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Visitor :  Dice Roller| Game Info| The Cast |
| General OOC. Posted by The MC. | Group: 0 |
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| Author | Message | [bottom] |
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:43, Sat 06 Aug 2016. | |||
My character sheet is in my description now. This message was last edited by the player at 09:54, Tue 10 May 2016. | |||
I wake in a cheap bed in a cheaper hotel room. The blinds are closed, I am laid dead center in the bed, naked. They set up my new sleeve this way to minimize disorientation. The one thing they can’t control, though, is the breathing. One millisecond I lay down in a body, naked, center of the bed, blinds closed, breathing in. The next millisecond I am in a new body. Everything has been curated to be identical. Everything except my respiration. I breathe out while trying to breathe in, and I cough so hard I think I might vomit. I recover eventually, and saunter into the kitchen. That feels right in this sleeve – sauntering. This is a body made for swagger. I open the fridge. A six-pack of Sapporo has been lined along the top shelf. Three of them are facing away from me. Three targets. I crack the cans and drain them into the sink. Each contains a data chit double bagged in plastic. While the liquid gurgles down the sink, I crack a fourth can and drink. A little alcohol eases the transition. I find a mirror and look at myself. A nice enough sleeve this time around – that’s the nice thing about this job. The shit I do, they can’t afford to stick me in some freak with tetra shakes. In this case, I’m on the rugged end of fit. Handsome, if unkempt. I run my fingers through my tangled beard. Easy enough fix. Russian, if I had to guess. I shave and plug the chits into a pad sitting on the bedside table. I read for a couple of hours. I memorize everything. I throw the chits in the garbage disposal and watch them disintegrate. I walk out the door of the cheap room with the cheaper bed. I take the stairs. I smile at the greeter. I walk outside. I kill three people in the space of a week. I walk back inside. I smile at the greeter. I enter my cheap room and take my clothes off and lay down in the dead center of the bed. I breathe out. | |||
“That’s because you are filth, Jamie.” “Fuck you Rob.” Rob smiles over the fresh cadaver at Jamie. “Well, can we use him?” “Damn it Rob, you know I won’t know until the tests finish. Why do you always ask?” “Because you’re cute when you’re flustered.” “Are you hitting on me in a fucking morgue?” “I’m just shocked that it’s being in a morgue that bothers you and not the act of invasively examining a corpse that would’ve still been complaining about said invasive examinations not three hours ago.” The machine in Jamie’s hand sounds a tone. “We’re solid. Died of Raymond’s Syndrome, and we cured that a decade back. Poor fuck just couldn’t afford the treatment.” Jamie unzips a cloth bag full of vials. “Raymond’s… Raymond’s. Here we are.” She uncaps a syringe and inserts it into the cadaver’s arm, finding true into a vein. Rob sidles over to the mortician. “We’ve got one tonight.” The mortician huffs. “You sure you can’t use that one too? What’s wrong with that one?” he says, pointing to a couple of stiffs. “You guys are killin’ me. You know what they pay me?” “Well, that one’s missing half of his head and therefore I’m gunna assume also half of his brain. Annnnd… Oh, that one! The one with flesh eating nanite swarms? Jesus Christ, we just about died when we stuck him with a needle. Should be in fucking quarantine. And to answer your last question last, they pay you too damn much, Hector.” Jamie finishes zipping up the bag around this evening’s winner. “Pay the man, Rob. Let’s get the fuck out.” Rob places his thumb on a pad proffered by Hector. It hums for a moment and then dings pleasantly. “Thank you for your purchase!” reads the display. Jamie heaves the bag over her shoulder, walking out the door and slinging it into the back of the van. “Hey, careful. We don’t want one of our people waking up with a brand new broken neck.” “Ha-ha. Get in, you ass. Unlike some people I don’t like grave digging.” “I am truly hurt by the assertion.” The unmarked van speeds off into the night. | |||
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