[IC] The Sprawl - Neon Dystopia.   Posted by Johnny Shadowtail.Group: 0
Johnny Shadowtail
 GM, 40 posts
Thu 14 Dec 2017
at 03:42
The Sprawl [IC] - Neon Dystopia

Shelley Synthetics Corpxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx   
Tru-Face Productionsxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx   
Weaver Integration Systemsxxxxxxxxxx    
Falstaff Folderolxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx   
Internal Audits      

CARTESIAN--------- 1  
MAC 1---1 
ROOST 1 -----1
GRAVIS    ------

This message was last edited by the GM at 01:38, Sun 07 Jan 2018.

Johnny Shadowtail
 GM, 50 posts
Sun 7 Jan 2018
at 01:49
The Sprawl [IC] - Neon Dystopia
It is late February in Evetown and arctic winds whip the snow in the streets into a flurried frenzy of ice pellets that sting exposed skin.  The streets themselves are frozen with grey-brown slush that liquifies on impact and enters the seasonably inappropriate footwear of citizens rushing to the warmth of alcohol in what few establishments have remained open during this most recent of cold snaps.

Each of you have ventured out into this icy hell for the vague promise of work to be done and more importantly, cash to be made.  Earlier this week, a fixer by the name of Rosenbaum sent word to you that an individual is in need of your particular talents and, given your local reputations, is willing to pay handsomely for your help.

On the outskirts of the entertainment district, past the main-stream body bars and theatres, a hole-in-the wall called The Sweatshop is in the process of wrapping up for the night.  Patrons are neck-deep in their various influences of choice and are hardly likely to notice anyone or anything coming through the door at this point.

[OOC: Welcome, friends.  Please come in at your leisure and grab a booth near the bar.  Get acquainted, knock back a few, kill some time. Once you're comfortable, Rosenbaum will make his way over to you.]
 PC, 5 posts
 Infiltrator, The Sprawl
Sun 7 Jan 2018
at 02:34
The Sprawl [IC] - Neon Dystopia

The door opened and Persephone stepped in quickly, though you wouldn't know it was her given the long, heavy coat and hood she wore. As usual, though, she was dressed fashionably and functionally, as this bulky bulwark against the bitter weather unzipped into something resembling her normal attire.

She shook the coat a bit, as well as her black boots, to rid them of any residual ice and then walked to the bar. She ordered an Irish Coffee and found a seat in a corner from which she could people watch.

Ugh... she thought to herself. Am I early? How awful. They call it fashionably late for a reason...

She shook her head in disappointment at herself and quickly checked through messages on her device while she waiting. She also ordered a second drink. After all, it might be a long night.

This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Sun 07 Jan 2018.

 PC, 4 posts
Sun 7 Jan 2018
at 02:50
The Sprawl [IC] - Neon Dystopia
"An' that's when I said, 'Brother, I'd have taken that, too, but I know how important it was to your sister!'"

A smaller man laughs as the juggernaut-like form of Mac walks in, practically carrying the other man in a headlock.

"Good one, Mac! Good one!"

"I figured so!" Mac guffaws with his something-close-to-cockney accent, but the laughter drains off. "So, brotcha here like I said. End of the line time."

"Aw c'mon, Mac!" The little fellow pleads. "You don't gotta!"

"Promise is a promise. Said I'd bring ya here, but also told your fiancee I wouldn't let you partake. So..."

Before the little guy can protest, Mac lifts him up and head-butts him with a sound like thunder, sending the now-unconscious figure skidding across the floor.

After a moment's pause, Mac looks to the bartender. "One big one for me. Water for the little fellah here when he wakes up, all right?"

Having seen such violence before, the bar goes back to it's normal hub-bub. Mac scans the room, looking for the right table for his job interview.
 Sprawl, 6 posts
Thu 11 Jan 2018
at 10:05
The Sprawl [IC] - Neon Dystopia

Gravis's van pulled up not too far away from the bar.

A face to face.  So unnecessary, so insecure.  A private node an encrypted message, chained through multiple encrypted channels.

A weathered hand slipped a grenade into the pocket of his fur lined long coat.  Despite his beliefs he had an almost fetishistic fascination with skin.  Maybe because he had shed so much flesh for chrome already with no plans to stop.  Pelts, fur, leather, taxidermy.  Mounted like a trophy.

Because it had been conquered.

He stepped through the door to the Sweatshop.  Hands in pockets, his compact form slightly stooped causing shadow to flash over his features and pool at his eyes.  He kept to the edges.

Rosenbaum wasn't here yet.  So he sat with a good view of the bar and the people in it, and waited.

This message was last edited by the player at 10:28, Thu 11 Jan 2018.