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

[Knight Captain Kerr]

Shit. Ira had been starting to think that the police might just leave without incident but it looked like they might have found something. Still Ira was holding out hope that checking out this tip wouldn't end with a trip down to the police station and him calling the family lawyer.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

~ Karl Adler ~​

As Karl watched Karine stride away to wade back into the chaos to get her motorcycle, he sighed softly and smiled a little. Oh yes, it was the start to what he felt would be a beautiful friendship, and possibly more. He was looking forward to it. His hand moved to the gearstick so he could make his way back home when he heard his phone ring.

"And there we are. No rest for the wicked, it seems." he murmured before he answered it politely, saying "This is Karl Adler speaking."

"Mr Adler your presence is required," the calm male voice said, in a matter of fact tone. The young man didn't introduce himself, nor did he feel the need to elaborate on who it was Karl was supposed to be meeting. A person in Karl Adler's position would naturally be expected to have the number to the CEO's office saved, and his secretary was more often than not, the means by which to contact him.

"I shall send you the address you will be meeting at. As I am sure you are aware, our headquarters in London are hardly suitable at the moment," the secretary added.

He wasn't entirely surprised to hear the CyCorp CEO's secretary, given the current situation. If anything, it was just a matter of time, and the timing could have been much, much worse. After all, at least he got to share an omelette and conversation with the lovely Karine.

"Of course. I'll be on my way immediately." he said easily.

When the secretary mentioned that the London Headquarters wasn't a suitable meeting place, Karl looked up at the still-smoking spire.

"From where I happen to be sitting, that much is abundantly clear, believe me. Tell our mutual employer that he can expect me shortly." he said dryly before he hung up and looked at the directions.

Then he promptly started the car again and drove off in the direction of the meeting place, all the while wondering just what he was expected to do, beyond damage reports and damage control.

 

[Neuromancer]

With the Catzerker passified, Charles let out a noticable sigh of relief. A satisfied grin painted his face; indeed, this was a good result to a rather bad start. With her anger subdued, Irina could hopefully focus on something that would benefit both mother and daughter. Namely, parenting. Sienna's wounds cut deep, and he wasn't talking about the physical ones. Though it wasn't the best of starts, hopefully with time and care Sienna would learn to accept her mother and heal from the trauma of tonight's events. There was a lot of work to be done.

And though Sienna's psychological welfare was paramount, one could not ignore the physical side of things. For her to walk again, Sienna would need prosthetics, and they weren't cheap. Especially considering the fact that she was not yet fully grown, and would thus need to change them frequently. It would likely cost a fortune, and Charles wasn't quite sure whether his Cat-with-the-temperament-of-a-Dragon acquantance also shared the dragonic tendency to hoard up. Then again, Gray most likely had a good deal of mullah in his bank account, an amount that would likely be passed to Sienna. And there'd likely be a lot of money from insurances aswell. Hells, had he not known Irina, he'd likely suspect her himself, no matter how illogical it would be for a vidcaster to bomb the two major conglomerates that run London and likely the rest of the country aswell.

"So..." Charles started, a bit hesitant to bring up the subject so early, "Wha... whatcha gonna do about tha girl's legs? Ye'll likely get a good amount a' money out of insurances and stuff... ye think it'd be enough ta cover-"

Before he could finish that sentence, though, Charles was interrupted by the sound of footsteps at the door. And indeed, there stood three people, one woman followed by a man at each side, wearing police uniforms. The female officer, though short (still not as short as the Catcaster, though), looked imposing, and had an air of authority about her. She scanned the room, throwing sharp glances around before entering, followed by the other officers. Throwing a rather piercing glare at Charles, she turned to look at Irina, who had still not turned to see who had entered the room, occupied with looking at her daughter and most likely hating herself in one way or another.

"We are looking for Irina Rostikova." she announced, her voice authoritive and resolute.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | A Hospital | Surgical Recovery Ward
///@StripKitty: #OhCrapTheFuzz!!///​

For the Ex-Wife of the recently deceased Nathaniel Cray to deny her identity to the local authorities would have been the height of foolishness considering that there were enough pictures of her available on the Net to fill the Louvre with wallet sized portraits. It would have also made things rather uncomfortable for the young woman considering the purpose of the officials' visit was more than likely in relation to the recent bombings of CyCorp and HA Dynasty. In hindsight, things might have turned out better if the taller than average Capricious CatGirl had thought of these things in advance.

"I think she went down to the cafeteria to get a bite of breakfast," The Cat Eared Liar said with a nervous smile on her face, "I'm her sister Katya."

The only truth that Irina had given the Coppers was the fact that she did have a sister named Katya. Despite this small bit of truth, the three authorities standing at the room's only escape route looked both unconvinced and unamused. Given the severity of the events that had recently unfolded, three fuzzateers would have been completely justified in taking the woman down to the ground for "interfering with a criminal investigation" by providing a false identity. Seeing that the Police Woman and her male goons were looking for a reason to place her in handcuffs, Irina's story changed quickly.

"Fine. I'm assuming that you want me to go to the station with you guys?" Irina asked rhetorically.

"You'd assume correctly, Miss Rostikova." The woman stated as she approached the young mother, "We've got a few questions for you."

Irina didn't have to ask what the questions were in regards to. Between the recent assault on Nathaniel and the fact that he was one of the casualties at CyCorp as well as the life insurance payout that still named Irina as the beneficiary and the fact that Sienna, the inheritor of her father's assets, was also critically wounded in the bombing attack and the fact that Irina affiliations with more than a few groups that wouldn't have batted an eye at the thought of bombing a Corp, there were more than a few reasons to question the VidCaster, if not name her a primary suspect.

"But... my daughter." Irina started to say as the female officer pulled her off the bed and began leading her towards the door and her waiting partners.

"She'll still be here when you've answered out questions. I suggest you cooperate or we'll have to call Child Protective Services since you'll be in a holding cell."

There weren't a lot of options open at that moment. She didn't want to cause scene in Sienna's room and she didn't want to be detained for any longer than it would take to answer the questions that would be asked. Nodding to indicate her compliance, Irina turned to Charles.

"Keep an eye on Sienna for me, would you? I'll be back later." She said before exiting the room and heading towards the waiting elevator.

 

[Knife-28]

Kazuko smiled as Selene pantomimed zipping her lips together. It was a small gesture, but it made him feel less anxious about telling her his secret.

As for her comment on the package's intended recipients, that was something Kaz had more or less put together himself some time ago, and promptly decided not to think about too much.

"So, if it's okay in asking, what does your mother do for a living then?"

"If you can believe it, she actually used the money I gave her to quit her old job and start up a small record store with an old band mate of hers." Noticing the raised eyebrow on Selene's face, Kazuko pressed on. "Before she married my dad, way back when while she was still living in Japan, my mum was the lead singer of the band 'Do As Infinity'. It was never real big but they did have one hit that went global which is a pretty decent effort."

"So yea, no two guesses to where I get my overflowing musical talent." Kaz finished, his voice simultaneously all but dripping sarcasm but also carrying the tone that yes, he was a pretty good DJ (or at least he thought so.)

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"If you can believe it, she actually used the money I gave her to quit her old job and start up a small record store with an old band mate of hers." Kaz replied, this naturally had raised Selene's interest, and subconsciously raised an eyebrow in return.

"Before she married my dad, way back when while she was still living in Japan, my mum was the lead singer of the band 'Do As Infinity'. It was never real big but they did have one hit that went global which is a pretty decent effort."

"So yea, no two guesses to where I get my overflowing musical talent."

"Indeed, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in this example. Just as how your mother was a member of a band, you have followed your own path in music. Fascinating. Do As Infinity, I must look them up when I next get the chance." Said Selene, her voice sounding rather positive at the thought.

"Seeing as how you've told me about your parents, seems only fair that I tell you about mine. My father has had an interesting life as you already know, a cleaner by trade, has had to deal with some messy situations in the past. Whereas my mother is an artist, talented in her field, known more in Europe than elsewhere. Still paints to this day. Claims to be nowhere near as talented as the Old Masters of centuries past, but some of her work would surprise you." Selene then finished the rest of her glass of wine in one fell swoop.

"Delightful. Speaking of, how are you finding the wine Kaz? Apologies if it's not to your tastes, not often do I get guests here, so it's more catered towards me." She then remarked, sounding a bit glum by the fact of what she just said.

 

[CrazyGirl17]

"Sir, do you mind coming in and explaining this?"

By now, Liam was beginning to sweat. Shit. He thought, realizing that the jig was up, and he had to think fast. Swallowing hard, he entered his office, mentally putting together a story.

"About that... I just walked into my office and found them there, it was the darndest thing it was! Maybe of my workers dropped them there and I didn't get around to picking them up..."

He was reaching and he knew it, and it was unlikely the cops would believe him...

 

[Neuromancer]

Bloody Coppers.

That was the only thought that Charles could muster after witnessing the scene that had just played, giving Irina a reassuring grunt (he would nod, but that would be extremely painful) in reply. He always had a distain for the authorities; first-hand experience and lots of digging revealed that they were, for the most part, corrupt to the core, bought off by the corps or working with drug cartels and other such unpleasantries to make a quick buck. He wondered which kind had just come to pick up Irina; most likely the Corp buyouts, considering what had transpired.

Did they honestly think that an almost-midget-sized vidcaster would have the gall and resources to bomb the seats of power of the people running everything? Truly, they must've grown desperate to consider such a possibility.

And so, he was left alone with young Sienna again, silence constantly broken by the sounds of medical machinery. Starring at her, Charles wondered how the girl would act upon waking up. for she had much to stomach. Would she panic again? Or would she be so depressed she wouldn't even have the energy to speak?

There was no point in overthinking things. He'd get no answers, only grow more anxious. With Irina away and Sienna sleeping, perhaps now was time for some well deserved rest? He did feel rather drained, not to mention all the meds being pumped into his blood stream were making his head feel rather hazy.

Yes, he concluded. A brief moment's respite. He closed his eye, let out a tired yawn and let the drowsiness overtake him.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | A Hospital | Surgical Recovery Ward
@SiennaRosti: Today was a bad day​

A pair of green eyes opened slowly, blinking a few times to remove the fuzzy haze that had twisted itself around her perception of the world. Everything in the room was familiar to the eight year old girl and yet the objects in the room appeared skewed. Whether this was because of the neurological trauma that Sienna had suffered by the concussive blast that had taken her father's life or the drugs that were being pumped into her body through a series of IV lines was not known to the young girl. What she did know was that her life, her normal and happy childhood was over.

Though she was not familiar with all the objects placed around the room, Sienna had a feeling that she would become familiar the smell of the hospital, the sterile look of the tiles and the various sounds that the various machines made. Looking through the darkness of the room to her right, Sienna saw the silhouette of the slumbering Charles, her blasted mother's friend. Speaking of which, where was that "mother" of her's. Scanning the periphery of the room, the young girl was not surprised by the absence of her mother. Despite her disdain for the woman, Sienna could not help but wish for Irina's presence.

There was a slight itch in her right leg. Reaching down, the young girl rediscovered the horror that she had hoped was only a dream. Her fingers passed the spot that itched only to feel nothing underneath the blanket and yet, the maddening sensation remained. Looking underneath her blanket, she received visual confirmation of what had happened. Her right leg had been amputated just below her hip and her left leg had been amputated at the knee. Seeing this, young Sienna Rostikova-Cray felt her stomach churn slightly, though, none of the previous panic returned thanks to the sedatives that ran through her bloodstream.

"M... Mister Charles? A... A... are you awake?" Sienna whispered in the dark.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

~ Karl Adler ~​

Karl had recognized the location, having eaten there at least once or twice for business dinners before, but under much better circumstances than this. When he reached the restaurant, he went inside and told the receptionist at the front that he was expected, as well as to bring him a coffee once he was seated. After all, he was going to need it especially if the meeting went on for as long as he thought it might.

Striding toward the familiar face, he sat down across from the man already sipping at his own mug of coffee.

"This is a bloody mess." he said as he looked the man across from him in the eye, "Am I the only one expected here, or should we wait for other arrivals?"

The man looked straight back at Karl before responding, "No, it will be just the two of us this morning," he paused for just a moment to consider how to begin. "I am sure you have kept yourself briefed on things so far. While the bomb itself is naturally the most alarming aspect, it is the first murder that I believe is the lead we must follow to find out who did this.

You work in Research and Development. You also have a sharp mind, I'd like you and your team work out what exactly this weapon is. I have everything we know about it from the crime scene and want to hear your theories."

The man slid over several sheets of paper to Karl. While printing documents out had long since become obsolete in the general sense, it was a much safer way of dealing with things in a public space, where defences against cyber attacks were not quite as strong. It wouldn't be a surprise if the H.A Dynasty were also searching for information on the weapon and it wouldn't do for them to know how much CyCorp was aware of.

It wasn't long before Karl's own cup of coffee arrived at the table, and he took the time to sip from it before he examined the documents handed to him. The fact that there were photos of the crime scene, the very crime scene he had taken the time to visit earlier that night, wasn't particularly surprising. He supposed he needn't have even met with the Constable, but hindsight was like that. Though, that did bring up the subject...

"I should tell you, I've been brought on as a consultant and intermediary in regards to the military's investigation into the matter. I hope that won't be an issue." Karl said flatly as he looked up from the documents.

"As for this, I'll get to work immediately. Don't expect much until I've had time to review it with our research teams. We don't want half-baked theories for something this important after all." he said with a thin smile.

It wasn't particularly friendly.

While he didn't show it, the man was slightly taken aback by Karl's statement that he was assisting the military. "As long as all information you pass on to them is vetted through me first, then no, it shall not be an issue. The military cannot be trusted to act within our best interests."

He did not fail to note that while Karl's expression was not hostile, it was not one of particular respect either. The man reminded himself that this was someone who had risen through the ranks almost abnormally quickly; something that might warrant further investigation all things considered.

Putting that aside for the moment he continued, "I want your best people working on this. I want it done right, but time isn't a luxury. Any questions?"

When mention of the military not exactly having CyCorp's interests in mind when they acted, Karl shrugged.

"Actually, in this case I beg to differ. The operative in question is at least sympathetic to the company, and one could hardly call finding the people who murdered our employee's and bombed not only us but the Dynasty as against our best interests. Unless any of our more... Legally questionable practices are directly connected to the bombings and murders themselves, I see no reason not to give full disclosure of any pertinent information we have." he said, before his expression turned bland and he leaned forward, gazing at the man over the rims of his glasses.

"Considering that our company has more than a few military contracts in our metaphorical belt, both in the United Kingdom and abroad, I would think that playing nicely could possibly be turned to our favor." he pointed out.

He sat back again and took a small sip of his coffee. It was quickly getting cold, and he pulled off a surprisingly dignified expression of disgust.

"As for finding out the nature of the weapon, I can assure you, my best teams will be involved. I want to find out who happens to be responsible for this just as much as you do. I'll notify you of any findings we make." he said, pushing the mug aside before reaching into his coat for his wallet.

"Any other business we need to discuss, or shall I go ahead and pay the check?" he asked politely.

The man gazed steadily at Karl for a moment before responding, "No, that will be all Adler. Keep me posted on your findings," he said. "Forget about the coffee, I'll put it on my tab" he added, not that he was going to be charged for it anyway.

He remained seated, his eyes slowly unfocusing as they concentrated on something he was looking at through his augmentations; a clear sign that Karl was dismissed.

At that, Karl shrugged, pulling out a five pound note and laid it underneath his coffee mug as a tip for the waitress. After all, it was only fair. As he walked out, he immediately began to run through his mental list of candidates for the research group, though he kept two names at the very top of the list: Ari and Toshiro Asagi. He glanced back at the restaurant as he left, and the smile he had took a slight edge.

Whatever he couldn't tell Karine directly about the weapon, her parents likely could. Especially since they were technically outside consultants.

 

[Knife-28]

Kazuko was surprised that Selene's mother was also an artist, though, one that worked with paints and easel rather than sound and rhythm.

"Seems we have something in common there, then." He said as Selene finished off her glass of wine.

"Delightful. Speaking of, how are you finding the wine Kaz? Apologies if it's not to your tastes, not often do I get guests here, so it's more catered towards me."

"Well, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not at all a large fan of wine." Kaz said as he studied the the contents of his own half empty glass. Not oblivious to Selene's glum tone regarding her lack of guests, Kaz decided to do what came naturally, and resort to humour. "The Pinot Noir carries with it a fruity taste that offends the sensibilities and a low alcohol content that is frankly shameful."

Scathing criticism, but Kaz's over-the-top 'posh' accent during his importune review would no doubt soften the blow.

"Besides, it's not the quality of the drink, it's the company that really matters." He added, slipping back into his more Australian twang.

 

[Barbas]

Terminal 6, Heathrow Airport, London​

The airport terminal was a hive of moving bodies. The man couldn't recall having seen such a frenzied crush of people since the war. Families huddled together at the squeaking black conveyor belt, craning their necks beyond the scratched and faded safety line to see if their belongings would appear. He waited until most of the frantic jostling was done and the bulk of the passengers had passed on before he turned his gaze lazily to the black circuit. The sleeve of a worn overcoat brushed an unconscious rhythm back and forth along the walnut counter, his fingers tapping gently to a tune inside his head.
The bar was pleasant and warm but too loud; his thoughts were almost drowned out by the tinny announcements and the droning beat from a speaker over the teenage barman's head.
After a few songs had been finished, a familiar leather duffel bag was disgorged unceremoniously from the square metal cloaca of the airport's luggage leviathan to join the battered and circling regiment. Glad at the opportunity to leave, the man drained his cheap gin and tonic and strode out of the bar.

* * *​

"Is sir getting in?", asked the driver mockingly, resting his elbow theatrically on the dashboard and addressing the unshaven man in the overcoat. "Only it's been a rather long night." The man regarded him strangely as if he had only just noticed him, climbing into the cab and sliding his bag across the seat beside him. "Interesting city", he said simply.
"That is a common complaint, yes", The driver continued slowly and kindly.
"Nearest good hotel, please."
"Right, easy enough."
The jet-black bulk of the taxi trundled out from under the covered terminal concourse and was soon speeding along into the rain-soaked night, the passenger's eyes hungrily taking in the twisted glass spires and towering edifices of concrete and marble.

"You being new here, I don't suppose you heard about the terrorist attacks?", queried the driver.
He thought momentarily, "The bombings, yes. I saw the report on the plane as we landed."
The driver gestured to the dashboard radio. "Surprised me to hear how shocked both companies seemed to be at the fact, seeing as how they're always at each other's bloody throats. Wouldn't surprise me all that much if each of them just decided to bomb the other at the same time by accident."
"Mmm", his passenger remarked absent-mindedly, frowning out the window at the passing billboards advertising life enhancement in various pill forms.

The cab turned onto a wide boulevard punctuated by trees and bordered by tall, stone-faced buildings of white stone and black wrought iron railings.
"Here we are, in one of the more salubrious parts of London town. This is the Apex. All of the modern amenities without the blighted Apple Store look."
The passenger took in the elegant silver gilt facade over the curving white brick archway and the smartly dressed doormen almost imperceptibly brushing invisible lint from their charcoal coats. For the first time that evening, a genuine smile crossed his lips. He turned and handed several notes to the driver. "Keep the change, please."
"Thank you kindly, good sir!", the driver grinned.
The cab lurched and parted from the curb with a growl of its engine, tooting its thanks as it meandered away into the cool night air.

* * *​

Apex Hotel, London​

Spoiler: The Hotel.

The key-card slid into the door slot with the ease of a stiletto, eliciting a short beep of contentment. He had been informed at reception that the room beyond was not the most lavish in the hotel's proud and extensive range, but he could already see that it was almost cavernously spacious and furnished with more comforts than he'd ever seen in his lifetime.
The weight of years dropped from his shoulders as the door quietly swung itself shut behind him. Leaving his bag and shedding his coat, he walked in perfectly a straight line to the bed and flopped onto its soft, quilted mass with a sigh of total relaxation. Tomorrow he would see London, his new home, and he would become a Londoner and learn all about London. Tomorrow, he would know more about what had happened in the news and what it meant for him. Tonight, though, there was nothing in the world but the four corners of this impossibly soft bed.
He slept like the dead.

 

[Drummodino]

Carmen rubbed her forehead as she awoke. Her head felt like it been slammed into a wall several times and her eyelids fluttered as they tried to open, stopped by crusty rheum; the police officer's body as a whole moved as slow as molasses. The hangover was horrible, even for a seasoned drinker. Well, Carmen certainly wasn't getting any younger.

With a stretch, she clothed herself and took advantage of Alice's bathroom though she only washed her face and used the mouthwash - a shower could wait until she was home. Half-awake, Carmen stumbled into the kitchen. Ignoring Alice, She grabbed a glass of water and began to drink it while giving a half an ear to the droning reporter on the TV.

'Wait, did I hear that right?' Carmen thought and turned to look at footage of the ruined CyCorp headquarters. Her eyes widened as she cursed, "...Shit."

Jane sighed and hung up the call as her overnight companion emerged. There'd been no answer, but she was sure her mother was fine. She'd just be busy with the clean up from this mess, that was all. "Shit indeed." she said. Worry for her parents was still gnawing away at her insides, yet she didn't want to give that away to her guest.

"I think you might be having a busy day officer." she quipped, throwing a half hearted salute. "The whole city is going to be chaos isn't it..." she continued with a frown. Just then a message popped up on her HUD, marked with an 'URGENT' label.

"Guess so. Turns out one murder wasn't enough for some people." Carmen replied with a nod. The police chatter was already causing a buzzing in her ears, though that might just've been a result of a hangover and augs - both legal and illegal - mixing together. Carmen stretched again as she continued, "I have places to be, from the sound of things, I'll be on my way."

"...huh? Oh yea, okay. See you around I guess." Jane replied distractedly, still glancing at the message icon glowing on her display. She opened the message and breathed a sigh of relief as she read the contents.

*To: 'T.H.A Jane A'

Report to Facility C for mission briefing immediately. In the light of last night's events all hands on deck are required and you are needed for a very particular mission. Time is of the essence.

P.S. Your parents are unharmed and are hard at work at this time.*

Carmen then pushed the chair away from the table, causing a godawful screech and got up. Before she walked out the door, she said, "Thanks for last night, bye."

Jane wasn't far behind Carmen out the door, quickly dressing and dashing out to her rendevous. Her head still throbbed but hopefully the painkillers she'd grabbed on the way out would alleviate that somewhat.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"Well, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not at all a large fan of wine." Kaz remarked as he studied the contents of his own half empty glass of wine. "The Pinot Noir carries with it a fruity taste that offends the sensibilities and a low alcohol content that is frankly shameful." He then added in an over-the-top posh sounding accent. Whether or not that was meant to be mocking Selene wasn't quite sure, but the more relaxed side of her that came about from drinking alcohol did find it a little funny.

"Besides, it's not the quality of the drink, it's the company that really matters."

"Quite true. Good company can make up for bad alcohol depending on the situation. Guess this one is an acquired taste." Selene then looked at the clock that hung on the wall behind Kaz and saw what time it was.

"Oh my, look at the time, I best get some sleep Kaz. Had a long day as it is already, and no doubt CyCorp will summon me at some point to assist in some form of investigation related to the bombings. Are you sober enough to get yourself home, or would you prefer to sleep it off first? If so, I have a spare guest bed you can use."

 

[Neuromancer]

The air was filled with smoke and blood.

The apartment block was aflame, its corridors, once brightly-coloured and pleasantly decorated, turned into a blazing inferno of burning paintings and plastic plants, its walls turned pitch black from the suffocatingly thick smoke. The wooden staircase was slowly crumbling, as though spending its last few fleeting moments defiant of its ineluctable fate.

This was not the first time he had found himself in a burning building. He grew in a Belfast plagued by bombings and arsons. He still remembered the feeling of frightful hopelessness that was being trapped in a burning room, waiting for the sound of the firetrucks.

But there were no sirens in the distance, and from the cracks in the ceiling and the falling debris one thing was abundantly clear: The apartment block's days were spent, and it was a matter of when, not if], it was going to collapse.

He didn't have much time.

The second floor corridor was hit the worst; flames burst forth from ruined doorways; thick smoke, too much to escape in its entirety through the small frame of the floor's lone window, gathered on the ceiling with such density, it was as though he was surrounded by a fog of darkest black.

The atmosphere was suffocating; he could scarsely breath or see from the smoke. He felt his face sear, and his eyes, having turned watery from the smoke, stung as though someone was inserting needles in them. He briefly wished he had a set of synthetic eyes before running down the corridor, having thrown all caution to the wind.

Hr knew exactly where he was going.

Her apartment was at the end of the walkway, its wooden door, though crumbling from the flames that were slowly devouring it, still stood firm and unyielding.

"Natalie!" he shouted with all his strength, but no response came through the door. Desperation reaching its apex, he threw one crude kick at the door after the other, finally getting through as it crumbled into cinders. The fires had spread even in here, but fortunately they weren't as severe as they were outside. With hurried steps he made his way to the living room, throwing careful peaks through open doors at the other rooms as he went.

The living room was lightly furnished; he remembered how she would often complain about it, saying how sbe'd like to further decorate it but had neither the money nor time to do so. With fewer things to feast upon, though, the flames were weaker there; for now, at least. It was there that he found her, laying on the floor, an unfocused stare of insurmountable fear and confusion in her eyes.

"Nat!" he yelled as he run at her side, brief delight turned to worry as he saw her stare, "Are ye hurt? We need ta get out o' here!" Upon hearing his words, Natalie snapped out of her trance of hopelessness, turning to meet his gaze, though her expression still spoke of barely contained panic.

"Feargus? Is that really you?" She threw frightened glances around the room, "The voices, the fire, I... I can't tell what's real or not anymore."

The voices. He was afraid this would trigger them. Though medicated, Natalie would often get such attacks, their severity as random as the times of their appearances. At best, she would be distressed and unfocused; at worst, completely cut off from reality and suicidal. Hopefully this was a case of the former. Gently placing her hands on his face, he gave off a supportive smile, as thought the buiding around them wasn't slowly collapsing.

"Ye wouldn't be able ta imagine a mug as ugly as mine's even if ye wanted ta." her face brightened up, "Now, com'on. We gotta get outta here."

She nodded, and he helped her up, careful to use the hand that still was flesh and blood and gave her his longcoat wear, supporting her along the way. The flames burned even brighter as they entered the hallway, with the ceiling crumbling into burning debris, and the heat, already unbearable as it were, had become searing.

He slowly guided her through the flames, taking note of her distress and clutching her closer to him. As they reached the end of the hallway, small chucks of debris fell from the ceiling in front of them, and Natalie's breathing turned frantic, burying her face in his chest.

"I... I can't do this... I..." she muttered in panic, unable to grasp words.

"Nat, look at me." Feargus replied concerned, both of her mental state and the state of the building. He raised her head to meet his determined eyes, "We're almost there, we jes have ta go down the staircase and we're out. Bear with me a li'l longer."

"No, I can't... I..." Tears rolled down her closed eyes as she shook her head in quick succession. Perhaps it would be better if he carried her?

Before he could ask, though, Natalie opened her eyes and focused her stare towards one of the burning apartments.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

She stood silent for a while, focusing, before turning to him with desperate glare, "Feargus, there's a child in there! Can't you hear her?"

For a moment, Feargus did try his earnest to hear anything resembling a cry or plea or... anything. But he only heard the cracking of the burning wood, and the noise made by crumbling furniture.

"I can't hear anything. Nat, we have ta-"

"I can't just abandon her!"

"There's no one the-"

"THERE IS!"

She violently pushed his arms away, its unexpected force knocking back at the wall, as the floor beneath them crumbled, creating a chasm between them.

"Nat," he started, his voiced shaken, pleading, "please... there's no one in there..."

"I have to save her, Feargus." she replied, her voice calm and resolute.

"Nat... princess..." he started crying, "listen ta me... I beg ye... wait there, I'll get over there and we can get outta here..."

"I have to..." she murmured, completely ignoring his words as she turned to face the burning apartment doorway.

"Nat... stop..." he pleaded, as he desperately readied himself to jump through the chasm to her. Before could, though...

Natalie run into the apartment, her slim figure devoured by the ever hungry flames.

"NATALIE!"

[small]"Mister Charles?"[/small]

* * *​

Charles jolted upwards on his bed, frantic breaths followed by hurried glances around the room, his lone eye wide open from the shock, sweat running down his forehead.. It was all a dream. A bloody nightmare. Calming down, he leaned back at the bed, grimacing in pain as he did, and wiped the sweat of his forehead with his hand. With a heavy sigh, he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, disgruntled, before speaking up.

"I'm sorry about that," he said at Sienna with a tone brimming with discontent, his gaze unmoving from the ceiling. "I had a... bad dream." A few seconds of silence followed.

"How are ye feeling?" he finally said, throwing a side glance at her.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | A Hospital | Surgical Recovery Ward
@SiennaR: #NoLegs​

It appeared that the two hospital bunk mates had a common past-time while they were waiting for their shattered bodies to heal enough to go on to the next phase of their recovery. While Charles might have been staring at the white ceiling tiles, Sienna was in the process of counting the holes in the ceiling, keeping her mind focused on something other than what had just happened in the past few hours. As she counted and while Charles stared, the room's singular media panel was blaring the latest scores from the previous night's football matches, slow motion replays of the night's more bloody plays were dissected by analysts.

"...Jones showed that even with Manchester's low grav environmental settings a kick to the opposition's head is still as lethal in normal grav..."

The young girl tried to ignore the media panel's wanton display of legs flying too and fro. Of course her newly acquired disability would never exclude her from professional sports, what with the fact that professional sports were now dictated more by a player's computer setup and by their mental prowess rather than actually physical talent. Still it was a bit too soon to be watching players, even digitized ones, running about on their legs.

Mister Charles suddenly bolted upright on his bed, looking about wildly before realizing that he was still in a hospital and settling back down on the bed.

Correction, it appeared that her roommate was staring at the back of his eyelids rather than the ceiling. So perhaps that had one less thing in common since whenever Sienna closed her eyes, she nothing but crimson stained fires, an emotional trauma that had relieved her of the desire to sleep.

"I'm sorry about that. I had a... bad dream." Mister Charles said quietly, "How are ye feeling?"

How did he think she was feeling? Shattered? Yes. Frail? Yes. Scared? Yes. Scarred? Double yes. Angry? You betcha. She almost vocalized these thoughts with words but bit her tongue, literally, as she another few ccs of sedative being pushed into her body through her IV.

"Okay." She started. Okay was a good start, wasn't it? It wasn't falsely optimistic about her situation but it also didn't signify that she was dwelling on her life as a cripple (Of course, no one had informed her that she was being provided augmentations yet). Of course she wasn't quite sure if she was really okay so she made an addendum to her statement, "I guess."

An awkward silence settled between the two. The sort of awkward and uncomfortable silence that only occurred when a room was comprised solely of brooding people. The sort of silence that made it a race to see who could shift the topic of conversation to something that they were less uncomfortable talking about. The young girl spoke first.

"Who's Natalie?" The Youngest Rostikova in the room asked, "You were yelling that name out in your sleep."

From the way that Mister Charles had loudly grunted out her name in his sleep, she could tell that while there were many fond memories associated with that name, there was also a few painful ones there as well. Unlike an adult, she wasn't trying to pry into Mister Charles' business, rather she was selfishly trying to divert attention from her own situation. You could hardly blame her, however, children aren't equipped to process what she had witnessed... of course most adults aren't either.

"I knew a Natalie once. She was the daughter of one of my daddy's work friends. She was nice. Whenever her dad brought her over, she would bring a tin of cookies and would let me choose which ones I wanted first." There was a pause, "She moved away last year when her dad was transferred. But she sent me a tin of cookies last week. She wanted me to choose the ones that I wanted and send the rest back."

Sigh. Count holes. She noticed that Irina was no longer in the room, a fact that slightly bothered her since her mother had made it clear that she was going to be around. If she wasn't there, it meant that something had pulled her away from the Hospital, a something that would never add up to anything good. If Irina was missing it meant that she was either up to no good or something not so good was happening to her.

"I hope my mom's okay." The little voice finally said, admitting that even if she disliked her mom openly, there were parts of Sienna that loved Irina.

 

[CrazyGirl17]

The officer did not for a moment look as though he believed this to be likely. Ignoring what Liam said he asked a different question, "Sir, do you have a licence for a fire-arm?" his tone no longer relaxed, instead with a definite tone of accusation in his voice.

As he said this the other officer slowly and subtly put some small distance between himself, Ira and Liam, his hand also moving casually towards his own fire-arm.

Liam knew he was screwed now, but didn't let it show. "Yes, yes of course, let me get it for you."

Carefully, he sidled towards the desk, keeping a close eye on the officers. Liam opened the top drawer and began rifling through it, very much aware of their gaze on him.

But his luck held out for once, and came across the license he had stuffed in there some time ago and otherwise forgotten about.

Relief flooded through his veins as he pulled it out. "Ah yes, here it is."

Ira's eyes dashed between Liam as he searched and the police officer who now had his hand on his gun. He too was revealed when Liam found the right piece of paper. That license better be in date.

The police officer closest to Liam took the document from him and inspected it quickly, a brief scan using his augmentations showing that it was perfectly valid.

He wasn't about to let go that easily though, "Very well sir, and why would one of your workers be bringing bullet shells here exactly? This is a mechanics is it not?"

The last question was worded more of a statement of fact seeing as all present knew this to be the case"

"Well you know, sir, these are dangerous times, a man's gotta keep himself protected, right?"

The words flew easily from Liam's mouth, as he knew a few of his boys had some guns on them when they came into work, though they probably wouldn't leave bullets lying around.

"I don't know where those came from." he added quickly. "Maybe one of the guys got careless?" Liam was grasping at straws, but hopefully the cops wouldn't realize that.

He also glanced over at Ira, wondering why he was here late at night to begin with...

Ira decided to keep his mouth shut and unless someone asked him something it was probably going to stay that way. Last thing he wanted to do was make the situation worse. Still he couldn't help but think back to the explosion he had heard a few minutes ago. Using his augmentations Ira began to search the internet to find out more information about it. Knowing the tact major news outlets tended to have he wouldn't be surprised to find a live feed showing charred bodies. It was something he learned in University, if it bleeds, it leads.

While they wouldn't voice it out loud, the police officers were not happy. They could tell that something wasn't quite right, but seeing as Liam had been entirely cooperative, had a plausible (if unlikely) explanation for the current situation, and there was no obvious signs of a crime having been committed, they didn't have enough to carry on with.

The fact was that a licensed firearm holder having empty shell casings on his property wasn't itself against the law. Live ammunition would have been another matter entirely, but based upon all of the evidence, they'd have a hard time getting a search warrant to look any further.

As such they decided their time had been wasted long enough so the lead officer signalled to the other that it was time to leave.

"We are sorry about all of this sir, but we have a duty to follow up on these kinds of calls, thank you for your cooperation."

With that the officers left the building, leaving Ira and Liam alone once more.

The moment they left, Liam let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. That had got much better than he'd thought it would. So now what?

He glanced over at Ira, and figured it was about time he learned why he was here. Liam turned and asked him, "So, what brings you here at this time of night anyway?"

 

[Knight Captain Kerr]

"Like I said, there was a double murder and nobody knows what kind of weapon did it." said Ira as he made his way over to the casing. He crouched down in front of it. This might be from the murder weapon. "And I think this casing might be the lead I was looking for. Mind if I take it?" Ira asked looking up at Liam. He could call his sister in the morning, he was sure she would know a firearms expert who might be able to identify the casing and who made it.

 

[Knife-28]

"Oh my, look at the time, I best get some sleep Kaz. Had a long day as it is already, and no doubt CyCorp will summon me at some point to assist in some form of investigation related to the bombings. Are you sober enough to get yourself home, or would you prefer to sleep it off first? If so, I have a spare guest bed you can use."

The offer was tempting, but, while Kaz trusted Selene, he didn't trust himself. He didn't know what info Selene had on CyCorp, or if she had any stored here at all, but Kaz could feel that itch, that desire that had been growing since he got here. The itch to crack open her computer's hard drive and pour over it's contents, to suck out the information like a starving man given food.

"Thanks for the offer, but I've found my way home in worst states then this." Kazuko said, flashing his almost trademark grin as he stood and put his glass in the kitchen (He may have wanted to steal the secrets of the company she worked for and tear it to the ground but he was nothing if not a gracious guest). "So, uh... Goodnight, I guess." Kaz added, his attitude slightly less cocky as he mentally stumbled over what to say. This whole situation was foreign to him, and while he had managed to coast along ok so far (or, at least he thought so), the final hurdle of saying his goodbyes seemed to be the one fated to trip him up and leave him standing in Selene's doorway, unsure on how to proceed.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | Police Station | Interrogation Room #23
The Rules of the Game​

Coffee. Coffee was an important part of the interrogation process. It implied that the interrogator was friendly, courteous and could be trusted with your deepest darkest secrets. That might have been why the officers gave her a cup of coffee and a scone when they locked her in the interrogation room to await whomever it was that was going to be speaking with her. Then again, it could have been the fact that she was still under the insidious effects of a hangover from the night before.

In either case, to leave the coffee and scone untouched would have been a sign of her guilt and much to her stomach's dismay, the wolfed down the scone and drank the bitter unsweetened coffee. The bastards hadn't even put any sugar or creamer in the midnight brew.

Looking around her, she noticed how unnaturally sparse the room was. She was seated in a rather uncomfortable chair and handcuffed to the room's singular table, which someone had the foresight to bolt to the floor. On the opposite end of the room were two chairs and the door leading out of the ultra white, ultra sterile box of a room. To her right was a mirror, undoubtedly with another room filled with recording equipment and chairs for observers.

Unbeknownst to her, however, the observation room was filled with an unusually large population of male police officers. Each one with a pervy grin that screamed the location of the organ that did most of the thinking for them. It seemed that HACK THE PRANETO! wasn't a show that only ache scar faced kids living in their parents' basements watched.

The artificial CatGirl stretched for a moment. Arching her back against the chair in an attempt to work the knot that had been forming since the not so nice car ride to the station and as she did, her shirt was pulled upward slightly, revealing her flat stomach. The crowd of male miscreants with a badge emitted an appreciative murmur. Unfortunately for them, one of their number, looking for a better angle, accidentally bumped his rather dense cranium against the glass, startling Irina and causing her to look at the mirror, unsure of what exactly was happening on the other side but having a feeling that whatever was going on wasn't exactly classed as wholesome.

"Can we get this OVER ALREADY?!" she yelled at the window, before bluffing, "I can see you all in there!!"

There was a noise on the other side of the window that sounded like a dozen or more people rushing out of the observation room, followed by the echo of someone yelling.

"Someone find that damn Constable!"