefited multiple organisations greatly, So much that they have a great deal of influence over not just the industry, but the government as well. Corruption and espionage are rife in this city.

[HEADING=2]The Law (Government/Police/Military)[/HEADING]

The main driving force behind The Law is stability. They want peace on the streets and the general populace safe. The "greater good" is considered more important than individual rights. Their stance on criminal behaviour is strict and uncompromising. They are as intrusive as far as their job requires and will not hesitate to infringe upon civil liberties if they consider the ends to justify the means. They are also fighting a somewhat losing battle in all of these areas.

-All officers are trained in fire-arms usage in case of emergencies. In day-to-day policing, various non-lethal weapons are carried such as Tasers, stun guns and low level EMP weaponry.

- Augmentation is mandatory, albeit of the visually unnoticeable kind. Video/audio augmentations are implanted in order to make police work more effective. Therefore they do not use radios in the traditional sense (it's like having a video phone call that you can "see" slightly in front of your face).

- Physical augmentation is tightly regulated and not seen among most officers unless they are SWAT or similar. The exception naturally being replacement prosthetics for injuries, but even then they are replacements not enhancements.

- Other forms of augmentation such as Cyberware (for hacking) are limited to those working in the relevant departments (counter-terrorism units and such)

- Cosmetic enhancements are allowed so long as they do not go against the rules regarding appearances (officers are still expected to look "smart" while on duty).

- All officers are expected to be in peak physical condition and trained in hand-to-hand combat.

- While the general role of Law Enforcement is the same as today, it is far more intrusive and aggressive. Warnings are not given more than once and suspects fleeing an officer are to be apprehended by any means necessary.

- If officers have reason to believe they or a member of the public are in danger, they are permitted to use lethal force in theirs or others defence.

- Cameras are included in the video/audio augmentaions police receive so that everything they do while on duty is recorded.

- Drones and surveillance cameras are common in day-to-day policing. Both are operated via control rooms as opposed to individual officers (although drones will be used by officers on the street under certain circumstances such as raids).

- Mech's are top of the range, and the police have a decent amount of them. They are used for civil unrest, riots and security purposes. They are not used for normal situations such as patrols.

- Ranks and specialisations work in pretty much the same way as normal policing. Those of exceptional skill in certain areas may be head-hunted for specialist roles or after a certain level of experience is gained as a normal police officer they may apply for one.

- The specialisations available are also quite similar to those you'd be familiar with. Detectives are still around, as are Scene Of Crime Officers. Both of these roles quite often have slightly more augmentations than the average officer, mostly in regards to visual enhancements (such as ultraviolet for spotting blood).

- The police and military are quite closely entwined. Under extreme circumstances the military are often called in with police support, with the polices role normally reduced to dealing with the public and such.

- Corruption is not uncommon in Law Enforcement. It is not condoned but it is present in all areas. As with all computer technology, there is a way around it. Dirty cops could get black market augmentations that effectively "jam" or delete their recordings. Or else if the person within the department that deals with such recordings was dirty, they could alter them as needed.

The recordings are meant more for efficiency than to catch cops out though. If a person claimed a cop was dirty and had nothing to base it on other than "check their data recordings", the police wouldn't think that was enough. The only time they'd really check would be if there was a strong enough reason to do so.

There isn't a person watching real-time what each cop is doing or anything like that. The kind of situations where that would be used would be things such as drug raids and such where they would use the camera footage for coordinating the officers.

- Police security is very tight. As they have so much surveillance, naturally they need to be able to protect it. They have very advanced security in both the physical and cyber variety.

[hr]

Outside of The Law there are two main organisations at play in this city. Both are involved in the human enhancement industry (as well as others) and are in constant rivalry for control of it. Both have various areas of expertise and means of getting what they want.

[HEADING=2]The H.A Dynasty[/HEADING]

The Human Advancement Dynasty is an unusual organisation in that every employee is related to one another. When the company began in it's original form several hundred years ago, it was a small family business. As it expanded it employed only people in the same bloodline (male or female) from the original owner. Today the company is gigantic, covering many areas of business although focusing primarily on human enhancement which it had the finances and connections to invest in at the perfect opportunity.

Their main strength is information and communication. Being so connected and tightly knit, their reach is vast and they take full advantage of that. They work via manipulation and stealth, as such they tend to have many agents with enhancements suited for spying, hacking and infiltration.

While the organisation only consists of directly linked families, familial hierarchy has no place within the corporation itself. Age and relation mean nothing compared to expertise, experience and whatever qualities are needed to help benefit the family as a whole.

[HEADING=2]CyCorp[/HEADING]

Cycorp was founded by a "triumvirate" of scientists who each brought their own area of expertise to the human enhancement field of research. The ingenuity quickly led to strong government funding and they were the primary drive behind the research that allowed prosthetics to become much more than just replacements. Swiftly followed by other technology that the government felt would be useful, Mecha being one such example.

Much more openly aggressive than their rival, CyCorp expanded their business through swift take-overs, risky investments and (unbeknownst to many) arms trafficking. Not only that but they also have various private security companies under their corporate umbrella. It is therefore unsurprising that they have many agents with access to military-grade enhancements and have been linked (but never proven) to mysterious closures and buyouts of smaller companies, along with several violent crimes.

It has been several years since the three scientists have been in charge of this corporation though. Not long after the company reached it's peak, each of the original owners mysteriously resigned in quick succession. Since then the leadership of the company has been under frequent change. Not much is known about the current CEO, nor are the circumstances leading to their appointment.

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[HEADING=2]"Queen Bee"[/HEADING]

Queen Bee, The Bee or just plain Bee (depending on who you ask), is a mystery. All that's known is aside from being very well informed, their information is always accurate and almost always beneficial (hence the "Queen"). What their motivations or goals are is anybody's guess, but there are plenty of people who can attest to being told exactly what they needed to know at exactly the right time.

If you see this then the chances are you have a good friend somewhere.

There are of course also various gangs occupying the city. They vary from the highly organised and efficient, mainly dealing with drug smuggling, weapons and black market enhancements. All the way down to minor gangs focusing on burglary and small-scale drug dealing. Naturally their access to advanced enhancements is somewhat more limited, but there are a handful with the reach to get some of the better hardware.

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[HEADING=2]Technology[/HEADING]

As mentioned before, human society has made significant advancements in terms of science. With the right money, influence or qualifications, people are able to improve themselves both physically and psychologically in multiple ways.

Prosthetics have reached the level where they are indistinguishable from a natural limb, both in appearance and functionality. There are replacement prosthetics available that are not merely to rehabilitate, but to enhance the human body. Strength, speed, agility can all be increased drastically via limb replacement.

There are still remnants of older prosthetics that while functionally superior to natural limbs, are not completely organic looking. They are very rarely seen inside the Military due to constant improvements, it is largely the gangs that are still using this technology.

Limb replacement enhancements are one of the least sophisticated form of human enhancement developed. Technology that allows people to connect on minor levels to electronic equipment such as door locks, computer terminals and such are becoming increasingly affordable and common.

Enhancements of other parts of the body also exist. Eyes with synthetic variations that allow the user to see in the dark and infra-red are available. On a more advanced level it is possible to have a visual/audio interface that is only seen by the user. Thus eliminating the need for phones, GPS or other similar forms of technology. This is mandatory for all of those working within the police and military.

Cyberware has been developed, but is a rarity even amongst those in the industry and government. Cyberware allows the user to directly connect to and manipulate computer based technology. This technology requires the person to be directly connected to the hardware they wish to use. It is not easy to use and is tightly regulated.

A clarification regarding hacking augmentations in relation to Cyberware.

While they exist, they are not quite GitS level where they require a Cyberbrain and the user goes "into" the computer in virtual reality. It's more like having hacking hard/software as an augmentation and plugging in simply allows the person to use it. Visually speaking the user would see the computer data in the same way as a video call for example, kind of like a translucent image they see with their eyes. Or at a more simplistic level plugging in would activate the hacking software and it works automatically (for something like opening an electronic door etc.)

Weapons are significantly more sophisticated but still largely revolve around ballistic fire-arms and explosives.

Drones are incredibly common within the Military and Police Forces, with Mech's less so. Although naturally the forms and functions differ considerably between the two. Drones outside of war zones are normally used for reconnaissance and the Mech's for crowd control during civil unrest and riots. In the military drones are also used for surgical strikes and Mech's as replacements for tanks.

If you have any queries about what is and is not technologically possible within this setting then by all means ask and I will clarify. The above is not an exhaustive list, but I didn't think anybody wanted to read an essay.

The gist of it is that this future has the kind of technology that Cyberpunk normally includes. If you are familiar with Ghost in the Shell, Deus Ex and other Cyberpunk works, you will have the general idea.

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Legion · Dec 23, 2014

[HEADING=1]The Characters[/HEADING]

Name: Kazuko Wright
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Nationality: Japanese/Australian

Physical Appearance: Tall and lean, with a touch of muscle but not much. Kaz gets most of his looks, such as his mop of scruffy black hair from his Japanese mother. He keeps his hair short and has a few dashes of neon blue running through it. He likes to keep his clothing practical; shirt, leather jacket, jeans and a pair of nice sturdy boots. All of his outfits will have some small splash of colour to offset the blacks and greys, whether it be green laces on his boots, or purple lines accenting the contours of his jacket. Also wears a pair of solid black shades.

Augmentations: From the elbow down his right arm is a prosthetic, an older more mechanical model. While he could upgrade, Kaz dislikes the newer organic looking style of newer prosthetics, and the one he has served him well for the better half of the last decade, so he sees no reason to get rid of it. Kaz also has a pretty standard HUD enhancement for his eyes, and implants which allow him to modify his hearing, which not only lets him listen to music without any form of external device, but also means he won't end up deaf after DJing all night. His arm is also modified with a combination of home-brewed and black-market tech, including some very flashy Cyberware 'borrowed' from a subsidiary of CyCorp.

Affiliation/Occupation: Both a part time DJ and 'freelance troublemaker' (in his own words), often hired by gangs or organizations that cannot or will not get a job done on their own.

Areas of Expertise: Breaking into secure facilities and computer systems for the purposes of industrial espionage, DJing, unofficial (and often illegal) cybernetics modification and cooking up edible meals on a shoestring budget.

Areas of Personal Interest: Music, Japanese comics and animation, fucking over CyCorp as much as humanly possible.

Brief Background: Kaz was born to a mid-level CyCorp researcher and a retired Japanese musician, both of whom influenced Kaz greatly in life. From his mother came his looks and his love of music, and from his father came his interest in cybernetics and the (at the time) burgeoning field of Cyberware. When he was a teenager CyCorp lost its advantage in the Cyberware field when some of its research was leaked to The H.A Dynasty. Kaz's father was among the many workers laid off following the incident, and like the rest of the now out of work scientists, was killed in what was described as police as a mugging gone wrong.
At the time Kaz thought something was wrong, but it wasn't until a few years later when he was fresh out of school and did a little digging that he saw the pattern of workers being laid off from CyCorp meeting 'unfortunate' ends. A pattern the police were too lazy or too deep in CyCorp's pockets to see.

Kaz was pissed, not only at the murder of his father but at the effect it had on his mother, distraught and forced to take up work to support her son. Like any rebellious teenager he had skirted the edge of the law during his school years, the spare change of impatient future junkies and jocks wanting the answers to their class tests somehow finding its way to his pockets. While he had planned to become a world famous Disk Jockey, he decided to use his less savoury talents to get back at CyCorp for the pain and heartache it put him and his family though.

He started as a relatively low key gang member to get himself known, and after a few years went freelance, only for his first job to come from the very corporation he was aiming to attack, CyCorp. Too new to risk the negative reputation and too poor to turn down the pay, he reluctantly took the job to steal some prototype device from a small independent company. To his amazement, the job somehow went off without a hitch, earning him his first decent pay check and a shot to his reputation.
He wasn't so lucky with his next job however, when a package he was tasked to deliver exploded, resulting in the loss of his arm. One operation and black market arm later, he was back to work.

Over the last few years he's kept up both his freelancer job and his job as a DJ, building contacts in both fields as he simultaneously takes any job against CyCorp while also talking jobs from them to build the company's trust in him as he slowly works towards his ultimate goal of getting revenge on CyCorp one small step at a time.

Notes: Kaz carries a collapsible stun baton, an antique Japanese tanto (allegedly his great, great grandfather's) and a concealed pistol. He's no master with any of them, but he's good enough to keep himself alive.

While he can be serious, especially concerning dealings with CyCorp, Kaz is usually pretty happy and fun loving on his downtime. He loves DJ, and is described as having an 'energetic presence' when onstage. He good at making friends and is known to crack jokes. For the grimness of his end goal, he also enjoys his freelance work. He feels just as alive cracking into a secure warehouse or escaping through alleyways while under fire as he does when on-stage spinning disks.

Name: Karine Asagi
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Nationality: All-Japanese

Physical Appearance: Let's use this image [http://i107.photobucket.com/albums/m315/MagnusReaper/ed7bbb287c239ed3a35e5ddb4f8b3328.png] as a starter, only her eyes are red.

Karine is a lean-bodied athlete who has undergone a physical training, as per her induction into the military. She looks good and her body is a temple, but something does seem off about her. It's something in the demeanour, very focused on things, it seems. Her skin-tone is fairly-light and her black hair is kept short, as seen in the picture. Her eyes seem to glow when glaring at people, sometimes. They are obviously prosthetics.

Her military outfit begins with a form-fitting full-body combat suit (dark grey) which is a general all-purpose buffer against knives, bullets, fire, and concussive force. She can further-protect herself with a riot vest if the situation calls for it, protecting more of her torso. Helmets are optional, and she prefers to keep the 'dark storm' motif going in terms of colouring. Something to do with her personality.

What she will have on her in cases of uniform or casual is a lined black long coat, which provides low-profile blade and bullet protection, so she has that even in 'casual mode'. Here, in this case, you could find her in blue jeans and either a sweater or loose short-sleeve shirt, depending on the weather. She always wears the very best of hiking/climbing boots.

Augmentations: All four of her limbs are prosthetic replacements, owing to a terrible incident during a riot. Karine's arms are prosthetic from the shoulder down, fused into the bone with the shoulders reinforced to handle extra stress-levels (something I DID learn from Ghost in the Shell), a similar procedure going on at where the leg-joints meet the pelvis for her leg-prosthetics. It's not obvious, but they all have a release trigger to allow the things to bend back inhumanly in a pinch. Otherwise, they function like high-end limb replacements that are nigh-indistinguishable from human. Her eyes are slightly-different. She had them made that way, and to be able to switch visual perception to include other traces, like low-light or infra-red. The HUD interface also allows her to command drones the Stephen Hawking way (by eye movement), through the uplink also installed within her.

Affiliation/Occupation: Military Operative. (Think Serenity.)

Areas of Expertise: There are a few. I will be listing gear here, as well.

While she has been trained in nearly all conventional firearms and weapons the military might use, Karine gravitates towards three areas especially in combat-related fields. You could call them tag skills. The first thing is hand-held guns, pistols and whatnot. There are many she could use, but her mentor there - an Italian from another branch - got her onto the latest model Glock, for efficient use of bullets and quick-loading. She has access to a lot of ammo-types, though. Second preference? Shotguns. Karine works well in closer combat where the enemy is unable to avoid taking damage as she unloads on them. Slugs and pellet-shot apply, or whatever else is available. Thirdly, we have blades. Karine DOES have an old family katana and some knives, but she's trying to requisition a balanced 'tesla blade', a katana with a heated charge running through the blade that will shock and burn someone on contact and cauterize as it cuts to avoid unwanted fatalities. Essentially, Karine is a fighter. She will use guns more often, but she can also fall back on physical fighting if need-be, and her artificial limbs make this even more possible for her...as she is harder, better, faster, stronger [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDpmVUEjagg]...or however that song goes. She's very focused, hard to distract in most cases.

Anything military-owned that she isn't command-locked out of, she can give orders to. How she uses them may land her in hot water or not, depending on situations. Because she uses drones as proxies to a normal data link, all attempted data infiltration stops at the drone and can only cut her off if her command is overridden.

Areas of Personal Interest: Among other things, she enjoys reading (her favourite book is My Tank Is Fight!), theatre, hiking, and even fishing. However, perhaps her favourite thing - which she incorporated into her combat skills - is parkour. A friend of hers - originally from the states - taught her the ways of navigating the concrete jungle by climbing gear and quick agility. You may find her roaming rooftops in or out of casual because of this. Naturally, this kind of thing can only help her fighting ability. Oh, and she maintains the latest model Kawasaki motorcycle.

Brief Background: Briefly? Okay.

If you're wondering why it is that a wholey-Japanese girl is here in future London, the answer is that the family had work here, CyCorp work. Previously of a Japanese associate to the corp, they had moved here to get some serious work done. Her parents still do research for them even now, though they are on a semi-retired benefit plan. Karine wasn't interested in science so much as the old protect and serve. So, she joined into the military, went through basic training and all that, and was on call for whatever situation cropped up.

Of course, investigations and disturbance reports could go on for a long length of time, so we'll cut to the defining one of import. There was a riot. Riots in London were some of the worst, sometimes needing a pair of mechs on standby. The whole situation had erupted badly, and Karine had pulled mech duty in one of them. The other...had the unfortunate case of an untrained rioter who WAS skilled in opening locked doors (and in this case, cockpits), and was in a struggle with the other pilot on duty. The mech went out of control and Karine attempted to stop it...but the result was a terrible crash...which ironically stopped the riot with her screaming.

The two mechs impacted a building, and the open cockpit collided with the closed one as its back was wedged against the wall of said building. This shocked everyone present, but not as much as the overall result, where the one survivor was left blinded with all four limbs crushed. The crash had compressed the machine onto her limbs and shattered glass into her eyes. She was lucky to have survived, though she didn't see it that way. Long and extensive operations later put her in recovery from the shock and injuries, but some part of her broke inside, even when they replaced her limbs with high-end prosthetics. It made her less-forgiving, more focused about her job and her life.

Name: Jane Anderson
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Nationality: English

Physical Appearance: Pale, gaunt and short, Jane only stands at around 5'3. Her facial features are sharp and hard and her deep set eyes are a piercing jet black colour. Her hair is a matching shade of black, cut short and spiked up wildly. Multiple piercings decorate her ears and nose, although these are removed when she's on a job. This theme of black and metal dominates her clothing, which usually consists of a studded leather jacket worn over a t-shirt and jeans. Black leather boots and thick, dark sunglasses complete her look.

When Jane is out in the field she wears all black H.A Dynasty issued stealth operative gear, complete with face mask and hood. No obvious weapons can be seen on her person.

Augmentations: Jane's augmentations are sufficiently advanced that they appear indistinguishable to the untrained eye. She is equipped with one of the H.A Dynasty's top tier audio/visual packages, complete with night and infra-red vision, customisable HUD, enhanced hearing, GPS and communication software. This system is linked to the hacking software package in her right hand, which allows her to bypass most standard locks and encryption software relatively easily.

Affiliation/Occupation: Infiltrator/thief for the H.A Dynasty.

Areas of Expertise: Jane is highly skilled at infiltrating secure facilities and stealing or planting information. She is also a proficient mixed martial artist, although she lacks augmentations to support this. Finally, her knowledge of the Chinese restaurants in down-town London is legendary.

Areas of Personal Interest: Born into the H.A Dynasty Jane does feel something akin to loyalty to the company, although she is loath to admit it. She very much enjoys what she does, the satisfaction of a job well done is intoxicating. In her off time she enjoys anime, manga and martial arts, and can occasionally be found out late partying in clubs and bars.

Brief Background: With two wealthy and high-ranking parents in the H.A Dynasty, Jane was always going to end up working for them, no matter how much she protested. Her mother is a top level official, responsible for multiple departments and her father is a engineering genius, responsible for many technological advancements made by the company in recent years. Growing up in that home environment Jane was well aware of the Dynasty's operations, including those not made known to the public.

As a teenager Jane had no real interest in school. She was taken with the idea of working as an agent for the Dynasty, her head filled with idealistic notions of becoming a notorious spy, feared the world over for being ruthless and unstoppable. Try as they might to dissuade her, her parents eventually gave in and put the wheels in motion for her to join the company's espionage department. Privately they thought their daughter would realise how much effort and training was required and be discouraged, but much to their surprise Jane buckled down and proved to be a dedicated and willing student.

At the age of 21 Jane received her first set of augmentations, courtesy of her father, and was sent out on assignment. The job was a simple one but not easy - break into a business' office and steal their latest financial records. Completing the task swiftly and expertly, Jane impressed her superiors and was quickly redeployed. Over the next few years she proved herself an excellent agent, capable of carrying out orders precisely yet also being able to adapt to unexpected situations. Now at the age of 25, she is considered one of their best up and coming talent, often assigned dangerous and/or delicate operations. She isn't considered a top agent yet though, something which greatly irritates her. Her past successes have made her quite arrogant and confident in her abilities, and she believes she is ready for the big time.

Name: Liam Vaughn
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Nationality: British/Australian

Physical Appearance: Liam is tall and stocky with brown eyes and dirty blond hair partially shaved at the sides dyed red in the front, plus tattoos that run up his arms and around his neck and ear piercings. He usually wears something along the lines of a black t-shirt underneath a denim jacket with metal studs and cloth patches, green cargo pants, a leather belt with pouches containing various items, black leather boots, fingerless gloves and goggles worn around his neck or on his forehead.

Augmentations: None at the moment, though he wouldn't mind some.

Affiliation/Occupation: Mechanic, part-time hacker. Affiliation-wise, he is trying to remain neutral while supplying repairs and weaponry to some of the smaller gangs.

Areas of Expertise: Mechanics, repairs, driving, (low-level)hacking, gunmanship.

Areas of Personal Interest: Music, anything mechanical or electronic, long motorcycle rides, bucking the system

Brief Background: Born to an Australian father (a mechanic) and a British mother (a former employee of one of the smaller businesses), Liam had the advantage of being knowledgeable on the topic of almost anything technological. Although born in England, his family moved to Australia when he was young after the business collapsed (and starting Liam's growing disdain for big businesses). In his teens, Liam became interested in following in his father's footsteps as a mechanic, though he also began trying his hand at hacking and robotics. Recently, he returned to his birth country in an attempt to make a life for himself on his own terms.

Name: Withheld
Gender: Male
Age: 34 or above (thereabouts)
Nationality: Hungarian

Physical Appearance: Wiry frame, little excess body fat, used to running away. Deserter's appearance suggests a thoroughly unexceptional individual - an appearance he has been careful to cultivate. He dresses mostly in a drab mix of second-hand clothing and anything practical he could scavenge. His eyes are grey and his dishevelled hair brown. A faint stubble adorns his weathered and lined features. Parallel with his jawline is a faint scar that suggests he was the winner in at least one unhappy confrontation, though it has almost been covered by the border of hair growth.

Augmentations: Presently none.

Affiliation/Occupation: Perhaps as a result of the war's effect on him, Deserter has learned to live by and largely for himself. He's not immune to compassion or empathy, but hides these potential weaknesses well.

Areas of Expertise: The Deserter has been able to survive by stealing, killing and resorting to things that would have him thrown out of what most people would call civilized society. He can fight like a cornered rat and run when he can't fight. He has an affinity for small and easily concealed blades, though he largely dislikes firearms and explosives for their noise. He will use them if he considers them a necessary risk.

Areas of Personal Interest: In his flights through the fire and noise of a city at war, Deserter stumbled on improbable and beautiful sights - scorched frescoes and crumbling mosaics, idols and cracked marble arches spared by the staccatos of gunfire and the crack of shelling. In the semi-flooded cellar of an apartment building, he happened on an old and dusty balalaika that appeared to be a relic from one of the old wars. Plinking away at the strings of this bewildering instrument produced notes so opposed to the world-shattering chorus outside that they left him speechless. Deserter has slowly grown a fascination for the beautiful things he was deprived of by war and, though these memories are but brief snatches of peace, they are a reminder that there was a time without killing.

Brief Background: The Deserter, while habitually slow to trust, is eager enough to speak about almost any subject except the war or his role in it. Presumably this is why he doesn't give away his name, though he's become used to thinking up passable alternatives whenever the subject arises. Most assume that he is a deserter by his appearance and evasive behaviour, so the name has stuck. Through unspecified means, Deserter has acquired the necessary funds to afford some modest augmentations, though he has yet to purchase them. While the rich may be concerned with comfort and living, Deserter has learned to be satisfied with practicality and survival.

Name: Irina Rostikova |

Code:

StripKitty

Gender: Female
Age: 24
Nationality: Romanian by way of the Lower East Side, Manhattan

Physical Appearance: Standing at a towering five foot, five inches, or 167.64 centimetres to be regionally correct, Irina Rostikova is your typical girl next door, if your door happens to be mounted in a building located on the wrong side of town. Slender in frame but tone in muscle, Irina grew up in one of the rougher areas of Old NYC, though truth be told, they're all rougher areas, though Irina might have had it rougher since she's a natural ginger, having deep crimson colored hair to top her head, with brown eyes to match.

Fashion wise, StripKitty is about as far from Audrey Hepburn as the Sun if from Pluto, opting to wear vintage retro cotton T-shirts with witty phrases inked on the front and cargo capri pants when off of work. To complete the trend of "I could give two shits about fashion," her look is accessorized by enough piercings to set off not just her metal detector but her neighbour?s metal detector as well... and they're not all in her ears. Though, to be honest, that comparison with Audrey Hepburn might not be all that far off since she does wear a mean peacoat.

Of course, when she's working, the fashion department has her dress up in as little cloth as possible. It might be due to the fan base that she's garnered over the years or it might be due to the surgically grafted cat ears and tail that her Corporate Sponsors paid for.

Augmentations: Cat Ears and Cat Tail: Grafted there purely for cosmetic and ratings purposes. They are programmed to act in accordance with her brain's emotional patterns.

Augmented Eyes: Who doesn't have Aug-Eyes now days? (I'll tell you who, Glass-holes that's who). Used for viewing and recording VidFeeds, checking your email or looking through clothing (Just kidding, ZaibatsuCorp's still working out the bugs on that update), they're a girl's best friend.

Super Ultra High Definition Digital Ink: Bored with a tattoo? Don't be. A grid of cell sized synthetic chromatophores is the answer you're looking for. Capable of rendering any tattoo your heart can desire and, incidentally, if you have them grafted on your entire body, you can display an image of whatever is behind you.

Affiliation/Occupation: VidCast Personality for HACK THE PRANETO! | A ZaibatsuCorp Holdings Limited LLC Company

Areas of Expertise: Media connections (High): Being the face of one of the most popular Vidfeeds isn't without its perks. Doing a favor for the right people can do wonders.

Street Wise Data Digger (Moderate): With a background in journalism and growing up in the dumps (Literally: The Wasteworkers Union has been on strike since 2030), Irina knows how to get around (not in that way) and knows who to talk to on the streets. It's not without its occasional quirks however... (They still don't invite her to the company Christmas parties).

Hacker (LOW): StripKitty is sort of what you'd call a Script Kiddy. She's picked up a few things here and there but nothing particularly nasty.

Areas of Personal Interest: Oh-So-RETRO!!!!: Obsessed with all things 20th century chic. She has a plethora of knowledge revolving around that particular era. Her apartment is in-fact decorated with vintage furniture from IKEA.

Another little side effect of being a student of the 20th century is Irina's interest in firearms. Were it not for this rather expensive hobby, She might actually be able to STORNÄS extendible dining room table that she's been eyeing.

Brief Background: Irina Elena Rostikova was born in the United States after the Crash to Sergei and Katherina Rostikova, two fresh off the boat refugees from the now radioactive heap known Romania. Both her and her sister, Katya, were raised in the slums of Old New York City, though it seemed like all of Old New York City was a slum.

Though both were well educated, the streets were more a home to the two than the one bedroom, no bath, that they shared with their parents. As most slum kids do, both Irina and Katya fell in with the Rabbit Family, a family run Corp that consisted of hackers that made their payroll... erm... hacking.

Unlike her sister, Irina showed no real talent with that particular skill and was relegated to other roles, such as info diving (that's dumpster diving for login credentials), social scamming and information gathering about various targets. A talent that she put to good use later when she went to college for a Journalism degree.

Fast forward four years later, Irina faced the same disillusionment with the job market as almost all college graduates faced, especially in the cut throat field of journalism. Sure she got by on a few freelance jobs for the Double Daily Post, but it wasn't exactly the career that Irina had dreamed of when watching VidCasts.

Enter ZaibatsuCorp, an aug manufacturer that seemed to be having some troubled with their newly designed ocular augmentations, namely the X-Ray spec feature that they had included at release used actual X-Rays. Seemed like ZaibatsuCorp knew about this little titbit and buried it deep and shredded most of the documentation. It also seemed that a young and extremely hungry journalism graduate and freelancer happened to be Info Diving in their waste-bins. Seems like even the sun shines on a cat's ass.

The young woman leaned back in the leather clad computer chair, looking at scanned and digitized self. Her crimson hair was a total nightmare, hours of diving had taken its toll. The same could be said about her normally piercing blue eyes, which had been surrounded on all sides by signs of sleep deprivation. Even her clothing was a wrinkled mess, the oh-so-retro "fsck you" t-shirt had a hole, exposing the right side of her abdomen and her navel. Apparently the would be mugger had an issue with oh-so-retro t-shirts. Her cargo pants hadn't fared much better. Stains from an unknown number of condiment combinations stained the front.

"Hey Strip!" A voice called from behind her, referencing her online handle StripKitty, "the Boss says get changed for rescan. We can't have you looking like that during the next cast."

"Whatevs." Irina responded, waving the assistant away, but the man hovered, as if pondering if he really wanted to say what he wanted to say, "Alright. Spit it out."

"Oh man. I can't wait for that next release. The Fappening 2056? Damn. Who'd you get this time?"

"You'll just have to see during the cast." SK responded, waving the perv away.

Getting up out of the antique chair (you know people used to actually sit in these things to use a computer?), Irina started fixing her hair, brushing the tangles out of the knotted mess called an A-Frame haircut while checking out the multitude of ear piercings that made her TravelCorp's favorite client.

"Ew." She said as she looked at her navel piercing which had turned bright red. She hadn't gotten away from that attempted mugging totally without a scratch had she?

Shaking her head, she headed over to the First Aid Kit and thought about what the drone had said. He was just another mindless zombie that had bought into her hype. The Fappening was Corp territory now. Every wannabe and has been starlet had been sending her photos for the last few years now. They all thought it was a boost for their career and it was, for a while. It was all dependent on how they managed their new "fap base" after that.

She chuckled at her own sad attempt at humor as she checked herself one more time.

Irina disliked what wardrobe came up with. It was like a couple of Nipponese Otaku had grabbed a ransom assortment of clothing from Topic en Fuego with no purpose other than to purchase clothing that involved the least amount of material possible. Add to that the surgically grafted cat ears and tail, she looked as desperate for attention as the any of the Fappening Girls.

"Perfect!" Irina exclaimed as she got into character.

------------------------------

"DOES EVERYONE KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS! IT'S TIME TO..."

"HACK THE PRANETO!!!" Irina exclaimed when the red light on the camera turned red, "Brought to you by your friends at Zaibatsu Corp! Today, we're releasing what could be the GREATEST Fappening of all time but first, you wannabe Deckers and wannebe Deckettes! A few tips for you before you go out and..."

"HACK THE PRANETO!!!" The non-existent audience responded.

------------------------------

The young woman leaned back in the leather clad computer chair, looking at her real life self in an antique mirror, meaning it had no feed device implanted within the glass. The show had gone well, the world was happy and the consumers consumed everything that she had released.

Some days the thought that someone would find out that her carefully managed image was nothing more than that. Just like with the starlets involved with the Fappening, she'd been approached for this position, a no name vid-caster that was looking for more. She knew next to nothing about the things she spoke about during the casts. All she had was a shiny new cyberdeck that she never jacked into. Was that even the proper terminology for that? All she had was years of work under her belt when it came to sniffing out what people want and how to get what them they wanted. She was more a fixer than a decker but she wasn't so vapid that she didn't pick up a few tricks here and there.

"Hey Strip! Great show!" Said another assistant popping into the dressing room.

"Thanks, Bill. Check your mail, I sent you something extra!" Irina said with a charming smile as Bill ran off check his mail, not that he couldn't have done it there what with technology being what it was these days. She guessed some things still didn't change.

Changing, she bagged the outfit that she had worn that night and dropped it off at the merch desk. She'd heard that her outfits fetched a pretty stack of creds but she never saw a single cred out of the deal. But then again, she didn't want to think of who that money was coming from... and what they did with the costume.

"Time to go home," SK sighed as she walked out the exit and into foggy night.

London was a far cry from her home in New York and an even further cry from where her parents came from, not that you could find that radioactive slag pile called Romania on a map anymore. London seemed cleaner, more manicured than the Manhattan and its people were far more friendly, especially since most of the people in NYC were working for mini-family run Corps that did things ... off the books. The Crash had done a number on the US and sent a wave of refugees running back to the homeland, just like it did with Irina.

Wrapping her coat around her shoulder to ward off the cold, Irina Rostikova checked to see that her insurance policy was safely holstered under her coat, her deck was tucked into her bag and her sanity was checked in somewhere far far away before walking off into the night.

Legion · Dec 23, 2014

[HEADING=1]The Characters Cont'd[/HEADING]

Name: Charles Derek May
Original Name: Feargus O'Neil
Gender: Male
Age: Biological Age: 29. "Official" Age: 36
Nationality: Actual Nationality: Northern Irish. "Official" Nationality: English.

Physical Appearance: 190 cm tall, thin to the point of looking malnourished. Gaunt faced, Charles looks older than he really is thanks to extensive surgery. He has synthetic black eyes and dark brown hair, a buzz cut with visible scars on his head, a nose that has been mashed, smashed, fractured and reset one too many times and looks the part, and an unkempt full beard, which makes him look like a vagrant.

He has lost his right arm up to the forearm, but has not replaced it with a prosthetic one.

He wears a black longcoat with a hoodie, some old jeans (or black pants), and battered old brown boots. The right sleeve of his longcoat has been tied into a knot. When out on the streets, he prefers to keep his hoodie on

Augmentations: Charles' brain has been extensively augmented with experimental CyCorp Cyberware. His eyes are also synthetic, offering customized visual interfaces linked to his Cyberware augmentations.

His eyes are, on default, in sleep mode, which basically means that they function as regular eyes. When turned on, the black colour turns into an artificial bright blue and emit a glow.

Occupation: Originally: Grey Hat hacker, using a White Hat front as a CyCorp computer security advisor.

Now: None.

Areas of Expertise: Hacking, street smarts.

Areas of Personal Interest: Originally: Anarchist philosophy (especially the likes of Bakunin and Kropotkin), classical literature and music (including late 20th century literature and music, especially old school rock and punk), causing trouble for governments and corporations.

Now: To rid himself of the virus infecting his augmentations

Brief Background: Only child of his family, Feargus never met his father, who died in the war a few months after his birth. His childhood was harsh, as even with his mother's hacking skills and ability to land a job as a security advisor for various firms, wartime economy meant that they were barely making enough money to scrape by.

Things got worse as Feargus entered his teenage years, with his mother being diagnosed with a rare heart disease and the cost for the treatment being astronomically high.

With his mother bedridden and slowly dying and his chances of finding a job in the ruins of post-war Belfast non-existent, Feargus had only one real choice: learn how to hack from his mother's extensive library of books on the subject. He studied rigorously and, after around a year, he did his first job.

His jobs consisted of small stuff for rival gangs or local businesses looking for an edge over their rivals. The pay was good, depending on the job, but it was not enough to cover for his mothers' medical expenses, and so, two years after he set down the path of a black hat, Feargus' mother died from heart failure. The event left him heartbroken and extremely hateful of how society worked, wanting to do what he could to change it.

And so, Feargus used his rage at the world as a drive to become better, honing his hacking skills, doing even more risky jobs. At the aftermath of such a job, his employer set him up, having hired thugs to kill him. Though he evaded capture, his lower right hand was blown off by a stray shotgun blast, which he replaced with a cheap prosthetic one.

Due to this event, most of his contacts abandoned him, thinking him too risky to work with. And so for about a year, Feargus was forced into earning an honest living. He did the odd job here and there, but the pay was abysmal, the work conditions poor, and he received no satisfaction from it. Though he liked the stability of an honest living, he could not get over the rush of adrenaline and the satisfaction of finishing a job.

And so, he ultimately decided to return to the hacking scene. But, if he was going to go back, he needed to go to where the big fish were -if you don't go all in you may as well not bother- and so moved to London, with the goal of utilising his hacking skills to bring down the MegaCorporations controlling life there.

Once in London, he rented a cheap, run down apartment, and spent a few months familiarising himself with how things worked. It was during that time that he decided that the best way for him to succeed would be to join one such corp and bring it down from the inside. Not only would working for them come with certain perks (especially in the protection department), but also a believable cover to work under and easier access to their databases. As he was thinking on how he would go about doing that, he received a message with an image of a bee, telling him to go to a certain location at a certain date and time. Curious as to what it meant, Feargus followed the instructions given to him, leading him to a restaurant.

There, he recognised an old acquaintance of his mother's. Not letting this opportunity pass, Feargus re-introduced himself to the man, who was now working at CyCorp. A few drinks and some hours of talking later, Feargus was given the chance to be interviewed for work as a freelancer at CyCorp. He passed with flying colours, and was employed.

Years passed in rapid succession, as Feargus was eventually fully employed by CyCorp and started climbing the corporate ladder. In the meantime, he would at times hack into various corporations -even CyCorp- and Government Agencies, causing them a good deal of trouble. He was at the top of his game. In a way, he felt invincible.

And what goes up, must inevitably go down. During one of his hacks at CyCorp, he, unbeknownst to him, left behind a trail.

A few days after that, he was offered a big job. CyCorp would augment him with experimental cyberware free of charge in return for his working on the development of security measures and firewalls to combat potential cyberware threats. He also received another message from Queen Bee, telling him to reject the job and go into hiding. This time, he ignored the message.

The augmentation process went as planned, and the augments made his job easier than he could ever dream. He kept his part of the bargain and helped on the development of advanced firewalls (leaving behind some loopholes he could exploit at a later date) and other software.

As he was done, though, CyCorp released a dormant computer virus implanted in his cyberware, causing sensory overload and disrupting his nervous system. The strain caused his heart to stop, and he died.

Or at least, so everyone believed.

Feargus woke up from a coma after 4 months with a scar on his chest in some derelict and seemingly abandoned apartment. A message was left next to his bed, explaining to him that Feargus O'Neil was, for all intents and purposes dead. Along with the note came his new identity: Charles Derek May.

Four months have passed since then. As a result of having to cope with the trauma of what he went through and the virus ravaging his brain constantly, Charles has turned into an alcoholic with suicidal tendencies, bereft of direction and purpose

Virus Symptoms: The virus disrupts any kind of augmentations the user may have, rendering them uncontrollable. That is why Charles has not replaced his lost arm again. Unfortunately, his eyes and brain still remain augmented. The virus seems to have random effects, sometimes causing auditory and visual hallucinations, others blurring his eyesight and even turning him temporarily blind. Thanks to the fact that his visual augmentations are, on default, on sleep mode, the symptoms aren't as severe. However, as his eye augmentations are linked to his brain ones, sometimes the virus causes them to activate through the brain, basically turning Charles' life into a living hell. Other than that, it also disrupts his nervous system, causing, for example, random parts of his body to feel numb or even painful. It also disrupts the chemical reactions happening in his brain, causing frequent mood swings, severity of which is varied.

Name: Selene Dumas
Call Sign Artemis
Gender: Female
Age: 35
Nationality: Belgian

Physical Appearance: Tall with wide shoulders, slim waist and narrow hips, a decent amount of muscle due to her years of training and exercise. Her hair is scarlet red in colour, neatly maintained and worn in a singular ponytail. A pale skin complexion helps accentuate her emerald green eyes. Appearance wise, her clothing is professional and business like, although it can slip to business casual on occasion. Always seen wearing fingerless gloves no matter the occasion.

Augmentations: None

Affiliation/Occupation: Freelance Hitman (Currently under the employ of CyCorp)

Areas of Expertise: Due to her years of training and constant practice Selene is highly proficient in the use of many different types of firearms, though she does have a preference akimbo pistols, achieving a high level of accuracy. She is also proficient in hand to hand combat, Krav Maga in particular as it has helped develop her situational awareness skills. As her work requires a degree of discretion, Selene is competent in covert manoeuvres, parkour and means of distraction. Can speak several languages including those native to Belgium, such as French, German and Dutch.

Areas of Personal Interest: When not on contract, Selene's stone cold exterior softens and becomes more approachable in the process. Her hobbies include reading, listening to music, meditation, cooking and the occasional bit of fencing. Whilst not a party animal as such, Selene can occasionally be found pubs and clubs enjoying a relaxing drink and watching the world pass by.

Brief Background: Born in 2021 in Bruges, Belgium to Philippe and Maria Dumas, the former a renowned cleaner in both Central and Western Europe, whereas her mother is talented artist; to say that Selene's life in its early years was dull would be a severe understatement. Whilst not initially expected to follow in her father's footsteps, nevertheless she took the training well, advancing through the various combat styles at a steady pace over a number of years; though she found the Krav Maga style of combat the one to be the easiest to work with, it becoming her preferred style in later life.

Selene put as much effort into her combat training as she did into her school-work, excelling in the fields of History, Literature and Foreign Languages. Before and partly during the war in the mid to late 2040's, she worked as a translator and security detail for the Belgium government; whilst not as exciting as her father's career there was still use for her talents. It was during this point in her life that she was head-hunted by an old acquaintance of her father's to work as a private security contractor. Although she did not accept the career path right away, Selene told the gentleman that she'd certainly think about it.

Skip forward a couple of years after the war to 2050 and Selene eventually decided to retire from civil service, a decision that was met with a measure of sadness, as she had provided some much needed aid. After that though she gave the private security work some thought, and after some talks with her parents, she decided to contact the gentleman listed on the card she had been given; assuming of course the man was still alive, after all, the war had been a ghastly one costing an untold number of lives. Sources say their still having trouble predicting a total number to this day.

Eventually though she managed to get through to the gentleman and agreed to work as a private security contractor (essentially a mercenary) for the various mega-corporations in England, on the condition that she at least have time off to visit her family back in Belgium each year. Currently she works for CyCorp.

Name: Carmen Jimenez
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Nationality: Anglo-Spanish

Physical Appearance: Of average height and Hispanic descent with a muscular build, everything about Carmen says practical: from her tightly tied back brown hair to her usual wardrobe (when not wearing her police uniform) of vest tops, jeans and walking boots, there?s nothing extravagant or unnecessary. Well, apart from the glare. It only ever leaves Carmen?s face when there?s something to be gained from doing so, and she insists that she is a sufferer of BRFS (Bitchy Resting Face Syndrome). Though, there are times when that glare leaves her face to reveal a glowing smile. All in all, her appearance is fairly nondescript as she doesn?t have the time or the will to bother with things like fashion.

Augmentations: The standard fare police officers get, even lowly on the beat constables, such as video/audio augmentations, communication augmentations and one extra little something: a jammer which interferes with the video/audio augmentations? recording capability, black market of course but one has to ensure their privacy, right?

Affiliation/Occupation: The Law/Police Constable.

Areas of Expertise: Along with the standard firearms training, hand-to-hand training and training in non-lethal weapons, Constable Jimenez is notoriously street smart; years on the beat and years... doing other things have netted her with a firm knowledge of London, who to know, where to go to acquire... certain object, etc. (specifically regarding the Eastern parts of London, having grown up in Hackney). In addition to this, she has a clever, level head on those shoulders, even if she is more street smart than book smart. Carmen also knows how to handle people and likes to think that she can twist ?em ?round her little finger, even if her method is a bit ham-fisted and makes liberal use of intimidation tactics.

Areas of Personal Interest: Carmen almost religiously attends fitness classes, she?s not one to idle and besides, with every Tom, Dick and Harry running around augmented up the ass and with the strict limitations on physical augmentations of police officer of her rank, she needs to find a way in order to keep up somehow. That?s Carmen in a nutshell: wanting to get ahead no matter what and opposed to augmentations in general. Other than that, she has an interest in cars, particularly fast ones and also driving fast. Carmen also blows steam by going out partying. Among her colleagues? circle, she?s regarded as ?one of the lads? and Carmen is happy to hide behind that smokescreen.

Brief Background: Growing up in Hackney in a cramped house with her mum and her three brothers (her cop father had been shot dead when she was just a baby.), Carmen learned quickly that if she ever wanted everything out of life, it was best to stamp her feet and shout loudly or be overshadowed by someone else. Her childhood was uneventful, but in her teenager years she quickly fell in with a gang - nothing major just a bunch of kids who loitered around the place, mugging anyone who turned their back on them or attacking people who objected to their loitering. Soon enough the leader of the gang, none other than her elder brother Vicente, decided that the gang was ready for the big leagues.

Carmen, on the other hand, disagreed and broke away from the gang, stating that if she was going to kill anybody, she?d rather do so with full legal justification. However, Vicente wouldn?t let her go that easily. He managed to convince her to tag along for more one little mission: stealing a bunch of tech from a rival gang. It was successful, but at a cost; many members of both gangs died that night. It was enough of an experience to drive Carmen away from gang life for good. She joined up with the police force, and was accepted there despite her criminal past or her confrontational demeanour. All signs pointed to reform. However, all was not well.

Constable Jimenez did not take the whole ?mandatory augmentations? thing well, especially the part about someone watching everything she did from cameras in her eyes. Even though Carmen was assured that there wasn?t someone watching every single little moment, her paranoia told her something else. Nevertheless, she apparently got over it, key word being ?apparently?. While everything seemed fine to her colleagues, Carmen worried, and worried and looked for answers. She found one in Larry Smith: a dirty cop Vicente bribed to look the other way back in her gangland days.

Nevertheless, the jammer device was costly. Constable Jimenez couldn?t possibly pay it off all at once so they both agreed to monthly instalments. But it was a relief to be able to have some piracy. In order to pay off her debt, Carmen supplemented her outcome with bribes and once she dipped in toes in the seedy business, she couldn?t stop. Even after she?d paid off her debt. Every time she struck a deal with a criminal, a rush of adrenaline flooded through her system; every little time was a celebration of freedom from the tyranny of the machines planted in her. Being able to afford fancy cars helped too.

Name: Karl Adler
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Nationality: German/English

Physical Appearance: Karl is a slim, almost lanky man of just above average height, with fair skin and a clear swagger of self-importance. His face is narrow, defined by high cheekbones, a hooked nose, clever green eyes behind oval, wire-rim glasses and sharp, arching eyebrows. His hair, a sandy blonde, is usually cut short and slicked back from a high forehead, and he's rarely seen cleanly shaved, instead preferring to have a neat, pointed beard and trim moustache in a Van Dyke style. A single sterling silver stud adorns his left earlobe.

His clothes usually consist of well-tailored three-piece suits that never truly go out of fashion, occasionally accompanied by a long overcoat and a colourful scarf whenever the London weather gets too cold for his liking. When he happens to be working, his suits are a monochrome black with a white under-shirt and red tie.

His casual wear, if it could be called that, usually consist of whatever suit he happened to be wearing, with the jacket taken off and the sleeves rolled up.

Augmentations: Being a man who prefers to keep his body as close to natural as possible, Karl's Augmentations are few: His eyes have been enhanced to the point where his vision is perfect, as well as able to be magnified several times, depending on his need. The glasses he wears are purely an affectation, and a holdover from his childhood.

Besides that, both of his arms from the shoulder are cybernetic, though from all appearances they look perfectly organic, being one of the newer models that CyCorp manufactures. The only advantages his cybernetic arms have is that they are generally stronger as well as more durable than organic, and both hide a long, retractable blade in the forearm that can extend from the heel of either hand on a whim. The blades were a more recent, black-market addition, and Karl took great care to make sure there were no records of them.

Otherwise, Karl likes to boast that his body is exactly as God gave him.

Affiliation/Occupation: CyCorp, General Manager of CyCorp's R&D Division.

Areas of Expertise: If there's anything Karl has in excess, it would be business sense, ambition and, one could argue, style. This means that he's a man who knows what he wants, and will use all of his charm and cunning to get it: If smooth talking doesn't work, he'll try trickery, and if that doesn't seem to cut it, then he has other, shadier methods, up to and including cold-blooded murder.

Besides his charm and wit's, he's a rather shrewd accountant, having dabbled in some modest embezzling while working for CyCorp, and has some very minor experience in hacking, though he much prefers to manipulate people as opposed to machines. He's also a rather skilled knife fighter, and those skills didn't take much to adapt to his new, hidden weapons. Firearms, however, are outside his expertise.

Outside of that, he's a talented amateur at cooking, something he dabbles in to impress whatever lady he happens to be seeing at the time.

Areas of Personal Interest: Karl, being a man of wealth and taste who appreciates the finer things in life, is also a man of ambition, with his heart's desire being the position of CyCorp's CEO, an endeavour that he has pursued for the entirety of his career with them, having worked his way to General Manager of R&D honestly, and lately has started to use more shady methods to get what he wants.

And he isn't limited to simply wanting the power and money, but the prestige, connections, and of course, beautiful women. He's become known as something of a Casanova in that regard, though he has a policy of only seeing one woman at a time, and always ending their relationship on as amicable terms as possible.

Karl is also a man of culture, being fluent in German and English, and his tastes tend to lean more toward the old-fashioned, being a fan of Jazz, Big Band and other such outdated music. He will outright deny the guilty pleasure of liking classic metal though.

Brief Background: Karl is the result of a wealthy German heir's holiday 'indiscretion' with a British soldier while in England, one of his father's many acts of rebellion in his youth. When he found out that he had gotten her pregnant while she had been on leave, he decided to do what he felt was the right thing, and try and work things out with her.

The result was a short, uncomfortable marriage, a messy divorce, and Karl.

His childhood, while his parents were trying to be together, was far more hectic and unruly than it was after their divorce, which included split custody, meaning that half of each year was spent in either suburban England, or the cities of Germany. What this meant was his education was varied, but hardly incomplete, and that he saw life from both sides of the poverty line. As it turned out, to no one's surprise, he preferred the life of wealth that his father, Oliver Adler, had. But even that didn't seem to have enough. So he concocted a plan halfway through Secondary School, that he would work his way through the ladder of a successful business until he had his life of class and comfort.

As he grew up, he learned to use his advantage of being a child to manipulate his father's household staff, usually charming them into giving him little treats or favours until he had each of them wrapped around one of his fingers. Being able to charm others was a talent that served him well as he got older, well into his enrolment into Brighton Business School in England.

He graduated with honours, and didn't waste time in sending several applications to a variety of minor cybernetics companies, working his way through middle management before being snatched up by progressively larger corporations. It took him eight years, but his plan started to come to fruition when he applied for a position in CyCorp, and given his sterling resume, he was accepted.

His climb only stalled when he earned his place as the General Manager of Research and Development, and while the position had a few intriguing benefits, including a soft-spoken personal assistant by the name of Violet Dryden, it wasn't enough for him. So, since he had hit a wall using more honest means of getting to the top of the corporate ladder, he felt that was the time to use more shady methods.

He started by dabbling in embezzling, something that he felt was generally trivial, but useful in the long run, particularly since he learned that Violet was not only a very capable assistant, but also a valuable resource when given a pay-check supplemented with a discrete, but sizeable, bonus. Over the next few years, he slowly but surely put pieces into place: Gathering evidence for blackmail, manoeuvring himself into being a man of critical importance in the corporate hierarchy, and getting a pair of cybernetic arms with some 'after-market' upgrades.

As soon as he had everything in place, he sat and waited, looking for the opportune moment to start eliminating the obstacles in his rise to power. It wouldn't take long.

His Assistant: Violet Dryden is a mystery to most, including her nominal employer, Karl. Best described as a sedately attractive black woman with a quiet voice who seems to embody professionalism and reliability. In fact, she is one of the main reasons why Karl's preparations for his takeover of CyCorp have gone as smoothly and quietly as they have.

Not once has she ever spoken about herself while working for Karl, despite numerous attempts to get to know her, including several deflected advances. Each and every time, she would politely apologize before smoothly seguing into whatever happened to be the matter at hand. As a result, Karl maintains a completely professional relationship with her, not only respecting her, but coming to trust her enough to include her in all of his shadier business dealings as well.

At the same time, he has no idea what motivates her, or even if she happens to be truly loyal to him or not. However, for the time being, she's been a valuable partner-in-crime, so he's decided to keep her included for as long as it continues to work out.

Name: Ira Soni.
Online Pseudonym: Whistler.
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Nationality: English

Physical Appearance: Ira is clearly of Indian descent. He is clean shaven with messy neck length black hair, brown eyes and olive skin. Rather androgynous looking. Average height and build, he's healthy but hardly an athlete.

Usually seen wearing a beige cargo jacket, grey long-sleeved t-shirt, blue jeans and black boots.

Augmentations: Augmented Eyes and General Computing: Ira has augmented eyes which allow him to see in night vision, record video and audio and displays augmented reality. Has augmentations related to his eyes which act as a general computer/PDA. Can make calls, send email and text, access the internet, make notes, watch video and listen to audio, act as a secretary to set reminders, display maps and directions in augmented reality, etc. It's a lot like Google Glass.

While these are the only augmentations he currently has Ira is all for getting more and eagerly anticipates what will be developed in the future.

Affiliation/Occupation: Last year started a website known as The Whistler Report, the name is a reference to the idea of whistle-blowing. Mainly posts his own musings but also reveals corruption in business and government.

Areas of Expertise: Investigation: Has an MA in Journalism from University of Edinburgh. Ira particularly focused on investigative journalism. He's quite talented at performing investigations, he's perceptive, inquisitive and able to put things together.

Persuasion: Ira can be quite a persuasive person, able to convince people to tell him what he wants and to sway them to his point of view.

Computers and Lockpicking: He may not be a master hacker but Ira does have skills and knows his way around a computer. He also has some experience picking locks, he was able to learn due to the environment he grew up in. He can take care of basic locks but complicated ones are likely out of his league. Both skills have proved useful at getting at things people don't want him to get at.

Areas of Personal Interest: Transhumanism: Ira supports the idea of Transhumanism, using science and technology to improve the human condition. He is quite vocal in his support of doing so but also keeps in mind ethical concerns. He hopes technology can improve everyone's well-being, not just a privileged elite.

Political Activism: Ira is sceptical of government and corporate officials, believing they only really care about themselves and not the people at large. He tries to help people mainly by exposing corruption to the world.

Cycling: The main way Ira gets around the city is using a bicycle. He's experienced at cycling and quite fond of it.

Various Media: Ira, like many people enjoys various forms of media such as television, film, books, video games and music.

Brief Background: Ira's father was Dev Soni, The Spice King of London. Born in 1995 he started his own gang in 2017 known as the Spicers, Dev named the gang somewhat jokingly as a reference to his Indian background but also because with the drug trade was as profitable as the spice trade once was. The gang started out as small time drug dealers but grew over time and Dev, as leader of the Spicers, became known as the Spice King of London.

Dev's wife was named Katrina and the couple had two children, Savita and Ira. Savita is three years older than Ira. Both children were raised in wealth, wealth that has stuck with them since. Savita was always more interested in running the family business than Ira who didn't want anything to do with it and while he was fine accepting money his distanced himself from that life and took an interest in journalism. He went to the University of Edinburgh to study journalism. Two, now almost three years ago, shortly after receiving his master's degree and returning to London, Dev and Katrina were murdered by unknown assailants while travelling home. Savita and Ira received a significant financial inheritance and Savita became the new leader of the Spicers.

Ira was never overly attached to his sex, he didn't really care what sex he was and would be fine as either. Savita however, who was born biologically male identified strongly as female. Ira and Katrina both accepted her but Dev had more, outdated views, saying he didn't want a 'sissy' inheriting his empire. However following Dev's death Savita didn't care what he wanted any more, she inherited her father's position and using her wealth and contacts began transitioning. Today, unless you were told so you probably wouldn't know that the Spice Queen of London was born biologically male.

So far it doesn't seem Savita minds Ira's lack of involvement in the family business, possibly because she doesn't want anyone competing for leadership, although Ira knows that it is possible she'll call on him in the future. While the pair don't talk much they don't dislike each other. Savita is concerned about her brother's well-being and for his 24th birthday gifted him a .38 Revolver along with 24 bullets in a combination lockbox in case he ever needs to defend himself.

Last year Ira, using the pseudonym Whistler established a website known as The Whistler Report. He did so after an acquaintance of his who worked for the charity 'Within Reach' who fund augmentations for disabled people told him that the account books didn't seem to be adding up and that when he told his boss his was fired, the boss blamed his incompetence However Ira's acquaintance was sure he hadn't gotten it wrong. Ira investigated and found the head of the charity had been syphoning fund to his own account. Ira established The Whistler Report under the pseudonym Whistler to protect his own identity and published this information. The story became national news and the charity's founder was disgraced.

Since then Ira has mainly used the website for his own musings but has done more work. Something he didn't publish online was helping a family who were being threatened with eviction after they fell behind on rent because they became indebted paying for private heart surgery to give their son an augmented heart to save his life. Ira snooped around and found the landlord was having cheating on his husband, Ira blackmailed the landlord saying he would reveal the details of the affair if he evicted the family. The landlord complied and the family remain in their home. Then a month ago he revealed that a local MP had been involved in covering up a hit and run 5 years ago which resulted in the death of the man hit. He leaked the CCTV footage the MP had thought destroyed which showed her hitting the man, getting out and seeing he wasn't moving before getting back in the car and driving off. The MP resigned and it looks like she'll soon be facing a prison sentence. Currently Ira isn't investigating anything and while The Whistler Report may be a small name people are beginning to take notice.

Legion · Dec 23, 2014

[HEADING=1]The Beginning of the Story[/HEADING]

[HEADING=2]Prologue: A Shot in the Dark[/HEADING]

[hr]

Officer Webb was tired and bored. It was 10:30pm on Wednesday the 15th of March. His shift wasn't over for another three hours and with the constant rain pouring outside, he was resigned to slowly patrolling the streets in his car. His route was a relatively safe neighbourhood one with straight, well lit streets. As such he had no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary to break the monotony. He would remember several hours later that he wished it had remained that way.

The call came in around 11:30pm.

Officer Webb pulled his car up to the curb outside the hotel he'd been called to. The report said that one of the night staff noticed the door to a room ajar and called out to the resident inside. Upon not getting a response she entered the room only to find two dead bodies.

Making his way up to the room, closely followed by an anxious and slightly nauseated looking hotel manager, Officer Webb slowly pulled on a pair of dispensable gloves and reported in that he had arrived at the scene. He wasn't sure exactly what to expect as he pushed the door open, but what greeted him upon entry was nothing like he'd seen so far in his career.

The two bodies were laying opposite one another in almost perfect symmetry. Both corpses were on their backs with their feet a couple of feet apart, as though they'd been standing face to face and fallen backwards. Each of their foreheads had holes in them that looked like they must have come from a firearm. What was strange was the complete lack of blood on the floor. It appeared that the projectiles had not only cauterised the wounds but also not passed through the skull. He couldn't see any shell cases around the floor either.

If this was not strange enough, upon looking around the scene Officer Webb noticed that there were more holes dotted around the room at around head height, twelve of them in total, each of them evenly placed apart. While his curiosity was itching, he decided to briefly ignore the oddness of the scene and follow protocol.

Removing from his belt a portable chip scanner, he gently lifted one of the victims arms up and pressed the device to their wrist. The machine bleeped twice and the persons ID flashed up on the screen.

Name: Ryan Grey
D.O.B: 23/02/2029
Employer: CyCorp

"Oh, shit" he whispered. Officer Webb didn't recognise the victims name. Their employer on the other hand was not somebody he could possibly fail to know. This was bad. Very, very bad. With a feeling of rising dread he performed the same procedure on the second victim. The machine bleeped twice more and he was then faced with their ID and an even larger problem.

Name: Abigail Pearce
D.O.B: 16/09/2022
Employer: The H.A Dynasty

"Oh, shit."

[hr]

Legion · Dec 23, 2014

[HEADING=2]Chapter 1: Every Cloud[/HEADING]

[hr]

The recent news of a Cycorp employee being murdered would no doubt have brought some sense of satisfaction to Kazuko Wright. The only reason it didn't was because he was currently enjoying himself in a nightclub, so as it happened he was completely unaware. He wasn't in just any club however, nor was he just a regular client. He was in the DJ Booth of Vitality, what was largely considered the place to be if you were anyone, keeping the dance floor alive.

His headphones held to one ear while he concentrated on beatmatching the next song, he never noticed the notification of a message from an acquaintance come up.

"Yo man, you heard? Some CyCorp bastard's been hit... Not by you was it? "

[hr]

Doctor Bernard Wolf was a busy man. Locked up in his flat and sitting at his desk, he heard the sirens wailing past his window, but didn't have any time to pay them much attention. Besides, in his current state he wasn't entirely capable of telling whether there were actually any sirens anyway. He'd taken his medication for sure... at the very least he had a memory of him having done so.

Regardless, it didn't matter anyway, he was on the brink of a breakthrough. His previous research into breathing had yielded great results; being able to hold his breath for 20 minutes was a remarkable achievement. But if only he could do it for 25...

He sighed with satisfaction and went back to work.

[hr]

Karine Asagi was off-duty officially. She'd earned a few weeks off after her last mission and was catching up on a book she hadn't had time to sit down and read recently. As the best laid plans of mice and heavily augmented women often go astray, she had barely gotten three chapters in when a high security message flashed on the corner of her vision.

The unfortunate part of being in her job was that ignoring it wasn't an option. After several seconds the message grew larger and automatically connected her to a video call with her superior.

"Asagi. I know you're not meant to be back for a while, but you're the nearest operative we have to the scene and we need this dealt with fast.

There's an armed robbery going on- yes, I know this isn't normally your thing, but before you interrupt let me finish. One of the hostages is none other than General McArthur. He's off-duty and managed to activate the silent alarm in his augs. The bastards have jammed all signals since then so we have no eyes and ears on him. We need this sorted fast and we need this done right, we can't trust the Fuzz with someone this important. I'm sending over the details..."

[hr]

*Incoming Encrypted Message from User 'T.H.A Diana S' - Please accept*
*Accepted*
*Requesting permission to transfer data - Please accept*
*Accepted*

*Ryan Grey - 23/02/2029 - CyCorp
Abigail Pearce - 16/09/2022 - The H.A Dynasty

Need to know all there is to know about these two. Suggest you start with the CyCorp before our own.

Location of one of their lower level databases: [Not viewable by any except User 'T.H.A Jane A']*
*Message Ends*

*Incoming Encrypted Message from User 'Unknown' - Please accept*
... ... ...
*Accepted*
*Workers have often been complaining of a draft coming in from the second floor window on the East side*

[hr]

It had been a long night so far but considering the amount of money being earned it was worth it. Liam Vaughn was currently located beneath a car, not an unusual place to be, considering his job, even if it was outside of his normal working hours. He had music playing loudly in the background while he worked which muffled everything but the metal sound of the exhaust he was fitting.

Almost everything anyway. He thought he heard a door close nearby, but quickly dismissed it as he knew he'd locked it up properly earlier. He wasn't in the best of areas, so it paid to have good locks.

Half an hour later with the job done he got up, wiped his hands on a cloth, then went into the office area to grab a drink. As he walked through the door his foot brushed something which rolled along the floor with a tinkling sound. He couldn't quite make out what it was so bent down and picked it up.

It was a shell casing. Not one he recognised, but clearly from some kind of weapon.

Looking back down on the floor he noticed there were more of them, ten more in fact. He glanced back at the one in his hand with a sudden realisation; he wasn't wearing any gloves.

[hr]

Detective Constable Edgar Trellis was comfortably asleep and why shouldn't he be? It was past midnight in the middle of the week, plus he'd worked a twelve hours shift the day before already. Nobody could say he hadn't earned a good sleep, but unfortunately like so many other people, this night was going to be anything but restful.

The call he received at 12:50am was short and to the point. Two murders. Both employees of extremely large and influential companies. All detectives were being called in. This needed to be dealt with fast before the police get caught between a rock and a hard place (as CyCorp and The H.A Dynasty were so often called.)

Edgar got up, washed, dressed and headed out of the door towards the station. He didn't know what this case would bring, but he knew it was something big, possibly the largest case of his career.

[hr]

Legion · Dec 23, 2014

[hr]

"Time to go home," Irina Rostikova AKA StripKitty sighed as she walked out the exit and into foggy night.

London was a far cry from her home in New York and an even further cry from where her parents came from, not that you could find that radioactive slag pile called Romania on a map anymore. London seemed cleaner, more manicured than the Manhattan and its people were far more friendly, especially since most of the people in NYC were working for mini-family run Corps that did things ... off the books. The Crash had done a number on the US and sent a wave of refugees running back to the homeland, just like it did with Irina.

Wrapping her coat around her shoulder to ward off the cold, Irina Rostikova checked to see that her insurance policy was safely holstered under her coat, her deck was tucked into her bag and her sanity was checked in somewhere far far away before walking off into the night.

The pavement was still slick with the earlier rain; avoiding puddles as best she could Irina made her way down the street. She noticed as she walked that there seemed to be a lot more police activity than normal. There was barely enough time for one marked vehicle to pass out of sight before another appeared.

She kept on walking, her work for the night was done, but she still had things to do before she wanted to sleep.

[hr]

Charles was drunk. This in itself was not all that uncommon. He was also hallucinating, which wasn't all that strange either.

He was seeing a bee.

The oddest thing about this bee was that it kept moving. Not by flying though. It jumped. Or at least that is what he assumed seeing as one moment it was one place, then it was another. First it was on a billboard, that it disappeared from as Charles approached, before appearing across the road on another. By the time he got there it was on a neon-sign down an alleyway. Before he got within ten feet of it this time the bee had managed to reach a digital signpost on the corner. He didn't know why he was following the bee, only it looked kind of familiar.

What Charles also didn't know was that a crime had been committed that evening that he had happened to be right near by. CyCorp, his previous employers, had agents out in force and seemingly by sheer blind luck he was managing to avoid them.

He staggered onwards, the bee just outside of his reach.

[hr]

Belgium was quite nice this team of year. At least, that is what Selene Dumas was thinking as she stepped out of Gatwick airport, briefly into the torrential rain that and then a London cab. She'd just gotten back from her yearly trip back home to visit her family. Now it was back to business, although considering it was not yet eleven o'clock, she thought she might grab a quick drink-

*Incoming Encrypted Message from User 'CC Brian L'*

To say this was much sooner than anticipated was an understatement, especially considering the fact that she hadn't informed anybody of the exact date of her return to England.

The message contained a photograph of a single object. It was a shell casing. Not one she recognised, but clearly from some kind of weapon. It also contained a cryptic message.

*This looks expensive, wouldn't it be a shame if it got lost? Seeing as you are back in town why not book a room in the Apex City of London Hotel? I heard room 68 has a wonderful view. A lot of pigs will want it though, so you'll need to be fast before it's booked up*

Deciding it would be prudent to call a rain-check on that drink, Selene gave new directions to the driver. She'd better stop off home first.

[hr]

The downsides to working the night shift were too numerous to count. The upsides on the other hand could be counted on one hand. Police Constable Carmen Jimenez considered one of them as the non-stop calls came in and out of the station which was currently buzzing with activity. It seemed that two VIP's (or at least the way everybody was acting, she assumed they were) had been killed and everyone was getting called in.

Those "fortunate" to already be awake and in uniform didn't have to deal with the displeasure of being woken up in the middle of the night after having worked all day. Carmen was just about ready to go out on patrol when her Sergeant approached. She was assigned a new task, to go to Apex City of London Hotel for security. The Inspector on the scene would fill her in more on the details, but she was to head there immediately.

[hr]

Karl Adler straightened his tie in front of the handsome mirror in his office and gave himself a quick appraisal. He had an important meeting to attend and for a man in his position, looking smart made all of the difference in the world. He discretely (under the pretence of checking his cuff-links) made sure that the sleek, retractable blades inside his forearms were moving smoothly. He couldn't afford for them to choose this moment to let him down after all.

Satisfied, he exited his office and turned to his assistant Ms Dryden who was currently situated at her desk just outside.
"I'm just going out for a late dinner," he said with a curious emphasis on the last word. Violet Dryden said nothing, but her eyes crinkled slightly in amusement as she nodded her response. It was best for both of them if the true nature of his late night errand was kept as quiet as possible.

With a confidence in his gait, he walked onwards to what he imagined would be a very productive evening.

[hr]

Ira Soni was not entirely sure why he was staring at an image of a bee. Mostly because he was not aware of why it had come up in his vision (which was currently accessing the internet via his augmentations) nor why it didn't seem to want to go away. He tried the only thing which made sense to him and "clicked" it.

The image disappeared and was instantly replaced with a message. The contents were highly detailed and immediately hooked his interest. They detailed a double murder, including the location it took place and some interesting details about the possible murder weapon.

Not only that but they included information about a car mechanics for some reason. Ira didn't know who Liam Vaughn was, but the message appeared to indicate that he might be of some help. Or did it say that he might be in need of it? The wording was surprisingly quite ambiguous considering the clarity of the rest of the message.

Either way he had a potential story, and seemingly solid leads already. This was quite an opportunity.

[hr]

Drummodino · Dec 24, 2014

Downtown London - China City Restaurant

The cramped interior of the Chinese restaurant was a welcome refuge from the rain pouring down on the streets of London. A haze of steam roze from the damp patrons and their steaming plates of food, which combined with the cacophony of conversation, shouted orders and sizzling from the kitchen gave the place a cozy and warm atmosphere.

Tucked away in a tiny booth at the back, Jane Anderson sat with her hands cupped around a bowl of noodles, blowing on them gently. A man made to sit in the seat opposite her but quickly retreated when she fixed him with a glare, hastily murmuring an apology. Despite her height Jane could be downright intimidating when she so desired. Lifting her fork she stabbed her late dinner as she focused once more on the messages on her HUD.

The first message was nothing unusual, a typical mission brief. The second though... that was intriguing. Only those with Dynasty accounts should have been able to contact her at this address and they certainly should not have had access to the previous message. Yet this mysterious sender had clearly managed both of these things. Of course if the rumours regarding the so called "Queen Bee" were true, the information should be reliable.

*Workers have often been complaining of a draft coming in from the second floor window on the East side*

Jane pondered these words as she ate, chewing slowly as she savoured the taste. On the surface it appeared to be an anonymous tip, however if Jane had learnt anything in the last few years it was that such tips were never given out of the goodness of someone's heart. This "Queen Bee" had their own agenda and it somehow involved the two individuals she'd been assigned to investigate.

"Most interesting..." Jane murmured, smiling briefly. Ryan Grey and Abigail Pearce... she knew nothing of them right now, but that would soon change. Taking one final glance at the bee icon signing the second message, Jane minimised her mail interface and finished off her meal. Leaving her bowl on the table she pulled her jacket tight and left the restaurant, stepping out into the wet and cold. Hunching over against the rain, she hurried to one of her safe houses, the closest to her target.

[hr]

Reaching the seemingly budget rental storage yard, Jane let herself in through the gate and walked to one of the doors. Punching a code into the keypad, she placed her hand on the sensor revealed by a sliding panel. Accepting her hand-print the door opened and she ducked inside, pulling it shut behind her. The whir of her laptop booting up greeted her as the single ceiling light blinked on. Sitting down at the computer she logged in to the Dynasty database and brought up their surveillance network.

"I see you..." she said, gazing at the image of a standard looking office building. Few lights could be seen from inside, with most of the staff gone home for the night the place appeared deserted. Of course this being a CyCorp facility, this appearance was likely a deception. Keeping the surveillance feed open, Jane pulled up the facility's profile and looked through it.

Name: AugTech
Address: 47 Westview Road Wembley
Affiliation: CyCorp
Specialisation: Prosthetic Research and Development
Estimated Security Level: Medium. Guards, cameras and security locks present. Laser tripwires and automated turrets probable but unconfirmed. Drones and mechs possible but unlikely.

Notes: Small company bought out by Cycorp in 2048. Operates several research facilities in both England and France. Ostensibly a medical research organization, suspected of development of illegal weapons tech. No conclusive link has ever been proven.

"Hmmm, this should be fun." Jane said, downloading the information and surveillance feeds into her augs. Shutting off the laptop she quickly removed her jewelry and changed into her work clothes, keeping the hood and mask in one of her many pockets for the moment. Double checking to make sure she had all of her equipment, she killed the power to the room and stepped out into the rainy night.

FalloutJack · Dec 24, 2014

Despite all things, her home was very much still the picture of English comforts. Oh, there were a few paintings of things like motorcycles, the RX-78 Gundam, and so on...but the manner in which it was done seemed more classy than modern. The room, for instance... This was a lounge. Even in this year, England had lounges, drawing rooms, great halls, and so on. It was the old school, born again or possibly never really dead. The room had well-furnished wooden walls up to a certain point where the paintings hung and the lamp by the easy chair in which she sat - though largely plastic - still held the appearance of old world reading lamps. This was not her doing. Culture is infectious, and she had gotten use to this somewhat after she moved to this country with her parents, years ago. Even still, not everything shoves out the old influence to make way for the new, so this house still carried modern convenience that was kept unobtrusive to leave the ambience as it is. So, when the call came in to disturb her book, it wouldn't be obvious - at first - where in this fireplace-laden room the video caller was. Truth is, the panel for the video emitters was just above the mantle of that fireplace, the little light blinking there synching with her eyes so she couldn't fail to notice. Asagi sighed. They weren't suppose to call...and her superior knew it as his face appeared now. She stood up to pay attention to whatever he had for her.

"Asagi. I know you're not meant to be back for a while, but you're the nearest operative we have to the scene and we need this dealt with fast."

"Then, you'd better tell me in a hurry."

He did so, stepping on her question about a simple armed robbery before she could voice it and explaining that General McArthur of the Defense Ministry - she kept up-to-date on these things - happened to be rolled in with the problem at hand. He, like her, had been off-duty when this happened. Now, both of them were forced to work off-hours. Well, he'd done his part by letting someone know. Hopefully, he'd do his only other duty at this moment and stay alive. Her boss sent over the details and signed off, knowing that she would be on it quickly. Information was already cueing up on her eyes as she went to get changed. Gone is the sweater that she wore for comfort, on is the combat suit she dons for work as she reviewed everything.

A cyber shop, loaded with some of the most-reliable hardware you can find, good for personal use or reselling as she robber wishes. Privately owned, marginal security, insured against damages and robbery. This WOULD be for the police, if not for the VIP hostage.

No other signals in or out means an all-purpose jammer. A jammer means the likelyhood of her using drones to distract or divide and conquer would be small. Asagi left the storeroom with basic armaments - shotgun, pistol, and knife loadout - and entered her garage. Inside was not a car, but a full repair-and-support room for a Kawasaki Mirage, 'The bike so fast it's not there anymore'. She ran her hand across the front of the black-and-gray thing with a smirk and got on, garage door opening. And truth be told, she was already gone...

Prosthetic eyes synched up with well-maintained military limbs, as well as the weight and balance of the bike, providing flawless control and use of speed. The bike maneuvered like it was part of her body. This was because...machines had been a part of her body for three years now. She swept around corners, not stopping for any traffic and being completely capable of getting through it without accident or mishap...or creating one. She just had a good sense of how things flowed around her. This was an armed robbery gone bad. They had probably more than one hostage, and she needed to avoid the front so as not to give the robbers any idea that someone moe serious than the cops was on the way. Asagi instead went to find some alley access to get up the building and secretly enter via the roof. She didn't like going in blind like this, but if she had to, it was going to be on her terms and out of their hands.

Knight Captain Kerr · Dec 24, 2014

Ira had just finished washing up after eating a meal when he had received the message. He knew people had taken notice of The Whistler Report but he didn't expect somebody to contact him directly. Still it seemed interesting, it was certainly worth investigating.

He got ready to leave, he put his lockpicking kit in an inside coat pocket. He looked at the drawer on his bedside table which contained the gun his sister had given him. It could be a trap. They did contact me directly. Although surely if they wanted me dead there would be an easier way to do it. Ira thought for a bit but decided to leave the gun in the lockbox in the drawer. He looked up where the mechanic's was and had the directions appear in augmented reality. Ira left his apartment and locked the door behind him, he got on his bicycle and set off to the mechanics.

TheIronRuler · Dec 24, 2014

Wolf was positively dead at the moment, entirely too busy being a corpse to answer the damn door buzzing away in his busted ears. There was a sound outside, a cat was walking past the street, a black one with flashing lights - 'Oh no, not a black one again, it will ruin all of my work' he thought - and it was crying out a strange sound, something modern, something urgent.

'It couldn't be them, could it?' He was young, standing in the lobby to the small clinic wearing his robe. His laboratory was below the main floor, all of his work was there, but they were coming to get his future, why isn't he breathing? Is it another dream?

Images flutter in front of his eyes and Wolf stares right into earth, thousands of meters in the air, suspended in the stratosphere - he falls down and makes the plunge, and he can hear a man screaming with joy and excitement but it's not him. He wants to scream out of fear, because he forgot his parachute, but then he remembers to stop breathing and that he was watching someone else's dreams in his eyes.

tick-tock, tick-tock, there goes the clock, but why is he holding a stopwatch in his hands, and why isn't it ticking anymore like his father's used to, and why is he asking so many questions when a note in his handwriting is telling him to not panic. 'relax, live and breath - no, stop, the watch. I can't breath. I can't keep it from running. I have to think, I have to remember-'

'They forgot to give you the pills again, old man. You're a useless little shit! All they do is toy with you and take your useless blood! You're a relic, a liability, a fucking disease!', Wolf has to stop listening to it, he will always hear but he mustn't believe, he told himself all of it years ago, 'Could it really be you talking? Could you really say all those awful things? When was the last time you had a moment alone to think?' . TICK-TOCK GOES THE CLOCK , the sounds shatter his ears and Wolf desperately tries to breath but he can't, 'Choke you worthless piece of shit!', "Stop", Wolf screamed in his mind but whispered to the room, when his finger hit the button and finalized the count.

There were red and yellow stains the the notebook, and on the last line he wrote 'Twenty two minutes, twelve seconds and sixty five hundreths of a second' in German.

His eyed wandered over the table in front, his left hand was oozing blood from the beating it gave the concrete wall. It was hardening again, and cortorting just a smidgen, but the blood was stopping and his flesh was seared shut and covered with a scar. "It will go away soon", he whispered to his wound like a mother to her weeping child, right before she presses a pillow to his face.

There was more of the knocking on the door, insistent and snide reminders of his servitude. Each light tap was an insult to his past achievements and great works, 'All you did was be a worthless lab rat'. He was lying to himself again, or telling the truth, he couldn't distinguish the two anymore. A bottle with a colorful label wasn't leaving his sight and he was getting thirsty from all of the dying. He would have to compile the data at some other time, had to complete his work, 'You have to keep calm and relax, you need that drink', "I need it".

Wolf was holding the bottle not so steadily, but that was a side-effect of - what exactly was he taking? 'What if you forget your medication, what will happen to your body? What will happen to your mind?' 'You fucking lunatics are already gone, what's left is there to enjoy the fun!'...The knocking wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop...

'What if it's real?', Wolf wondered in his head in a brief moment of clarity before changing his sight. He was looking through his wall and into the hallway outside of his door. A skeleton was standing there, and if he changed the wavelengths, he could make out a face - it was Malcolm. 'No not him! Anything but him!'.

[hr]2[/hr]

There was a struggle. There was always going to be a struggle, and Malcolm was always the one who won out in the end. He was younger, nearly three times than Wolf. He was twice as strong, and he was augmented for his role. Malcolm was a common thug, as common as CyCorp can afford to have, hyped up on uppers, a good paycheck and a buffed body.

He killed in the past. Wolf could tell by the way he was looking at him and holding himself back. He had the beast caged inside a cage of luxury. It would take something intense to throw the hatch open and let it all come tumbling down.

He wasn't bringing him his medication this time, unlike any other he had come to visit. He always comes at strange hours to meet a sleeping victim, but Wolf always surprised him. When it is time for the medications, he can't let himself sleep. They won't stop screaming in his head. They would never stop, never cease to speak, no matter how quite even under medication...

'Go on and tell them. Tell them what happened. Tell them how you smashed his head in, ha ha, hahahahha!'

He had no bag today. He had no wicked smile to greet Wolf, only a scared stare. Something had gone awry, and Wolf won't be told. 'You're a child sucking off the teat of CyCorp! Not to be seen nor heard!' "What is happening?", Wolf yammered at the empty hallway as Malcolm barged in past him like a raging storm. He was still holding the bottle from before, and his hand kept shaking.

'And now the shouting! Tell them how he screamed at you, how scared he was! But of whom? Definetly not you! Hahahaha!'

"Where did you get this Rum? You can't drink or else your pills go bad and your head goes on the fritz!", Malcolm reached for the bottle but Wolf drunkenly staggered away in time to avoid his reach. 'It's mine mine mine! Without it we all die!' 'Why are you doing this Bernard? Why have you stopped listening? "This is my body", Wolf spat out in German, "Piss off!", he added in the local London tongue.

'You're drunk again you failure! Fuck your science, all you want is a glass of Rum!',"So what if I want my Rum?", Wolf answered the voice in his head and spat out insults to the world, "I am my own master'". A fist hurled itself into his face and the doctor staggered back, another toppled him back. 'No no no I knew this would happen I don't want to die!' "Your insurance is gone, and I came to say my goodbye... But this is going to be a lot better now!", his hands wrapped themselves around Wolf's throat, squeezing away his life. The air was leaving the old doctor, and his eyes looked away at the desk. His work would be left orphaned, and none will step up to continue it for the betterment of mankind.

'Tell them how you didn't even have to break your record! Tell them how you woke from the dead and broke his skull! Tell them!'

Something had gone terribly wrong. Where is your medication?', the man responsible for Wolf's wellbeing was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood in his apartment. He had to find out who was the killer, and he had to do it fast, before he would loose all control over reality.

Evrant-Knight · Dec 24, 2014

"So much for that drink then." Selene said to herself with a sigh as the cab peddled it's way through London whilst she read the message again and looked at the attached image, it appeared to be a bullet casing of some kind, as to what calibre, she couldn't quite say, it was unknown to her, for now.

How someone managed to message her at precisely the moment she left the airport was a mystery in of itself; she made sure that no one knew when she'd be arriving back. But oh well, that mystery can wait for the moment, as a more pressing matter presented itself.

"Change of plans, could you take me to The Continental apartments building please. And then wait for me, as they'll be somewhere else I'll need to go soon after." Selene asked the cab driver as she put away her phone.

"Sure thing miss. Any reason?" The cab driver asked in response as he changed lanes.

"It is a matter of business. Once I'm done at The Continental, the next stop is the Apex City of London Hotel." Selene replied, her tone shifting from casual to more business like in persona.

"Fair enough."

[hr]

An while later the cab arrived at The Continental Apartments and Selene quickly got up, her suitcase trailing behind her. To the many, it looked like any other modern apartment complex, which suited Selene's needs perfectly.

A few minutes later, Selene arrived in her apartment room and dropped off her luggage before changing from her smart casual attire to something more business like, and the kind that had concealed holsters for her twin FN Five-seveN pistols; as far as she was concerned, she was officially on the job. Before she left though, Selene replied to the message along with getting a few other things, namely a case that was roughly the size of a large laptop.

Inform whoever is necessary that I am on the case.

Back out onto the rain slicked London streets, carrying an umbrella in one hand and the case in the other, Selene got back into the cab, the driver of whom was busy reading the evening paper.

"Got everything you needed?"

"Indeed, onto Apex City please."

[hr]

As she entered the Apex City of London Hotel, Selene was surprised to see that, even during the night shift it was still a hub of some activity. Porters were moving bags to and from the entrance and the lifts, and those working at the reception desk busied themselves with in and out going guests.

Making sure that she didn't draw too much attention to herself from the nearby staff and security cameras, Selene made her way towards the lifts and pressed a but that would take her up to floor six. Arriving at the room, she noticed that the room was slightly ajar, letting in a small shaft of light.

"Well someone was in a hurry." Selene remarked as she opened the case and got out a pair of disposable latex gloves, after all, didn't want to leave a trace of her passing, and occasionally checking the coast was clear. Entering the room in earnest, what she saw was a sight that was familiar to her, though normally she'd be the cause. Two dead bodies.

Guess that's what they meant by a wonderful view. Selene then set the case down on a nearby chair and opened it up, revealing an array of cleaning tools, though not your average cleaner would have access to these. She then had another look at the room and the bodies in general. She'd type her findings up later for further use.

They were of a man and woman, age range late twenties to mid thirties at a guess, both were on their backs with their feet of equal distance apart from one another, as if they had stood face to face at time of death. Both had a bullet hole right in the middle of their forehead, but there was no sign of blood anywhere in the room. Either the murderer thoroughly cleaned the room afterword, or some kind of heated bullet was used.

The most unusual feature was that of twelve evenly spaced and of even height holes throughout the room, like that of a clock face. I guess I'm looking for this bullet casing then somewhere in this room, perhaps the clock is a clue. See attached image for more details.

With that sorted for now, Selene got a pair of tweezers, a clear plastic bag marked "EVIDENCE" and a face mask and began searching for any stray bullet casings that the murderer left behind. It took some careful searching and manoeuvring around the bodies to avoid leaving a trace, but eventually Selene found the errant casing had rolled under the bed. Gently picking it up and placing it in the bag, she sealed it up and went back to the case to deposit it along with the other items; then left the room the way she found it, with the door ajar.

Voidrunner · Dec 24, 2014

Edgar was in two minds about tonight's sudden call out. On one hand, he hated to have his sleep interrupted. You needed plenty of sleep if your mind was to stay sharp, that's what he believed. They also said your mind got sharper when you were hungry but Edgar wasn't too keen on testing that one out if he could avoid it. Not that his diet was great, just that he'd rather not starve himself for days just to get an edge on his cases. If this case didn't work out well he might have to try it though, he'd never move up in the ranks if he kept stuffing around handling minor burglaries and two-bit drug dealers. Up higher in the ranks was where he could make a difference, otherwise he may as well have stayed on the beat and do what he could there. He was painfully aware that a higher rank probably wouldn't change anything when The Law was sadly losing power to corporations every day. However, in his mind, it didn't matter if you fought a losing battle as long as you fought in the first place. He was going to help people or die trying.

Which was why he experienced the second part of his mental duality, an eagerness to tackle this new case. Murder, especially of high ranking corporation members was the most serious case he'd ever dealt with. Sure every detective was being called in the station but it was a sign his career was definitely improving. If he could crack this case before some of the senior detectives... well that promotion was looking a lot closer and with it better cases and more chances to help people. That was why Edgar found himself outside in the dead of night, taking a comfortable stroll to the police station. He had a near irrational hatred of cars and had long since moved into a dingy apartment a short walk away from the station to avoid a commute. Saved on the cost of a car too which was a good thing on a constables' salary.

If he'd been anyone else Edgar might not have relished walking through the dark streets but to him the air was crisp and there was finally some relative quiet in his neighborhood. Criminals had to sleep as well, and hopefully those who were awake wouldn't bother attacking a police officer so there was no fear in his heart. There was a high police presence tonight after those murders anyway but you never knew what kinds of strange characters might be wandering around so perhaps his fearlessness was foolish. Still it was only a short walk until he spotted the bright lights of the police station and he was back at his second home. The station, a beacon of The Law, Edgar liked to think civilians were reassured by the sight of it but that was probably wishful thinking. No one was overly fond of the police these days, some of them had good reasons too.

Edgar entered through the automatic doors and greeted the bleary eyed desk sergeant cheerily before heading back to the police only area of the station. Various night shift officers buzzed around the station, conversation was rife about the murders. The corps usually handled their own business, it was rare that the law was being called in to handle this. With no small amount of anticipation Edgar pushed through the door of CID and reported to the Detective Chief Inspector, joining the crowd of other detectives he was holding court for. The briefing hadn't quite started yet, some lived further away, but Edgar could tell he wouldn't have to wait long. He was focusing intensely, this case could make or break his career.

Terratina. · Dec 24, 2014

Carmen grunted a brief acknowledgement of her orders to the Sergeant, downed her coffee and got in her patrol car. The Police Constable lamented as her wiped her eyes that she could've been downing shots in some nightclub if it wasn't for the purgatory that was the night shift. Still, those lucky bastards were being dragged out of their beds for this; no rest for the wicked. Nevertheless, she had a job to do. Two VIPs had been murdered in the Apex City of London Hotel, from the looks of things. While such an occurrence might've brought some excitement into a few lives, Carmen couldn't help but roll her eyes at yet another security job. However, a job was a job. She started up the engine and drove towards the hotel, a little map in the corner of her eye showing her the route there.

One thing was clear: it looked like the entire fucking Met was being sent to handle this. Which made traffic a bloody nightmare.

After that excruciating experience, Carmen managed to park the car and stepped into the downpour. The light of the oncoming police car sirens was refracted by the metal letters of the hotel's signage, this light in turn shone down onto the horde of coppers below. Among them was the Inspector. For Police Constable Jimenez, it was time to act like a good little pig. 'Oink oink.' she mentally quipped as she walked towards the posse of police. No doubt the swanky hotel wasn't exactly pleased with the development. It was easy enough to find the Inspector with the artificial overlay picking out and highlighting the person. Without much ado, she approached the Inspector, "Inspector, PC Jimenez, I was told you'd fill me in."

Texas Joker 52 · Dec 25, 2014

~ Karl Adler ~

As he strode out into the hallway, he reached out to casually pluck his overcoat and scarf from the hook beside the door, pulling it on in a smooth, practiced motion in mid-stride. Oh yes, just a late dinner, he thought with the barest of smiles on his face, it was sure to be very productive.

He gave his assistant, Violet, one last wave before turning out of sight and making his way through the halls of the CyCorp Headquarters. Taking one of the nearest elevators to the garage, he made sure he looked immaculate in the small corner mirrors, patting the side of his coat to make sure the package tucked inside was still there, before stepping out and making his way to his personal car.

The drive was uneventful, and he used it as an opportunity to go through his mental checklist one last time before pulling up to the deserted downtown street. This part of London was still undergoing renovations and reconstruction, thanks to most of the storefronts being abandoned and broken-into. When he had passed through the area to scout it out, he took notice of several homeless making their huts and bedrolls there, but now they were gone, presumably due to the other luxury sedan that was parked in the lot just in front of what used to be women's boutique.

The man that stood next to it was older, but his back was poker-straight and he was dressed in a similar, sensible business suit. His name was Edward Sutherland, one of the other General Managers of CyCorp, one with quite a few connections with the companies higher-ups. And he looked up from a wristwatch to glare as Karl pulled his car into the lot across the street.

Stepping out of his car and striding over with confidence, Karl gave the man a polite smile as he seemed to stomp toward him.

"Adler! I never would've pegged you the type for blackmail. So what is the meaning of this? What do you want?" he growled as he leaned forward to try and intimidate him.

"Please, Edward, saying something like that makes me feel like I should say that blackmail is an ugly word, or some other such cliche," Karl said smoothly as he lifted a hand and waved that off, "Regardless, the meaning of this is business. Nothing more."

"Business?!" Sutherland spat, "If this was about business, you wouldn't pry into a man's privacy!"

That was as good a cue he was like to expect, and Karl took a moment to reach into his overcoat and pull out the file folder, one full of incriminating photos of Sutherland and his three mistresses. Despite the fact that he disagreed with the practice, Karl had to admit that he hoped he'd still be as energetic in his old age.

"Ah, you mean these? Not to worry, I have no intention of actually releasing these photo's to your wife. This was all a pretense. Take it as a show of solidarity if you wish." he said easily, slipping the folder back into his coat.

Sutherland blinked as his expression went blank, but he recovered quickly to narrow his eyes and take a few steps forward, looking at Karl with suspicion.

"A pretense? A 'show of solidarity'? For what? What's the point of all this, Adler? Surely you want something from me." he pointed out slowly.

Karl couldn't help his grin.

"Of course there's something I want! Come, walk with me." he said, putting his arm around Sutherlands shoulder and starting to lead him back to his car.

"You see, I'm a man of ambition, something I imagine you can appreciate. After all, a man doesn't get into a position like yours without ambition." he pointed out, "And what I want is CyCorp. You're going to help me with that."

The old mans face screwed up in a look of angry confusion as he glared at the younger businessman before finally saying, "You certainly don't think small, Adler. How do you expect me to help you? Why do you expect me to help you after this stunt you pulled?"

At that, Karl's smile took an edge to it as he turned to face Sutherland with a hand on his neck in what would've been a friendly gesture. If not for the fact that the blade hidden in his forearm suddenly punched through Sutherland's throat and spine. The look on the old man's face was one of terrified shock, and he collapsed with a gurgle as Karl pulled the blade out of his neck.

"That's how, Edward. As I said, this was all a pretense. You're more useful to me dead." Karl said softly, his voice devoid of all emotion as he pulled a handkerchief from his coat and wiped the blood off of the blade.

Once it retracted safely into his arm, he pulled on a pair of gloves and quickly put the finishing touches on the scene. Namely taking Sutherland's wallet and all the valuables from his person, and then dragging him over to the nearby alley and dumping him into an ancient dumpster. Chances were, if and when the police found him, they'd be looking for a mugger instead of a member of his company.

Once he was back inside his car, he decided it was time for a short night on the town. After all, the first step of his plans going smoothly was worth some celebration.

CrazyGirl17 · Dec 25, 2014

Panicked, Liam dropped the bullet casing. Ohshitshitshit... He peered out the window, but didn't see anyone.

Liam glanced down at the floor again. Bullet shells didn't just appear out of nowhere. This must be some sort of warning... but for what, he didn't know. Instead, he ducked behind the desk and pulled out his trusty sidearm, just in case.

One thing was for certain, though. Things were going to get sticky real fast, and Liam wasn't going to get out of it easy.

Generic NPC 22 · Dec 25, 2014

The Club

The Club was one of the last places one would be thinking about genetics and yet this was the exact position that Irina Rostikova found herself in. The intermingling of genetic materials made for some interesting combinations, at least that's what the blue alcoholic beverage told her right before she finished it off. It made her consider the music assaulting her ears. The Genetics traits passed down from mother and father to daughter was both a fortunate and unfortunate passage of chance when it came to singer Leila Boyle. It was fortunate for her that she had received none of her mother's looks. It was quite unfortunate for both her and Irina's ears that she had not received her mother's voice. It was only the skill of the DJ's hands and ears that made any of Leila Boyle's songs palatable. The thought of Leila's unearned success led Irina's mind towards other philosophical topics... which was fortunately interrupted by the Clubs Proprietor and Tender of the Bar, Bennett.

"'Nother one Eskay?" He said loudly over the music as he wiped away the messy aftermath of a patron who had decided that tipping over a glass to imply that she had finished the drink was a good idea.

Bennett was an okay guy, friendly at times but overly protective of his establishment. In the dog eat dog world of crafting the perfect nighttime hot spot, one needed to be protective or watch years of careful management gets flushed down the drain by one wild rumor or piss poor experience. Having known Bennett for as long as she had, she was still annoyed at his calling her "Eskay."

"No, but you could probably help me with another thing." The Cat Eared VidCast host said with a serious face.

"You know my wife would kill me." The Tender said with a laugh, he knew where this was going and tried to steer the conversation away from the inevitable. He failed.

"Where is he?"

"You know I can't tell you that." Bennett responded.

Living in a world that had seen the rise of 24 hour surveillance had made another industry very popular. Block Boxes, Back Rooms, Quiet Corners: they were all the various nicknames given to areas where audio and video surveillance was prohibited by the staff. The users of such rooms were the discerning type that wanted to keep their affairs off the radar of the media and rival Corps which meant that the staff needed to keep their noses clean and their lips closed.

"Yes you can," Irina countered before adding in a deadly serious tone, "or you can explain to ALL of your clients why I went room to room."

The threat made Bennett shut up for a moment. He'd heard this threat from Irina before but never with the amount of I-don't-give-a-shit sentiment as her voice dripped now.

"Room 5. Don't say I never did nothing for you." Bennett capitulated.

"Thanks B. Oh and tell your wife she's welcome to watch." StripKitty joked with a flirtatious smile causing the Proprietor to shake his head and watch as Irina's tailed ass mounted the stairs to the back.

Heading up, Irina passed the DJ booth and took note that it was Vitality at the board and of the Nipponese guy sitting behind him... or at least partially Nipponese. No full blooded Nipponese man would be caught dead in this one's garish threads, not if they wanted to bring honor to their family and climb the Corp ladder.

"One... Two... Three... Four... and..." The sound of Irina kicking in the door was muted by both the music and the very nature of the room that she was entering. Her dramatic entrance into the room went unnoticed by its two occupants. Entering, a barely audible click indicated that the protocols in place had deactivated Irina's civilian model A/V recording devices, not that she wanted to record what was going on.

The room itself could barely be called as such since the only items within the room were a fair amount of white noise generating speakers and a large clear box made of sound proof glass that was suspended by sound dampening cables. The true room was located inside the box, where a sort of lounge had been set up.

As for the two occupants, the woman was unknown to Irina but she knew the type based on the way she dressed. The stranger was some lower level drone assistance for Such and Such Corp that had been invited to the Club for a taste of the good life and to talk about her future with her Corp. She was a sucker, in more ways than one.

The second occupant was very much known to her and very hated as well. The way he rolled his eyes in the back of his head and the way he grinned made her hate Nathaniel Cray even more. The son of some Corporate Lord, Nathaniel the product of what Irina liked to think of as Corp Nobility. During the Crash, when most had lost it all, the Corp Lords had made it out with more credits than they could spend in 5 lifetimes and a desire to see their success stay in their family. It was in the pursuit of that desire that made Nathaniel turn into the bastard he was. An expensive education at the most prestigious schools was only the start. Cultural vacations in the summer, a staff of what amounted to indentures serfs and lessons on being a royal douche was how Nathaniel was raised. Normally this type of prick wouldn't have registered on Irina's radar but seeing the sight of her ex-husband taking advantage of some Corp Floozy made her blood boil.

BAAAAAAM!!!

The second door being kicked in had more of the reaction that Irina wanted. The anonymous corp drone screamed as she covered herself with her previously discarded clothing and Nathaniel panicked and attempted to zip himself up.

"You son of a *****..." The Cat Tailed Demon Possessed woman hissed at her, "what the fuck do you think you're doing? Sienna is MY daughter."

Seeing that it was only the former Missus Nathaniel Cray, he relaxed and grinned his victory grin.

"It's totally legal, Irina. All I had to do was tell the Magistrate who you were and they gave me full custody. I even showed them one of your VidCasts. They were very, very concerned about our daughter's welfare and the influence that you would have on her. She'll do well with me. I introduced her to the CEO's youngest brat and they've become fast friends. With a little careful fostering, she'll be married to the next CyCorp CEO." Nathaniel said, as he sat on a plastic see through chair, kicking his feet up onto a table.

"She's a girl not your get rich quick ticket." Irina countered entering the room, allowing the other woman an opportunity to escape.

"No, Myra, stay. My Ex-Wife is just about to leave... or do you not want that promotion? You've got to give it your all, you know. Show me how committed you can be." Nathaniel said, causing the woman to pause at the door before walking back towards the couch.

"You're a fuckwit, always have been a fuckwit and you'll always be a fuckwit, won't you." Irina said getting closer to the smiling asshole.

"Irina, why do you always insist on using language that's so outdated, I'll never know but you can take your ass out of..." The Corporate Asshole never got to finish his sentence as Irina pushed the chair backwards, causing Nathaniel's head to meet the glass floor and knocking him into the sweet realm of unconsciousness.

"Asshole." Irina said as she left, tossing the girl her blouse that she had left on the floor.

The night air outside of the Club had helped clear her head up a little, though it did little to flag her waning spirits. The pistol holstered at the small of her back had been meant for him but it would have done little to help get Sienna back to Irina. Walking in the rain, she felt hopeless, powerless and most of all pissed. With tears intermingling with the night's rain, she didn't pay attention to where she was going, nor did she notice the person walking in front of her before bumping into them.

"Ooops... sorry." Irina said looking up from the sidewalk since leaving the Club. Whomever she had bumped into was a woman and they were standing in the middle of ... well... Irina wasn't sure where she was. She'd been wandering for so long, not keeping track of where she was, she was practically lost.

The woman who stood in front of her was pale and shorter than Irina's 5'5". There were a series of holes in the woman's ears where piercings went but had been removed. The outfit, however, was what concerned Irina. She'd seen enough gear to know that this wasn't the casual sort of outfit. Plus given the looks of their location, this absolutely totally not suspicious at all.

"Excuse me. Are you a cop? I'm kinda lost. Think you could help a girl get her bearings?" The Cat Eared VidCaster asked as she activated her A/V recording augs. So help her if she got mugged by this chick, she'd at least be able to show the cops who mugged her.

Knife-28 · Dec 25, 2014

Despite the horrid London weather outside, the air inside Vitality was hot, humid, almost electric, and carried with it the slight edge of sweat, and of too many bodies backed onto the heaving dancefloor. Up in the DJ booth Kaz felt like he was some grand puppeteer, weaving the threads of his music into the undulating crowd below. With each dip in the music, as the beat slowed the crowd would ripple like the surface of the ocean, and as it rose, the beat pumping harder and more intensely that ocean would be torn into a thrashing maelstrom of neon hair, waving arms and dirty dancing. Even if Leila Boyle's less than dulcet tones weren't a personal favourite, it put feet on the dancefloor, somehow.

Kazuko Wright's existence narrowed to the cluttered mess of dials, switches and spinning disks beneath his fingers and the pounding beat working its way through every pore of his being. It wasn't until the end of his set, when his whirling symphony of sound died down for the final time that he noticed the small, blinking message sitting in the corner of his vision.

"Yo man, you heard? Some CyCorp bastard's been hit... Not by you was it? "

Some CyCorp employee dead, and with any luck it was someone more important that the night janitor. This night couldn't get any better. As usual, Kaz was paid in cash, and as usual, the moonlighting DJ worked his way through the heaving crowd towards the bar to inject it straight back into the club.

A glass of mediocre blue alcohol in hand, Kaz settled into one of the empty seats at the back of the club and shot off a quick reply asking for any more deets before hooking into the net and doing a little cyber sleuthing of his own. As luck would have it, the net was absolutely buzzing with activity regarding the murder. Blog posts and disgruntled status updates flowed across Kaz's eye, a stream of information flowing straight to his brain. Apex City of London Hotel was lousy with police, particularly floor 6.
While it was tempting to pack up shop and go have a stickybeak at the hotel, Kaz ordered another refill and got comfortable in the aged leather seat, partly to pick over the situation some more, and partly to check out the new DJ and see if he was any decent.

TheIronRuler · Dec 25, 2014

'The police will help, yes they will, they will find the killer and keep you safe' Wolf was staggering through main street, which at the time of night was almost empty. "Ten Four Six this is Base, do you copy? Are you in position at the scene in City of London?" Wolf was looking for help but all he could hear was the buzz around the City of London. It was covering the wavelengths and the networks, crawling to the dark reaches of the net - places he couldn't reach alone. 'Of course you want the police you pathetic swine, you couldn't ever finish anything yourself!

There were lights around him and the screen changed to something else, to someone else. A woman was smiling, an Asian girl with cat ears and a pair of deep eyes. She was introducing a product and talking, about it, herself, and everything in between. StripKitty was a celebrity and Wolf barely recognized her from the billboards. 'When was the last time I saw one of those? When was the last time I was outside?', he wondered while the program shut itself off and he was left staring at a brick wall. His head was leaning against it and it hurt. Two thin streams of blood made their way down his cheeks and lainted his face. His research, he had to keep it safe. The notebbook was tucked underneath his arm, raw data stored inside. He had to compile it all somewhere, someday... But he was hurt, and first he had to find a doctor...

'Aren't you a doctor? Where are we? How can we get to a hospital?' Wolf noticed a slick bracelet on his tight hand with his name on it, two phone numbers and a detailed list of alergies and his conditions. It was strange reading them and understanding their definitions while comparing them to his experiences. For a moment he was his own doctor and he thought of his condition clearly. 'I truly have gone mad'.

His head hurt when the wound closed up and his last sane line of thought escaped him. He dialed the first phone number but nobody picked up - a quick message from Malcolm said he was occupied and asked to call again. The second phone rang twice before it was answered by someone else. Wolf thought he recognized it from someplace else.

Somewhere across town a phone rang. It belonged to Ryan Grey. Someone else picked up the phone from its evidence box and answered.

'You were calling the police after all! But who are you talking to now?'

"They killed Malcolm and now they're after me. I need my drugs now".

Neuromancer · Dec 26, 2014

There was something inexplicably peculiar about this bee.

It wasn't that it was a hallucination. Charles had grown used to his hallucinations to the point it worried him -except for the times that he was too drunk to care (which, truthfully, was most of the time.)- and, for the most part, he had learned to ignore them to a certain extent. Yet, he felt strangely compelled to pursue this bee. Drawn to it, even.

What's more, the bee felt oh so familiar. How outrageous. All bees looked similar to the point of being indistinguishable, yet Charles couldn't shake the feeling that he knew this particular bee. Unfortunately, this sense of familiarity was all he could get, as he was too drunk to remember what its cause was.

He pressed onwards in his pursuit, with the bee leading him through dark alleyways and empty streets, evading him ever so slightly. He stumbled a few times along the way, but that was only because he wasn't as drunk as he'd usually be.

It truly was quite the peculiar night, even without the bee chase, despite starting as all his nights did -by going to the bar and getting drunk. "Gathering Dust" was a bar worthy of its name and then some. It was situated in some off-the-beaten-track alleyway, with little in way of finding it. Truly, unless you were a regular or stumbled upon it by chance, you'd have to actively search for it. For most bars that would spell suicide, but "Gathering Dust" was nothing like most bars.

"Gathering Dust" was a peculiar case in that it seemed to attract people that had one thing in common: They all had, at a certain point in their lives, irrevocably fucked up. Who they were and what they did to fuck up didn't matter and indeed, most of the patrons rarely, if ever, talked. Most nights consisted of the same old faces sitting on their regular place drowning their sorrows, giving the place a rather depressing vibe. The fact that the music played was usually dark and depressing probably didn't help things either (not that the regular patrons, absorbed deep in thought as they usually were, would even notice it).

Contrasting all that was the owner, the one only known as Molly. Molly was a woman that didn't look past 25, around 170cm tall with a small frame, piercing blue eyes and deep pink/light blue coloured hair fashioned into pigtails. Her usual appearance was a bizarre mix of vintage punk and goth styles, the only seemingly consistent thing about her clothing being that it was always black.

Molly always had this vibe of approachability to her, like you could pour out your soul's most demented and blackest parts, and she'd listen to you go on to your heart's content, a friendly half-smile etched upon her face as she would pour you one glass after the other, never even a hint of judgentalistic moral superiority in her expression and eyes. Charles was never quite sure if she did it out of genuine care or sly business practice, but he had also found himself on occasion drunkingly rambling on about his miserable life. What he had told her, he didn't quite remember.

Tonight, though, she had a different air about her, one of stress and worry. Normally, she'd let Charles drink until he was just a shy way away from completely losing control of his actions, but tonight she didn't even let him drink more than two bottles of whisky (it'd normally take Charles at least two more before he started losing his grip on reality)

As such, Charles left the "Gathering Dust" bar, partly due to annoyance. Drinking was more than just a way for him to cope with the psychological strain his situation left him. It helped lessen the effects of the computer virus ravaging his brain. And so, not only did he feel like a junkie getting only a tease of his fix, but was also afraid of how much the virus would fuck him over. As he walked out of the bar, the bee appeared and next thing he knew, here he was.

As he continued ever onwards, Charles couldn't help but notice a crowd gathering further down the street he was at. There was police there, too. He felt compelled to check it out.

But the bee disagreed, going the opposite way.

For some reason, he felt that ignoring the bee would have unforeseen consequences.

What a curious feeling. Still, if it was something worth his attention he'd surely hear about it in the news.

And so, the bee hunt continued. Where to, he didn't know.

Drummodino · Dec 26, 2014

'I hate London.'

That was the thought bouncing around Jane's head as she walked through the streets. Of course she didn't truly believe that, she actually liked the city quite a lot. What she really didn't enjoy was this weather. The rain soaked through her clothes and trickled down her neck, as if she'd been submerged in a lake. This combined with the wind blowing through the street caused the cold cut through her like a knife, even with her thermal underlayer on. Wrapping her arms around herself she shivered as she travelled, monitoring the camera feeds on the corner of her vision. A flashlight could be seen moving around the building, disappearing from time to time before reappearing in another window. Nothing else of note was visible from the outside.

The rain also presented several challenges for someone in Jane's line of work. A trail of wet footprints was not something you wanted to leave in the building you were sneaking into, particularly if there were guards around. It was for this reason that Jane carried a small towel in her waterproof pouch, so she could dry herself off once she got into the facility.

With her visibility lowered by the weather and her attention focused on the feeds, Jane didn't notice the other woman until they collided.

"Excuse me. Are you a cop? I'm kinda lost. Think you could help a girl get her bearings?"

Irritated at her own lack of awareness, Jane opened her mouth to tell the woman to get lost. Before she could utter the words however she took in the woman's appearance. Cat ears and a tail had been grafted onto her body, but what really grabbed Jane's attentions were the red, swollen eyes and flushed face, this girl had been crying.

Sighing loudly, she stepped back. "This is Wembley love, Baron Street I believe. There was a tube station about three blocks or so back that way." she said, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. "Now sorry, but I've got somewhere to be."

Briskly moving forward, Jane marched past the strange looking girl. She was probably a show girl or dancer, promised the high life of the city by some seedy gentlemen before having that dream brutally shattered. It was disgusting, but there wasn't much Jane could do about it.

A minute later her destination came into view, the fire escape of the neighbouring building. Pulling her hood and mask out of her pocket she donned them quickly, before grabbing the ladder and climbing up. The second floor window on the East side, that was where she was headed.

London 2056 - A CyberPunk RP [Game thread - Started]

Were it so easy

Were it so easy

Were it so easy

Were it so easy

Were it so easy

Were it so easy

Can't Stop the Bop

Bah weep grah nah neep ninny bom

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An Interloper

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RIP Escapist RP Board

All hail the Pun Meister!

I am a banana!

The Most Generic of NPCs

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Endless Struggle

Can't Stop the Bop