Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Equally-Cynical
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Equally-Cynical

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Intro:
High tech, low life.
That's the old saying, at least. Hell, that's not even the half of it. Society is certainly advancing, and some could say, thriving, in scientific advancements. We've cured disease, we've ended war, and we've spread out, to the reaches of our galaxy. However, the coin has two sides.
For all of our advancements, all our great victories, there is one thing that will never go away. A cancer to our society, never to be truly solved. The cancer is crime.
Crime is literally everywhere, and for every honest and hardworking layman, there are several more lecherous whoremongers, murderers, petty thieves, and much, much worse. Gangs, para-militants, and terrorists all vie for control of the next street over. Gangs like the Urkhan, the Tunnel Rats, Blackhead, and Whitestroke have a stranglehold over businesses Politicians are puppets, and no one can stop their next pay raise. Religious tension between minorities has erupted into planetwide secret wars of attrition. Forbidden cults, transhumanist priests, all stirring up trouble planetside. Crime and conflict will never leave. Only you, a member of the Interface, can stop them.
Good luck
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Equally-Cynical
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Equally-Cynical

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It was barely three after noon, and he was already in trouble. Daaniel had a knack for that. The job he was given was simple. All he had to do was find the martian bank teller, and bring him in. Commissioner Khyrok himself ordered this one. After three and a half hours of following the martian, the stocky little fellow already threw a wrench into his plans; he hadn't been seen leaving the premises, though his shift ended almost four hours ago. Daaniel debated in his head whether or not to drop down and enter the bank, even in his camouflaged exosuit. The rooftop was searing hot, making him wish all the more that he brought a drink with him. That was the thing about this line of work; you forget your own little needs constantly, and even veterans do it. Daaniel caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, and he squinted. It appeared as though the empty air had moved. But... no. No one without a permit is allowed cloaking technology. Yet, a spark of curiosity flickered in his gut. Flicking his visor to infrared, Daaniel could see the invisible man perfectly. He was a human; young, maybe nineteen years old. His face was covered in a bandanna, and the clothes he wore were no different than any other persons. It was the machine covering the clothes that caught his eye, however. The cloaked man wore an expensive looking exoskeletal frame, characterised by its sharp looking edges and hexagonal joints. Based on his clothing, it looked like he couldn't afford even the simple luxury of a basic work-skeleton. Deciding that this teched-out street rat was a bit more important than his previous prey, Daaniel jumped into a back alley, and walked into the moving crowd. Marking his comms device for backup, he stalked towards the new target. He would need some help wrangling both people.
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