[IC] Incursions

[The Roman07]

Fires... the smell of burning flesh filled the nostrils. Crackling and snapping of flesh and bone. Naked in the dark. Looking down to see nothing but flames covering his entire body. Skin slowly charring and wrinkling, boiling and spitting out puss. Jack put his hands in front of his face and noticed his old arms were back. Covering himself to protect himself but it was no use. "Detective Roman... Detective Roman... Jack!"

His eyes were blurry but he could see the feminine face in front of him. "Ugh do I always have to have a headache after the neural calibration?" Jack said while rubbing the sides of his temples. The thin blonde haired doctor pushed her silver glasses back up onto her nose as she gave a pretty smirk. "Not unless you like having those prosthetic arms of yours dart around like a tesla powered jackhammer." Rin joked. Jack gave a light grin as he got up off the medical slab. "Well, depending on where I'm aiming it may be useful." Jack tried to let out a brief chuckle but the sudden jolt made his head pound. "Jeeze once a month is enough for me. I'll see you on the 1st Dr. Emris." He slowly got up and grabbed his leather coat. Too dizzy to try and put it on he instead slung it over his shoulder before he made a b-line for the tiny office door. "Oh and Detective Roman... you were talking in your sleep again." Rin muttered. Jack stopped in his tracks. "Who's Michelle?" Before she could finish the question the door was already shut.

"Damn docs supposed to fix my arms not poke my brain... who does she think she is?" His aggitation obviously increased by the headaches and dizzyness. His vision was blurry as he passed by building after building. Wandering aimlessly waiting for the side effects to wear off. Flashes of a burning body crossed his mind, than a familiar womans face flashed in front of him. "Michelle... " following the woman until she took a seat onto a park bench. Guilt shown on his face as he watched the woman sit there nervously. Repeatedly rubbing his eyes to fix his vision as he slowly made his way to the bench and sat next to her. He wasn't thinking straight. These damn implants are driving him nuts, he thought. Looking up at the woman he expected to see a familiar face... it wasn't. Although similar, it wasn't her. Jack attempted to regain his bearings as he noticed a man standing in front of him... was it a man? No.. a Bot. "Damn robots are everywhere nowadays..." he muttered to himself before noticing the look on the womans face. "Err... sorry ma'am, just a little light headed at the moment and needed to get my bearings." It was obvious he was interrupting something and they most likely thought he was drugged off his brain. Jack raised up a two fingers and placed them on his temple. "I'm clean... just these damn neurode-thingies that keep acting up."

[slint]

Light scattered across the bed in stray pockets and a breeze shook the window’s tapestry with stale energy. Climbing through the open glass came sounds of the night beyond, they taunted, in more ways than one. Sounds of a successful night on the town, sounds of a victim lost in the dark; none of this kept Colin awake. No, instead it had been that sinking feeling, something which stirred deep within his viscera. Despite this all of this, his burly body remained cocooned like a fat caterpillar, dressed in white sheet.

"Fuck it."

Colin stretched, a sleepy bear in the slab of queen mattress he had all for himself. He slid in curt movements out from the silk sheets, re-alined his crotch, and honed straight for the glow of the bathroom's open frame. There was a rhythmic dripping that didn't reveal itself until his eyes had adjusted to the clouded white that shone around the bathroom's vanity. Ah, there it was.

He leaned over the toilet, holding himself up with one hand pointed straight against the wall.

...

Colin caught streams of freezing water from the sink and washed any doubts away from consciousness. He smirked at his reflection, staring back was a still-sexy, hardened man. He was someone the general public would assume "had been through some shit," from his broken nose - received the first time he was kidnapped by a hostile gang - to the other scars, the ones many ladies have seen but have never asked about.

He stuttered out from the bathroom and moved in little thuds across the old hardwood, the wood squealed at his every step. He grabbed the wardrobe's door and it creaked open. Laid on the shelves were a bunch of white shirts, a few long-sleeves, and some sweaters. Colin reached under the shelf, grabbed the second drawer and pulled it open to reveal a rectangular sea of dark denim, he snatched a pair and shook them out before sliding into the perfectly hemmed jeans. There was one thing Colin took from his father and that was to "always find yourself - no matter where you end up in life, kehd - a good-ass tailor." Apparently there were "no excuses" for anything otherwise.

...

He listen to the crowd swell over cheap beers and shots of whiskey, rather disinterested in the fight going on behind him. Though he preferred seeing bands at The Spit the fights were cool enough, but for tonight he was looking for something different.

Colin stirred the whiskey with brief circular motions and let it fall down his throat. He slammed the glass on the table, beckoning for another.

[YoshiSkittlez]

“Unit identification code: 0.18462958.” Kate repeated. Why did that sound so familiar? She didn’t want to be rude to the robot by any means, so she pushed that thought out of her mind to allow the robot to continue to speak. Then it hit her, like a ton of bricks.

“OF COURSE! Project Sektor! “I started that project years ago…I didn’t think that the government had any interest though…” Her thoughts trailed off, leaving her to stare in wonder at the robot in front of her. “But…you’re real…so someone had to have made you…” She tried looking around the robot once more as he continued on about protection protocols and what-not, looking for a factory logo or…something. But there was none.

“Strange…district Zero huh?” She repeated, the gears in her head working hard. “I uh…what? Protect?” She blinked her bright eyes for a moment, trying to process all of this information as best as she could, but even she, the smartest student this city has seen in years, had her limits. Had she been paying more attention, she would have noticed the rather rough-around-the-edges man in the area, but she nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke.

“Hey, um…are you okay?” She asked not sure whether or not she could trust this guy now or not. But she wasn’t too afraid; she fully well knew the capabilities of this robot next to her. She had designed it after all…

“Do…do you need me to call you a cab or something?”

---

Deon watched as James stood up and accepted his challenge and with a rather arrogant smirk on his face, he set the bottle of alcohol down on the bar next to Vander and moved to follow after him, but a bony hand had caught his arm. Turning to look back, he caught Vander’s gaze, and her bargain. His smile faded a bit to his more hardened expression, his eyes growing dark with a scowl as he ripped his hand from her and turned to follow James without saying anything to her. No way was he going to just throw this match. He had his choice of girls all over this bar, and he didn’t have to give up a fight to sleep with them tonight. It was her loss really.

Upon entering the ring behind James, the gate was closed, confining them to the cold metal cage of the small arena. Deon peeled off his wife-beater and tossed it through the gap between two bars to a group of practically crying women and watched for a bit as they fought amongst themselves as to who would take the sweaty wife-beater home. He once again craned his neck and looked to James on his opposite side and cracked his knuckles. The slight intoxication he was sporting earlier seemed to melt off of him as he took his fighters stance and narrowed his eyes at James.

Well…he wasn’t going to be going home with that girl tonight, but at least he could get in a good ass-wooping to this rich boy before the night was through.

“Alright Richy Richardson, let’s see if daddy taught you how to fight.”

[Lord Wyron]

Sektor watched patiently as she spoke, processing her words with incredible efficiency. "This unit's mobile platform was constructed by a science team led by Dr's. Johann Clark and William Mars." The machine answered her question, "This mobile platform was built for efficiency. It is considered 'state of the art' to organics, "Challenging the fields of science and robotics" according to the District Zero Administration. As you, Katherine Saunders are involved in the creation of this mobile platform, this unit will initiate the protector program and defend you from any and all anomalies this platform considers a threat to your mobile platform. Statistics confirm the human organic model is fragile and can only survive an estimated 4.3 shots from a Viper class assault rifle to the torso before sustaining critical damage."

Sektor turned its head sharply towards the man who had sat down and started speaking. Sektor's 'eye' dilated warily as it scanned the man. "Identification not located in databanks, scanning mobile platform. Subject identifies as a cyborg; cybernetics include prosthetic arms and neural implants."

"Warning: This organic/cybernetic platform is statistically subject to memory relapse, emotional instability, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Information available: this unit has scanned the combative abilities of the subject and is now devising countermeasures to insure Katherine Saunder's mobile platform is not damaged."

[The Roman07]

Jack rubbed his temples, it was helping but the metallic voice and flashlight head stairing didn't help. "Naw I'm fine just not used to these yet." He said with a polite smile. First person he seen today that didn't aggrivate him. This was starting off well. Then he watched the robot identify him via his implants and "emotional state". Jack didn't like that. "Hey buddy the polite term is Mechanically Augmented. Engage your politeness-protocall or something." Jack said as he started to lose the after effects of the recalibration. "Oh and call me emotionally instable and I'll shoot your flashlight off." He smirked as he got up and put his leather jacket back on.

The damn robot scanned him so Jack did the same. Looking the bot up and down not noticing any manufacturers logos or id tags. "Your either custom or military... no wonder you don't have manners." He looked at whatever hardware wasn't covered in plates. "Your pretty clean. Most would have grit in the filters or caked up oils stuck between gears. Even the most anal of owners forget to wipe down the cracks between rivets or bolts...no your new, activated no less than three... maybe four days ago." Jack raised an eyebrow. His lizard brain was giving off a bad vibe to him. Something was off... "this your bot? You build him?" He gestured towards the woman but kept his eyes on the Robot.

[YoshiSkittlez]

“Clark and Mars…” Kate repeated. Again, something that struck her mind as familiar but then her attention was once again broken up as the man began to speak again, talking about the cleanliness of the robot and Sektor in turn talked about how he had mechanical arms. All this information processed through Kate’s mind at an alarmingly fast rate, giving her a slight headache before she just turned to Sektor and held up a finger to him, signaling for him to be quiet for a minute.

“Unit 0.18462958, run diagnostics. Confirm command.” She ordered, obviously not shy or new at all to talking to robots. Finally, she had a second to think…

Clark and Mars…weren’t those the scientists that were found dead the other day in district zero? There wasn’t any released information about how they died though…I wonder if they were killed for possession of this unit. Wouldn’t be the first time a scientist was killed for a project, hell if I had known that they took my plans without payment I might have just killed them myself. Still, I don’t know where this unit stands as far as its release, I had better do some investigating on my own before I turn it back in, someone owes me money…

Her attention then turned back to the man in front of them, Sektor’s words again processing through her mind as she continued to think in that split second of silence she had.

He looks familiar, Unit 0.18462958 confirmed him to have robotic arms and neural implants. He’s rough looking around the edges, but he poses no threat to me but might tear apart unit 0.18462958 if he opens his trap one more time…

“I uh…yes. Yes he is mine, I programmed him.” Kate said to the man in front of her, who her mind was still reeling information about. She wasn’t exactly lying, she DID program the unit.

“Wait…I know you. Well…about you…You’re that cop from district 17 right? What are you doing here in district four? I mean…not that you’re not supposed to be here or anything, I didn’t mean that. You’re a cop so you can probably go wherever you want…I’ m sorry”

Kate inwardly groaned, feeling her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Sure she could talk to machines and what-not all day, but having a conversation with another human being? It was as awkward with her as you could get.

[Gonzo]

(Collab Between Yoshi and Gonzo)
James stepped into the ring, but not before looking behind him. His eyes first met Mason, who shook his head, then went around the bar, again making sure that there was no one around who would try and stop the fight. It was bad enough that he was called gay and have his conversation cut short, but the fact that an asshole like him was going to disrespect a girl like Vander. That just wasn't right.

He slowly slipped off his slim suit jacket and dress shirt, revealing his hidden muscles, and passed it to his brother, who was now by the ring, frowning.

"Look Jason, you cannot go through with this!"

Jason leaned down and shook his head. "I cant just let him talk shit to that girl, and then get away with it, no matter how popular he is in this joint. He is going down."

Mason shook his head. "Just remember what dad said..."

“Alright Richy Richardson, let’s see if daddy taught you how to fight.”

James almost bolted upright and turned around, scowling at the man. "He didn't teach me anything, I had to learn how to fight myself."

---

Deon just shook his head, his arms up in a defensive position and his fists clenched tight. All around him, he no longer heard the roar of the crowd or the blaring of the music. All that was there was this kid and him, and in his mind all was absolutely silent. His fingers twitched as he went through his mind on just how bad he wanted to mess this kid up, and if that shaved headed chick was the kind of druggie he thought she was, then she would still be going home with him tonight despite kicking the shit out of him. How else would she get her fix? This thought caused a smirk to form on his face as Deon took the first few steps towards James, and rather quickly began to wail down on him first hitting him in the gut and then driving his elbow down onto the back of his neck.

---

The blow the gut caused James to stagger back a step, and the elbow to the back of the neck sent him sprawling onto the floor. However, he stood up quickly, and regained his balance. Now it was his turn to strike. He went to throw a left hook, and when Deon moved to block the punch, he switched it up and jabbed him once in the side, and then got another good one right in the fighter's eye. He hopped back with small smile on his face, but as soon as his feet touched the floor, the smile faded, and he staggered back. He hadn't felt the pain before, but taking his mind off of beating the piece of shit to a pulp for a second brought his focus right back. He let out his breath and almost stumbled to the floor, only catching his fall by leaning on the side of the ring.

---

Deon took the hits like a champ. Sure he was good, but he wasn't untouchable. There were rumors going on around about him, about how Deon liked the pain, about how the pain made him feel alive. Still though, Deon just wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling his eye starting to swell shut. And then he saw it, his moment of opportunity. The boy was staggering, obviously just now feeling the pain in his stomach and was leaning against the ring. He charged James and grabbed him by the neck, forcing the kid to turn around and then bent his stomach over the ring, pressing all of his weight onto Jame's back until he heard a snap or two coming from the kid's spine. That sound alone sent shivers down Deon's back and goosebumps crawled over his skin as he pushed down one more time before letting up on the boy.

---

The ring opened up suddenly, and a police issue baton with a strong electrical pulse came down on the fighter's head, hard. The rather large and muscular cop handling the weapon then grabbed Deon, kneed him in the stomach, then tossed him against the other side of the ring. The cop remained in his spot, daring the fighter with his eyes to stand up. Meanwhile, a couple of other police officers checked the young man out, and, seeing that he was injured, called in a medical squad.

James shook the police officers off. "Get off of me, I can handle myself," he spat, trying to stand up. With some difficulty, he was able to step out of the ring, into the now silent crowd. He could feel the eyes on him as the police officers escorted him away from the crowd. He turned sharply and limped over to the bar, where his brother now was, and then smiled at him.

"My clothes please, and a drink as well, Mason."

Mason handed James' clothes to him, and then turned, where the drink was now ready for him. Mason grabbed the drink and handed it to a now, partly dressed, James, who then took it and downed it quickly. Mason then watched as James took another couple of steps, and looked at Vander.

James smiled once, nodding his head slightly. "It was nice meeting you, Vander. I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our conversation. Maybe, if you want, we can sometime." James, with some difficulty, reached into his pocket and produced a small card that read "James Jamison, District 1" and had a communications number at the bottom. He smiled at her once, then stumbled away with his brother and the police.

The cop watching Deon turned and walked out of the ring, into the crowd, and to the entrance. He looked at Vander on his way out, a little bit disapprovingly, then turned to the crowd. "What are you all standing there for? Get back to your shit," He grumbled before walking out.

[Mach2]

Vander all but gave up hope the second she saw Deon's expression shift into a scowl. She knew it as well as he did...the man could have any of these girls in the bar. An offer from a terminal drug addict probably wasn't topping his list.

As the two men entered the ring, she followed uneasily. She stood behind the initial row of screaming women, blending into the crowd. Her stomach was twisting, and no longer just because she was physically ill. She sized them each up. Both men were muscled, but it was clear which of them looked like they belonged. Where Deon had torn off his sweaty wifebeater, James had unbuttoned a clean dress shirt. He was talking to his brother, but the conversation ended quickly. And the second he straightened up, the fight began.

The distance between them vanished, and Vander flinched visibly as the first blows sent James to the ground. He rebounded, and she hoped, just for the briefest of seconds, that he could somehow turn it around. The hits came quickly, slamming into Deon's torso and face, before he staggered back. And when he did, Deon moved in.

The two of them slammed against the edge of the ring. They were directly in front of Vander, and she could see their faces clearly. When the sharp snaps of James' backbones cracking sounded, several women's screams shifted from adoration to terror. Vander was one, giving a horrified gasp. She looked around in a panic, torn between calling for help and attempting to intervene herself. But before she could so much as move, police and security guards were storming into the ring to split up the fight.

She took a step or two back, breathing deeply, and watched as James walked out of the ring. Relief flooded her, seeing that his back had not been broken. The snaps they had heard were simply the innocent pops a person could inflict by twisting their torso. Although significantly more severe, as she could see by the way he now held himself. She followed, hesitant, as he returned to the bar. The eyes of everyone in the club followed them after the brutal fight, and she wanted to will the starers away. Instead, she simply slouched, her shoulders hunching and her dark hair falling into her face, until James approached her again. "It was nice meeting you, Vander. I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our conversation. Maybe, if you want, we can sometime."

He held out a card, and she took it. Reading the text on the piece of paper, her eyebrows went up just slightly. District 1. She had expected Zone A, but not the highest you could live without being in zero. When she met his gaze again, her expression was filled with concern and remorse. She felt truly awful. It was, in part, her fault that the fight had occurred. Her fault for talking to him in the first place, for not trying harder to reject Deon's initial flirtatious advances, for not giving a better incentive for him to throw the match...

"I'm sorry," she said simply, the words as sincere as possible.

She gripped the card tight, making an effort to return James's smile before watching him and Mason walk out of the club. The cop's disapproving glance didn't go unnoticed by her, and Vander returned it with an icy glare. Even though she was grateful for him breaking up the fight, it didn't change her view of authority figures.

She chewed at her bottom lip for a second before shoving James' card deep into the pocket of her oversized leather jacket. He was nice. Decidedly one of the nicer men she had met in her lifetime, and she would without a doubt make an effort to see him again. But not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until she'd managed to get another fix, and could present herself as a somewhat-in-control member of society rather than a craving addict.

Her drink was still sitting at the bar counter, and she slowly walked back to it. The chatter in the club slowly started up again, as did the hard guitar chords. Vander downed a large gulp of her drink, set it down for a second, and then seemed to reconsider. She picked up the glass again, and tossed back the remainder of the dark red liquid.

[Gonzo]

The two were taken outside, where a District 1 medical car was found waiting. The police directed both young men in that direction, all the while just staring at them with slight disbelief that they would even come to a lower district like this. The back of the vehicle was open, and the two stepped into the small back room of the vehicle. Once inside, the car started to make it's way through the streets of the district, heading back go District 1.

James stared at the table, and then at the medical officer. "I'm sorry, you want me to get in there? What is that going to do?"

The officer, a lady in her late twenties, early thirties, gave James a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it will scan to see what damage has been done, and you will be fixed right up." She ushered James onto the table, and then strapped him in.

The small machine made a small whirring sound and sprang to life. A small bar, projecting a long, blue laser bar moved from James' feet to the top of his head, then back again before lowering itself back into it's position. There were a few seconds of silence before the machine spoke in its metallic, female voice.

"Diagnostic complete. Damage done to patient, James Jamison of District One is as follows: fractures in true ribs three and four, bruising in Cervical vertebrae, and Thoracic vertebrae. There also appears to be bruising in the hand as well. Beginning healing process, now."

Another bar went over James vertically, from his left hand, to his right. As it passed slowly over him, fractures that would take months to heal, and bruises that would take days to heal, were healed in seconds. By the time the whole procedure was finished, they had already made it to their destination. The drivers of the vehicle opened up the back, revealing the building they lived in.

"Alright. Here is your stop, Jamisons. Please don't be getting into any more trouble. Your father won't be pleased when he hears about this."

[Lord Wyron]

Sektor finally stopped once Kate held up a finger, ordering it to run diagnostics. The robot obeyed and froze in a cold, statue-like pose as data was being examined and archived. It finished shortly, its internal computers working at an incredibly fast pace. "Diagnostics complete, Head systems: working at 100% capacity. Torso functions: working at 100% capacity. Appendage systems: working at 100% capacity. Central computer systems: working at 100% capacity. Additional systems - Thermal overlay: working at 100% capacity. Night vision overlay: working at 100% capacity. X-ray vision overlay: working at 100% capacity. This mobile platform is working at 100% desired efficiency - acceptable. All central core computer systems are up to date and functioning at a desired pace."

Sektor turned to Kate once more, watching her very closely as the cyborg stood up, approaching its frame. "Keep back." Sektor warned as the man began to examine him. Your pretty clean. Most would have grit in the filters or caked up oils stuck between gears. Even the most anal of owners forget to wipe down the cracks between rivets or bolts...no your new, activated no less than three... maybe four days ago. This your bot? You build him?" The cyborg asked warily.

“I uh…yes. Yes he is mine, I programmed him." Kate responded in a rather uneasy tone. Sektor looked down at her, "Heart rate increased significantly, organic shell is experiencing nervousness. Increased sweat productions to the underarms and forehead. Recommendation: slow, deep breaths are recommended to allow Katherine Saunder's mobile platform to reach homeostasis." Sektor advised, obviously not aware of the embarrassment such a statement could cause to someone.

[YoshiSkittlez]

Deon felt the breath leave his lungs as the cop kneed him in the stomach and then was tossed to the floor like trash, but instead of looking pissed off in his crumpled up state, he let out a few wheezy laughs, looking past the cop who had just assaulted him to the boy he was just fighting. It was no secret that cops hardly ever showed their face around clubs like this, and if they ever did it was most likely because they were looking to score themselves; being off duty of course. Deon was able to put the pieces together rather quickly, but stayed lying down on his side to keep the cop from beating him down again. He’d rather not make an impression on the police force. As soon as the cop left the ring, Deon clambered back up, holding his side a bit as he exited the ring with a rather silly grin on his face.

"What are you all standing there for? Get back to your shit.”

Deon didn’t even have to look over the shoulder of the girl to look at the card to see the kid’s name, he knew exactly who he was. As soon as the music started playing once again and the customers picked up their chatter, Deon took a seat next to Vander, sprawling his arms out resting his elbows on the bar behind him and laughed again.

“See, at least I don’t lie to you.” Deon stated smartly and ordered a couple of shots. When the tray of assorted alcoholic shots came, Deon took one up and gently handed it to her, then picked out his own. He raised it in a half-ass attempt of ‘cheers’ and then downed the liquid, shaking his head as he felt the fire drain down his throat.

“Pretty boys like him don’t belong with people like us, especially if he’s got his own arsenal of cops looking out for him to keep him out of trouble so daddy doesn’t get a bad image.” Deon smirked and then gestured towards the tray of drinks in front of them.

"Help yourself baby, it's on me. And whatever else you want..."

[Mach2]

She'd made up her mind that she was going to ignore Deon's presence until he left, but that proved easier said than done. Even though she tried to block them out, his words carried easily into Vander's ears as he handed her one of the shots. She accepted it, holding it in a hand that shook slightly. She didn't believe for a second that the cops had been following James specifically. It had simply been coincidence. And a lucky coincidence at that. Another few minutes and he could have been hurt much worse.

"Help yourself baby, it's on me. And whatever else you want..."

She fixed him with a tired glare before tossing back the shot. Her expression shifted only the slightest bit as the liquor burned her throat. Vander was bitter towards Deon. That much was obvious. But she was also desperate. After a few seconds, she muttered a reluctant, "Thanks," and proceeded to take a second shot. She downed it, and waited for the cloudiness of alcohol to settle over her brain.

The offer to get her 'whatever else' she wanted had to include Lucid. Vander knew that Deon could tell she was a drug addict. Anyone in the club could tell. The only real mystery was what exactly her substance of choice was. She counted back quickly in her head. 26 hours. It had been over a full day since her last hit, and she was definitely feeling it. It was as though her insides were beginning to collapse in on themselves. Her head still pounded with a raging migraine, and the alcohol did little to help.

Vander turned to Deon, ready to make her request. There was no point in being subtle about it anymore. He would either give her a yes or a no. And if it was the latter, she would move on to someone else. She held her hand out in front of her, level, and let him see the tremor. "A serious lucid addict needs a hit at least every six hours to stay satisfied," she told him, automatically removing any and all emotion from her voice. It was like she was reciting a fact from a textbook. "I haven't had any since yesterday evening."

The request was out in the open now. She watched him, waiting for an answer.

[YoshiSkittlez]

Deon wasn't a moron, he knew that Vander was trying to push him off...which only made it that much more fun to pursue her. He knew he had her right where he wanted her the second she accepted his drink, and then helped herself to another one. His expression went unchanged, however, when she so blatantly told him of her demands, wanting the drug Lucid. He should have guessed; he knew she was on something hardcore, but not exactly that extreme. Lucid had been the one drug he had steered clear of his entire life, but he knew plenty of people on it and he knew just the right people to get it.

"Well then, we should probably get you something prescribed." He joked, taking one more shot glass and downed the beverage and shook his head as the bitter liquid burned down his throat, immediately feeling his blood running hot. He then put up a finger, signaling to his manager that he was done for the evening. Getting up off of the bar stool with a slightly drunken stagger, he put his arm around the tiny frame of the half-shaved headed girl and escorted her outside, humming a merry tune to himself as they exited the bar and greeted the cool night air around them. Deon hadn't even realized that a girl had followed him out.

"Oh mister Crusher!" A voice cooed from behind him. Deon swiveled his head around to see the girl in the red dress that had been sitting in his lap earlier, and the quirked expression on her face told him exactly what she had on her mind, making Deon smirk loudly. He pulled his arm off of Vander and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a somewhat crumpled up card and handed it to her.

"I'll meet you at this address in an hour baby, bring some friends." He gave the girl in the red dress a wink before resuming his post by Vander and led her down a series of alleyways before stopping in front of a building that looked like it had burned down a couple times in its construction. Walking up to the door of the apparent abandoned building, Deon knocked four times in a rhythmic pattern, the eye slit of the door immediately opening up.

"Needle in the Haystack." Deon said, as it was some kind of code and the door swung open for them. Deon gestured to Vander for her to walk in first and then followed behind her, the door shutting behind them loudly.

The room was dark and musty, a single light in the middle of the room opened up a dim setting of a couple men surrounding a poker table, smoking cigars and drinking a variety of alcoholic beverages. Deon sauntered over to the gruff looking group, looking rather proud of himself as he plopped himself down on a chair at the table, looking at the man directly across from him who didn't even blink as Deon made himself at home.

"I need a couple syringes, Lucid. And...hell how about a bag of coke?" Deon said keeping his eyes on the man. The man didn't miss a beat, as he waved his hand in an awkward way before an even larger man seeming to creep out of the shadows put a hand on Deon's shoulder. Deon looked to the larger man and grinned back at the man across the poker table. "Thanks." He then got up and walked with the larger man to a room in the back, returning shortly with a small backpack which he slung over his shoulder.

"Stay young fellas, can't do business without you." Deon smirked, half-assing a salute before he ushered for Vander to follow him once again back outside.

[Mach2]

As Deon agreed to her request, Vander couldn't keep the relieved smile off her face. No matter how much she may not like him, he was going to get her some Lucid, and that was enough to make her tolerate him. She allowed him to steer her out of the bar, his arm around her bony shoulders. Her walk, like his, was slightly unsteady. Though in Vander's case, it was not alcohol. It was because her muscle fibres were slowly wasting away. The man was humming an irritatingly cheery tune. Of course he must be quite proud of himself. He remained undefeated. He'd easily bested Vander in her attempts at bargaining for him to toss the match. And he'd had a girl in his lap whenever he wasn't in the ring. "Oh mister Crusher!"

Speaking of the girls he'd had in his lap...one had evidently followed them out. Vander waited impatiently while he dealt with her, handing her a piece of paper and promising to hook up later that evening. Hopefully, that meant this would be over by the time the hour was up. Vander could be back in her apartment, enjoying the dream-filled sleep that could only be obtained after a hit of Lucid. As soon as the girl was heading back inside to round up her friends, Deon and Vander continued down the streets.

She payed close attention, trying to keep the alleyways straight in her head. Specifics were lost, but she would be able to recall the general area. Finally, they arrived outside a building that appeared to be in even worse condition than the interior of Vander's apartment. She was tired by the time they reached it. And if her stomach had been aching earlier, now it was in full riot. Deon knocked, and Vander subtly tapped the rhythm with one finger against her palm, memorizing it. Needle in the haystack.... Maybe she would be able to come back here, the next time she was in need of a fix. The door opened as soon as the password was given, and Deon motioned for Vander to enter.

She fixed him with an less-than-trusting glance before doing so. The interior of the room was dim, though after the darkness of the alleyways, even the dull incandescent bulb was enough to burn her eyes and make her squint. Vander averted her gaze from it until her eyes adjusted, instead looking at the men playing cards. She took up a post near the wall, while Deon seemed to make himself right at home. She watched the interaction. Few words were spoken. Deals had obviously been struck before, and these men were no strangers to Deon.

Finally, they were heading out the door once more. Vander followed Deon closely, like a puppy on his heels. Her eyes were fixated on the backpack, and the tremor in her hands had returned even more distinct than before. The door closed behind them, and she wasted no time. "Can I have it now?" The desperate hunger was plain in her voice.

She swallowed, her gaze still holding steady on the small bag. She was still distrustful of Deon. There was going to be some catch. No matter how good his connections, Lucid was a serious drug. And it was difficult to believe that he was truly willing to help Vander out of the goodness of his heart.

[YoshiSkittlez]

Collab between Mach2 and YoshiSkittlez

---

At her question, Deon couldn't help but to stop walking and turn to face her, observing her facial expressions in the shadows of darkness that cloaked the ally they were currently in, only a lone street lamp a few meters off being the only light that caught the look of hunger and desperation in her eye which made him snicker a bit.

"Now hold up baby, what's this worth to you anyway? I got me some stuff too and I'm all about having a good ol' time."

He licked his dry lips, his eyes scanning down from her face to her chest, or lack of. She was just damn skinny, but then again...a girl THAT skinny was bound to be tight in all the right places...

Vander fixed him with a deep scowl as the subtle request was spoken. No matter how desperate she may be…she still had moral reservations. She’d made herself a promise that she was never going to sink that low to get herself some Lucid. Even beneath the thick shield of her oversized jacket, she felt invaded as he stared her up and down.

“It’s worth a lot to me,” she answered, choosing her words carefully. “But I’m not one of those girls who’re gonna follow you home from the club. There’s got to be some other way I can pay you…”

Vander racked her brains, trying to think up an example she could put forward. She came up with nothing. Curling his lip into a half-smirk/half-smile, Deon just shook his head slightly and then turned around, his back facing her once again and began to walk away. Just how far could he push her...

Her eyes were still fixated on the backpack. She stood still, debating internally, for a total of roughly two seconds. Rushing forward, she closed the growing gap between herself and Deon. "Please...I don't have anywhere to get it from, and a withdrawal's gonna hit me a hell of a lot harder than another few hits will," she all-but-begged, trying to play the sympathy card.

Deon heard her footsteps echo as she closed the distance between them, and quickly turned himself around. With the blink of an eye, his hand shot out and grabbed her frail wrist and tightened his hold around the small bone. He could feel her thin blood pulsing under the frail layer of skin, and as there seemed to be no muscle to cushion the bone, Deon was sure that if he clamped down any harder or jerked her wrist in a certain way, the bone would have cracked and snapped.

She carefully suppressed the fear from creeping into her expression as he grabbed her wrist. Moving, fighting back, anything was out of the question. She could feel the pressure on the thin bones, and didn't want to test the strength of her own body.

"You think I give a shit about your sob story?" He asked, releasing her wrist with a force that would have pushed her back from him a few feet.

Vander stumbled, but regained her footing. Getting him to pity her wouldn't work. Reasoning with him was evidently out of the question as well. She stared fiercely at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. "All right. I want the syringes first, though," she told him, still trying to work the deal in her favour.

A laugh that sounded more like a rabid dog's bark came from his throat. It was kind of cute the way she was still trying to reign dominant of this whole situation. Had he been in a worse-off mood, he wouldn't have found it cute though, rather annoying and would have just slapped the bitch down right then and there.

"I don't think you're in a position to negotiate baby." He grinned, keeping his hand clutched on the backpack tightly.

She'd been expecting that response, but it still crushed her when she heard it. There was no way she was going to come out on top. The best she could hope for was that he would follow through on his end of the deal. "Fine," she spat, letting as much bitterness as she dared to show in her voice.

Without even so much as a warning, the back of Deon's free hand found Vander's cheek, striking her hard with the intention of forcing her to the ground. She staggered, but didn't stay on her feet this time. Every part of her was screaming Run.RUN. But if she moved now, there would be no Lucid. Instead, she watched as he took a couple of steps back and shrugged off the backpack from his bare shoulder and set it down on the pavement, keeping it well out of her reach. Squatting down, however, he opened up the bag and opened up the smaller bag of coke he had gotten from the warehouse and took a pinch, raising it to his nose and quickly inhaled, letting the burning sensation rupture his mind.

Wiping his nose clean of the white powder, he then dug around in the backpack and found one of several syringes, already dosed up with the Lucid. All it needed was a little push. Holding the syringe in one hand, he stood back up and walked over to her, already feeling the trip of the cocaine pulsing through his own body as he stooped down next to her. She sat motionless, a bruise already beginning to form on her cheek where the failing blood vessels had been crushed. Vander had eyes only for the syringe.

He took his free hand and forced her head to crane to the side before stabbing the needle into a vein in her neck and then slowly began to inject the liquid into her blood stream. When the syringe was finally empty, he pulled it out and tossed it to the side. His lips immediately went to her neck, his tongue pressing up against the small amount of blood that came from the hole in her neck and then proceeded to have his way with her...

[Gonzo]

"Look, going to that district was fine. Going into that scum-of-Ancora club, that was alright, although not the best course of action." The stocky male paced around the living room of the large flat, in front of the two boys. "But getting into a fight over some useless piece of druggie, lower district garbage? That was crossing the fucking line."

The man stopped next to one of the many guards and security robots littered around the doorways and windows of the flat. He was dressed in a plain, black tuxedo with matching vest, white dress shirt, black bow tie, and brand new dress shoes. The man was now facing away from the two boys as he spoke; away from the guard he was next to, who was starting to become very nervous that the well dressed man was standing in front of the large window, out in the open for anyone to put a bullet through his head. Much to the guard's relief, the man turned around and faced the two boys, taking a couple of steps away from the large window. The look on his face showed nothing short of disappointment. Another couple of steps and he was only about a foot away from the couch, looking down at the boys.

"I really expected better from you, James. Your mother and I talked about this with both of you before we let you off into the lower districts. I specifically told you not to do anything stupid. Do you know what have happened if people found out that you, James Jamison, and you, Mason Jamison, sons of me, Henry Jamison, were hanging around that joint and getting into fights? They would most likely have taken away the chance for me to have become president, all because of your stupid mistake."

James cringed slightly, clearly taken back by the words of his father. Mason, on the other hand, still coming down from his high, shrugged.

"Look, dad," Mason said, shifting his eyes from guard to guard, before settling on his father's face. "What he did was stupid, but the guy was being an asshole. What was he supposed to do, just sit there and let himself be disrespected? You taught us yourself that the worst thing was to be disrespected."

Mr. Jamison just stared at the two boys, not moving or saying a word. Finally, after a few moments, a small smile found it's way onto the father's face. "Using a politicians words against him, very nice touch, Mason. It's a shame you both went into the medical field. Look, just try not to get into any more trouble. Okay? Please. Your mother already didn't think this was a good idea, and I don't want to keep giving her reasons to prove this decision was a wrong one."

After a couple of hugs, Mr. Jamison and his entourage of guards were out the door, leaving both of the boys alone to their thoughts. Once James was sure that his father was gone, he stood up and put on his suit jacket.

"What are you doing?" Mason asked, getting up and following his brother to the door.

"Taking a walk," was James' response as he closed the door behind him. From there, he made his way out of the building, and into the streets of district one.

[The Roman07]

Jack couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "If you programmed him then maybe you should teach his OS to be a bit more subtle with the analyzations, he's kinda blowing up your spot." He said with a smile. There was something off but he really couldn't picture the woman doing any kind of real damage so he let it go, but when Sektor put out a systems check and listed all his bells and whistles all Jack could do is let out a whistle himself. "You programmed that? I have to say I'm impressed. I have to visit Dr. Emris in Alpha monthly so she can recalibrate these damn prototypes." Jack said while rolling a sleeve up to show the prosthetics. "Rin says my body keeps rejecting them." The structure of the arms were wrapped in what looked like a synthetic corded muscle dipped in a glossy black paint. White lettering along the forearm read "Taurus Medical Corp. Registration# Di-0 Pr-01.7" Jack rolled his sleeve back down before sticking his hands in his jacket. He wasn't usually this comfortable around people in Alpha. More often he gets the downward look of a high nosed rich boy who pretends the giant silver spoon he was born with wasn't still stuck up his ass.

Letting out a long sigh before he put his hand out for a goodbye handshake towards Kate. "Well.. its been nice meeting you Miss... Katherine was it? Your toaster said it briefly but... well.." Jack was lost for words as he pictured a familiar face again for a moment. "My name is Jack by the way, Detective Jack Roman like you said before but I'm nothing special. Just a cop from D17."

Jack took another quick look at Sektor. He couldn't help but feel like something was off about him. He gave another sigh as he tried to shrug off the feeling before he gestured towards Sektor. "Keep your master safe otherwise I'll dismantle your ass and give you to some-" Jack was cut off by the radio on his belt. "H44 to D 0 7, come in D7." Jack instinctively grabbed his Comm and pulled it to his face. "Detective Roman is code 4 in Alpha... what's this about?" He said with an aggitated tone. The radio buzzed to life once more with the metallic sounding woman on the other end. "We have a 10-18. Locals found a female, Blonde, mid twenties, behind block 14-5 of D-10. Woman was wearing a thin red dress and was previously seen in hotzone 2, aka the Spit. Requesting investigation asap."

Jacks face grew red with aggitation. "Jesus Sandy its my day off... cant Roberts handle it?" Looking up at Kate he completely forgot about them. "Uhh sorry, just some girl found... err I'll save you the details." He muttered. After a brief silence the radio click on again. "Sorry Jack, Franks dealing with a Vip extraction Requested of a Mr. Jamison from Zero... you know how that goes." The woman said with a hint of sarcasm. "Please head to D-10 asap." The radio clicked off before Jack could respond. It wasn't really a request, it was an order, so his input was unnecessary. Jack muttered a few curses before looking around the area realizing that he had been wandering light headed so he wasn't sure exactly how to get to D10. "Umm... I hate to ask, but how do I get back to Beta from here? I usually head straight back from Dr. Emris' office.

[YoshiSkittlez]

Programming Sektor to be more subtle with analysis? Kate couldn’t have agreed more. She found that she had been staring for a tad bit longer than was probably deemed ‘appropriate’ as he revealed the prosthetic arm. Not because it was strange to her or frightening even...instead she found herself struck with a sense of awe. Combining robotics and human tissue had always fascinated her whenever it was brought up. Maybe it was because she knew more about wires and motherboards than she did about her own immune system. She noted the registration labeled on the arm, mentally noting the name of the organization, but it didn’t strike as familiar to her.

“Please, call me Kate. Katherine is what my parents call me when I’ve done something wrong.” She said, extending her own hand out to shake the robotic arm. It was cool in her grip, which shouldn’t have surprised her. She worked with robots all the time; she should have known that the extension of Jack’s own handshake would feel as if she were shaking hands with a robot. Perhaps it was just the sheer thought that a man…a man with his own thoughts, heart, brain and mind was attached on the other side. As she relaxed her hand back to her side, with somewhat of a faint blush still remaining on her cheeks, she overheard the radio and felt her stomach drop.

“Wait…did she just say The Spit? Someone’s dead?” She asked, all color draining from her face. Somehow, she knew that her cousin had something to do with this. She put her hand to her forehead, biting her lower lip a bit as she tried to push Deon out of her mind. The Spit was a common meeting ground for guys like her cousin. She had to be rational, it could have been anyone…right?

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.” She cleared her throat and then pointed over Jack’s shoulder to his left a bit. “There’s a terminal over there that could grant you access…but at this hour, you might find yourself caught in a jam…”

She hesitated, thinking over her next words carefully. She knew she had an update to install, hell she had to create it first…but this was something she couldn’t ignore.

“But I could give you a ride if you would like. I have my own car…”

[Lord Wyron]

Sektor had remained silent during most of the conversation, instead keeping it's 'eye' on Kate very protectively. However it paid attention once the cyborg's radio came to life, "We have a 10-18. Locals found a female, Blonde, mid twenties, behind block 14-5 of D-10. Woman was wearing a thin red dress and was previously seen in hotzone 2, aka the Spit. Requesting investigation asap." The young female voice said aloud to the cyborg.

Sektor looked down once more at Kate and spoke, "Katherine Saunder's mobile platform appears to be in deep thought. You wish to go to 'the Spit'." The robot began. "Recommendation: This unit has reached consensus; if Katherine Saunders wishes to go to 'The Spit', this platform can increase combat efficiency by an estimated 67% with weaponry."

Sektor then began on another part of the subject, "Running extranet search protocols on 'The Spit'. Pending. Consensus reached. 'The Spit' is a common haven for drug dealers, prostitutes, fighters, and common criminals. This unit cannot reach consensus. Organic mobile platforms purposefully poison themselves with alcohol, damage auditory receptors with loud music, and open up their firewalls to accept incoming sexually transmitted disease. However, guardian program takes dominance. This unit will sacrifice itself for the safety of Katherine Saunders."

Sektor stopped once more, "Studying organic fighting techniques. This unit is capable of exerting strength and force an estimated ten times the capacity of an organic platform. This unit is downloading and analyzing any and all fighting techniques. This unit is capable of fighting an estimate of 7 average sized men in hand-to-hand combat with accepted efficiency."

[The Roman07]

Jack held up both hands towards Sektor. "Woah woah woah! Nobody is playing rock em sock em robots at my crime scene! Cool your jets toaster." Alarms were going off in Jacks lizard brain left and right. Most commercial bots cant harm organics if he remembered correctly. This one seems to be designed SPECIFICALLY for that. He needed to get to the crime scene asap before those asshole BoD agents take over and shit on everything. Kate seemed to be upset about the murder over the radio, not just shocked like the usual way someone would react if they heard someone was murdered, but genuinely worried... was it possible she knew the woman who was killed? "Okay... I'll take you up on that offer ONLY if you keep that damn toaster on a leash! I have some creds so I'll happily pay for fuel and transfer fees." Jack said with a smile. "And on the way you can explain to me why you programmed your bot without the three laws..." He added.

Jack was hoping he could get there in time so the BoD's wouldn't take over due to lack of investigators on the scene. One thing he hated more than having a case on his day off was losing a case to those polished white douchebags that do nothing but blame it on gang violence and harass Beta locals until they admit to something illegal. Probabbly wouldn't even find the killer, instead put Beta on lockdown and give politicians something to yapp and complain about between there visits to their penthouses full of "classy" prostitutes and a mountain of coke high enough to ski down. "So uhh.. where's your car?" Jack asked attempting to snap back into reality.