Step City

Lightning Street.

It wasn’t far enough from UGHQ to warrant catching a tram, close enough for the Purple district and Grooveline to make you want to vomit but had quite a few eclectic shops to visit if you didn’t mind mingling with Normies, RollerBrats, and Muther Funkers. Steven didn't care. Most stayed out of his way, and if anyone really wanted to throw down and eat shit, he could always class it as a little ‘post lunch pre-workout.’

It was a little chilly out, so the UG leader opted for a short-sleeved shirt with a tasteful blue and orange floral print instead of a tank top, fitted trackie bottoms, all topped with a nice pair of kicks to boot. He was looking cute, looking fresh, beard trimmed up all nice and he was on a mission today to find the little custom accessories shop he spotted on a Stepbook ad.

He’d forgotten to like the post and the name of the place and the exact location, but he had a general idea of where it was so why not spend the last of his break looking for it? They had some pretty nice handmade hair clips that would finish one of the looks he was working on perfectly and he was a man who liked to support local businesses, even if they were on ‘Neutral Territory.’

Quinne was usually the opposite when it came to visiting new businesses, but he wasn't much of a shopper. Not when it came to trinkets and whatnot, but he usually kept his money for stuff that was more beneficial. Like food he didn't have to cook.

He was, of course, oblivious to Steven when he entered and seemed more focused on his phone. Most of the videos he'd gotten weren't that entertaining, outside the time Harpur was suddenly dog-possessed.

It wasn't until he decided to look up to see if there was anything worth being used as a pet toy that he spotted the spruced up UG leader. He squinted at first, clicking out of the file he had on his phone. "Steven." The name was exhaled, as if Quinne was exasperated at seeing him there.

Steven had a habit of keeping an eye on those around him while he was out and about, his vibe always assisted in honing in on any unsavoury types who had a nasty trait of being a creep and stalking him on his outings, no matter the faction. Lucky for him, he was lucky enough today to avoid any grief as he made short work of finding the little boutique, nodding his head to the cheerful staff as they welcomed him to their very frilly-looking shop.

Like always, he took a little head count of who was there- Ugh, at least two FM and a Square, but they didn’t seem to clock him just yet, so he had a few moments to stride over to one of the display racks undisturbed. He eyed a few of the more cutesy styles of hair accessories before his eyes landed on a few custom-made batwing hair clip, inlaid with a large resin eye in the center of its body.

“Nice.” Steven said softly as he reached out to pluck the clip to buy when he heard the exhale of his name, just barely audible above the usual drone of noise his vibe absorbed on the regular. He tilted his head to look at the man who spoke his name, his expression bored and flat as he looked them up and down. One of the Funkers by the looks of it, they were slightly taller than him, pale… He didn’t recognize him, not that he recognized most FM… He flashed the man a small grin before turning back to the displays. No need to be hostile just yet.

The look he received was atleast different than what he was expecting, but the Mafioso's own remained steadily stoic. The grin received a faint squint, but he didn't say anything to that.

"I want to ask you something. I don't expect you to humor me, but I will make it quick." Quinne didn't move yet, though as mentioned, he didn't expect Steven to go with him and didn't see any reason to head anywhere.

"Then I guess you can go back to shopping for....whatever."

Steven was just about to pick out a few more accessories he’d thought might suit a few of his coworkers- Would it be weird to give them a gift, even if they weren't expensive?… Maybe he should buy one for everyone so everyone felt special- When the FM’er spoke to him once more with no introductions or fanfare. Steven knew he could just be curt and to the point, but where was the fun in that? The UG Leader looked over his shoulder, then over his other, eyebrows quirking up just a tad as he finally looked back at Quinne.

“Are you talking to me?” Steven stage whispered over to the Purple, looking a little concerned for the tall fellow. “Kinda weird way to talk to a stranger in the middle of shopping…But if it’s about my beard. Yes, it is 100% natural. I’d let you touch it but you know-” He motioned his hand vaguely at all of Quinne.

“You’re… Ugh.”

As Steven looked for anyone else that he might be talking to, Quinne raised an eyebrow. No introductions really seemed necessary! "I didn't say anyone else's name." He pointed out at first, and he'd glance over his shoulder, just incase people got curious about this whole thing. There were other FM around and he was too aware of how they'd like to try to weasel into his business, especially with the UG leader about.

"It's not exactly as if I'm going to catch you anywhere else, nor am I interested in that." It would be strange, and setting up a proper chat was also out of the question. "....I don't want to touch your beard. Little weird you jump to that assumption." When gestured to, Quinne rolled his eyes. "Are you done, trying to insult me? Can we get this over with?"

“Well yeah, but where I’m from, people tend to say who they are before asking things of me. Mostly name, location, what they’d like to bet against me in a dance battle… Just a little bit weird is all, even for one of you lot.” Steven snickered as he started to pass Quinne only to pause for a moment to give him a cheeky grin.

“You’d be surprised how many times I’d been asked that today.” He hummed thoughtfully, stroking his beard the one time before he then turned on his heel and walked to the counter to buy his things. This guy was registering at least a 4 on the weird scale. Not a 6 like the ‘friendly’ Trekkie Mafia from the tram who he… did the vibe thing with… Not an 8 like the guy who Zakiya fought…. Wait.

“Oh shit.” Steven exclaimed as he looked back at Quinne for a moment. He paid up as quickly as he could, slipping his purchase in his pockets before stepping right into Quinne’s personal bubble with a smile.

“You're the camera guy! The guy who records Zakiya’s and Harold’s fights. I remember you. See, this is why you have to introduce yourself… Not that I know who you are at all, but still! CG! Small world right?” He clapped Quinne on the back with a laugh as he started to make his way to the door.

“Usually my time is precious and I don’t like wasting it on requests from you fuckers, but since you’d been pretty good with being fair and gave the kid as much screen time as Harold so you can ask your question. But if it's shit, I do have the right to kick your arse, yeah?”

"Fair enough." Still, Quinne didn't give his name - likely because Steven was walking past and it felt just as strange to introduce himself to the man's back. Of course, more mention of his beard followed. "I'm not one who goes around touching people." A shrug followed, and he'd not interrupt Steven paying for his things. For the one thing he'd been eyeing, that was just set back on the shelf. Next time.

At the exclamation, however, he looked back up just as Steven stepped right in close and he held up a hand as if to stop him. "Yes, that's me. It's, uh, Quinne." A light step back followed, just for that breathing space and he'd shift after the pat to his back. "Smaller than it feels, sometimes."

With the acceptance of his question, then, the mafioso would follow him out the door. "Harpur, but yes. It would be wasted recording time if I just got one part of the fight, no one's interested in that." At Steven's own question, he'd exhale an amused huff. "I guess."

The two were greeted by the cool Spring afternoon air as they stepped out of the little shop, the shorter of the two took a deep breath as he took his place up front. Steven wasn’t exactly sure what this Quinne’s game was; he could of just DM’d him on Stepbook, sent a letter, defeated someone who was close enough to Steven to have his number in a dance battle to win their phone and then drop weird cryptic texts at 4am- Not that Steven had even done that, but the weird ‘non-hyper aggressive’ angle was definitely ringing some warning bells.

No Funk Mafia - sans one - has ever been this … normal around him. This was either a trap, a weird invitation to some secret event, or something serious and he wasn’t really sure which one he preferred. If it was any or all of the above, at least he could set the stage.

With a nod of his head for Quinne to follow, he lead the two to a little side road on the Orange side of Lightning Street that led to the back alleys of the main shops, his shoulders rolling here and a slight 3 beat riff walk tap there into his normal walk. Steven's usually active but lethargic vibe unfurled from its core before spreading throughout his body with every beat of his heart and step, tap and scuff of his foot.

“So CQ-” Steven finally spoke again when they two were deep enough in the back alley to not be spied on so easily, stopping to face Quinne with a slight smile.

“Ask away.”

Once they were back outside, Quinne's phone was back out. For scrolling through messages likely, as opposed to recording, given the lens was pointed towards the ground. As they walked, he was a little more tense - it was obvious enough where he was being led to. Once in the back alley, he leaned his back gainst the wall just so he could keep a better look on the entrance to their location.

"They said you died, but your announcement...didn't? Was that true or?" Quinne started, clasping his hands infront of himself, even with the phone still in place. "I admit, I didn't watch more of it. What you said happened, where you were."

“Huh.” Steven had been ready for a joke question, something rude and annoying enough that he’d roll his eyes and just leave, but only after just a little confrontation. However questions about his…time away was the furthest from his mind right now and had been (mostly) for a while now. No time to process years of isolation when you work a 12 hour workday, every day.

“Well, I’m glad to announce that I have eaten 0 brains since coming back so I guess I’m not a zombie.” He huffed out a laugh as he leant against the opposite wall to Quinne. “Despite what trite rumors and little conspiracy theories have been spreading about; I’m not a clone, not an alien, only part robot-” He raised his right hand to wiggle his fingers of his prosthetic in a mock wave.

“But yeah, I’m here. Alive. Same vibe, same memories. Just a little older. But who isn't a little older nowadays, right?” Stevens' gaze stayed on Quinne as he spoke, a slight curl to his lips as he joked.

“The stream’s still up if you want to catch up.” Not that he really went into any depth about where he’d been all these years, but he just shrugged. “You looking to get the hot goss, or something?”

Quinne inclined his head at that statement, showing just the faintest amusement to it. "There's that atleast, and everything else I suppose. It would make the situation a little weirder." The robot thing, perhaps, not so much. There were plenty of those. "I assume you were alive the whole time then?"

He'd slip his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Yes, there's that." Older, indeed! Quinne shook his head in regards to the stream, glancing down at one of his shoes and back. "I want to know if you died, perhaps where you went. Were there others there?"

Oh….

Oh no…

This was an actual serious question about the actual ‘great beyond’. Shit… Were there no spiritual mediums vibe users in FM to ask this kind of thing that he had to come and ask the Leader of his Enemies about it?

What in the Joey Ramone was even happening right now?

“ Like, I didn’t die. I can’t die. I was alive that whole time- I wasn’t in hell or something. More multidimensional stuff than dead stuff…” Steven trailed off for a moment as he ran a hand through his hair, a little torn on what to feel. The whole situation was funny- he was still completely thrown that CQ came to him?

But ugh, death was a sensitive topic and UGH, this felt like a ‘genuine question’ directed at him! So gross!

Steven’s hand slid from his hair to his mouth, pausing for a moment to think how he wanted to deal with this. Be an asshole and make it a joke, or not…He let out a sigh as he locked eyes with Quinne.

“I might of not died, but I was able to communicate with the dead for a bit before I went missing… I may… have been able… to summon a ghost of one of the people your bosses 'might of' killed… and maybe haunted them with them… So, I guess ghosts are real?” He said with a shrug, unable to keep the humour out of his voice about it. It was a very mean joke, but Frankie’s fearful face was just too- he couldn’t help the little smile of glee spread across his face at the memory.

“Plus it was a useful vibe to rip that Ghost fucker out of your other shitty Boss before she, ya know- ” He made a loud pop sound with his mouth just as he released the connectors to his prosthetic off his stump, the flesh tones of its surface seemed to stutter and glitch in hue before draining away to reveal its true form, bright and shiny Orange plastic and polymers.

“Don’t know where they go afterwards though. Didn’t ask. I like surprises, y’know?”

As Steven mulled over how he'd respond to the questions, Quinne continued to keep an eye out for anyone else. Afterall, those pauses could be for the sake of stalling and he wasn't about to let himself get caught off-guard where he currently was.

The mention of not dying was met with a nod, and he straightened up a bit. "I see." It answered any following questions, or atleast made them pointless. Another pause, and Quinne glanced away a moment. Still no one else, atleast. "I suppose they are."

At the mention of his other boss, Steven got a sharp look in response before Quinne replied again. "I guess that's fair. That's all I wanted to know, kinda." With that, the Mafioso finally pushed off the wall, but didn't step away from it.

Instead, he eyed the now-changed prosthetic with maybe a slight slip of concern in his expression.

“ Well, cool .” Steven grinned as he slotted back on his prosthetic arm with a slight hiss, twist and a click, the mechanical fingers jerking back to life with an inhuman display of fingers flexing too evenly timed, too robotically before relaxing into a normal humanesque clenched fist. He flexed his fingers a little more as he mirrored Quinne, pushing away from the wall, shoulders rolling but not making any effort to leave.

“Question times up. We can go on our way then.” he drawled almost melodically as he took a step, spun on his heel and pointed to the exit before following through for a few steps. But then he stopped in his tracks, shoulders still rolling to an unknown beat as he turned back round to regard the tall Mafioso.

“Wellllll-” The UG Boss dragged out word as he took a step closer, arms raised in a small shrug, looking as if his hands were tied on what was going to follow next… “You must of known, right? Just talking to me in public-” He took a step forward towards Quinne.

“Normally.”

He took another step.

“Casually, even-”

And another.

“Like we’re friends or something? C’mon, mate. No way you were leaving here still in one piece after that.” Steven shook his head, his curls bouncing out of place as his smile became broad and bright. He drew his hand across the air where Quinne’s arm was, his chest-

“I won’t cut anything off, I promise.” He crossed his orange hand across his heart. “I’ll even let you pick the song if you want~ Unless you just want me to rough you up a bit for free?” He said as he blinked cutely.

When Steven talked about going their own ways, Quinne waited to see if he'd just do that. Instead, he did exactly what the Mafioso was expecting. "I was well aware what might occur. I guess I also hoped I caught you off-guard enough that we'd just have the talk." As he stepped closer, he held a hand up again.

"Hardly how I read my approach. People don't have to be friends to approach either." Bold in this case, but Quinne's knack for overconfidence wasn't exactly a big secret in most places.

"I'll try to do the same, but who knows how hard the glass will hit." Quinne said, making sure there wouldn't be a chance anything important would fall from his pockets in the impending fight.

"Maybe something fitting for this whole....thing, conversation. What’s It Feel Like To Be A Ghost? Works right?" Quinne moved from the wall this time, just for some extra space to actually move.

“We’re not all airheads in UG, yeah?” Steven huffed humorously as he started to bounce on the balls of his feet, arms shaking out periodically to loosen himself up. His vibe ever present, awoken more with every slight flick of his ankle or purposely robotic step of his leg till he was in the center of the alley.

“But I’m not just anyone, am I?” The UG spoke around a stream of yellowy-green smoke, flecks of translucent orange vibe started to pool on the surface of his skin with the pulse of his blood.

‘Glass would cut’… He’d surely find out what that meant soon enough, but for now, he just gave a small shrug of his shoulders at the song choice but smiled at the title.

“I accept.”

As on cue, there was a slight crackle of speakers turning on before the opening guitar riff began to play and Steven’s eyes slid shut as shoulders and head rolled and swayed in time with the beat.

His left leg kicked out just in front of him with a bounce as the drums joined the riff, his right leg sliding back before he stepped down with his left then stepped back, only to repeat the Kick Step with the opposite leg, all in time with the music. His arms and hips acted like pendulums, swinging and bending in tandem with practiced ease, his eyes still closed as his vibe began to flood the surface of his skin till he was bathed in a warm, orange light. The excess vibe, and there was a lot, collected into small blobs around the surface of the glow, like condensation on glass before becoming too big to hold on and dripped harmlessly up into the air.

Steven’s eyes slid open, bassy smoke curling from the corners of his smile as his rose his arms, feet still Kick Stepping as he motioned for Quinne to ’Come on, then.’

:o