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

[Knife-28]

In the back of his mind, Kazuko wondered what the woman's sodden clothing would for the state of his seat cushion. Then again, with the car's heater up as high as it was, her clothing wouldn't remained soaked for long.

"Dumas. Selene Dumas. My address is at The Continental Apartments along Bayswater Rd, overlooking Hyde Park."

"Not a bad place." Kazuko said as he restarted the car and took off. All things considered, Hyde Park wasn't that far across town. At most, an hour round trip, less if the traffic was good. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Selene look at the contents of the back seat. He was about to say something, when Selene spoke first.

"A hobby of yours?"

"A living, really. Among other things... I'm actually booked down at the Vitality most nights, if you're ever in the neighbourhood."

 

[Drummodino]

'Reports... shopping... reports... calender... cat photos... more reports...'

Apparently Abigail Pearce was even more boring than Ryan Grey. There was very little of interest in her files, not only was there nothing obvious to make her an assassination target, she didn't even have anything amusing like pornography or home-made sex tapes. Just another average, boring office drone.

'Ugh, I just don't know how Mum can stand to be around these people all day. I would literally explode from boredom.' Jane thought to herself. Just before the scan completed however, it picked up something curious. It was well hidden but this computer was being monitored by an external source. Finally feeling a sense of intrigue, Jane isolated the signal and attempted to trace it with her basic program. Unsurprisingly it failed, the signal origin bouncing all over London and never coming to rest. More sophisticated software would be required to crack this nut. Pleased with finding a lead Jane grinned to herself as she activated her augs and composed a new message.

*To: 'T.H.A Diana S'

Job executed flawlessly. There doesn't appear to have been anything too special about our own Ms Pearce, at least from this residence. She did attract the notice of a third party for reasons unknown, her system was being monitored from afar. I couldn't trace it myself, I recommend sending in the experts for this one. The apartment is clear so it will be safe to do so.

Now unless you have something else that requires my immediate attention, I'm off for a drink. Goodnight.*

Sending the message and attached files, Jane shut down Abigail's PC and exited the premises. The hour was late but she should still have time to grab a drink or too at the nearby pub.

[hr]

The woman who stepped into The Old Queen's Head looked quite different to the woman who'd broken into a secure CyCorp earlier this night. Rather than tight fitting stealth gear, she was wearing a flashy leather jacket and boots adorned with metal studs over her black jeans and t-shirt. Her face was no longer hooded and masked either, her piercings had been replaced and her hair was freshly spiked up.

The bar was fairly quiet at this hour with most of the patron's keeping to themselves. The only worthy of note were a flashily dressed man sitting opposite a policewoman of all things, what they were doing in a seedy establishment like this was beyond her. Mentally bookmarking their location Jane sat down at the bar and ordered a double shot of vodka. Strong alcohol was required to shake the London chill from her bones.

 

[FalloutJack]

It's funny that Not-Charles - Seriously, his name was actually Feargus? Good thing Asagi doesn't know that one. 'Charles' was a vast improvement. - was so mistrusting of the military woman. Given cooperation, she'd probably try to give some kind of help, like Irina said. He was only harming himself by not talking. But nevermind all that, for now. The subject is changed...kind of. Of course, she was looking for ways around him, and Asagi was good at her job. So, while the office was working on their task at hand, she would work things this way. However, Charles never saw the person which Irina described. As he said, it must've happened before she bumped into him.

Dammit. I was hoping he could confirm a thing or two about that woman.

"Miss Irina was cryin' when we... uh... met. At first I thought it was because I had crashed into 'er too 'ard, but in hindsight, me thinks that she'd been cryin' well before our paths crossed. If ye don't mind me askin', what exactly 'appened ta 'er before we met? I caught snippets of it when she was talkin' to ye on tha phone, but I never got the full picture of it."

"I'll give you the basic rundown."

No reason not to. Might actually prompt him to be a little more forthcoming. Asagi leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and spoke.

"She and Nathaniel Cray use to be married, but more recently divorced. They have a daughter, Sienna, who means a great deal to Irina, but Cray was awarded custody. Considering that the ratio of custody between divorced couples usually favors the woman in the party, it would seem that Cray used his considerable funds and probably character assassination to win custody. I would have to look through records to be sure, but the theory is sound."

Considering how much hatred she had garnered for the man, it would be hard to convince a courtroom that he would be allowed custody of the onw she cares about most...without considerable pull, one way or the other.

"Today, Irina went to confront Cray over the business of Sienna. She left, distraught, because the meeting did not go as planned, and she bumped into someone who freaked her out and can't be recorded by visual image. I'm a little concerned about that, but it's not as pressing as the fact that Cray's bodyguards came here to kill her. This happened while you were out-cold. I handled them, and it's my intention to use them to re-open the case and get her daughter back."

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"A living, really. Among other things... I'm actually booked down at the Vitality most nights, if you're ever in the neighbourhood." Replied Kazuko as they arrived at a set of traffic lights having just gone red. Selene raised a small smile at the proposal.

"I'll... consider it Mr Wright. Though if I'm honest, I'm not exactly the clubbing type; I find it too noisy sometimes, granted I can see what may attract people to it. Personally, I much more enjoy a quiet drink somewhere amongst friends." After she had spoken, Selene took off her sodden leather gloves to flex her fingers a little.

"Fair enough, it's not everyone's cup of tea. And call me Kaz, 'Mr Wright' makes me sound like my dad." Despite the fact there was no traffic coming from either direction, the traffic light stubbornly refused to change from red.

"Very well then Kaz, if that is what you wish, so be it. Also, my apologies if I'm making a mess of your car by the way." She then remarked.

"It can't be helped, I guess. I never liked that seat anyway." Kaz said with a shoulder shrug. Finally the light decided to turn green and they carried onward.

Finally, the light decided to turn green, and Kazuko kicked his car into gear as he continued down the A501. "So, what do you do for a living Selene?"

"As for what I do, well that is an interesting question you pose. I guess that the short answer would be that I work in security for CyCorp."

It took all of Kazuko's willpower not to show how deeply the revelation that the attractive woman sitting next to him was a member of the corporation he had spent a good chunk of his life affected him. As it was, he nodded as if that was the most normal thing in the world, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead.

"That's interesting, do CyCorp security members usually ask strangers for lifts in the middle of the night?"

"Not all the time."

"You see I got an out of the blue call from the office not too long ago and was asked to investigate something on their behalf, and since I wasn't at home when they called me, I had to take a cab. And well here we are." Selene replied nonchalantly with a shrug of her own as she pushed back a few strands of hair that were in her view.

"My work with them isn't what you'd call full time you see, it's more of a case by case basis. So in effect you could say I'm a mercenary."

Kaz cocked an eyebrow at this, while he fancied himself more of a freelance troublemaker, it wasn't that far of a step from a mercenary, and he certainly wasn't in the habit of telling strangers about his less than legal endeavours.

"I take back what I said, that's interesting. I suppose you've got all sorts of interesting stories that you can't actually tell to a poor lowly DJ like me." Kazuko said. On one level he was just making conversation, but on another, he was hoping that (as much as he doubted it) there would be something Selene would tell him. After all, more dirt on CyCorp wasn't unwelcome.

Selene looked at Kazuko as he asked his question, trying to see what sort of angle he was coming from. Whilst she thought that the man was just simply curious about what sort of work she did for the company; the way in which he said it made her also think that he was looking for something.

"There are some interesting stories I could tell Kaz, but hefty legal proceedings, possible jail time and a bundle of bureaucratic red tape prevent me from doing so. Furthermore, why would someone like you be interested? Stories from my line of work I wager wouldn't be hot news where you frequent. Unless there was some other reason."

"Honestly? I'm a curious bastard, and a sucker for a good story."

It wasn't the real reason, but Kazuko wasn't lying through his teeth either. He was legitimately interested in whatever 007 super spy tales she could tell him, even if hearing them would put him a few spots shy of the top of CyCorp's 'list of people to disappear'. Getting information on one of the world's biggest megacorps would've just been the cherry on top.

"It was a stupid question anyway, I figured you'd say something like that anyway."

A small chuckle escaped Selene as they turned into what would normally be a busy main road, now practically empty at this late hour.

"Sucker for a good story are you? Whilst I can't tell you stories about my time at CyCorp for obvious legal reasons, there are some other stories I could tell, about what I did before I started working for them." It was then that she paused briefly.

"However, the stage is not quite right for such regales at the moment. Perhaps when we reach my place, I might be in a bit more of a mood. After I've changed into some fresh clothes of course. Can't go looking like a drowned rat as the saying goes."

"I'm not gonna lie, 'a drowned rat' would be a pretty generous description at this point. No offence." Kazuko obviously said it in jest, though Kazuko added the last part just to make it clear, as the part time DJ had the unfortunate tendency to 'take the piss' (as his father called it) in the presence of someone who didn't appreciate Kaz's brand of humour. There was also an unfortunate trend of this someone belonging to the fairer sex.

"Anyway, I'll do you a deal; Story for a story. Sound fair?"

"Sounds like a reasonable deal Kaz. Add to that what you're already getting of course, and you're getting the better end of this deal. Still, I promised and I shall deliver; but your story better be good."

"Well it could be worse. Have you seen normal cabbie prices? They charge an arm and a leg!" As he turned the wheel, Kazuko raised his right hand and wiggled his fingers, showing off his very obviously robotic digits.

Eventually, the buildings on one side gave way to greenery, dimly lit as it was at this hour. Hyde Park sat like an oasis of life and fertility in the heart of the city of London, and as he turned the car onto Bayswater Rd Kazuko could see why someone would choose an apartment in the area.

"Liking the view? It's a lot better during the day, and especially from higher up. Come on, make a turn at this upcoming side street and we'll be directed to the underground parking lot. Should be okay for you to stow your car there for the time being. After all, all the DJ equipment in the back would make for a tempting target." Selene remarked as they entered Bayswater Rd. A couple of minutes later they would arrive at The Continental.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | Irina's Flat
Irina Gets Touched​

Contrary to what the moderately short, almost diminutive dwarf of a guest's beliefs, Irina was a rather excellent cook. The moderately tall and well above average looking VidCaster had years of meal preparation under her belt thanks in no small part to Sienna, Irina's daughter and resident critic of Casa Rostikova. Having decided that omelettes were the perfect way to change the direction of a decidedly shitty night, the Faux Feline Food Fanatic gathered the requisite ingredients for a bacon omelette, including Spring Onions, Avocado, Cheddar Cheese, Tomatoes, Chives and Bell Peppers.

The currently shabby looking chef was rather proud of the fast that she was one of the better cooks among her peers in the VidCasting community, though to be fair, one could consider themselves a fairly decent cook if they were able to boil water on a stove with the advent of 3D Printed food. While 3D Printed Nutrition was both cost effective and time saving, the Paranoid Pussy Cat was not too fond of her KitchenAid 3D Food-o-Matic since any sort of dubious flavor enhancing carcinogenic chemical could be introduced into a user's food without their knowledge.

As she prepared the meal for the three of them, the Vixen of a VidCaster activated the media wall located in the living room filling the flat a cacophony of noises and voices from various feeds. Like Irina, London itself seemed to be having a rather violent night as the new feeds displayed images and stories about the bodies of a CyCorp Employee and an HA Dynastiy Employee being found in the same room (something that certain news feeds claimed was proof that despite their public rivalry, the .1% was working together in the background to keep the 99.9% from getting ahead).

More footage showed a resolved hostage situation in which the criminals were all killed by an as of yet unidentified operative. Irina smiled when she noted that the as of yet unidentified operative was none other than Karine.

As the Curious Cat Girl continued to watch the various events through the city, she noticed a letter from the local magistrate's office.

To Miss Irina Rostikova,

A complaint has been filed against you by Mister Nathaniel Cray alleging that were responsible for an assault committed upon his personage. As he has provided a witness to this assault, a Temporary Restraining Order has been granted on Mister Cray's behalf. You are hereby instructed to cease all communications with the victim and maintain at least a 500 Meter radius away from him.

~Blink~
~Blink~ ~Blink~
~Blink~~Blink~~Blink~~Blink~

Irina read the message a number of times before realizing that it was a for real restraining order restricting her access to her ex-husband and, coincidentally, her own daughter. All this despite the fact that his bodyguards had shown up at her door with the intent of taking all nine of her lives simultaneously.

Also... the omelettes were burning...

 

[Neuromancer]

Though still having to deal with his thrice-damned not-hangover-headache-turned-migraine-thanks-to-loud-ponies and some minor glitching in his eyes mixed very light and transparent static, Charles put his best effort into focusing on listening Irina's copper friend -he had already forgotten her name, he had a tendency to do that with unmemorable and/or terrible names- describing the situation that the apparently-older-than-her-height-gave-the-impression-of catmother was in with her former husband, Nathaniel Grey.

Nathaniel Grey. Where had he heard that name before? Some high-ranking corporate tosser, perhaps? Charles had seen and sometimes met some of the big fish in CyCorp back when he was working in it. Before his death due to, uh, "dicease", he had been planning on digging into the company archives (easy, he had worked on the firewall for that and could easily get past it) along with their personal files (which would take a good while to get to, considering how high-end the security to get to those would be), see what dirt he could dig up and find the best way to get them in trouble. Any kind of trouble. Maybe he was one of those and he had forgotten about him? Bah, he thought to himself as his attempt at recollection struck a dead end, can't even trust me own memory anymore. Next thing I know I caught meself alzheimer's.

"Today, Irina went to confront Grey over the business of Sienna. She left, distraught, because the meeting did not go as planned, and she bumped into someone who freaked her out and can't be recorded by visual image."

Sounds ta me like one o' tha Corps in tha mood fer sum espionage. Could that be related ta-

"I'm a little concerned about that, but it's not as pressing as the fact that Grey's bodyguards came here to kill her. This happened while you were out-cold. I handled them, and it's my intention to use them to re-open the case and get her daughter back.""

At the sound of that, Charles' face shot up and his features sharpened, as though a bucket's worth of frozen water crashed upon his face to wake him up from the state of drunken stupour. Nevermind the fact that the peeler was a stone cold killer, that this Grey person would so casually send thugs to kill Irina as though she was just an annoying fly begging to be squashed showed that he either was a delusional small fry believing himself to have more power than he did, or as it seemed, someone with considerable influence in a big corp.

"P-pike me," he started, still startled and having difficulty digesting the last part of what's-that-copper's-name explanation, "Miss Irina's in some neck-deep shite, ain't she..."

Even if the peeler were to re-open the case, Nathaniel Grey was shown to have enough influence with the law to bend it to some degree. No, a single copper wouldn't fare much chance in getting a high-ranking corporate pig to be judged guilty. And even if it did, it would take time to get through the bureaucracy and formal procedures, time during which Irina's life would be put in jeopardy. No, in order to set up Grey's fall, evidence needed to be dug up, hard undeniable evidence that couldn't be juggled around. And since such evidence was most likely stored in his private files and protected by corporate resources, no matter the peeler's efforts, they would remain untouched. Unless...

...Someone was ta hack their way ta them.

Ever since his return to life, Charles lacked purpose. With a letter's worth of explanations he had seen his life's collective effort undone in an instant. Where he once felt powerful and mighty he now felt weak and destitute, believing his goal to be unobtainable and, ultimately, utopian. And so, in the four months that he had returned to life, not once did he feel the urge to pursue the one thing he was good at, opting instead to indulge his self-destructive and ultimately life-threatening urges. But hearing of Irina's plight let out a spark in him, and that spark was rapidly spreading like wildfire.

Charles could never bring about the anarchist utopia he dreamed, but he could damn well make sure Nathaniel Grey wouldn't plague Irina again.

"List'n, miss," he started, his voice much more collected than before, "Irina's been good ta me when she had little reason to. I wanna make it up ta 'er. But as I am I can't be of much use in tha sorry state ya find me in." he searched his pockets, took out his old, outdated cell phone and, upon finding his number on the contact list (along with Holly's number, it was currently the only entry), shared it with the copper. "I'm givin' ye me cell's number in case ye need anythin' outta me with yer investigation or Miss Irina."

Charles got up, albeit clumsily. He was confident he had gathered enough strength to be able to walk without difficulty.

"Rite," he continued after getting the balance right. The peeler was eyeing him rather examingly, "I'm good ta go, methinks. I've been a burden enough already. If ye'll 'xcuse me, I'll go give me number ta miss Irina and get goin'. 'Twas a pleasure ta meet ye." he finished as he walked out of the room, not waiting to be excused. His steps felt heavy and he couldn't walk as quickly as he wanted without risking losing balance, but even that was better than nothing.

As he walked out of the room and towards the kitchen, the smell of burned omelette assaulted his nostrils. He didn't expect Irina to be a good or even average cook, but burning omelettes? Really? How does one manage that?

"Miss Irina, thank ye fer yer hospitality. I'm feelin' much better now, so I'll be go-" he started as he entered the kitchen, only to absurptly stop as he saw the despair-filled glare that Irina was giving the letter she was reading, "-ing?"

"Miss Irina," he inquired worryingly, "did something happen?"

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | Irina's Flat
Kitty Cannons!​

~CRASH!!~

The pan filled with burnt omelette barely missed the Worried Wino's head before they impacted against Irina's media wall, the overcooked eggs and undercooked omelette innards made a rather colorful explosion against the wall before smearing their way to the floor. As for Irina herself, she appeared unconcerned that she had almost decapitated her Vin drinking Visitor, a fact made all the more known as she cursed really very loudly.

"SON OF A *****!!! SON... OF... A... *****!!!" The Cacophonous Cat Girl screamed at the top of her lungs, incidentally waking up the slumbering baby whose room was one floor directly under Irina's kitchen. The sound of the baby's wailing was soon followed by the sound of broom handles hitting the down stair's neighbor's ceiling, not that the angry woman cared as she continue her curse word laced tirade as she headed towards a rather large looking safe.

"500 meters? You think you're safe if I can't be within 500 meters of you, you son of a fucking cock?! You think that I can't snuff out your fucking life without you being able to see me?" The Irate Irina continued as she opened the safe and revealed a rifle that looked large enough to shoot down a satellite in orbit. Only God knew what it would do to a human body, even one shielded by an ego as large as Nathaniel Cray's.

Now, it was at this point that either Charles or Karine could have interjected with the Rabid Cat Girl's plan to seed the entirety if the United Kingdom the the CyCorp executive's guts but thankfully the phone interrupted instead, the caller being ID'd as Rat Bastard.

"That son of a *****! Why in the hell is he calling?!" The Pissed off Pussy Cat asked as she turned answered the call, prompting Nathaniel's gigantic head to appear on the Media Wall.

"Irina! I'm so glad you're safe." The Ass said with mock concern, "When I heard that my former bodyguards might take it upon themselves to shore up their ruined reputation, I had to call to check on you."

"What do you mean by former?!" The Caution Cat Girl asked, "You mean former because they're dead?"

"Dead? No I didn't realize that they were dead. What I mean by former is that they were terminated after that little assault incident of yours at Bennett's. Surely if you could get by them, they weren't worth the Credits I was paying them. You know how it is with the help... oh wait... no you don't." The Corporate Dick said, chuckling at his own joke, before calling out, "Hello Karine! I'm sure you're there. I have an opening if you're interested."

"Now, if you don't believe me, and history says that you won't, I can provide you with the documentation that states that they were terminated from my employment the moment I regained consciousness. But seeing as how you and your neighbor have resolved that little issue, I should say toodles. Oh... whose your friend there. He looks a bit shabby, don't you think?" Nathaniel asked having spotted Charles.

 

[Neuromancer]

"HOLY SHITE!"

In what seemed to be a fraction of a second, Irina exploded in a outburst of insuppressable fury, flinging the pan with the possitively charred omelettes at Charles. Had he not turned away in time, he'd have surely been hit, and judging from the force of the throw, Charles would need a few dozen surgeries worth of facial rearrangement if hit. If he survived. As the pan crashed against the media wall, making all kinds of lovely and, above all, loud noises (because who needs a bit of peace and quiet to deal with an every festering migraine?) all Charles could do is stare with his mouth open in profound astoundment and utter confusion. And a good bit of terror mixed in for good measure. 'Tis not often that your life is endangered by barely-above-the-midget-range Hello Kitty tabloid journalists throwing frying pans at you with the proficiency of olympic medalists.

Indeed, this was quite the predicament he had found himself in. The cathost seemed to have been blessed by Odin himself, for her berserker rage was quite the thing to behold; roaring with the prowess and frequency of a male lion in mating season, she flailed her arms around in ways that were probably not meant for a human being that was not accustomed to wearing bear skins and dual-wielding axes. She looked quite proficient at that, aswell, and if an Artiste were to see her in all her destructive glory, they would surely get inspired to make many a gore-filled medieval warfare painting. Which would promptly be used by one of those neo-power hair gothcore symphonic unblack metal bands with trying-too-hard names and unreadable logos that seemed to be popular with pretentiously long rapunzel-haired sex deviants with an unhealthy obsession with music genres these days.

A baby's terror-filled cries were heard -the poor thing was probably given the impression that this was the sound of the seventh seal breaking and the impending apocalypse was at hand-, and its mother, probably irritated by the fact that this was supposed to be her day off and the prospect of her sleeping more than 3 hours was shattered to pieces, used her broom to make her feelings known. Charles wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't the first such instance.

Despite her neighbour's proficient use of the broom, the miniature Bengal Tiger remained unfettered, continuing her cacophonous rampage as she made her way to what looked like a humongous safe, which she proceeded to start opening (because apparently it was too sturdy to simply break through with her fists).

'Twas at this moment of brief recuperation as the minuscule Puma struggled, in her unbridled wrath, to get the safe combination right that Charles recovered from the dumbstruck state he was in and collected his shattered from fear and shock thoughts and pondered on what he should do. On the one hand, Irina needed to be calmed down before she had the chance to demolish the building and this part of London along with it, on the other hand Charles, despite his death-seeking tendencies, really didn't want to be torn apart into tiny pieces and fed to the cannibalistic gourmets of the London underground.

Before he could decide whether he would go Paragon or Renegade, the tiny Cougar revealed what lay sealed with it, a humongous rifle, surely used in the war to as countermeasure for ultra-heavy tanks, or as detergent in case anyone started manifacturing Metal Gears. Its sheer size and volume, when wielded by a person as small and tiny of stature as Irina, painted a picture that would be hilarious were it not absolutely terrifying due to the context.

"Miss Irina, calm down! Yer not thinkin' raaaaaAAAAA!" screamed Charles as Irina, wielding the gun unrulyingly, waved it towards his general direction. The flurry of "Woah"s that escaped his mouth as the prospect of being shot by the anti-vehicle rifle thingamajig dawned to him was probably enough to make Keanu and up to three generations of his descendants proud. Before an actual reply could be constructed in a vain attempt to passify the soon to be mass-murderer, the phone rang and all the violent tension that had been building up looked to be broken.

"That son of a *****! Why in the hell is he calling?!"

Nope, nevermind. The itsy-bitsy Leopard answered the phone and on the screen appeared one of the smuggiest faces Charles had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Mister Grey, I presume.

Mister Grey had all the personality perks that pissed Charles off neatly packed in one package: Smug, corrupt, rich, with an air of superiority and a sense of untouchability to match. He couldn't help but wonder how Irina had fallen for him in the first place.

Sad thing was that, for all intents and purposes, he was untouchable from the law; all corp bigshots were. Until, at least, somebody came and removed the rug under which they had swept all things illegal (and thus inconvenient). Charles couldn't wait to get to work and ruin this douche stain's life; hell, he was getting schadenfreude from the mere thought of it.

"Oh... who's your friend there. He looks a bit shabby, don't you think?"

We'll see who'll be shabby after ya havva trip to tha prison showers, ya smug sheephumpin' sonofa-

No, no, no. He couldn't let the bastard get to him. If he didn't keep a cool head he could potentially ruin his chances and/or make Irina's life worse. Speaking of Irina, it would have been best if he didn't show he had any ties with her, both for him and her.

"Me?" he said in a rather confused tone, "I was visitin' a friend downstairs when we heardda ruckus and I came ta 'nvestigate. I only jes met Miss Irina."

 

[FalloutJack]

Of course, Charles was actually quite wrong about what Asagi could or couldn't do. Really, if she was a mind to, Nathaniel Cray could disappear like Jimmy Hoffa, or die suddenly of 'heart failure' and be cremated before an examination were to take place, filling in the blanks with a doctored document. The truth of the matter was that Charles had no idea what this 'peeler' could do because he thought of her as ordinary law enforcement. What Karine Asagi was...was someone who simply had to sell the idea to her superiors - whatever that idea happened to be - that it was worth doing. For instance, returning Irina's daughter to her custody and sticking it to the sleezy rich man like that would forever gain her gratitude, and the catgirl had plenty of interesting skills. The real question was...what did Asagi want to do with all this? She didn't really do the black ops stuff like that unless it served a good purpose. For instance, Cray was shit, but being shit alone wasn't enough. Plenty of people were jackasses without needing necessarily to die or lose everything. She just felt that Cray should because she didn't like to see her neighbor suffer.

On that note, Charles decided to give her his cellphone number for his services. Though...what that would be exactly was anybody's guess. She would have to find out with her investigations, since he wasn't willing to tell her anything directly. And that...was when she heard the consternation. More trouble. She could hear it from there and approached to go find it, knowing that she wasn't going to like it. She didn't. Asagi sighed, but she wasn't surprised. Cray instituted a restraining order on her. And then, oddly, he also decided to call. Cue big smug face on the big screen. Looks like he was going to smokescreen like hell, feigning worry for Irina's being because of his bodyguards. The man even had the gall to offer her a job. Karine stepped into view.

"No thanks. It would never work out, and I enjoy my present job. Besides, you are a negligent employer. Under the guidelines of the Anti-Disgruntlement Law, you are required to remove all armaments and identifiers from terminated employees to prevent unwarranted behavior. Naturally, personal devices are sent back in due time, but because you did not do this thing, you were considered responsible for them until you did. You're quite lucky that I DID handle those men, because otherwise you would have been taken in under manslaughter charges, homicide by negligent behavior. As it stands, you will hear from the home office later about your incompetence today. Goodbye."

She hung up the call for everyone and turned to the others in the room. She addressed the one-hander first.

"Charles, I'm sure Irina appreciates your willingness to help her, or to help me help her, with whatever it is you can do. However, it would be nice if you actually stated what that was, because I believe you to be a decent man."

Now, Irina.

"Irina, I have no doubts that such a petty and arrogant human being is going to hold out for long. He's a sneaky bastard, but I wouldn't call him very bright. We will have him, and I will find your mystery woman. In fact, they may be connected."

All the while, she was silently sending her superiors a new message. It contained the text description of a mysterious woman suspected to be tailing another, who may be from Cycorp, with an image-identity scrambler against visual recordings. It stated that Asagi would like to investigate this woman and Nathaniel Cray of Cycorp, to see if there was something going on that should be watched and then acted upon.

Please send reply as soon as possible, my channel only, and keep me apprised of other Cycorp-related happenings in recent event.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

It didn't take them long to reach Selene's apartment up on the sixth floor of the apartment complex that was The Continental, as you could reach the apartment floors from the underground parking lot; that didn't stop the hit-woman from leaving a long damp trail behind her however.

The door to the apartment opened up to reveal a rather spacious living area, and exceptionally tidy to boot; whilst Selene didn't often receive/entertain guests, she wants to make sure that is in a respectable state if ever such an occasion would arise such as now with Kazuko. Straight in front of them was a six person metal framed dining table and chairs with a glass top; whilst this is where Selene would normally eat, it was also a place where you'd find her looking over schematics and floor plans for jobs that she was on.

To their left and set slightly lower in the floor was a lounge area with a long corner sofa at one end and a three seater sofa at the other with a large flat screen TV hanging up on a nearby wall. On either side of the TV was some shelving units that had an assortment of various books, figurines and even a few old family photographs back from when she was younger. On their right was the kitchen and laundry area . Just off to the side was a short corridor that lead to the bathroom and Selene's bedroom. At the back of the room with it looking away from the rear wall that was comprised mostly of large windows, was a desk of a computer on it.

"Probably should email home to say that I got back alright." Selene thought as she took a deep breath.

"Anyway, if you don't mind me Kazuko, I'm going to go grab myself a shower and get changed. Been stuck in these clothes for the past twelve or so hours and given the weather they could probably do with a wash. Feel free to have a look around if you want, or have a seat in the lounge and watch some TV if there is anything on at this time of night. Shouldn't take me too long." Selene then went off towards the bathroom.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | Irina's Flat
Dating Down?​

Nathaniel Cray looked at the drunken midget with the accent that was standing near his ex-wife, a smug, winning smile on his face as he listened to Charles explain his presence in the flat before responding.

"Ah, I see. And here I thought that Irina had finally decided to date someone worthy of her status." The CyCorp executive chuckled before turning his attention back to his ex-kitty cat," I mean surely that wretched Video Cast that you record nightly must be good for something other than making a spectacle of yourself."

Not that Nathaniel Cray minded the money that his ex-wife brought in when he was still working his way up the corporate ladder. Mister Cray was the perfect example of Corporate Corruption. A few well placed rumors combined with a few projects that he had been credited with rocketed the executive to his current station, leaving his wife and child in the dust, that was until he saw additional gains that could be wrung out of his only child, Sienna.

"Now, Irina, what are you going to do with that rifle? You know it would look quite suspicious if I were to suddenly be assassinated after you assaulted me at Bennett's. Sure you wouldn't want Sienna to be raised as a ward of the state after her father is murderered and her mother is sent away to prison for said murder. But you're smarter than that, aren't you?" Nathaniel stated before hanging up.

With the call disconnected, the angry facade that Irina had been wearing cracked as she dropped the rifle to the ground, the weapon's mass threatening to break through the floor and crush the wailing child one floor down. As much as she hated the scumbag named Nathaniel, the larger than life Kitty Cat knew when she had lost. Sitting down on one of the bar seats located at the kitchen counter, her face looking one half distraught and one half depressed.

 

[Neuromancer]

"Ah, I see. And here I thought that Irina had finally decided to date someone worthy of her status."

Boy was this getting tiring to experience real fast. Nathaniel Grey looked to be your typical run-of-the-mill rich brat, having everything delivered to him on a silver plater and MAYBE, maybe; maybe he got lucky and got himself to the position he was now.

"I mean surely that wretched Video Cast that you record nightly must be good for something other than making a spectacle of yourself."

So, that's what she does for a living.

Grey was seriously getting on his nerves. Who was he to judge what his Jaguar ex-wife may do to earn a living? People like him never quite understood one thing: Not everyone has the chance to be born in a family with enough money to last until the sun goes supernova. Some people needed to actually work to make a living. Any work, even tabloid writing, is good enough when you're trying to make ends meet. Certainly better than turning to alcohol and living off your unemployment pension, at least with work you contribute in some miniscule (much like Irina's frame) way.

The condescension in his speech was really putting Charles' nerves to the test. The only comforting though was that Grey was officially in Charles' shit list, and no one, as many a high ranking member of corps and the government alike found out, is safe when they get in it. Even so, it was little comfort, and Charles had to mentally stop himself from just closing the call on the fucker's face.

Fortunately for him, the copper walked in and did it for him, saving him the trouble of leaving an impression.

"Charles, I'm sure Irina appreciates your willingness to help her, or to help me help her, with whatever it is you can do. However, it would be nice if you actually stated what that was, because I believe you to be a decent man."

Welp, that was rather forward. Even though they both wanted to Irina, Charles couldn't let a peeler on his trade or identity. Not only for himself, mind. He didn't know how his benefactors would take it, and so could potentially endanger people.

"I never said that I could help. I jes gave ye me number in case ye foundda use fer me, though I doubt ye will considerin' this ex guy looks ta be a high rankin' corp stuckup."

Charles turned to take a look at Irina. After dropping the huge gun(he thought he saw cracks on the ground where the impact hit -and how could she even hold on to a rifle maybe more than half her size and definately more than her weight anyway?-). The poor domesticated kitten looked at the edge of despair. He loathed to leave her in such a state, but he couldn't help her otherwise.

Still, he couldn't just leave her as she were now. Walking beside her, Charles got a patchment and a pen from the counter and jotted down his cell number. Making sure he was facing Irina in a way the copper couldn't take a look at his face, he stood next to her and, when she was well enough to notice him, handed her the cell number

"Here," he said softly as he did, on his face a semi-bitter smile, one that gave off a sense of understanding, "Miss Irina, thank ye fer what ye've done fer me tanight. It means more ta than ye t'ink ta know that there's people like ye out there still. Yer a strong woman, so don't give up." he let off a quick, knowing wink at her "Where there's a will there's a way."

"I may not be able to help ye with Miss 'rina's ex," he said as he turned to face the peeler again, exchanging glances at her and Irina both "maybe I can help ye wit' the other person yer lookin' fer. I wander the streets a lot, so maybe I'll run into 'er. But ta do that, I needda know what she looks like."

 

[Knife-28]

"Feel free to have a look around if you want, or have a seat in the lounge and watch some TV if there is anything on at this time of night. Shouldn't take me too long."

Compared the hole in the wall that passed for Kazuko's apartment, Selene's place was almost a palace, and unlike Kazuko's apartment you wouldn't immediately be able to tell that the owner made a living on the wrong side of the law.

For the briefest of moments Kaz's gaze was drawn to Selene's computer and thought of the delicious CyCorp secrets that could be locked away on its hard-drive flashed through his mind. The second through of tripping whatever security said computer had and eating the barrel of a gun drove these thoughts away as quickly as they came, and Kaz elected to step closer to the TV and check out the shelves.

Crime and detective novels, along with the occasional fantasy book sprinkled her shelf, but the vast majority of the space was taken up by biographies, travel guides, history books, books about music and a few larger books that looked like photo albums. Aside from a few familiar titles amongst the crime novels, the majority of her literature was unknown to him and disinterested he turned to the first thing that had caught his eye upon entering the apartment.

As a child, Kaz was enamoured with his mother's tales of how her family line stretched right back to the samurai of old. These same tales were the reason he carried a tanto for self defence, and it because of those stories that he was able to recognise the Menpō standing on Selene's shelf.

Kaz let out a low whistle as he studied the ancient face armour. "Damn, aren't you a beauty..."

 

[Drummodino]

"You know, I never did catch your name, Constable."

"Carmen Jimenez, and I'd appreciate it if you stuck to that rather that my rank." Carmen replied, taking the car keys. She heard the pub's door open and turned to the location of the noise. Some short black-haired punk chick had entered the building and made no delay in ordering something. Carmen continued while dangling the car keys in front of Karl, "If that's all, I'm going off to drink this evening away, I'd also appreciate it if you'd be my taxi driver for tonight."

He slowly smiled as the Constable introduced herself as Carmen, but he kept in mind that she didn't like being called by her rank. Good to know. Like Carmen, he turned to watch as the door to the pub opened as a young woman strode in and ordered a double shot. His eyebrows winged up at that, but as Carmen shook his car keys, he gave her a sidelong glance and smirked.

"Let me guess, I'm also going to be paying for those drinks, right?" he asked, snatching up the keys and sighing, "What'll it be?"

Carmen smirked, it was good to see Karl understood things. The reply was simple, "A line of shots. Vodka, whiskey, don't matter... As long as the percentage is above 60."

She then stood and slowly started to walk towards the bar, expecting Karl to follow. Well, he had to, being the one paying for the damn drinks.

Jane downed the shot with one swift motion, grimacing slightly as the cheap liquor burned her throat on the way down. The drinks may be cheap at this bar but you got what you paid for.

Signaling to the bartender for another, Jane eyed the cop as she came over and sat down next to her. It probably wasn't a wise idea to drink so recklessly next to her but fuck it, it had been a long, wet night.

As he tucked his keys back into his suit jacket, he made his way to the bar not far behind Carmen. Just before he sat, he noticed the young lady from earlier downing that double shot she ordered in a single motion. He fought back a grimace as he turned to the bartender and lifted a hand.

"Bartender? A line of shots of your best whiskey, and a club soda. Turns out I'm driving tonight." he said, before turning to the young lady with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry if this isn't any of my business, but downing a shot like that is hardly good for you. I take it you've had a hard day?" he asked politely, his tone soft.

"Cuse me, but she can drink whatever the fuck she wants." Carmen grumbled, folding her arms. Seriously, why else would someone go to a pub? For the atmosphere? Unlikely.

Jane eyed the man who'd also joined them at the bar. He really was dressed far too lavishly for an establishment as seedy as this, which immediately put her on guard. She stared at him suspiciously for a second before turning away as her drink arrived.

"Listen to your lady friend Mr Fancypants, I can drink whatever I damn well please. And it's really none of your damn business how my day was." She muttered, picking up the vodka and swirling it around.

Karl sighed softly and nodded, saying, "Of course. I wasn't trying to judge, and I didn't mean to pry. I'm sorry."

It didn't take long for the bartender to line up Carmen's shots, though when she shoved Karl's club soda in his direction it was with a glare. He gave her a bland smile in return before taking a small, tentative sip. It was marginally better than the earlier lager, though that wasn't exactly saying much.

Carmen couldn't help but be amused by glare the bartender was giving Karl. Tonight, henpicked was a word far too weak to describe Karl's current state. Dominated might be one. Nevertheless, the cop wasted with no time with downing the shots. After the third, she turned to the dark-haired chick and slapped her on the back,"Drinks aren't made for simply swirling around. Think you can out-drink me? Whaddaya say?"

Jane watched impressed as the cop downed three shots one after the other. The alcohol had warmed her stomach by now and the woman's offer sounded like fun. She'd planned to get drunk anyway, might as well make a game of it.

"Sure." she said with a slight grin. "It's only fair though that if this guy is paying for your drinks that he pays for mine as well." she continued, glancing at the man with a smirk. Downing her second shot she slapped the glass down on the counter.

"The name's Alice by the way. Nice to meet ya."

As he watched Carmen down her shots with ease, Karl lounged against the bar without any regard for the how any of the pub patrons or the bartender saw him. As far as he was concerned, what they thought didn't matter. They didn't know him. Though, if they did they'd probably clamor for him to get the hell out, right the fuck then. The thought made him smirk, and his lips curled a little more when Carmen challenged the young lady to match her, drink-for-drink. He didn't expect the reply though, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh really? Does this mean that I'm going to have to chauffeur you home too?" he asked, before turning back to the bartender, "Seven more shots of whiskey, four for the young lady, and three for my friend here."

Turning back to the two women, he grinned.

"I suppose I'll referee then. I'm Karl Adler." he said, extending a hand for her to shake.

Carmen always relished the burn after a good knock-back, but enough of that. Hopefully it wasn't just the alcohol that was suggesting Alice, as she'd introduced herself, was pretty alright. It was amusing seeing Karl act the gentlemen, no one bought behaviour like that in a place like this. Nevertheless...

"Carmen. Don't mind him, he's... special." The cop said, matter-of-factly, "I'll let you start, since I'm ahead."

"Why you're just the perfect gentleman aren't you?" Jane said with a smirk, ignoring the outstretched hand. "I might just take you up on that."

Picking up the first shot she raised it to Carmen before downing it. She really wasn't much of a whiskey drinker, but if it was free she wasn't going to complain.

"I'm 'special'? Why, I'm touched, Constable." Karl said with a wry smile, pulling his hand back as Alice ignored it, "And I try to be a gentleman, though I'm far from perfect."

When she lowered the shot glass, he nodded.

"That's three each. Pretty much a level playing field, so lets see who can hold their liquor best." he said with a good-natured chuckle.

Laughing as the alcohol really began kicking in, Jane began going shot for shot with Carmen. Some time and a lot of whiskey later she was slumped down on the bar, conceding defeat in a slurred voice. Jane could hold her liquor well but Carmen was a drinking machine.

"Youu're not... you're not bad for a copperrrr." she slurred, pushing herself off the bar. "I think ya should take me home rich boy!" she said, sluggishly punching Karl in the arm.

"Me too!" Carmen joined in, rather energetically. Clearly the alcohol was having an effect. She spotted Alice trying to dump herself into Karl and tried to grab her, "Heeeey, I won. Thaaat means I get my... my priiiize: you!"

Unfortunately, she latched into thin air and stumbled into Mr. Adler.

As he watched the two drink until they couldn't handle much more, he had to admit that he was impressed. Alice certainly didn't give up easy, but Carmen clearly had more experience with hard-drinking. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. But when the slight, spiky-haired girl punched him in the shoulder and clung to him, he was quickly reminded that he was responsible for getting two clearly drunk women home, and he sighed. The moment he got off of his bar stool, Carmen staggered into him as well as she tried to grab for Alice, knocking his glasses askew and nearly causing all three of them to fall.

"Right, right, lets get you two ladies home. Or should I drop you off at one place?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow as he led them carefully outside.

Jane giggled as Carmen nearly knocked them over. "Suuuuuure..." she said, eyeing Carmen as she also clung to Karl. "Take us to my place, I'll show you the way!"

As soon as the pair of drunken ladies were both safely buckled up in his car, Karl straightened his glasses and got in the drivers seat, asking them for an address before promptly taking off.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

Whilst Kazuko was appreciating the samurai face armour, Selene was busy in the bathroom getting herself cleaned up after the day she's had. The bathroom itself was of a decent size, having enough space for a combined bathtub and shower, and like the rest of the apartment, it's design was modern also. Most of the time though, Selene preferred having showers as they were quick and simple.

As the soothing warm water cascaded down her body, it helped ease the tension and stress she had been feeling from the shoot-out earlier. Thinking back to that, Selene thought that she should get the bullet casing examined as soon as possible; to see if there was any sort of connection. After about five or so minutes, Selene was out of the shower, dried herself off, then got changed into some basic nightwear, comprised of a vest and long trousers.

Selene entered the main living area with her hair still loose as she made way towards the kitchen and began boiling the kettle to fix herself a cup of tea and to put her suit in for a washing. Looking over towards the lounge, Selene could see that Kazuko was browsing the stuff on her shelves.

"Father acquired that piece after some work he did in Japan years back. It's said to be 17th Century, though as to who it belonged to, he has no idea. I'm surprised that it's remained in such good condition given that it's roughly four hundred years old."

"Anyway, I'm just making myself a cup of tea Kaz, any thoughts as to what you would like? Aside from tea I have coffee, juice, a small selection of sodas. Or would you prefer something a little stronger?"

 

[TheIronRuler]

'I want to forget'

The sirens blared outside with the arrival of the bombers. Drones, each the size of a chessboard, carrying little canisters of destructive bombs powerful enough to level an entire building. The sky grew darker and the sound of a choir of fans came from a distance. They darkened the sky as they approached in one massive swarm, signalling the doom of the city. The first shot from a mounted AI controlled artillery piece missed the cluster as it went right through it. They were smart, those drones, and with that signal they've split up into a swarm of locusts to tear down the city and make way for the enemy's vanguard.

The commander of the Foreign Volunteer Corps, a brash major with a stern face in his early thirties was viewing the swarm through his smart-binoculars. His lieutenant was frantically conveying messages to the entire Regiment to get underground and hide. Many of them will not survive the next few hours. His second lieutenant ripped him out of his trance, staring wide-eyed at the approaching swarm, and warned him they too had to go below ground. The impromptu headquarters, once an opera-house built two centuries ago was blessed with a hive of walkaways and passages once used by actors, buried under meters of concrete to block away the sound from underneath. A relatively modern invention compared to the opera-house itself, but in this day and age it wouldn't hold against such an attack. They all hoped to be proven wrong. The city hadn't seen warfare in decades, and the last of its concerns were bomb-shelters. So was the fate of Vienna sealed, together with its citizens who were still trapped inside.

Down below, two companies were stationed at the headquarters along with all of their equipment and dozens of wounded civilians who sought shelter inside. The three officers left the roof of the opera-house and gave the city-scape of Vienna one last nod before it would be wiped off the face of the earth. The first lieutenant took one last picture with his watch before closing the door behind them. Not that it would do any good - nothing could survive what was coming.

"Listen up", the commander, a major Dolf Shwartz spoke up in German, and his second lieutenant, a Corsican-born Frenchman, retold his orders in French. "Civilians will seek shelter at the bottom floor of the building, and I need all of my men down below to prepare for what's coming. Move quickly, we don't have much time!", he shouted at the crowd gathered in the second floor and his lieutenant followed in French. In the far-corner of the room, next to the entrance was the field-hospital the Foreign Volunteer Corps set up when they first came to Vienna. Their supplies had run out two days ago, and the staff were working off borrowed materials retrieved from a nearby hospital. The aid drops had stopped three days ago, and central HQ wouldn't answer in the radio. The entire structure was broken, and they were left alone in a city doomed to ash.

"I need to disinfect these right now", a commanding voice sent a conscripted civilian running with a bucket of water to one of the mobile surgery rooms. A hand left the drapes and dropped a pair of tweezers in the bucket. The major's ears perked up and he suddenly turned away from his two subordinates and walked in the opposite direction of his subordinates. "Doctor!", he cried out in anger, "Doctor!", he shouted again after receiving no reply. The major ripped down one of the mobile room's drapes down and stooped the doctor and his nurse in t he middle of a procedure to drain fluids from a man's lungs caused by a shrapnel piercing his chest.

"Damn it!", the doctor cursed with a scalpel in hand, "Who do you think you-", he could't finish before the major bellowed at him. "I told you to haul ass down below!", his two lieutenants noticed his disappearance and rushed to his side. "I can't leave the patients", the doctor replied. Major Dolf Shwartz stepped forward, grabbed the doctor by his shoulder-blade and pulled him back from the surgery. "Bernard Wolf so help me god I will put you on trial for disobedience!".

Bernard tried to shrug the Major off but the commander was much stronger than he was. All of his attempts ended in an amusing show where the respected doctor tried to worm his way out without success. The two lieutenants held him down and dragged him after the Major down to the underground tunnels. The largest room which used to belong to a quite famous Opera singer who was most certainly dead by that point served at the Major's quarters. Bernard found himself thrown inside with the Major himself.

"Let me go", he wailed at his superior. The Major slapped Wolf twice, with the back of his hand, and spat on the ground in front of him. "You volunteered to follow orders, so you will follow orders!". The Major was furious at his subordinate's disobedience.

"I should be upstairs-", another slap, and this time the good doctor reeled back from the impact and fell on his backside.

"There won't be an upstairs soon enough", the Major pointed up and signaled him to be quiet. They could hear the sound of the city turning to dust. A corporal barged into the room and informed the Major the entrance was sealed off and all personnel were inside and counted.

The realization dawned upon the Doctor.

"There wasn't any room for us and the civilians", the Major was confident in his decision. Wolf raised himself up and stared at his commander with a burning hatred, one which he couldn't describe with words. All that was left was act. He ran forward with the scalpel in his hand aimed at the Major, and then the world shook and the bombs fell on the Opera-house. Everything turned to ash.

[hr]2[/hr]

The old doctor woke up screaming.

It was a different room he found himself alive yet again, against all sane odds. He was laying on a metal bed, staring forward at a blank white wall. There was a desk to his right, and a door to his left. 'No windows...' the Doctor wondered while he explored his surroundings. There was a tall cupboard right next to his bed on his left, with a dozen different bottles of chemicals sitting there, teasing him. He wasn't hooked up on an IV machine, but they wouldn't dare try to deny him his drugs again.

"Old nightmares", the doctor spoke in a hushed voice in fear being heard, "New woes". He heard wild footsteps approaching him from behind the wall and the door to his room swung open in a rush to get in. A young Indian woman ran up to the doctor and examined him frantically with her eyes, "Are you alright?", she asked him, begging for a positive answer. She had her long black hair gathered into one ponytail, a pair of thick glasses and two brown eyes behind them. Her face was fine to look at, yet she looked tired and drained.

Wolf's body felt detached, and each movement came with its own little type of pain, but he still raised himself and managed to sit upright on his bed. The woman walked up to him, held his wrist and checked his pulse. "Bad memories", Wolf said to the woman, "we tend to gather more the older we are".

"Can I... get you anything? Something to drink, to eat?", she asked the doctor.

"Fetch me a notebook, a pen and a stopwatch".

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | Irina's Flat
Curious Killer Kitties will Cut you Curiously​

Irina Rostikova didn't respond to either statement that her Much Taller than Average House Guest and latest Rescue from the streets, Charles, had made. Instead the VidCasting Augmented Catgirl appeared to be attempting to drill holes into her the kitche's granite counter top with nothing but her augmented eyes, a rather futile waste of energy unless someone had both invented laser eyes and installed them in Irina in the last 50 seconds. The deadly focus that she exhibited was not due to her being deep in thought but rather the start of what was going to be a massive hangover, the perfect ending to the night that she had so far had the deep displeasure to experience. With her buzz but a silhouette in her rear view mirror, the Feline Folk Hero known as StripKitty hopped off of the stool that she had been perched upon and walked over to the freezer, pulling out a pint of ye olde Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia. Nothing like a little bit of sugar to take the edge off and allow the young woman to think.

"I didn't get a great look at her," She started off saying in response to Charles' query in regards to what the mysterious CorpGirl looked like," I mean she's obviously corporate if someone went to the trouble of obfuscating her image on my augmentation and my message to my... friends."

Irina's friends, as it turned out, was a hacker collective and fan group known as the KittyKorps, lead by one of her oldest friends Talasian (Not his real name).

"Otherwise the only real stand out characteristic that I could think of would be the piercings," The Focused Feline added, "Lots of face piercings, not the kind of thing that you'd typically see in upper tier Corp Queen Bees. It's not much but it's a start."

Seeing that her Giant Guest was on the verge of leaving, Irina pulled out her wallet and gave him her business card. The business card was a bit of a throwback since the majority of contact information was transmitted electronically those days but coming from a woman whose furniture and decorative tastes reflected a much earlier era, it suited her.

"If you get any information about her or you decide how you can help me with Nathaniel or you're just in the neighborhood and want a drink, you can call me." Irina said, her voice reflecting the thankful nature of her thoughts towards her Big and Tall guest. In addition to the card, she pulled out a small piece of plastic about the size of a credit card, "There's 200 creds on this. Get some food and someplace to stay, yeah?"

Confident that her guests could show themselves out, Irina made like she was going to go get ready for bed with the hope that the morning would bring some sort of clarity. The morning would have to wait however as she got a message from the men upstairs.

Honorable Miss Rostikova,

We require your services in regards to finding additional in regards to events unfolding within London involving our Dishonorable Rivals, CyCorp and HA Dynasty.  Please see the attached information package.

Sincerely,

The Board

 

[Knife-28]

"Father acquired that piece after some work he did in Japan years back. It's said to be 17th Century, though as to who it belonged to, he has no idea. I'm surprised that it's remained in such good condition given that it's roughly four hundred years old."

It took every ounce of Kazuko's will not to reach out and touch the antique. True to Selene's words the face armour looked in incredible condition, it's deep red colour more vibrant than most of the objects in the room, despite the mask being 4 centuries its senior.

"Anyway, I'm just making myself a cup of tea Kaz, any thoughts as to what you would like? Aside from tea I have coffee, juice, a small selection of sodas. Or would you prefer something a little stronger?"

"Depends on what you have that's 'a little stronger'." Kaz said as he turned, only to pause as he saw Selene. It threw him that, with her hair down and dressed as she was, the woman before him was a shadowy pawn for the megacorp he had a personal vendetta against. At least (for the moment) she had her back to him, so she couldn't see Kaz standing there like an braindead dropkick as his brain wrestled with itself.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"Depends on what you have that's 'a little stronger'." Kaz said from behind Selene just as she was getting the tea bags from an assortment box of fruit flavoured teas, which was the main variety of tea that she had in the apartment.

"Well I have a fruity Pinot noir from the Burgundy region in France, a rather peachy Torrontés from Argentina; there is also a lemon flavoured liqueur I have from southern Italy. Think I might even have a bottle of vodka from Russia hidden somewhere, though I may have given that to a friend sometime ago, since I personally don't drink the stuff." Selene remarked as she listed off what alcohol's she had that she could remember. There were others, but she didn't want Kaz to think that she was a booze-hound.

Selene had just taken the tea bag out of the cup and into the bin, turning round with cup in hand to see Kaz just standing there with a blank expression on his face.

"Are you feeling alright Kaz?"

 

[Legion]

[HEADING=2]Chapter 2: Vive La Révolution![/HEADING]​

[hr]

Elise Pitt sat back in her chair, her elbows resting on the arms, staring at the screen in front of her with a slight frown on her face. The tips of her fingers were pressed together as she analysed the data flowing on the screen.

The report into Abigail's Death thus far was not high on details and in many regards provided more questions than answers. Diana had utilised her agents to the best of their abilities in a short space of time, but from all accounts they were chasing ghosts. The theory that she was murdered due to her parentage seemed a likely motive, and CyCorp was naturally the prime suspect, but beyond that they had nothing to go on.

One thing that did stick out was the trace on her computer. The tech department were busy dealing with that one and she could expect a report on that in a few hours, hacking wasn't always as simple as the movies made it seem after all. Once she found out who was behind the surveillance she'd have more to work with, but for now she decided the next focus must be collecting her mobile phone (or more accurately, it's data) from Police storage.

She considered requesting Anderson to carry out this task, her parents not too subtly reminding Elise of their families contributions to the corporation and how much their child could too if she was provided with the opportunity. But alas, Ms Anderson had signed off for the night, so another agent would have to make do.

The public image of The H.A Dynasty may be of a large happy family, but the reality was that there was bitter rivalry for prestige and power amongst each of the different bloodlines. Which come to think of it, could provide another motive into Abigail's murder. Now to see who benefited the most within the company from her death...

[hr]

The man pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes closed. It had been one hell of a night so far, with not one but three of his employees currently known to have been murdered, he was having to put out more fires than he cared for. It certainly did not help that one of the victims was the son of a current member of the Board, nor that said Board member had helped him get to the position he stood in now.

While not quite so unfortunate, the death of Edward Sutherland still caused several problems itself. The man did not like Sutherland, but to die tonight of all nights, did little to provide reassurance that everything within CyCorp was going smoothly. In this line of work people it was vital for people to have faith in their superiors lest they get ideas in their heads to seek a replacement...

No matter, it would all be dealt with shortly. Besides, the the preliminary reports from Ryan Greys murder had been passed onto him and this gave him enough to work with in regards to finding out who killed him and why. The H.A Dynasty were of course at the top of the suspects list, the fact that the killing was done so discreetly with barely a trace fit in with their style of operating. Nonetheless, he was a prudent man, so would allow the evidence to speak for itself rather than make rash decisions.

It would seem another visit to the Doctor was in order. He had a knack for solving difficult problems and perhaps with the data from the crime scene he might be able to come up with some theories about the murder weapon.

[hr]

The Police outside Liam Vaughn's garage had not been told exactly what to expect when they arrived there. All they knew was that there had been a reporting of a disturbance and were asked to check it out. The fact that it was a rather run down part of town and the middle of the night, as well as the fact that mechanic's typically had highly valuable tools worth stealing meant it was worth the time to have a look around, it beat patrolling anyway.

"Hello officers, what's the problem?" was the response they received after knocking and the door slowly being opened. The man who greeted them was tall, not slim, but not overweight either. He was wearing the clothing one might expect from a mechanic, which certainly led credibility to him having every right to be there, but there was something undeniably tense about the way in which he held himself. The police weren't exactly held in high esteem by most citizens which could explain it, but the lead officer could not help but feel as though he was hiding something.

"Good evening sir, we received an anonymous call about a disturbance here, do mind if we check around?" the officer asked, before briefly remembering there was a bicycle outside and adding "Are you alone here sir?"

[hr]

On the other side of the city somebody else was having just as unpleasant an evening, albeit for significantly different reasons. The plan had started off quite well; kill the CyCorp and H.A Dynasty members, dispose of the evidence and watch the two Corps tear each others throats out. With the targets chosen, and the unusual method of their deaths, it was inevitable that they'd blame each other once they eventually pressured the police into handing over the details...

Then everything had gone wrong. First off the "agent" who was charged with removing the shell casings had missed one out, then the idiot panicked upon realising and decided to dump the shells at some mechanics, before running for his life. He didn't get far so no problems there, but the damage was done. An anonymous call seemed to have been placed to the police so it was far too late to go back and retrieve them.

If that wasn't bad enough, the CyCorp Cleaner they'd "hired" to find the missing shell had escaped. It seems that something had gone wrong with the Hypno-Assassins they'd sent after her to recover the evidence. There was no signs of what actually happened except one moment she was cornered, the next she'd simply disappeared. The only conclusion that could be drawn thus far was they'd been counter-hacked, but there weren't many people who could manage that and the most likely suspect, (The H.A Dynasty) wouldn't to do something that'd help CyCorp.

The one silver lining on this cloud was that the H.A Dynasty had already found the trace on Abigail Pearce's computer that they'd installed, the trace that would conveniently lead directly to CyCorp. At least that part of the plan had run smoothly.

There was also the second stage of the plan, which was due to begin at any moment. A few more minutes to go and there'd be chaos, at the very least for those currently in power, then there'd be a new player in the game.

There was a loud explosion not too far away in the distance. Several minutes past followed by another. Although it could not be seen from their current location, the person smiled knowing that seemingly out of nowhere, the London headquarters of both The H.A Dynasty and CyCorp were just bombed.

It had begun...

[hr]