Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » 2085 [Cyberpunk RP]

A tinny, female voice, emitting from a speaker mounted on the wall of a busy metro station, rings out, "Welcome to The Greater San Francisco Area. You are now entering the district of.... Alamo Square. The time is 5:46 PM and the weather is.... cloudy, with a slight chance of rain. Have a nice day!"
Despite much of the smog gathered around the tips of the ubiquitous skyscrapers, clouds can still be seen in the evening sky, and coincidentally, a light rain begins to fall.
The automated voice echoes out down an inconspicuous alleyway, and it is heard muffled through the walls of a hole-in-the-wall bar located in the alley.
The hustle and bustle of the city continues, directed by armed robotic security guards and a few augmented human police officers. The police presence was greater than usual, due to a turf war that broke out a week or so ago between two gangs, The Reapers and the Silver Vipers. Rumor has it among the police that these gangs were contracted by corporations, but no evidence has surfaced on the killings yet.

Just another day in the lovely state of California.

Influence, unlike any average human logic, was drawn to the fights. It was a great opportunity to cause mischief under the radar and possibly make some new recruits for his own personal gang. Even then, gang wasn't the right word. He held, at the very least, a wearhouse full of "friends", filled up to the top without space. He was rather proud of his work, but didn't make that pride public. After all, no one really knew his name, and it was easier to grow as a result.

As much as Influence should've cared about the conspiracies behind the gang violence, he couldn't help but feel it was an untouched, and unnecessary, topic. If everyone were to eventually be under his rule, why waste time thinking about things that could possibly not even be true.

The only major thing he cares about that the theories touched on was the possibility of the gangs being ran by someone higher. After all, if you can get whoever's higher first, it's a lot easier to get everyone under the ladder on his side too. In other words, he only cared for his own benefit and convenience.

Influence stepped out of the vehicle, no luggage on him other than his main weapon, the pin point. Behind him was an android, whom indeed looked robotic, and a woman, both escorts holding his actual luggage, containing clothes, his firearm, and other necessities. He had a place booked out for him, but it wouldn't hurt to see if anyone else was arriving.

The bike came to a halt in a shower of gravel. Terpsicore scanned the crowds. At a thought her two siren drones detached and shot into the air. She trusted the VIs to provide overwatch. She pulled a small package and slipped it into her jacket. Cobalt blue hair cascades down her back as she pulls of her helmet. Double checking the dead drop location she heads into the station. Claustrophobia was gnawing on the edge of her mind. A job was a job but that didn't stop her wanting to get back to the Mojave.

A man sat engrossed in the news nest to him sat a bag with the sign she was told to look out for. She walked over and looked a the bill poster on the wall behind the man. Quickly she sapped the package in the bag for the one in her coat. Once she finished reading the bill she walked looking for a drink. Sitting at the hole in the wall bar she ordered a whisky on the rocks. The package in her pocket was the payment she was promised; it better had been if Solvent knew what was good for him and he usually did. He said there was other work for her in town so she was to wait for his call.

"Are you sure? They were fighting over smuggled goods?"

Xena shook her head wearily, making a note about the package in her handheld device. The woman in front of her, dressed in a scantily clad, neon yellow jumpsuit, was now stained red from the blood of the recent fight. Just to the side of them, blocked by police drones and artificial red tape laid a massacre: bodies upon bodies of bloodied criminals simply pilled together unceremoniously. Bullets still lined the streets from the attack. And unsurprisingly, a large crowd of media frenzied patrons had gathered around the scene, snapping photos and doing their best to see each face up close without facing a pistol under the jaw from the police.

Xena had been lucky enough to find the woman still shell shocked at the scene. She immediately went to work getting the story. Or at least whatever the black haired beauty was willing to part with. But it seemed the more she asked, the more impatient she became.

"So it just started out of no where. They all met right here in the road?"

The woman scowled, as if asking twice was insulting to her intelligence, "It's what I said, isn't it? One of the guys up front- the gang leader I guess- he pulled the gun after asking where the package was. But the other man seemed to think it was a joke."

Xena frowned, silver her falling in her face as the tablet in her hands recorded the audio of the woman's story. "Sounds alot like a setup to me. Both gangs after a package that neither one has... did you see anything else before the attack?"

"I already told you. I don't know anything else, so beat it before I call security-"

"I get it-" Xena raised her hands, slowly placing the tablet back into he bag, "I'm leaving."

Pushing past the crowded streets, she headed towards the bar now. Drunk witnesses were about as reliable as technology from 2020, but it was possible that something could have been recorded. Especially with how many people augmented their bodies with cybernetic tools and enhancements. Someone somewhere would have to know what happened.
This was clearly the work corporate incrimination. That alone was interesting enough for Xena to get involved. But the package must have been something special. Advanced technology, black market pieces, possibly even an artificial control chip. Maybe simple drugs. It mattered little in the end game. What mattered to Xena was that she could use it as leverage. And maybe finally have the upper hand as a nobody in California.

The drink tasted like the stuff Solvent gave to his low level clients and operatives. These days she only got given this as a sign of disfavour or to clean her bike. Her sirens got the proper stuff they were her babies after all. The bar sank of sweet, despair and to her freedom. It might be the freedom to starve to death but it was freedom none the less. She seemed to be the only edgerunner in the place. One of her girls pinged her. Closing her eyes she brought up the feed. The image brought back memories of the war. These were experienced but untrained combatants; probably gangers. The memories were threatening to overwhelm her so she shut down the link.

Opening her eyes she saw someone new had entered the bar. The white haired woman had the look of a predictor. Therpsicore wondered if the new comer had any interesting tails to tell otherwise it was going to be a long night waiting for a phone call. Curiosity and boredom joined forces and forced her from her seat. The stalked across the bar to the white hair stranger.
“Hey there; you want to by me a drink.”