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Post by Admin on Mar 22, 2018 20:17:37 GMT
This will be the start of the in character game.
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Post by Admin on Mar 29, 2018 14:26:49 GMT
You're at least 50 meters underground now, somewhere between manchester and liverpool. London's archetecture has been somewhat restrained by the government's adherence to the idea there is important historical architecture that shouldn't be dwarfed. No such limit up here. The two industrial hubs have swollen in size and merged together in a way that makes it hard to tell when one stops and the other starts. The locals have taken to just calling it 'Metropolis.' Up top it certainly looks more cheery that Fritz Lang's, thanks to all the shiny AR 'paint' jobs making everything look nice. On your way down here, following a series of GPS coordinates, more and more of the real dirt and grime starts to show. The tunnels split and re-merge fractally, so far the map you have has been accurate. The matrix reception is pretty shitty down here. Down here, they say some guy named Faulk runs things. A local heavy, he's organized the somewhat chaotic and rebellious Gammas into a coherent and effective criminal enterprise, specializing in getting things in and out of metropolis through paths with no cameras. You are supposed to pick something up from one of Faulk's minions for your current employer. You make your way past some larger underground chambers filled with ramshackle plasticboard shanty towns, with the cries of babies and the sound of some kind of meat sizzling - you can't place the smell. There's an entire ecosystem down here, partially leaching off of the grid, siphoning off of water mains. There are probably people who were born down here, and a few that have never seen the sun. Your destination, the "Croc's Cave" is still a good ten minutes off, further down the network of tunnels - supposedly it is a local drinking establishment. Doc Wagon probably doesn't pick up here, and Knight Errant likely isn't on patrol. You seem to be getting attention from some of the tougher looking Trogs, who seem to be thinking of perhaps getting in your way. Dammit, and maybe you have a tail as well. OOC: What are you picking up? For whom? Also, I'll be out of contact until Tuesday.
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Post by Deals with dragons on Mar 30, 2018 3:48:19 GMT
“This place gives me the creeps” Tag Mumbles to herself as she scans her surroundings with suspicion. Tag has become accustomed to the dreary underbelly of society, but something about this place in particular just doesn't sit well with her. Maybe it is the ground over her head, the stagnation on the air, or just bad feng shui. Tag pulls her armored clothing tighter around her body and readjusts the bandana covering her face. It isn't the smell that bothers her, she is more interested in keeping her Alpha features hidden. It is one of the small number of precautions that Tag had actually taken. She is new to the area, small, and visibly unthreatening, so she would be getting enough trouble as it is. Trying to keep from getting psyched out, Tag keeps reminding herself why she’s in this place. (One day prior): Tag got the job from a Johnson particularly interested in an underground and needless to say, illegal drug. However the Johnson wasn’t looking for any of the typical street drugs. Word was that Faulks ‘chemists’ were cooking up something new, something… Revolutionary. They said it could make life for poor augmented individuals safer and easier, it would also make these gangers rich. They were calling it Chalk, due to the supposedly unbearably chalky taste and texture, but if you could stomach that, it was meant to stop the body from rejecting cheap cyber wear. Whether or not these rumors are true remains to be seen, but the prospect already has people curious. Tag is snapped back to reality as her commlink chimes, telling her to take a right turn. it isn't too far now, just a couple more twists and turns. As Tag gets closer to the destination, there are less people who look like they want to start trouble, this area is probably better regulated by Faulks gang. Seeing what probably used to be a neon light in the shape of a crocodile -now unlit- and the tacky sign which prominently displays Croc’s Cave in huge letters, Tag can guess this is the place. Tag pushes open the door, greeted by comparatively warm and somehow even less breathable air. She enters, taking the stool at the far end of the bar. Tag removes her backpack, placing it at her feet before fishing around her pocket for an anonymous credstick. Holding it, she flags down the bartender, an epsilon with a shaved head and grim expression. Bartender: “what'll yeh be havin.” Tag: “One of whatever's got the least dust in it please…” Bartender: “Yea alright, yeh here jus fer the drink or yeh need somthin else?” Tag: “Yeah, I’m here to talk to Xink, about some important business transactions. My employer says you should know me by my ‘chalky aftertaste’ if you catch my meaning.”
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Post by prissyprincesscyan on Mar 30, 2018 19:29:49 GMT
While sipping on a can of PWR Up,a drink that comprised of entirely of too much sugar and caffeine, Hija’s eyes followed the small circular AR loading symbol that covered the frozen trideo, causing the protagonists devilish smile to spill hauntingly across his cheeks. The Matrix connection reminded of how spotty the Matrix could be back home, just fast enough for you stay connected but too slow to get anything worthwhile done. With one last stutter, correcting the actors face, Hija paused the trid. Naturally adverts offering downloads of the entire four seasons, the casts public events near you and one sly message from Neo Tridcomms offering a faster Matrix speed at low, low prices. She slid off her glasses and wiped them with the sleeve of her navy blue hoodie. The adverts stayed in her vision, with one more about a basement clinic offering laser eye surgery only a short walk away popping up. A particularly observant person might notice the myriad of adverts subtly adding abnormal hues and colour to Hija’s dull hazel eyes. Not that it meant anything, what teenager didn’t have some kind of trendy surgery or cyberware to try and stand out from their peers? Hija rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of the tiredness that boredom had induced. The adverts slowly faded away leaving only three screens in her vision. One was the trid, the other two were small square inserts soaring above the streets, as far as the underground ceiling would allow them, and scanning the populace’s IDs. The were a mix of these, some accurate, some passable, some completely wrong and some simply absent, a warning about the illegality of not displaying SIN in its place. When the local bobbies stayed away from places like this it made sense that people would break the law for a little anonymity. Who was going to stop them after all?
Placing her glasses back to their usual position Hija opened her to eyes to look at a gaggle of ganger Gammas that had stopped in front of her. Two of the three were in a hushed debate about where they were meeting the “‘im” the third, a tall and broad man was staring back at her. His eyes moved down her sticklike stature then back to her own eyes in a manner that sent shivers down her spine. She hated it when people stared at her, but this guy was something else. Ganger: “Beat it kid,” He ordered, gesturing down the street while flashing a long, stained blade that looked more at home in a jungle than a city. Hija, spurned on by her action trideo marathon, considered for the briefest of moments what would happen if she fingered the safety of her scorpion until it let out a subdued click while staring blankly at the ganger. She passed on the opportunity to get stabbed in such an exotic locale, and placing in a pair of ear buds, scurried down the street. The auto-tuned singer, backed by an upbeat bass and electronic boops, spilled Spanish between breaks of an acoustic guitar into her ear drowning out whatever conversation the gammas were having. As the song built towards a satisfying drop the music muted and was replaced with words that made her heart race faster than either the energy drink or potential stabbing had done. “Amiga, I have found the one you’re looking for.”
Hija: “You have? Where is she?” Flyspy A: “Sí Amiga, the seňorita is not too far off.” Hija: “Gracias Alberto, you’ve done we-...” Flyspy B: “Well, but not excellent!” Hija: “Benita?” Flyspy Benita: “Sí, I’ve tracked the route she’s been taking not just her. Look!” [She’s stopping every so often, then gets an alert on her comm, then keeps moving. Which means...] Flyspy Alberto: “She’s following a guide.” Flyspy Benita: “Hey I was about to say that.” [ A guide, to where then. Without breaking into her comm again I could run the points around known guides, which leaves these as potentials. Those don’t make sense since this outing is for business, at least the messages say its business. She’s too… to the point to take a scenic route so those are out which leaves…] All in unison: “Croc’s Cave!” Benita: “Ooh spooky.” Hija: “Benita, can you keep following her until I get close enough to see her, then come back to me?” Benita: “Sí Amiga,” Hija: “Alberto, can you get over to Croc’s Cave and keep an eye out?” Alberto: “Of course, though if you know where she is going why do you want to follow her?” Hija: “I want to be sure… That’s all.”
Hija set about downloading the route her quarry was taking and finding a point of intersection as she ended the silent conversation. She always found it hard to describe how they communicated. She could speak to her drones through a commlink or in person but she found it just as effective if not more so to talk to them in her mind. Of course they knew what she was thinking and sometimes come up with ideas a few moments before she did, or rather a few moments before she realised she did. Setting aside her musing on her own murky existence aside Hija focused on tracking down her target.
[Time to play tag with ‘Tag’… No that’s too dorky.]
Darting through the streets Hija made her way to an intersecting point. She kept a hand over her nose as the smell of indeterminate meat roasting on open fires grew thicker the further she went. It didn’t take too long to get to the point, they weren’t too far from Croc’s Cave either. Turning the corner Hija spotted her. [Short black hair, keen green eyes, on the short-side but that’s hardly a problem for her. Dermal-weave clothing, naturally she’s working right now. The bandanna’s new, did she join a gang? No, pretending? Maybe. For the smell, nah something like that wouldn’t get to her. SIN matches up, fake of course, probably. She’s a professional after all.] Her eyes were fixed on the runner, breaking only to duck back around the corner as Tag scanned her surroundings with the eyes of a hawk. Still hiding around the corner Hija felt several small mechanical legs crawled their under her sleeve. It was Benita, following her orders. Making it clear that the short haired woman was indeed Tag in the flesh. Turning back once Tag started moving Hija noticed that she might not be the only fan. Another gamma, similarly dressed to the ones she had encountered earlier just without the gang colours, who was previously fascinated with his commlink was now following after Tag. Hija: “His SIN, its familiar” Benita: “Sí, ever since I found Tag, He’s not been too far away. A boyfriend perhaps?” Hija: “No! Ah, a bodyguard is more likely but even that, no. There’s no mention of anyone else from what I read. Besides look at how he’s dressed. He’s from around here. But what is he doing, following her around like a creep? It’s probably about her work, maybe he wants to hurt her?”
Convinced the man in question had less than noble intentions following people around all day Hija left the safety of the street corner and followed the man following Tag towards Croc’s Cave. The journey took around ten minutes, stopping occasionally as Tag scanned her surroundings. When she entered the man paused, taking keen interest in the vending machine embedded into the wall. He interest grew even further as a group of gangers, showing different colours to the Gammas she had seen before, walked on by. [He may be from around here, but it seems he isn’t too welcome here specifically. That makes it even more concerning as to why he’s following Tag.] Confident that the gangers had passed him by the man entered the bar no doubt to continue to spy one people like the wretch he is. Following his lead Hija likewise paused at the vending machine. Ordering several large cans of PWR Up as her own supply had run dangerously low. Holding the cans in both hands she mustered what little courage she had and pushed her way into the bar.
There Tag was, far end of the bar with bag at her feet, conversing with the barman. [Yeah, it’s not like anyone going to screw around with her. So why bother wasting energy being paranoid about your stuff. If she were around when those guys turned up I bet she’d be the one telling them to ‘beat it’.] Putting aside the fact this was the closest Hija had ever been to her apparent idol she turned her attention to the problem at hand, the unwelcome eave’s dropper taking a seat in a nearby booth. Clambering up onto a bar stool Hija popped one of the cans open and began downing the contents. Her eyes darted nervously about the bar before her, occasionally looking at Tag before swiftly reverting back. In her mind she was trying to figure out the best way to compose a message to Tag about her tail without coming off too much like a creepy stalker herself. After a few seconds there was a small vibration from Tag’s commlink
Hija’s Message: “Hola Tag mi amiga, I understand you’re very, very busy and very much in the middle of something important so I’ll keep this brief. You’ve had a very skeevy cabrón following for about the last ten minutes. He’s sat a couple booths back, near the door. I get you can handle yourself and it’s probably not a problem for you but I just wanted to give you a heads up. Not that you need it, probably. Just trying to help out. From the girl with way too much energy drink.”
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Post by Admin on Apr 3, 2018 18:30:39 GMT
Tag, Hija, after entering, and when the door to the establishment closes, your wifi signal drops to 1 bar - likely a faraday cage built into the walls and doors. You'll need a hardline to move lots of data in or out, or keep the door open, send a drone outside, and have line of sight from inside to the drone. On the inside, the bar is actually more well kept than you'd expect. Some fans hang from the ceiling, spinning slow enough to have no cooling effect whatsoever on the hot, humid air. No two chairs match, no Trids are being projected anywhere, an antique CD jukebox is in the corner, but it's dark and you don't hear any music. There are 15 people patronized the pub at the moment, a couple of solo drinkers staring into space, three rowdy blokes and a gal playing darts - and betting on each throw apparently. The rest in pairs or trios at the bar and tables. ***At the bar*** Tag: The bartender was just about to start filling a glass from a tap, but pauses when Tag says "Xink." His dour expression turns mischievous. "Well missy, if you are looking for Xink, I'll gechya a special drink, on his tab no less. No more talking about business out here, that's only in the, um, 'lounge'." He tilts his head towards one of two doors, then gets out a souvenir shot glass of Florida, and pours from an unmarked bottle. It looks and smells like decent Soy-whiskey. "Drink up lady-miss. Xink will be 'round real shortly." *** At the Tables *** The matrix resonance is so low here, it feels like you are in some kind of sensory deprivation tank to Hija. It is a novel experience. The gamma who was tailing Tag whacks his comlink a couple of times in frustration. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and keeps adjusting his thin, threadbare coat. OOC: Hija - make a perception check please. OOC "She passed on the opportunity to get stabbed in such an exotic locale, and placing in a pair of ear buds, scurried down the street." - Bwahahahaah! Loved that. Props for naming your drone 'benita'.
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Post by Deals with dragons on Apr 3, 2018 21:20:16 GMT
Tag nods and takes the glass, as shady as the situation seems, it seems that just going along with this would be the most diplomatic approach. Sure she's at least a little worried that she might be poisoned or something, but a few sips wouldn't hurt. She takes a look around to assess what's changed since she’d been talking. It looks like a few people had left, and a a couple more had entered as well. A nondescript group of gamas had packed themselves into a far corner of the room, seeming to be totally uninterested in anyone else. Somebody does catch her eye however. At the other end of the bar from her, Tag sees a rather out of place beta. It's rare for her to find someone who looks as immediately out of place as herself in a place like this. But there she was, at the other side of the bar downing a whole can of some cheap energy drink she’d seen advertised on her way down here. PWR up? Yeah something like that. Anyways the girl at the bar isn't really the same... well, type of person you'd see in a place like this. [Short, darkish skin, wild hair, nerdy. She’s not even trying to fit in, so she's either careless or wants to be noticed.] Tag is good at reading people, call it a sort of sixth sense, but there's something paradoxical about this girl she's looking at. [Why do I feel like she's watching me, without even looking at me?] her commlink buzzes twice, signaling an incoming message. [Strange, I thought this place was blocking connection.] Tag takes out her commlink, curious about who might be contacting her. After reading the message, she glances at the girl from before. Tag nods to herself and smiles slightly before standing- drink in hand- and walking over to the ‘girl with way too much energy drink’
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Post by prissyprincesscyan on Apr 4, 2018 12:55:13 GMT
Breathing a small sigh of relief as her message was sent, and received, Hija finished the can of energy and drink and began contemplating starting another. A small flash in the corner of her eye pushed out the thought as Hija studied the stuttering, artifacting screen. Expecting that her trid had regained connection and was trying to play once more she let out a quiet gasp as she noticed whose feed it was. Hija:“Alberto! Are you okay?” Benita: “He was working fine just now.” Hija: “Shh! Alberto please answer me.” Alberto: “ÿ̸͍́̊̃͘s̶̜̮̻̳͝j̷̟̩̈̀́̿g̷͓͈͈̓m̵̹̏?̶̧̼̰̣͛̔” The noise that returned was a distant, broken, jumpy mess of beeps, squeals and static noise. A reply broadcasted on a gramophone, locked in a safe with an amateur disc jockey going to town on their fire mixtape. It worried her more than any ganger had done today. Benita: “What?” Alberto: “v̸̭͎͑h̸̨̊̒͂̓ͅḫ̵̇b̶̟̫̔̀z̴͓̺̞̉̇̃ó̵̦͓ ̵̢͙͚́͌̿͠ŏ̸̜̪̩̱́u̴̠͕̟͒̀̑s̵̨̘̘̍m̴͍̖͉̅͜͝͠ǵ̸̛͓̔ͅk̸̖͛̅ ̴̨͔̖̋͠e̸̤̅͆͗͂q̵̘̗̺̒̅x̷̜͉̳̑̌́͜f̸͉̥͛ ̴̢̪̘̤̆̿̅̄ó̸̜͚̓g̸̻̰̩̝̅̈́́x̸̜̱̮̲͊̈͗͝ ̴͍̟̓̈́q̴͕̹̟͕͊́ȩ̷̞͇̉̌̈́e̷͙͑͆í̶̻ ̴̫̃̈́v̵͚̰̪͆̋̔̓ẓ̴̊͝ă̵̝̍̋̐s̸̘̩͙͑͗͝͝ ̵͚̑͘q̷̙̞́̽̌͠ ̸̨͉̩̝͋̄ĵ̷͎͕̝̏v̴̰̮̪͕͆̂̎͘ ̷̙̯̈́̅͘͝v̵̗̉ü̸̪̤̱͙̽y̵͓̐b̸̩̘̀r̶̗͛̾͛͋e̷̛̗͕͒̅͘ ̷̬̲̙́ǘ̷̩̦c̶̘̹̬͐̚s̵͚̤̖̳͋́̆ṣ̵͆̈́k̸̝͔̫̖̂͗̃̀v̵̝̙̂̅v̵̯̀͐̐̀ ̴̼͓̥͎̌͒ȅ̸͎͜j̸̦͓̼͆̔v̷̛͚͕̣ǐ̶̹̮͝ȳ̶̫̿̏̽v̷̧̟̱̖̂r̴̪̪̝̐f̶̛̹̩͌u̷̠͙͕͂ͅi̷̬͙͈͓͐̽ṋ̶͔̍̈́a̴̗̫̝̹͌̌̕e̴̖̯̫̙͗̀ ̶̩̔p̷̫̥͒̇͛̐ṇ̶̛̲͕͕͌͗e̶̡̫̠͝.̴̻̟̝̊ ̷̯̻̐͒̍̀” Benita: “He’s just spewing drek…” Hija: “It’s not drek, just garbled.” Benita: “Is he damaged?” Hija: “I don’t kn-” Alberto: “v̷͉͈͓̲̎́v̸̳̫̌̀̄͘g̸̰̒͒ ̶̖̱̍b̸͔̤̣̊̑b̸̙̰̈b̷̪͎͙̬̂͒̌ ̴̡̲̤̑̀j̴̬͙͇̈́z̵̭͒̈ḩ̴̣̣̎́̚t̸̹̄?̵̲̕̕ ̵̲̭̖̑͜” Benita: “Guess he can’t hear us, huh?” Alberto:”u̸̫̎̈́͘f̴̧̼̒̐e̷̪̦͇̍̉̋͝c̶͙̓̎̕͝h̴͉̏̌ö̷́̌̅̚ͅy̵̛̲̥̱̑̌ ̴͎̘̖͛̑̌̀a̶̩̥̹̠̽̒̀k̷̠̅n̶͖̪̘̒͊̀̑i̴̝̾́̒f̴̦̌̐̐ ̶̝̻̳̥̑̌͝͠d̸͉̺̰̹͊j̴̡̘̤̜̽̂̏ ̶͙̥͐̈́j̵͕̤̪̺́̊ ̵͖͕̼̂ŏ̴̧͐̓̔b̸̛͚̝̐̌b̷̛͉̖͖̈́͐̋f̷͙̐͆̇̀d̶̤̂̚̚w̶̖̦̲͋̕̕ȟ̶̤̹̑̍̊ ̸͇̩̘̿̆͌v̵̺̔̀̃̈́ļ̶̫̔͂̽̚f̴͎̟̅̈ü̸̺̝̳͆ ̵͔̠͂͊̊̂b̸̼͎̞̍ͅz̵̖͕̅̓͜q̵̙̯̅̏̐̈́ ̶͔͍̭̀ư̴̝̲̩̋͋z̴̧̘̘͋͠f̷̮̙͂̓̚ụ̴̄̂͘o̵̩̯̱̫̍q̶̂͘͜ ̴͈̜͂̈́͊d̵̦͖̣́̔̚͜i̷̘̜̕ť̴̼̜̟̖p̷̢͈̟̂̃̂̾q̷̦̼̦̟̍̐l̴̠̒p̴̗͎͛̊ȗ̷͇͑̐̚d̵̗͎͒͑͌b̵̝͆̽̚?̸̫̠̔̀ͅ ̷̢͙̣̈́̅͐v̶̢̧͒̎͌͠u̸͖̇̚͝ ̴̙͕̳͊̈e̷͖͋m̷̙͈͇͔͘ń̸̟̖ ̸̖̗̺̊w̶̨̅̈́̅̒p̶̧̱̌̚e̴̝̰͔͆̇͝d̷͔̻͎̮͑̓́̈́z̸̦̞̠̓̿̒͜ ̴͍̄̒̈d̴̡̝̦̋ḍ̸̛͈͍̳͂͆v̷̺̘̜͘ ̵̠͚͙̈̕q̵̟̖͈͑̈́ĭ̴̙̩̉̿͘ ̶͔̹̜̼̈́g̸̥̹̻̱͊͆͝s̶̳͙̣̾ṃ̴͎̩̖͛̒̅͝u̴̩͇̣̿k̷̨̒̀ Benita: “We can’t understand you!” Alberto: ̶̛̖̔͘j̵̺̼̱̣͠ö̸̘͍̳́ų̴͔̞̿̏̍h̸̩̒͠g̷̥̜̫͊͑ͅq̷̨̤̫̮̑̆̿͘ ̸͓̺̲́̈́̌̏î̷͓̭͕y̶͓͂̀d̶̢̹̼̮̽̍ ̴͓̗͈̝̑͛̓t̵̳̘͎̋̓̆z̵̢̺̞̃̀i̷̛̥̖͇̬͊̓͒ỉ̷̱͝v̶̨̞̞̉͌ ̵̺̙͈̣̅g̵͍̤̣̍b̵͕̻̎͌̈́̏j̸͍͒̌m̴͓̀͛̄l̴̩̀e̷͚̤͈̫̾ë̸͇͖̮̱́̓̀̔t̶͓̠̰̽ ̷̜̈́v̵̱̐̑ ̶̨̄ç̸͖̳͐̆j̵̳̰͓̦̾̀̓ ̷̦̍ẇ̵͈̘̑g̶̟̬͋͑̀̕ȑ̵͓ļ̸̘̾͊̈̍y̷̛̞̱͂͌͑q̸̧͈̥̟̏͒͠y̷̝̐̎̋y̵̖̯̆͊.̶̺͌͆ Benita: “Speaking more doesn’t make it easier to understand perrocerebro.” Trying to ignore the two increasingly irritating noises from her mind Hija turned to stare wide-eyed towards the door. It was now closed further it appeared that Hija was not the only one having connection issues. Seeing the gamma fiddling in frustration with his commlink brought some measure of reassurance to the girl. [Whatever is going on it isn’t just me gracias a dios. Thinking about it now, I can’t hear the dissonance either, just Benita. I can hear her fine, oh… its a thingy cage. It blocks the Matrix, most of it anyway. If it was all of it then I wouldn’t hear anything from Alberto pequeño. He’s fine, He’s okay… No, I have to be sure, something with a small data size and fast might work.] Scrunching her eyes so hard they could crush diamonds Hija concentrated on a single most basic language she knew, that Alberto might understand with the aid of the Matrix. As she concentrated Hija found her fingers were inadvertently tapping along the side of the empty can and her mouth muttering disjointed “di-di-di’s” and “dah-dah-dah’s.” Both were flesh and simply too slow to keep up with the conversation she was holding in her mind. After half a minute, which seemed to hold an entire saga of anxious questions, Hija opened her eyes and let out a rare smile, looking as though she had just outran Red Samurai as a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. The small screen in her eye was now running smoothly as it peered through the window. Said screen showed that their previous, most important task, was standing over Hija looking rather expectant. She turned to face the runner with all the bravado that her body held and tried to return Tag’s smile. Hija’s face split into a broad nervous and painful looking grin as she let out a strangled noise, a mixture between a carbonated belch, a tense laugh, a brusque greeting trying to act cool and almost vomiting from panic about Alberto potentially dying and meeting Tag, face to face, in person. Spluttering and just about keeping her liquid lunch down Hija bent over the bar and tried to recover from her spectacular introduction as all the blood in her body forced its way into her face so that it could serve as a beacon in a power outage. Hija: “Hello, *hic* Ughh,” [Drek, why did I have to start hiccuping?] Hija:“Hello Tal-*hic* Tag!” [Double drek, why did I let her know I know personal stuff about her?] Hija:“Talented! Talented *hic* Tag. Did you geuh *hic* get the message? Well, I mean of *hic* course you did, Your com- *hic* -mms in hand and you *hic you’re talking to me. Well, less talking *hic* and more listening to me ruin this *hic* moment. Not that it’s a *hic* moment.! But I’m doing a great *hic* job drawing everyone’s atten- *hic*” tention.” [Triple drek, why am I still talking?] Hija: “He’s over there. *hic* [No, why would I even try to fragging point at him?] Hija: “but you know that *hic* too. *hic* Sin- *hic*, Since *hic* dios mio. *hic* What do you want?” [Yep, perfect just be rude to the person who you want to like you.] Breaking her gaze from Tag’s green eyes Hija returned to staring at the bar, contemplating ways to escape the situation she put herself into.
Perception 13: pW73HLqA1-61-61-61-61-61-61-61-61-61-61-61-6 3 hits1-61-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6
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Post by Admin on Apr 4, 2018 15:16:36 GMT
*outside* Alberto lands on the outside of the door, disoriented by the sudden lack of connection and dramatic reduction in processing power accompanying it. After a while it detects something it hasn't heard in a long time, and starts tapping on the door with its thorax:
.... .. .--- .- --··-- .... .- ...- .. -. --. - --- - .- .-.. -.- .-.. .. -.- . - .... .. ... .. ... .-- --- .-. ... . - .... .- -. - .... . - .. -- . -.-- --- ..- -- .- -.. . -- . ..- ... . -. .. -.-. .- -.. -... .- - - . .-. .. . ... ·-·-·- --- ...- . .-. ·-·-·-
*inside* Hija notices the gamma who had been tailing Tag is tensing up as Tag approaches Hija, and he is using his selfie camera to observe them.
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Post by Deals with dragons on Apr 4, 2018 20:02:59 GMT
Tag raises an eyebrow in confusion. [well that's certainly.. Not at all what I expected.] A bit off putting but a little endearing at the same time. She seems to be splitting her attention between tag, the gamma and the door. She's certainly not the hardest person to read, she has a particular interest in tag, that gamma is following tag and she's worried about being seen with her (tag), and there's something on the other side of the door that she was worried then relieved about. And after her little... Moment, she is certainly not a normal beta, probably some kind of psi. But there's something strange about her eyes, in the brief moment of eye contact, tag noticed something, but she isn't really sure what it was. Situation analyzed, it's time to make a move.
Tag: "You should start by breathing, your face is going a bit purple. It'll also help with the hiccups." Tag reaches over to a napkin dispenser in the bar, grabs one of the napkins and hands it to hija. Tag: "Then you can help me out by telling me why you're here, and why you think that gamma is after me." Despite the mostly harmless look of the young girl, she visualizes the position of the stun baton in her synth leather jacket, ready to draw at a moments notice...
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Quhzk
Junior Member
Alex "Snitch" Putnam
Posts: 67
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Post by Quhzk on Apr 4, 2018 20:24:47 GMT
Resting on the seat of his matte black Yamaha Rapier, Snitch watches the skyline while finishing a NicStick.
[That drone that's been following her, seems like something off.. It was circling around the bar and then just stopped mid-air, like it's not getting any commands.. is there something going on in there?]
The bar door was closed off, and the grime of the windows is pretty thick - enough to see movement inside, but not any good details. Snitch knew that he would need to get inside the bar to keep tabs on his target. Snitch stomped the rest of the NicStick on the ground, and took a quick scan of the path to Croc's Cave.
[Group of 5 Gammas, one looked like he was going to shake the girl down.. probably not a good idea to go through here like this]
The tunnel system had been wide enough to ride a bike through to this point, but these were the slums - his bike and clothes showed that Snitch was worth cutting up for some creds. A few meters back he saw some chipheads had nodded out under some garbage in an alley, and they might be his ticket into the bar. Pushing his bike with his left arm, and reaching for his stun baton holster under his jacket with his right, he made his way into the alley and checked on the addicts. He saw an Epsilon female, early 30's, and a Beta male, probably late 30's. He could see from the movement in their chests that they were breathing, but they were unresponsive when he gave them a nudge.
[This should do, addicts always have a knack for finding quiet places to do their business]
Snitch dug through the dumpster that the two are laying against, and found a ragged sheet of plastic - more than enough to cover up his bike. Pushing it against a wall and covering it made it blend in to the rest of the garbage spread around. Bending down to the unconscious beta, Snitch took note of the ragged clothes that the man had been wearing - Brown leather jacket, blood stain on right sleeve. Black pants, mismatching patches around the knees. Blue runners with black laces. Snitches suit which had been a solid charcoal grey flashed white for a moment, and pixel by pixel the displays of the suit showed a re-creation of what he was looking at. After the clothes had been matched, he took note of the mans face - pock marks on cheeks, scruffy light blonde hair and a weeks worth of stubble growing in. The feeling of the Facial Readjustment bioware never got any more comfortable like the doc said it would, but it was nothing worth complaining about. The thousands of small changes to his face as ink is generated and hair is synthesized felt similar to rubbing ones face against a cactus. As the bags around his eyes finished filling in, he felt ready to head to the Croc's Cave. He grabbed his briefcase from the holder at the back of his bike, rubbed some grime onto it, and started walking.
Adjusting his gait to slouch a bit more and walk with a limp, Snitch got to the cave undisturbed - the Gammas had looked over to him, but then went back to their conversation. As he approached the bar he saw the drone that he had been watching was resting on the door, and if he didn't know better he would say the thing was nervously knocking on the door.
[That's definitely hers, and it looks like its guarding the door.. even if I'm disguised I'd rather her not be paying attention to me, and getting that close to her gear will get her suspicious. Well, if the front door isn't any good, lets take a look around and see what else I can find.]
Without breaking stride, Snitch turns away from the main entrance to go around to the back of the building to see if there is another way in - A junkie walking into the back entrance isn't a great idea either, but he has always worked under the principle that it's best to know every route in and out of a building before getting yourself trapped inside.
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Post by Admin on Apr 4, 2018 20:54:54 GMT
OOC: Link to map of the bar. Make a perception check snitch. *outside* Swinging around to the south, the building is leaning up against what appears to be a main, rotting concrete wall of the vast underground chamber you are in. There are some pipes jutting out of the wall, so there might be something on the other side.
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Post by prissyprincesscyan on Apr 4, 2018 23:09:35 GMT
Hija gingerly reached out and took the offered napkin from Tag, acting is if she would explode if they accidentally made contact. Hija: “Lo siento y gracias.“ She bought the napkin to her lips then froze, once again wide eyed, and quickly unfolded it. The paper sheets were disappointingly blank but with a slow nod of understanding Hija produced a pen and set to work on her super secret spy message. Hija took no small amount of pride in her penmanship, it was much easier to avoid making a fool of herself when she communicated without being face to face with someone. Further being able to write in the modern age of commlinks and voice commands was a sign of wisdom and intellect, both of which were useful traits in a leader. At least that is what they told her during the classes with the other prophets in the community. While her left hand wrote her right absentmindedly tapped away at her commlink, taking a few choice stills from both her and Benita’s point of view showing that the gamma was never too far away from Tag throughout her journey to the bar.
Finishing with a small flourish Hija, evidently pleased with herself, quietly slid the napkin towards Tag. The cursive message stated; “I am here because I followed the gamma who was following you here. I saw him acting strange, stopping whenever you stopped, trying best to act nonchalant, very suspicious. Even now he’s being strange. He tensed up harder than I did when you came over plus he’s watching us on his phone, over the shoulder. Could just be a pervert but I think he might be here for the same reason you are.” After a few seconds Hija sent the stills of the man over to Tag’s commlink as evidence to back up her claims.
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Post by Deals with dragons on Apr 4, 2018 23:46:14 GMT
Tag slides the napkin back to herself, nods then slides it into her jacket pocket. She then reaches for her commlink, a cheaper model that holds most files of her buisness dealings and no personal information. She taps at it, perusing the images recieved, and nods. [No wonder I felt I was being watched, with two people and and two drones after me] Tag isn't usually paranoid, but when you learn something like this it makes it difficult to keep your cool. Outwardly she keeps up her cool façade, but all of here internal alarms are going into overdrive. [somethings not right about this, I need to figure out what else this girl knows, but I'm running out of time] Tag leans over and whispers Tag: " Thank you, we'll talk later when there are less prying eyes about. About ten minutes or less, I'll be on my way out, I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding me. Now, I have a couple things to deal with." She concludes with a wink before standing back up, and grabbing her pack and slinging it over her shoulder. She then takes a few steps towards the gamma in the corner, just to see how he'll react. She would feel a lot better if he wigged out before her contact arrives.
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Post by prissyprincesscyan on Apr 5, 2018 12:02:13 GMT
Hija pulled back slightly as Tag leaned in, apprehensive with anyone, even Tag, being so close. With Tag's whispers tickling her ears Hija started to melt as she realized that in this moment Tag was talking just to her, giving information to her alone, willingly even. [She wants to talk again? Perhaps I didn't screw this up as bad as I thought.] Already in a wobbly state Hija completed her transformation into pure jelly with Tag's wink acting as the catalyst. She never knew that such a simple action could have such an effect on her or that it was possible for Tag to be even cooler than what she had imagined. Without thinking she stood up with Tag, peering over her pack and following her a few steps to face the gamma. Her senses returned from their wink induced absence, well most of them, as she considered the man. [Ten minutes, that’s plenty of time to prove I’m useful!] Returning to the bar to snatch her can collection Hija walked passed the gamma, doing her best to pretend that she didn’t notice him, and sat at a nearby empty table. Making sure to not look at Tag or her tail Hija busied herself with her commlink as her mind stretched out towards the gamma. [Okay creep, lets see what you’re working with... A King’s Cross II, serviceable sure, not too fancy but not something you’d wanna toss either. Probably means its your main device. The cage around here will make things a lot easier to focus on just his comm but if I set anything off his number of suspects is limited to just this building. That is if he even knows about the cage. Should be simple enough, I won’t even need any assitance.] Weighing her options Hija took the opportunity provided by Tag’s leering presence to strike at the spooked spy momentarily distracted by her idol. [His fault for being such a soplón. Wait, bopping a commlink while its owner is distracted isn't that impressive. Hitting him when he's fully aware, that takes balls right? And I wanna impres Tag so...] A few moments before she launched her attack, Hija formed a quick message to inform her prey of its eminent demise; "Hey amigo, you've been found guilty off being a creepy stalker and probably taking trids of random people. I'm confiscating the trids and whatever else I find fun. FYI if you start freaking out I'm totally siccing Faulk's goons on you, guess you're guilty of trespassing too omae. " OOC: Due to Hija's desire to impress and protect her new found 'friend' she is going to be a bit overconfident and forgo her usual help from her other friends and live dangerously.Hacking 14: 4D8XLKtr1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 Hits: 3 Glitch Dice: 1-6 Glitch Result: Glitched!1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6·1-6
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Quhzk
Junior Member
Alex "Snitch" Putnam
Posts: 67
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Post by Quhzk on Apr 5, 2018 17:07:26 GMT
Perception check: L9r9vS3D8d6Hits: 2 [Theres a vent, but thats way too high up.. well, plenty of windows to go through if things get messy, but theres no need for that yet] Snitch walks back towards the door, the droid which had been knocking on the door with its thorax adjusts to look at the approaching man. [Well, it's definitly seen me walking back and forth, it must be suspicious.. well, nothing to lose at this point.] Snitch walks up to the door and tries the handle - the door is heavy and opens to a bright interior. As he walks in several people reach up to their ears and commlinks as though something had just been sent through, although nothing unusual showed up in Snitches newsfeed. As the door closed behind him the connection dropped suddenly, apparently the croc cave has some kind of radio-insulation. Taking a quick scan of the building while walking to the bar revealed the kid sitting in a booth using her comm despite the poor reception, a few rough looking locals, an epsilon bartender, and a girl with a bandanna that he could swear that he's seen before. He gets to the bar and the epsilon looks to him, swears under his breath, and walks over. Bartender: "You gonna buy something? This isn't a hotel" Snitch: "Get me a soybeer" The bartender didn't start moving until Snitch pulled a credstick out and put it on the bar, and the tender turned to get the drink. While waiting Snitch looks around the room to figure out the layout. There are two doors, one by the dartboard and one by the jukebox, which seem to go beyond the wall that was outside. [Looks like this place is an entrance to somewhere else.. Those doors go through to somewhere behind this section of the underground, and the jammed signal means someone doesn't want info to get out easily.. maybe she's on business? If she's meeting a Mr Johnson then she'll need to give some credentials, and I can confirm who she is and sell this story.. If this is where some action is going down, I might be able to record some of this so called cult magic.. maybe I can some info out of her if I back her up?] When the lukewarm can of Soywieser clanks against the ceramic bar, Snitch takes the drink with a shaking hand and slowly makes his way to the booth behind his target. He pops open the can. [Well either this is the best seat in the house, or things are going to start turning bad and I just sat next to where the bullets are going to be flying. May as well drink up, this is going to be a long night.] With his right arm slowly working on the beer, his left reached towards the Omni-6 revolver in the holster under his jacket on the right. Snitch wasn't tense yet, he just knew that it's a matter of waiting at this point, and it wouldn't hurt to wait with a gun in his hand. 8d6
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