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

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056
Irina​

Irina Rostikova nodded her thanks to the passing stranger, wiping the rain and the tears from her face before smiling, a smile that quickly faded as soon as the woman's back was to her. She knew that look that she was given by the woman. It was the same look that many people had given her since she had received her augmentations.

Since the invention of augmentations, there had been a high demand for exotics, that was, both men and women that had been augmented with animal characteristics. Where cat and bunny augmentations were popular for women, bulls were popular male augmentations. Unlike Irina, however, a vast majority of these augmentations were done against the patient's will with many of these augmentations done in back alley shops where the butcher didn't quite mind about the formality of licensing.

Picking up her phone, SK made a quick call.

"Talasian, hey it's SK. Yeah it HAS been a long time, doll face. Hey, check your mail. I'm uploading you a photo of some chick that I just ran into." Irina said as she passed out into the street, keeping her distance from the not-at-all-suspicious dame, "Yeah. There is something fishy about her. No... I'm not talking about fishy down there fishy."

There was a loud laughing on the other side of the phone from the man known as Talasian, laughter that took a moment to subside. He told her that it would take a while for him to check it out since he'd been going through some of the submissions for next year's Fappening. Irina made a comment about him being hard at work which elicited even more laughter from Talasian.

"Also... I have another task for you guys. I need you to find a way into the CyCorp Network. No, this has absolutely nothing to do with Nathaniel. Yes, I'll tell Sienna that you guys miss her." Irina lied with a laugh before hanging up and keeping an eye on the strange lady from earlier.

"A mask isn't at all too suspicious, lady." SK commented as she watched the woman mount the ladder.

 

[Legion]

[hr]

No sooner had Selene left the room than she received a new message.

*If you feel like stretching your legs once you've checked in, why don't you stop by Trinity Square Gardens?

We've got a present for you for all your hard work*

[hr]

The armed robbers who were unknowingly holding a General of the Defence Ministry hostage were getting restless. The safe they were trying to crack was taking much longer than they had planned for. Thanks to their signal jammers no alarms had gone out, so to their knowledge they should be fine, but still it was only a matter of time before somebody noticed something was amiss. They decided in the meantime to move the hostages somewhere further away from the doors, one of the back rooms would be much better, it'd make it harder for anybody to get them out.

Most of them stood guard, warily glancing around them while impatiently waiting for their safe cracker to bypass the complicated security measures to get to the prize within. As long as nothing unexpected were to happen, they'd all be rich very soon.

[hr]

With the rain still pouring down, Ira arrived at the garage, the lights still on despite it being past midnight. The light from the front of the bike so soon after Liam found the shell casings would no doubt seem far from a coincidence; people didn't often visit mechanics in the middle of the night after all.

[hr]

Detective Constable Edgar Trellis and Police Constable Carmen Jimenez were given two slightly different worded, but otherwise identical briefs.

The two people who were murdered were both fairly high ranking members of CyCorp and The H.A Dynasty respectively. Seeing as the murders took place in a hotel, naturally the jurisdiction comes under the polices. If it wasn't for the fact that they were members or rival corps, the police may have been "persuaded" to let the matter be dealt with internally by the respective corporation. Unfortunately for all involved, this wasn't possible this time around.

This of course gave the police a rather large problem. Both of the corporations were wealthy and influential enough to cause problems for them if results weren't gained fast. There was also the fact that neither of the corps were being particularly forthcoming with details of what their employees roles were within the company.

Police Constable Carmen Jimenez had a rather simple task for the time being. She was to provide extra security for the hotel and make sure that nobody except the cops laid a finger on the crime scene. It wasn't a particularly exciting task, but with over half of her shift done already, she wouldn't be expected to wait it out for long before being relieved by day-time officers. With any luck they'd be done quite soon anyway.

Detective Constable Edgar Trellis on the other hand was given something much more active. With the Corps being unhelpful the first angle the police planned to cover the murders was from a personal angle. While the higher ups didn't hold much hope of this being a likely motive, it was the most logical step to take. As such, DC Trellis was given the task of investigating the late Ryan Grey. His first job was to check out the man's personal belongings, which were recently transferred to the evidence locker in the station, then proceed to his home address.

[hr]

The now deceased Ryan Grey of CyCorp was a rather unusual man in many respects. One of the strangest things about him was that despite being a reasonably high ranking member of his corporation, therefore being able to afford any legal augmentation that he could desire, he had still chosen to carry around a normal phone. This phone was currently lying in a box in the evidence locker at Scotland Yard, and most interesting of all to the Forensics Officer who was carrying that box at the time, it had begun to ring.

With her latex gloves still on, she picked it up cautiously and pressed the screen to answer.
"They killed Malcolm and now they're after me. I need my drugs now," was the rather peculiar response. Quickly switching her audio to record a sound file, the officer held the phone to her ear to clearly hear everything the man said.

[hr]

The bee had stopped. This time as Charles approached it refrained from moving, instead choosing to stay on the digital sign on which it sat. Once Charles was close enough to see the writing on the sign clearly the bee transformed into something else, overwriting the advertisement underneath. It appeared to be a map of London, or more specifically the immediate surrounding area of where Charles happened to be standing. A large portion was highlighted in red, with orange text blazing across the middle. The area it showed was where Charles had just come from, including both Gathering Dust and the nearby Apex City of London Hotel.

"Go anywhere but here," the orange text read cryptically.

[hr]

Vitality was still a cacophony of music and shouting, mixed together with a never ending pulse of ultraviolet and strobe lighting. The new DJ began their set to a reasonably warm welcome, although whether that was due to their talent on the decks or simply the fact that most of the patrons were in various states of mind, it was hard to tell.

The response to his message was brief. *Nothin to give man, pigs are all hush hush. Did find this out tho, some H.A chick was found with him, weird shit or what?*

[hr]

Karl Adler was both a unlucky man and an lucky one. The unluckiness derived from the fact that his recent step towards promotion had not gone completely unnoticed. A remaining unseen homeless man asleep in the alleyway happened to see him dump the body of another man inside the nearby dumpster. However, as luck would have it the homeless man happened to not only be significantly inebriated, but couldn't make out any defining features that would be of any use to the police.

He was sober enough to realise that calling them would be a very good idea though, especially considering the fact that the murder had taken place from where he frequently bedded down for the night.

[hr]

Jane Anderson of the H.A Dynasty had absolutely no idea that she had her image taken by the unusual young woman she had just bumped into. Irina Rostikova on the other hand, had no idea how valuable the privacy of the young woman she had just bumped into was.

The H.A Dynasty was unrivalled in cyber-security and hacking; the moment a picture of one of their agents was sent digitally over the towers the image was scrambled to be unreadable and remotely removed from all locations. An automated trace was then put on both the sender and receiver, with an employee immediately assigned to find out as much as possible about both of them.

The first step was to gain all of the details of the phone call that had just been made, and once the name CyCorp cropped up, The H.A Dynasty started to take things very seriously.

[hr]

 

[Evrant-Knight]

As Selene was leaving the room and walking down the corridor towards the lifts she could feel her mobile vibrate in one of her inside jacket pockets, telling her that she had received a message. Switching hands that held the case, she took the mobile out of her jacket and opened the flip lid to read the text.

*If you feel like stretching your legs once you've checked in, why don't you stop by Trinity Square Gardens?*

*We've got a present for you for all your hard work*​

"Trinity Square Gardens. Not far from here, shouldn't take me no more than five minutes." Selene thought as she reached the lifts as it just reached the floor, and out came a couple of guests wheeling their luggage behind them, and gave the pair a passing wave as she entered the lift herself, heading of course for the lobby.

Hastily stepping out onto the still rain slicked streets of London, Selene popped open her umbrella, turned right and headed towards her destination. After walking in the rain for a few minutes, Selene had arrived at the Gardens themselves, noticing it's beauty despite the appalling weather. She then headed in to the sheltered area of the Tower Hill Memorial and awaited further instruction.

 

[Voidrunner]

Two high-ranking corporation members murdered and Edgar was right in the thick of the investigation. He'd expected to be assigned the task of performing background research on the victims through the various police databases but was surprised to receive a far more active task. Going through the personal effects of a murder victim was a common enough task, just not one Edgar was usually assigned so he wasn't sure what to expect as he headed over to the evidence locker. He knew that personal effects included any clothing or jewelry worn or carried by a person but had rarely had cause to rifle through them. It felt somehow offensive to go through the belongings of the dead, he knew he wasn't looting them or anything but it still felt off. Of course, it had to be done if he was going to help solve this case, any clues at all would be absolutely necessary. They'd need results fast or the corps wouldn't be happy and that was bad position to be in for any investigation.

Inside the evidence locker was a plastic bag marked 'Ryan Grey' which Edgar removed and took to the nearest examination bench. It felt wrong to just upend the bag on the table so he carefully removed each item and laid them out on the bench. The man who had owned these was now dead, murdered and it was his job to find out who was responsible. The first items he examined were the clothes which were in perfect condition, a clue in itself. No tears or bloodstains confirming that the kill shot had been a single cauterizing projectile to the head as he'd been told in the briefing. Signs of other injuries might have made this look amateurish or frenzied but a single shot? No that stank of a professional execution. And the cauterization of the wounds, this was no ordinary weapon being fired. That narrowed the field of possible suspects. So they were dealing with a professional who had a signature weapon, best run that through the database. It was dangerous to jump to conclusions but they needed answers fast.

Next was the watch, also undamaged. Would have been good it if it was broken at the time of death for an accurate report but pathology would sort that out anyway. He could tell it was expensive but that was to be expected. The fact he wore a watch at all in this day and age was telling when there were so many other ways to check the time, it must have been a simple of status. It hadn't been stolen anyway so that seemed to rule out a general robbery. It still could have been a targeted theft, nothing could be ruled out. There was no wallet, there was no need for them anymore with new technology so very few people carried one, it could still be checked out though. Finally there was a pendant concealing some sort of electronic recording device. Unfortunately the thing had been broken and would give no evidence.

Edgar put the evidence back in the bag and noted down all his thoughts before returning it to the evidence locker. He dropped his notes back off in CID in case they were of any use and headed off for Ryan Grey's address. This place wasn't so close to the police station so he was forced to hitch a ride in a patrol car. Dropped off at the lavish house Edgar thought the best thing to do was see if anyone was home before attempting entrance and just knocked on the door. He didn't know if Ryan Grey lived alone and he wasn't just going to burst in until he knew for sure. This wasn't his favourite part of the job if he was going to have to tell a relative Ryan Grey was dead but it was a part of every detective's career.

"Open up, police!" he called, knocking again. Let's see if anyone was in.

 

[FalloutJack]

Making the roof had been easy. Nobody around to see her, no distractions. Well, it was raining, but her coat and combat suit were rated against worse than what London had to offer. She had a quick look around, keeping low. Hmmm, a few vehicles which could be their getaway vehicle were there. She made note of them all, and then found the vent for the air system. That much electronic gear needed to have proper temperature control in a room, so that it could all run and display for the customers. And now, for a little sleek movement and action...


Asagi crawled down the vent, head first, and began quietly sliding around in there, limbs able to bend abnormally around corners to guide her where she needed to go. Because all four limbs were prosthetics, she was able to tell them to be so gentle in movement all the time that there were no odd thumps as she moved about. She soon came to the right room, above the General and the other hostages. They had the standard arms-tied-behind-backs-and-sitting-down setup down there. Here, she cared little for the fact that she made noise forcing the vent open. The man watching the hostages needed to be surprised and shot in the face as he reacted.

Blam! Blam!

The deed was done. Her arms and her eyes along with her training made her aim incredibly accurate and always steady. Asagi flipped on down as the man fell with at least 20% less head than he'd woken up with today. She had two Glocks in hand, keeping her shotgun on backup as she had a store full of equipment and an unknown number of assailants. She didn't have to leave the equipment intact, but she was trying to be nice about leaving a trail of bodies in this place. Asagi took her knife out and put it in the General's hands so he could cut his bonds, then she behind the door just before it busted open and the man who thought he was going to blast everything with a shotgun found his arms viced between door and doorway before he had the chance. Asagi shot through the door, then opened it to let the dead man falter. She kicked the shotgun over to the General, who should be about free now.

"Please shoot anything that isn't me until I give the all-clear. This may take a few minutes."

And a few John Woo stunts while we're at it, but she could bring the heat. However, she had one solid advantage. The transmitted layout of the building stated that safe room with the store owner's money and whatnot was further in, past this room. Any robbers in there right now were effectively trapped now, though she had to be wary of people still stationed more up front in the store. Hmm... To secure the front and then return to the back or remain as a blockade for escape? Decisions, decisions...

 

[Neuromancer]

At the sight of the map and the message on it, Charles was left dumbstruck. As he starred at it, unanswerable questions filled his thoughts, filling him with stress. He frantically turned his head left and right to make sure no one else was around, but by the time he turned back to looking at the sign the map and message were gone. With panic rushing through his mind, he started moving down the street with hurried steps.

What in the Hell is going on?

Was the bee leading him to the sign to show him the map? If so, no way it was a mere hallucination. So how was he experiencing it? And the map, was that a hallucination too, or was the sign actually overwrought right on the spot? And what the hell was happening at that blasted hotel? Could Molly have known about it?

His feet suddenly went numb, and Charles, surprised at the sudden feeling of thousands of tiny needles piercing his legs, lost his footing and fell face down on the wet sideway, though luckily he reacted quick enough to cushion the blow with his hand.

He tasted blood, and the inside of his mouth was tensing up in pain. He must've bitten his lip as he fell, causing a cut to occur. As he got up, he examined his lip with his hand and, as he looked at the blood on his fingers, a realisation dawned upon him. Shocked, he looked around at the billboards and signs, which only served to acertain his fear.

He could no longer see colour. The entire world was now in black and white.

Shit.

It wasn't the sudden complete colourblindness that worried him; such visual impairments came and went. What worried him was that they were usually the prologue to something bigger.

Calm down. I need. To calm. Down.

Hobbling, Charles headed to the side of the street, to take cover from the rain under a balcony(not that it mattered considering he already was soaking wet) and sat down, his back against the wall of some apartment block.

Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm his mind and hopefully evade having to deal with his brain going haywire again, Charles started to try and make sense of the night.

Something big apparently was going down near the Apex whatchacall it hotel. The ruckus he saw was evidence enough. What part, though, did everything else about his night have to do with it? Molly was acting wierd, so could she have known that something as about to go down? And the bee and the map... were they trying to get him to safety? But how did they appear to him in the first place?

Someone... Someone must've tampered with my brain. No way that was random... Just what the hell is going on?

Ever since he woke up in that apartment, his entire life up to that moment seemingly amounting to nothing, Charles felt like some sort of plaything, to be pushed around when needed and thrown away when not. He wasn't given any explanation as to what happened to him after the virus was uploaded. The only info his benefactor decided to give him was the details of his "death", and his new identity. And now, with the bee and the sign, he couldn't help but feel that there was someone controlling his strings, for good or bad, he didn't know.

No point fretting over things I can't control. Got enough things to worry about without them.

Seeing that his vision had returned to normal and thankful that nothing worse followed, Charles got up.

Since my place was within the restricted area... I suppose I'll have to look for some place to pass the night.

Let out an exasperated sigh.

...Or more than the night. Urgh, I don't even know anymore.

And started walking.

 

[TheIronRuler]

'Who is this? Why are you doing this?''They're all in danger you have to warn them they're all going to die-''Go ahead and cry, you little *****, like your fucking sister, cry and die'"Hello? Who is this? I'm lost and I can't remember why I called but I need my drugs Malcolm is dead they killed him and then and then I ran and and-", Wolf stopped talking to the phone 'Who killed Malcolm? Answer me you piss stain!''I don't know...'

Wolf was standing in a grove, a long sword of strength in hand, wearing a leather jerkin+1 and hunting for boars. He had been hunting for days now to fullfill the quest given to him by the innkeeper to collect twenty hides off the beasts, and they were tough. His health-pointd had gone down below a fourth but the boar just kept on coming and he knew he would die with no help coming... "Help, Help me! They're killing me! Call the Guards!", panick overtook Wolf when the seperation between worlds crumbled still. A bull came charging down the meadow spouting cries of war, while in the real world a car was about to hit Wolf.

'Dash to the left! Save the kingdom from the great evil in the mountain!' Wolf thought of all the poor peasants who lived under the tyranny of the dragon Smog and his goblin minions, and with a heroic dash leapt from the way of the bull and fell on the ground to its side. He dropped the phone on the ground right before the car smashed it to bits and pieces. The call was then disconnected.

'Nobody is going to help a bloody murderer, Wolf! Wake up, Swine, from your day-dream!''I didn't kill them they were already dead, already dead, those tests I had to do, had to do...' Wolf was moving his mouth but no words came out. The rain poured on the street and drowned him in water. He held the notebook under his shirt, tight against his chest, his back pressed against a concrete wall.'Can't you remember the War? Would you forget those you left behind?''Nein nein nein I did what was right I swear! On my mother's grave!''How do you know if she's alive or dead?'. It was raining and water dripped from the corners of his eyes down to his cheeks. He was breathing heavily, shivering in the cold, hugging himself and closing his eyes.

"Because that's why I took up the bottle", Wolf spoke in German to no one in particular, and indeed the street was desolate. "I remember this day, thirty years ago. I will never forget", Wolf broke down into a sack of tears and self-pity. The old man crumpled and fell down on the wet sidewalk with his bottom submerged in a puddle.

He saw an old picture of a women three decades younger than him, a warm and inviting smile calling him home, understanding eyes nurturing him, embracing him with love. Her bossom pressed against his bare chest, gentle kisses on his lips, his nose. The way she nibbled on his ear and whispered to him, ever so gently, "I love you".

Something went wrong, and without asking he saw her picture after he tried bringing her back. Wolf shook his head ferociously, closed his eyes shut and screamed desperately at the world. 'You failed her then, like you always did! You're a failure to your family, your country and this whole stinking species!' "No, Stop, I'm not listening!", Wolf screamed again. 'Why do you keep hearing them Bernard? Why are you suffering so much?''They know you're here you have to run they are coming for you from all those years ago'"Shut up shut up shut up...". Bernard was laying on his back in a pool of water and blood.

"I loved her..."

'And you killed both of them! You're a monster! You should just die!'

"SHUT...UP...!"

A hand turned back unnaturally and smashed interself in Wolf's synthetic nose. The same hand came down and hit him in his left cheek. A flurry of emotions overtook him, sorrow and self-pity turned to rage and murder...He had to make him stop, make him shut up...So the scientist, the pacifist, resorted to his last option. He hit his face as hard as he can.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

Irina Rostikova
Penalty Box​

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit." Irina panicked when she realized what was going on with the image that she just sent. She'd heard of these things happening when someone made the unfortunate error of crossing paths with a powerful Corp. This was why her contacts out in the wilder areas of the Net were always stressing encrypting her messages and images.

When she called Talasian back, she made sure her line was encrypted, not that it would have made a difference given that some of the more powerful Corps out there were responsible for the creation of consumer level encryption.

"Talasian!" StripKitty started to say before he interrupted.

"I know I know. This is why I tell you time and time again to upgrade your ware." He lectured. She heard the sound of a few voices in the background, voices that calmed her frayed nerves. With the sort of night she was experiencing, the calmness in the voices of the others with Talasian was enough to bring Irina down from the storm clouds of terror she was stuck in.

"Look, you're a small fry and Corps don't waste time on small fry. It's bad for their bottom line."

That little comment hurt, hurt Irina more than Talasian could have ever known. She didn't tell him but he could tell that he'd said something wrong she she spoke next.

"I'm that bad huh?" StripKitty subtly lamented.

"Before you go off and cry about how much of an asshole I am, I got some good news." Talasian said.

"You mean there's a good side?" Irina asked.

"If you give me a bit, I might be able to find out who you crossed. MIGHT but even if I do, you might not want to find out who it is, understood?"

"Yeah. Understood."

"If you're still around whoever you took a picture of, you might want to get the fuck outta there. The Hive Mind could be calling them right now telling them to liquidate you." Talasian said, jokingly. It must have been the connection because Irina didn't find that comment funny at all.

"Alright. Roger that. Getting the hell outta Dodge."

"Where the hell is Dodge?" T, responded, this time the commentary was lost over the connection. He was satisfied to hear the sound of boots against the cobblestone. She was getting the hell outta Dodge, where ever that was.

"I'll still need that connection to CyCorp." SK said, huffing as she high tailed it out of there.

"This isn't about Nathaniel right?" T responded.

"Right."

"I'll see what we can do but you owe us." Talasian said, "Also, we'll keep our ears open if people start poking around about you."

"Thanks. Just point them to 'Hack da Praneto,' kay? I could use more fans."

"Riiiiight. I don't think you'll want these fans, call it a hunch."

The young redhead disconnected the line and turned the corner, heading the direction of the Tube station that the woman had pointed to earlier, unaware that she was on a collision course with another someone, one Charles Darek May. Someone else that would throw a kink in her already wonderful night.

 

[Knight Captain Kerr]

Ira got off his bike once he arrived and used his combination bike lock to keep his bicycle secure while he was away. Ira wanted to get out of the rain as soon as possible so he went straight to the door of the mechanics and knocked on it quickly and heavily. "Hello. Liam Vaughn? Can you let me in?" said Ira as he knocked on the door.

 

[Neuromancer]

Charles was sobering up.

This was not a good thing.

The hangover itself wasn't that bad. He'd grown used to his head feeling like it had been beat up with a baseball bat. In fact, this one was one of the mildest he'd had in a long while. What he was worried about, was that the return to soberness would sharpen the senses he tried desperately to dull. The virus seemed to react more violently when his mind wasn't dampened with alcohol; indeed, the most severe symptoms seemed to come more regularly when sober. Add to that his alcoholism ever urging him to drink, drink, drink and drink some more, Charles was barely holding back the urge to go to the nearest bar and get snattered.

I can't go drinking now, there's too many bloody things happening. I should go get myself a coffin from some hotel to spend the night and I'll see what I'll do tomorrow morning.

He stopped to check his surroundings. To his left was the entrance to the tube station.

I'm at the Tube, huh? If I recall correctly, there's one a ways further down the street.

He picked up the pace, eager to end this horrible night and, since drinking was out of the question, sleep. His eyesight was playing up, switching between extremely dark and extremely bright, like a toddler playing around with the brightness settings on a TV. Irritated, he closed his eyes and started rubbing them.

Which turned out to be a mistake.

He never noticed an extremely short girl turning from around the corner of the street. The resulting collision was as one would expect from a 190 cm tall man speedingly crashing onto a person of around 165cm. And so, the girl fell to the ground.

"Oh, shit!"

Charles stood there for a second, shocked. On the bright side, his eyesight had gotten back to normal. The girl was heavily augmented with augs of the exotic kind. Charles had seen similar augs before -when you're on the streets for long enough you'll see everything-, so he didn't treat them as anything extremely peculiar.

"Shit, I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you turning from the corner."

He took a look at her eyes. Swollen as they were, he wasn't sure if she had been crying before or after he run into her.

"Hey, are ya 'lright?" he said as he reached out his hand to help her up, his voice taking a turn from shock to concern, "I didn't hit ye too hard, did I?"

 

[CrazyGirl17]

Liam blinked. Cautiously, he peered out the window, not lowering his weapon. An unfamiliar man was standing at the door, looking like he'd rather be out of the rain as soon as possible. He didn't know who he was, nor if he had anything to do with the bullets littering his floor... but then again...

His mind made up, Liam opened the door a crack, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously. "And if I am, who's calling? What's your business?" He tried not to sound threatening, unsure of what the other man would do.

 

[Knife-28]

*Nothin to give man, pigs are all hush hush. Did find this out tho, some H.A chick was found with him, weird shit or what?*

While the lack of information was an expected, if no less annoying element, the H.A. Dynasty being involved added another delightful twist on an already interesting turn of events. Kaz shot back a quick thanks and considered his next move. With not just one but two of the biggest corporations in the country (if not the world) involved, Kaz doubted that even the press would be able to get much solid info. Still, he did know where the murders had taken place, and if he was lucky...

A new window popped up in Kaz's vision, and on the other side of the city, the server controlling London's now infamous 'traffic' camera system processed a remote access request. It takes barely a couple of seconds for the system to register that information false and deny the request, but by that time Kaz had already slipped through a backdoor in the system placed there after the first time he had gained access to it.

A slightly grainy image of the Apex City of London Hotel resolved itself in the upper right corner of Kaz's eye. Despite the subpar quality of the footage and the dreary weather, the DJ come hacker made do with what he had, and played the camera across the building's facade, the aging stonework awash with the red and blue of flashing police lights.

Through the hotel windows Kaz saw tiny snippets of life, an aging woman watching some show on the television, a couple ignoring the police presence in the hotel and going at it like rabbits, a kid barely out of school being ushered out his room by a police officer, another officer crouching beside a body snapping away with a camera...

'There we go.'

Coaxing as much magnification from the camera footage as he could, Kaz finished off the remainder of his third drink and waited for an opportunity to get a better shot of the body.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056
Irina and Charles​

~SPLISH!!!~

Given Irina's recent run-in with the unknown Corp asset, the Cat Eared VidCaster OF MODERATE HEIGHT felt a tad bit of terror when she encountered her second collision in what was shaping up to be a rather shitty night. Where the first collision had caused her feel a fair amount paranoia, the second collision had a more palpable casualty, Irina's favorite peacoat. Sprawled out in a water logged gutter, neon lights glittering off of the rain soaked streets, Irina could only think about her clothing needing to be dry cleaned, never mind the fact that the person that just collided into her could be an employee to whatever Corp that had hacked her personal aug.

The Crimson Haired woman OF MODERATE HEIGHT visibly flinched when the stranger thrust his hand out into her face.

"I didn't hit ye too hard, did I?" The Stranger said, causing Irina's shattered nerves to steady themselves for a moment.

"What?" The young woman asked, not that she was hard of hearing or anything but more due to the fact that she felt some relief at being struck by a drunk and not some shady Corp type out for her blood.

"I didn't hit ye too hard, did I?" The Stranger repeated, his hand still out and devoid of any object that could cause Irina bodily harm.

"Nu... no," SK responded as she accepted the strangers assistance in standing up, now able to get a good view of the stranger.

The man looked even worse than Irina looked though he was in a close second for smell. Whatever chemicals and human waste that had been soaking into Irina's clothing was giving the man a good run for his money. From the way that the man held himself and having been in similar states of mind, Miss Rostikova could tell that the man was drunk or at the very least feeling the influence of the alcohol in his system. But was strange, however, was the man's eyes and the way he looked like he was alternating between having a migraine and going blind.

"Maybe I should be the one asking you if you're okay." The Concerned Collidee asked as she held onto the man to ensure that he didn't face plant into the gutter. She briefly considered taking the man to the closest hospital before realizing that their reenactment of human petanque had drawn a crowd causing her momentarily forgotten paranoia to return.

"Or maybe we should get out of this rain for a minute, yeah?" The girl added quickly as she lead them towards her apartment.

 

[Terratina.]

Carmen yawned as she lent on the wall, literally counting the minutes to the end of her shift. This murder had thrown a wrench in her plans, alright. If it hadn't happen, she'd be out on patrol and could easily make one of her 'appointments'. Speaking of which, a text window opened in the corner of her eye. In a blink, Carmen turned on the jammer and read the message.

CBKing: Where are you? We were s'posed to meet up half an hour ago!

Her reply was swift.

3Clubs: Didn't you catch the news? In the hotel doing actual police work.

With that, Carmen quickly closed the chat channel and shut the jammer off. There wasn't much to do except stand in the hallway looking like a diligent police officer. Oh, and there was shouting at any civilian to stay far away from the crime scene. She had to admit she enjoyed that part. Good for easing stress.

 

[Knight Captain Kerr]

"My name's Ira Soni. I'm conducting an investigation, I think you might be able to help me." said Ira. He held him arms close to his chest to keep warm. He looked through the gap in the door. This guy looks nervous, maybe he needs my help more than I need his. "Can I come in? I'd rather talk about this in there than standing here until I die of hypothermia."

 

[Neuromancer]

As Charles helped the rather short lady up on her feet, his vision started acting up again. This time, it was much like tuning to a dead TV channel , his vision filled with static, the intensity and transparency of which continuiously changed. He was also hearing static; 'twas as though his head had turned into an old school 20th century television tuned to a dead channel. Coupled with his hangover, Charles was having a hard time keeping himself from falling on the pavement from the the sensory overload.


He needed a drink, and fast. This was more than just his alcoholism talking -If his symptoms were this severe while he was in a state between mere tipsiness and drunkeness, he shuddered to thing how bad they'd get the more sober he'd get.

He was having trouble looking in general. When the static's intensity was high it was almost though he was blind, albeit a bit worse because white static was a pain to watch, and unfortunately closing his eyes didn't help. This wasn't a hallucination, this was the virus directly interfering with his eye augs, though luckily they weren't turned on. And thank fuck for that

His collision victim -miniscule as she were-, finally on her feet, raised her head and starred at him face to face. Upon closer inspection (as much closer one can get with static interfering with their eyesight) of her face, she looked like she had been crying for a while beforehand.

What really caught Charles' attention, though, was her expression. The Lilliputian cat-lady looked rather well-off, considering her clothing. Usually, such people, when rammed over by a deranged vagrant-looking alcohol-smelling langer such as himself would get all uppity about how he ruined their favourite dress (even though they were actually going to throw it away after wearing it once) or how bums like him should be removed from the streets for public safety and hoping they didn't catch some sort of disease by merely being next to him. Unlike them, she gazed at him with what looked like... worry?

As he looked at her, he felt like his head was hit by a bulldozer and an extremely intense sound pierced his ears. His eyesight, though now no longer suffering from static, went blurry, and Charles felt himself lose conciousness for a fraction of a second, almost losing his footing.

"Maybe I should be the one asking you if you're okay." she said as she held on to him as he was about to fall. From her accent, it was clear that she was not from the Isles.

The remark caught Charles off-guard. In this dog-eat-dog society, someone that cared for strangers was rare. Someone that cared for strangers that had run into them and possibly destroyed their coat even more so. Was it possible she was more than she seemed? It'd make sense with the night he was having. Dazed as he were from the strain of his symptoms, though, he didn't exactly feel inclined to ponder about it further.

It seemed that their little crash course had attracted the glares of other passer-bys. Normally, Charles wouldn't care, but given how close he still was to the "restricted" area, he would rather not attract too much unwanted attention. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately?) the petite catgirl seemed to share his view, looking eager to get out of sight of prying eyes.

"Or maybe we should get out of this rain for a minute, yeah?" she continued, clearly an excuse to get away from the crowd. Charles, still recovering from his experience, walked with her with slow, calculated steps.

She lead him further down the street, staying close to him, so as to make sure that her small frame would be there to support him if he was about to fall again. Charles had never received this much kindness from a stranger before, which only served to fuel his paranoia, even if he wasn't in a good enough state to come up with a sound explanation. Indeed, even walking needed a disproportionately larger amount of effort than usual. Clearly the night was taking its toll, and it wasn't even finished.

"Say..." he started weakly, having a hard time to piece together a sentence, "Lady, I appreciate yer help... but where exactly are ya taking me?"

 

[CrazyGirl17]

"My name's Ira Soni. I'm conducting an investigation, I think you might be able to help me."

Liam thought for a moment. This clearly had something to do with the bullets from earlier, otherwise why would they be looking for him? ...Unless it had to do with the hacking job last week to get the stoplights to go faster. Or the odd bit of graffiti...

"Can I come in? I'd rather talk about this in there than standing here until I die of hypothermia."

"...Huh? Oh sure, just a sec..." Well, maybe he could just bite the bullet and get over it with, it wasn't like he didn't cover his tracks. Liam opened the door, still keeping an eye on his gun. "Sorry 'bout that, I've been a bit jumpy this evening..."

 

[Generic NPC 22]

London 2056 | Road to Irina's Flat
This is not a Pick Up!​

The more time the giant among Catgirls spent with the man, the worse off he seemed to be. As they traversed this world of rain soaked roads, Irina began pulling up various medical Websites and started an attempt to diagnose whatever it was the stranger was suffering from. In the course of her obsessions studies regarding the early 21st century, there had been one area that had been drastically neglected from then to now.

"[small]Cancer? No. Small Pox? No. Hemorrhagic fever? No. Ebola? Maybe? No.[/small]"The Above Average in Height woman muttered under her breath as WebMD, UberMD and ThisllKillYou each diagnosed the stranger with progressively worse and worse diseases with lower and lower odds of survival, "[small]Ew. Definitely not this one.[/small]"

In the course of attempting to get out of public scrutiny, the young VidCaster had neglected her manners. Firstly, she had neglected to introduce herself. Secondly, she was abducting the disabled man by not informing him of their destination. The seriousness of each faux pas was presented in order of their seriousness.

"Say..." the not to tall guy started weakly, having a hard time to piece together a sentence, "Lady, I appreciate yer help... but where exactly are ya taking me?"

"Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm taking you to my flat. It's not all that far from here and there's no rain." The Cat Girl of above average height responded, "and it's Irina, not Lady."

Irina's flat, as it turned out, wasn't the most ideal place to hideout if you thought that you had just gotten on the shit list of a Corp that had the ability to wipe out data from your personal augmentations remotely. With floor to ceiling windows in at least 3 of the rooms it was both a voyeur's wet dream come true and a surveillance agent's walk in the park. But at least it was out of the rain.

Seven flights of stairs later, they were at Irina's front door with Irina pressing her wet face again the retinal scanner.

~BWOOOOP!~

~Click~

The door unlocked and revealed StripKitty's inner sanctum. Glancing inward from the flat's threshold, Irina was glad that the man was having issues with his eyesight since the messiness that lay in the flat's interior was enough to make anyone blind. Empty wine bottles jockeyed for position on what counter space was available, the remainder being occupied by various early 21st century knickknacks, posters, furniture and firearms.

"You can go on in and make yourself comfortable. Let me see if my neighbor's in. She might be able to help." Irina said to the stranger as she ushered him through the door, making sure to clean off a space on the vintage Ikea futon.

~KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK~

"Karine? You there?" The Upper Middle Height Woman called through her neighbor's door as she knocked. It appeared that Karine was out and about doing whatever it was Karine did.

 

[Drummodino]

Her mysterious contact had proven as good as their word. Jane's grin was hidden behind her mask as she came to the ajar window, unable to be properly closed thanks to a warped frame. The hallway beyond lit up in a brilliant green as she switched on her night vision. With no one in sight she gently lifted the window and slipped inside, carefully lowering it behind her. She quickly whipped out her towel and rubbed herself down, wiping up the floor as well.

With that taken care of Jane turned up her hearing augs and softly padded down the hallway. She was looking for an office or security station, somewhere she could interface with and download the layout of the facility. Coming to a window, she peeked through.

'Jackpot.'

A row of consoles dominated the small room, in front of what appeared to be a large data bank along the back wall. Grinning to herself, Jane activated the augs in her hand and tapped into the wall's lock, swiftly bypassing the security and granting herself access. Ducking inside she hastily approached the closest console and jacked in. While her software was bypassing the various security programs and firewalls she kept an eye on the hallway, ducking down when a flashlight and a guard wandered past.

*ACCESS GRANTED*

With the barriers to entry down, Jane ran a search program and pulled up a set of blueprints. A virtual, three-dimensional map appeared on her HUD, showing the facility's layout and defenses.

'This should be easy enough.' Jane thought as she studied the map. The database she was after was located in the basement, guarded by several laser tripwires, cameras and an automatic turret. The tripwires could be easily avoided thanks to her infra-red vision mode. The cameras would need a slightly more sophisticated tactic. Recording several seconds of footage, Jane set it to loop on the cameras for the next hour, after which it would be erased and the cameras would resume normal functioning. Without the sensory input of these devices, the turret would be redundant.

With the console's usefulness at an end, Jane downloaded the map and cut her connection. Cautiously peeking out the window for the guard, she quietly opened the door and made her way down the three floors to the basement, using the map as her guide. Narrowly avoiding a particularly alert looking guard, she descended the last flight of stairs and hacked her way through the lock at the bottom.

With no security of the human variety down here it was much simpler to make her way through. Easily evading the tripwires, Jane reached the database and jacked herself in.

'Okay Mr Grey... who exactly are you?'

 

[Neuromancer]

Outside a block of flats​

The way to the flat of the barely-above-dwarf-heighted catgirl, who had now introduced herself as Irina, was a rather long one, filled with uncomfortable silence, which was partly Charles' fault. His augments were acting up along the way, and the strain it put on him was especially large, leaving him hard-pressed to find words, or to care to. And so, while he grunted in acknowledgement to learning her name, Charles hadn't, or rather, couldn't, introduce himself. What little energy he had was used to keep himself from falling down on his face.

That's what he hated the most about his current state. It wasn't the lack of purpose, it wasn't the fact that all his work and progress over the years had been shattered and rendered null is a few seconds, it wasn't that he had to get used to the fact that the man he once was was dead. It was the fact that had no control over his body, that he was a slave to the virus inside the augments of his brain, every minute a minute passed in fear of what he could possibly be made to experience.

Lucky for him, his augmentations had stopped acting up as they got outside the tower block Irina lived in, giving him time to recuperate. By the time they had reached the their auspicious climb up staircase, Charles felt well enough to be able to stand on his own two feet without the fear of falling. A little more and he wouldn't need to scramble for words to form simple sentences, or so he hoped, anyway.

"You can go on in and make yourself comfortable.' the catwoman said as she pushed him (well, as much as someone of her stature could push someone of his) through the flat's door. "Let me see if my neighbor's in. She might be able to help." And with that, she was off, and Charles was left to examine the apartment he had been shoved in.

The small kitten's flat was rather tidy, by his standards. Not that that said much, of course. While he wasn't exactly surprised at the sight of empty wine bottles -most people are, after all, untidy when not expecting company-, he did note the rather neo-vintage look it had. She sure had gone all out on it; snacks, guns, IKEA furniture... he even recognized on of the bookcases. It was the same model his mother had, back home. The same bookcase from which Charles equipped himself with the knowledge and tools to enter the hacking world.

Shacking off the nostalgia and all the unpleasant feelings it brought with it, Charles looked for the bathroom, wherein he relieved himself (and remembered to put the seat back down). Taking a glance of himself at the mirror, he noticed that he still had his hood on. Upon pulling it off, he took a good look at his face.

I look like shit. Surprise, surprise.

Going back to the living room, he picked an empty bottle of wine and took a sniff. The urge was filling his mind; there had to be alcohol somewhere in the flat. If he looked hard enough, then maybe-

Hearing footsteps coming from the hall, Charles snapped out of his trance, put the bottle down, and turned to face whoever was entering the flat.