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Time: 11am
Location: Giovanni's Pizza, 95th and Sandpoint
Interactions: Mysterious Stranger, JV and Oshun
Mentions: N/A
Equipment: Standard Gear




“95th and Sand Point.”

The driver laughed at him. A sharp, swift cackle that sent his head snapping backwards.

“You want me to take you that far North Side?” He laughed again. “You must be outta your damn mind.”

JV, less amused, leaned deeper through the cab window. “I can handle myself just fine.” He rumbled, opening one side of his trenchcoat and gesturing towards his revolver.

The cabbie’s head bobbed up and down like a buoy at sea. “Oh yeah, I’m sure your 10ft, bulletproof, mean muggin ass can my man, but I ain’t talkin’ bout you.” His hand dropped from the wheel, sticking out a thumb towards himself. “But this guy right here has got a life, one that he’d like to keep.”

Grunting as he pulled back from the window, JV thrust his coat closed. That was the second cab to turn away his business. Maybe that’s what he got for being cheap, trying to take human operated road only cabs like all the other broke people in the city. Muck from the tires kicked up as the car sped off. Freezing rain started to fall. The man’s fists tightened, he didn’t like the idea of crawling back to anyone but time was wasting and the decision not to wear more layers was exacerbating his sour mood.

“Oshun?” Even his thoughts came out as if he were speaking through gritted teeth. “Get me an AutoCab.” A car beeped from above the road, throwing on an indicator and making its way down. Odd. Usually she appeared in person, or well, digitally in-person. Was she mad at him? Or letting him cool off steam?

JV shook the thought loose as he entered the back of the cab. The man was on the job, who cared what the program thought. Leaning towards the empty front seat, old habits, JV directed. “Nine-” The car jerked forward, practically throwing the man against the back of the cab. A small screen on the back of the empty drivers seat lit up as a woman’s face, white as porcelain, appeared. “Good morning sir, we thank you for choosing AutoCab as your riding service today. Is this appearance to your liking?” Her lips were full, pouting with a matte red lipstick as her head tilted from side to side. Despite her oriental appearance her eyes were unnaturally wide, clearly meant to mimic an anime character.

“Sure.” He replied, shifting around in the seat to mould his own groove. “Whatever.”

“Excellent, Sir.” The image on screen zoomed out with the figure curtsying and clapping before returning to the characters face. “Our ride North will take approximately 35 minutes as traffic is considered to be ‘heavy’. Your Cybercom has already given us your destination and your preferred ridealong interaction. Please enjoy ‘general cab chatter’.”

“Huh? No?”

“Crazy weather we’re having today right, sir? Can’t believe traffic is backed up all the way to-”

Ok. She was mad.

“Just apologise to her.” A little voice from inside beseeched. JV’s hand clutched his face, squeezing it tightly as a deep exhale caught the back of his throat. Even his conscience worked against him, dubbing Oshun’s voice, torturing him. “And what about this job? Aren’t you the least bit curious as to-”. “Gah! Mute!” He snapped, causing the figure on screen to nod in compliance, dissipating into blackness. “Everything just fuckin’ shut up.”

Rain tapped on the glass as the rest of the cab held its breath in silence. A familiar sting nipped at the base of his skull. Slithering up like a snake from his spine, the feeling crawled past the cerebellum towards his frontal lobe. His hands tingled as his veins itched. His blood boiled, yearning, begging. It was only one call away. One call and he didn’t have to feel anything anymore, he could take so much it would override the detoxifier and-

“It’s ok, I’m here.”

JV’s hand dropped from his face as his head turned. There sat Oshun, smiling as her cybernetic etchings glowed a luminous, calming amber. Her hand hovered over his leg, phasing through as the cab jerked in a turn. JV slumped as his head flopped back into the headrest. He sharply inhaled as if about to speak but turned to look out the window instead. His way of saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’.

The cab dipped, parking on the side of the road, dinging as it reached its destination. “Keep it circling above, ready for a quick pickup.” JV said as he climbed out. Jammed together between an old timey barbershop and a dilapidated tattoo parlour sat Giovanni's Pizza. Its neon sign buzzed and flickered above the door with several letters failing to light up. “Vanni’s izza ay?” the man chuckled, turning towards his Cybercom.

“Was that an actual joke?” Oshun shot back, her hand lightly slapping the side of her cheek as a faux surprised look washed over her face. JV smirked, shaking his head. He deserved that. “5 o’clock.” She whispered, her voice suddenly becoming strained with intensity. Whipping around, he noticed several figures across the cracked and broken plasticrete road with all but one standing in the shadow of an alleyway.

Under the dim light of the neon glow, a slender, punk dressed young man stood with his eyes unmistakably bearing down on JV. The Haitian’s hand disappeared into his coat, widening his stance as he did so. A telegraphed warning. On the opposite side of the road, the man backed slowly off into the darkness of the alley, all of the figures evaporating along with him. “I don’t like this.” Oshun groaned.

“Since when is this worse than normal?” He replied, turning to head into the shop. Pushing the door open a tired, worn out digital voice welcomed him. “Benvenuto!” The pudgy Italian looking hologram flickered as it spun a virtual pizza into the air. The restaurant had an old world feel to it; diner red booths, a counter plastered with cracked and peeling vinyl, sneeze guards covering empty ingredient dishes and a silver clad kitchen in the back. Clearly, the register was the newest item in the place and even that was an outdated Cyber model. It was a homage to a world that perhaps was a simpler time, an accolade that would almost make anyone feel at ease, well, except for the decapitated body in the centre of the room.

Gore bled from the body's neck, spurting over the ground and pooling at the feet of an android. The thing had no skin, it’s body was just a twisted concoction of metal and wiring, a beast built with no love lost. Its face had been painted crimson, skeletal in appearance with ferocious fangs instead of teeth. Unmistakably inhuman. Light glinted off a katana held in the thing's right hand as drops of blood dripped from its razor sharp edge onto the floor.

Off to the Cybercoms side sat a man in a sharp looking suit. He was poised on a wooden chair with his hands clapped together as if he were watching a play. Bald and bearded, he was clearly of oriental descent with a giant dragon tattoo etched into the side of his head. A large scar formed a line that ran from his forehead to his cheek, leaving the eye in the centre that separated it blind. Looking over at JV, the man smiled devilishly. “It’s too bad you walked in.”

Electricity from the katana crackled to life, searing off the remaining blood as the Cybercoms stance changed in an instant. Drawing the sword to its hip with both hands, the android pointed the tip towards JV and charged.

Instinctually, the Haitian’s hand had dropped to the grip of his revolver from the first sight of the blood and was now whipping out the handgun. “Three shots, don’t empty it.”

Bang, bang, bang.

Alas, this was no western and hip fire was inaccurate even at the best of times. Two shots glanced, with the third missing completely. The Cybercom was on him, closing the gap and thrusting the sword out with both hands. Luckily, JV was faster, side stepping the thrust and pushing the android off balance. It wasn’t enough to knock the thing over but it was enough to gain a single moment. Bullets weren’t the only thing in the man's arsenal as he had simultaneously been hacking the target.

Hacking Target…
Hacking Target…

>Success!
>Quickhack Select:
>Sonic Shock
Run//: Sonic_shock.exe


The android jolted, frying in perceived pain before dropping to the floor, incapacitated. Flinging out his arm, JV aimed down the barrel towards the man in the chair.

“I’m just here for the pizza. Hand it over or I'll kill you.”

With his bottom lip upturned, the stranger glared back in disdain. His eyes flickered back and forth between JV and his downed Cybercom before narrowing with a sense of contemplation. The Haitian was unflinching in his stance with his triggerfinger ready to pop off at a moment's notice. Tension swelled across the room like a cloud of poisonous gas until finally, the seated man let out a sharp, forceful exhale from his nose, dismissively smiling.

“No.” His voice was deep and yet somewhat smooth. “You be a fool to shoot me.” The sentence was thick with accent as a half smirk grimaced his face. His blind eye shifted, rolling around in his head, darting back and forth.

“He’s calculating scenario outcomes.” The voice of Oshun whispered from somewhere in the ether. “If you’re going to shoot, now would be the time.”

Standing, the man continued. “My death will haunt your every move, JV.” The Haitians name lingered in the air, sounding as if that word alone had been said robotically. “Something about today, or maybe it’s tonight. It’s just… different.” Damballa’s prediction echoed through JV’s thoughts, gently tugging like strings of curiosity. Pulling just enough to stay his wrath.

Ignoring the threat of the gun the stranger continued to stir. With a hand gripped around his opposing wrist, he appeared to loosen it, causing his hand to disappear and be replaced with a sharpened sword. The metal arm flexed back and forth, limbering up for a fight. “I’ve business here. We make a deal. I don’t kill you, but you work for me now. Be a Samurai’s friend,” he shrugged, “Then, pizza is yours.”

Ah, the Samurai’s. Aunt Nettie’s favourite group of degenerate mercs. Bootlickers with lucrative contracts that paid by the bucket load. “Heh,” JV chuckled, “Sure, so long as it don’t mess with the Prophet’s business, what do I care?” The Haitian‘s gun dipped, lowering it from a potential headshot to a torso. “Hand me whatever the pizza actually is and then call when you’ve got a job.”

The strangers face twisted, conjuring up a wicked grin. Mechanical sounds from his arm whirred as the blade disappeared. “Wise choice, JV.” Dusting off his suit, the Samurai took in a deep breath, rolling his head around before looking towards the ceiling. “Pizza is all yours.” He exhaled as his arm widely gestured towards the back of the store. Still wary of the man, JV glanced across the counter and into the kitchen, spotting what looked like a stack of pizzas in the back. Snapping his attention back to the stranger, he watched as the man slowly edged his way around the Haitain, slithering out the front door like the snake he was.

“Phew.” Relief escaped JV as he brought sleeve to brow, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “Next time, we enter in the back way.”

Oshun pixelated into view, her face heaving with disappointment. “So you’re a Corpo and a gang member now?”

JV smiled, taking the opportunity to reload his gun. “You’re the one always telling me to ‘branch out’.”

The Cybercom sighed in frustration as the Haitian moved behind the counter. Blood was strewn across the floor, from pools of the stuff to violent splashes up the wall. Bodies of men in suits and kitchen hands had been left where they dropped, all decapitated. “Oh god.” Oshun whispered as JV looked ahead. There, in the corner of the room, floated a stack of pizza boxes, held in some kind of holographic warming device. Reaching them, the man thumbed his way down the pile finding the name ‘Endo’ written on the side of three of them. JV’s shoulders dipped in relief as he parted the stack, grabbing the prize with his hand.

Warping across to JV’s side, Oshun poked her head around the man’s shoulder like a cat. “Aren’t you curious as to what’s in them?” The Haitian scoffed, “I think we’ve had enough trouble for one day. Call the cab back down, let’s get these pizzas delivered.”


Time: 10am
Location: JV’s Apartment, McClellan Street
Interactions: JV and Oshun
Mentions: N/A
Equipment: Standard Gear



Ding

Steam wafted out of the microwave as Oshun opened the door.

Homely subroutine enabled…
>Outside Temperature -2°C
>Inside Temperature 20°C and Steadily Rising
>Subject Shivered Upon Morning Activation
>Warm Beverage
Run//:Inviting_tune.exe


Humming, the android reached inside grabbing a hot cup of cocoa with both hands. Sat on the opposite side of the kitchen island, JV winced. Debate had long been waged over the past few decades about Cybercom sentience. The MegaCorps flat out denied it of course, chalking up any such thought to something just as absurd as pigs flying. Human rights groups, of all things, pointed to the androids claims of loneliness and heartbreak as true human emotion.

Both were wrong.

It was the little things, you see, that meant they weren’t quite human. The way they weren’t indecisive when choosing a place to eat or were never impractically lazy when deadlines were due. JV watched like a hawk as Oshun placed the mug in front of him. “Or the way they don’t stop to wonder what the burn of a hot cup feels like.” He thought. The android stopped humming for a moment as the corner of her lips curled up into a cute smile. They weren’t sentient, humans were just gullible and lonely.

Beep.

Another quick shiver engulfed JV as the wave of heat coming from the central unit turned off. Though the temperature of the room was now stable, he had sat too close to the vent. A coolness washed over his naked body, indicating that maybe it was time to don at least some small article of clothing. Leaving the island, the man moved across the studio apartment, sifting through a pile of washing that had been left beside the bed.

“They’re clean!” Yelled Oshun, beating JV to the punch right as he was about to smell test a pair of underwear. If it wasn’t the clothing, then something else in the apartment was stale. “Maybe the tank needs a clean.” He surmised, looking across at the terrarium of snakes. They were real, to most people's surprise, both expensive to buy and maintain but well worth it to the man. Of course, this meant they also made a real mess too.

Oshun’s attention hadn’t strayed from the kitchen as a naked man was nothing new. Fixated, she was too busy crafting the perfect omelette. Half an onion, perfectly sliced at 2.5 millimetres apart across the circumference. One small sized tomato, diced into 2 cubic millimetres pieces. Herbs, spices and shredded synthetic chicken breast, all whipped together with three eggs in a mixing bowl. Poured out into…

“A job’s come through.” The words left her mouth before she could even calculate the potential ramifications of their impact. An intentional change to her programming.

“And?” JV replied, moving across to the only window the apartment had.

Oshun paused for the slightest moment, appearing to stutter in her movement. Putting down the bowl her fists balled together tightly. “It’s from the Black Prophets.” Her mouth and vocal unit refused to comply.

Error…
>Nature of Message Possesses Significant Chance of Subject Risk
>78.8% and Climbing
>Conflict of Core Directive
>Conflict of Core Directive
Patch 4.6 Override
New Primary Directive Override
Play//: Message


“A VP, Mr. Endo, has asked you to deliver pizza to his daughter’s sweet sixteen birthday party. They’re paying a grand in creds.”

JV nodded, pulling back the blinds and looking up to the sky. Frost clung to the edges of the window as the clouds above bellowed with a dark and menacing look. Across the apartment, Oshun regained control. Leaving the kitchen, she skipped across the floor, hurrying over towards her owner. Words had an infinitesimally low percentage chance of persuasion, the man wasn’t in the habit of saying no to anyone in that wretched gang of his, even if it meant serious personal risk. Though she had always detected a level of hesitation that came with her touch.

Reaching out she placed a hand on his arm, softly wrapping her fingers around his bicep. JV turned and for a moment the two locked eyes. Oshun opened her mouth to speak but the man drew quicker. “Damballa has something to say.”

Biting her tongue, the man shrugged her off, leaving her standing alone. Looking down, she watched as her thumb grazed over her fingers, hoping to hold on to the last of the warmth from the touch of his skin as it evaporated. Defeated, the android ran a Sigh.exe, enabling a Mild_sulk subroutine as she dragged her feet all the way back to the kitchen. There, she opened the pantry, fishing out a bag of flour.

JV, on the other hand, headed over to the footlocker at the end of his bed, drawing a folded white sheet from in between a pile. Unfurling it on the floor in the middle of the living room, he bent down to smooth it flat while picking bits of lint off as he went along. Moving onto the fridge, Oshun retrieved a single white egg, lightly kicking the door closed as she spun around. Leaving the sheet, the man picked up the final ingredient, a blue-eyed lucy python from the terrarium. One of four snakes, its skin was white as snow with sky blue eyes. The reptile hissed in disappointment as the man dragged it away from the warmth of its infrared heated lamp.

Kneeling on the edge of the sheet, JV placed the snake next to him, giving his pet a quick pat on the head as it’s tongue flickered back and forth. Oshun appeared beside him, handing her owner the bag of flour which he poured into a pile in front of him. Followed up by the placing of the egg on top of the mound of powder, the android laid down in the centre of the sheet, glancing up one last time to see if she could catch JV’s eye. It was too late, they were firmly shut and a soft Haitian chant had begun to flow from his mouth.

‘Commune’ subroutine enabled…
>Damballa
Run//:Serpent.exe


Oshun’s hands clapped firmly together above her head. Her body began to shift subtly, as if a gentle wave moved through her. First from her hands, rippling down through to her torso, then to her hips and finally out her feet. She repeated this movement over and over while beside her JV continued with his incantation, his hands slowly rising from his knees as if they controlled the volume of his chants. The louder he got, the more his eyelids screwed shut, squeezing the life out of his eyelashes, feeling as if the motion threatened to pull them from their sockets. The android matched the raised tone with vigorous movement as together they escalated into a burgeoning crescendo.

“Damballa, koute mwen!”

A vicious roar escaped the man before he toppled over onto the floor, wet with exhaustion. Softness clasped his cheek as Oshun roused JV from his trance. “Is… Is today the day?” He panted. The android looked back at him, her lips pursed with a slight smile while sadness glistened in her eyes. “No.” Her voice dimmed. “Not today.”

Expressionless, the man nodded. Clamouring to his feet, he returned the snake to its habitat as Oshun cleared the floor. It was time to gear up.

Jeans. Top. Holsters. Revolver. Knife. Clips. Creps. JV donned his get-up, readying himself for the day. No one in the city paid a thousand creds to drop a cake at a birthday. No one in the city paid a notoriously fanatic gang for such a remedial task. It didn’t matter, whatever needed to be done, he’d do it. He was the sword, they were the arm.

Having cleared the living room, Oshun had returned to the stove, flipping the omelette and watching over the pan. Without warning, she shuttered noticeably, catching the corner of JV’s eye. “Those attempted manual overrides are getting stronger,” he thought, “Perhaps it’s time for a program re-modification?”

“What else was there?” He chided.

Oshun’s back straightened as if she’d been struck by lightning. Words fell out of her mouth instantly without restraint. “Something is different.”

JV raised an eyebrow. This was new. Moving across the room, he grabbed one of her arms, spinning her around towards him. “What is?”

“It’s… unclear,” she replied as her eyes darted from side to side. Her lips drew back to one side as her eyebrows furrowed. “Something about today or maybe it’s tonight. It’s just… different.”

Releasing her, JV doubled back, opening a locker in the storage contraption that sat above his bed. Slinging the strap connected to his assault rifle over his shoulder, he grabbed his trench coat from the edge of the bed, covering up all of his weapons as he slipped it on.

“Please,” Oshun beckoned as desperation dripped from her voice, seemingly tugging at his coat. “You said it yourself.” JV shrugged, heading for the door. “It’s unclear. It could mean anything, good or bad.”

Plating up the food, the android shuddered as clothing digitally pixelated onto her body. “No.” The man held up a strong, stern finger. “Your unit stays, the tank needs changing.” Shifting his point from her to the terrarium, then back to her, his chin dipped towards his body with his whole head cocking to the side.

“Stay.” A stern warning.

She nodded and JV left without so much as a glance toward the now cold cup of cocoa, or the ready made omelette with baguette sat next to it. The door slammed shut as the androids' shoulders dropped. “Bye.” She whispered.
JV



Livewire


Sorry mate, my workload has increased this week, so I'm not going to be able to join. Have fun with RP guys
I'm interested
In Sk8te 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
The ice was cold to touch.

A redundant statement of course, ice is cold, especially when you touch it but in Livewire’s case something like that was important to him. Pain editors. For all their value in his line of work, they reduced the feeling of almost everything, dulling nerve sensations to the point where only the most potent of things got through.

Then there was something about the sound that added to the experience, the clinking and cracking of ice, all so cool and relaxing. Livewire’s eyebrows rose as his bottom lip turned up, swirling ice around a whiskey glass with his index finger was surprisingly cathartic.

Slam.

The balled up of fist of a well dressed, greasy looking corporate stooge sent reverberations through the bar. Effing and blinding, he threw accusatory finger points towards the semi-renowned shop owner. Livewire grinned, looking up as if to gesture ‘Get a load of this guy?’ at someone bartending his private office boozer but it was just the two of them. The self proclaimed King of Grindwood liked the feel of pubs and bars, just minus the people. So he built a small setup in his office corner where he’d spend some time kicking back and cooling off.

“Harry’s fuckin’ on one today ain’t he?” Livewire thought as he swiveled the barstool to his right. A fleck of spit fired forth as the man in the suit continued his tirade, face turned red. The shop owner sighed, resting his elbow up on the bar, using his hand to cradle the side of his head. He was being a good friend you see, everyone needed to blow off a little steam now and then, it was a purgative action of release. But as Harry droned on Livewire couldn’t help but be distracted by almost anything else.

Like that tie. The knot had been loosened and the pin holding the tail in place had been long lost. It flapped back and forth in a mesmerising yet monotonous way. Like watching a metronome to pass time.

Slam.

“Are you even listening? I said that you are just like the rest of this scum here. Nothing but low life leeches, feeding off our bodies for fucking scraps.”

Livewire chuckled, nodding his head as he turned to have a sip of whiskey. “I wonder what Ma’s making for lunch today?” He thought, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. “Eh, it’s Ma, she always makes something good.”

Harry, perturbed by the sight of the apathetic man, continued. “You fucking lying piece of…”

Interrupting, Livewire’s hand shot out as fast as one could without the necessary nerve mods, grabbing the man’s tie and yanking it down.

Slam

Harry’s face bounced like a ball off the bar before falling ass backwards onto the floor.

“A fuckin’ liar?!” Livewire hopped off the barstool, standing tall over the Corpo. Now it was his turn. “Here I was, kind enough to give you a free therapy session and this is how you repay me?!”

“Wait, no…” Harry shook his head as much as his concussion would allow, holding up his hands in a pathetic attempt to block his face.

Livewire grabbed his tie again, yanking the man’s torso up towards him. “Harry you’ve been a customer of mine for a long time and if there’s one thing you should know, it’s that I’m no fuckin’ liar.”

The Corpo sniffled. “Yes, I know, it’s just my job. You know how working for these corporations can be, if I don’t hack into…”

The back of Livewire’s hand tore through Harry’s flimsy defence, striking his cheek with a rock-hard slap. “Fucks sake! And now you’re breaking my second rule!” Bringing back his hand, he slapped the Corpos face the opposite way. “I don’t wanna know shit about shit Harry.”

Harry coughed, spitting out what he thought was blood but what was really just a panicked build up of saliva. Shakingly, a hand rose up to the red raw side of his face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just stress, I…”

Livewire let go of the tie, causing Harry to hit the floor with a solid thud. He went to speak but the shop owner held up a silencing finger as he stepped away. Slicking back his hair, he took in a deep breath before releasing it out with a venting sigh. “Fuck this.” He poetically thought. “Same shit day in, day out, it’s all so…” A sharp rap at the door interrupted his train of thought. “Boring.”

Odd. Everyone knew not to bother him while he was entertaining guests. Livewire grimaced as his brow furrowed in thought. “Delivery? Robbery?” His hand gripped the door knob with his oversized powered fists nearly denting the brass with anticipation. Ready to activate his adrenaline pump, Livewire flung the door open.

Standing in front of him was a woman covered head to toe in a gold plated alloy. She wore a cropped jacket, a cap and not much else. Opening her mouth to speak, her words were cut off by an old man seated in the corner of the shop. “Why you going to see him for? I’m right over here darling.” A belchy laugh rung out of the decrepit, overweight man.

“Fucks sake Dad,” Livewire pointed sharply. “Turn that crusty mug of yours ninety degrees towards your old lady and leave this nice woman out of your shit!” Turning to his wife, Livewire’s old man gave an apologetic shrug as she rudely gestured back.

The shop owner shook his head, catching the tail end of an eye roll from the golden woman in front of him. “Where is it?” He asked firmly.

“Someone was killed.” She replied, causing Livewire to raise an eyebrow. “Not your guy but it looks like it’s rocked their boat. Package will be here tomorrow.”

The man gave a polite nod, spinning around and shutting the door almost too enthusiastically. Striding by the Corpo still floundering on the floor without so much as a glance, Livewire sat back down on his barstool. “Harry, package will be here tomorrow.” Grabbing his glass, the man sucked down the rest of his whiskey and melted ice. “Now fuck off will you?”

Nodding profusely, Harry scampered across the ground and out the door like a rat returning to their hole in the wall, leaving an upbeat Livewire to pour himself another. He thumbed through a few bottles, looking for the celebratory whiskey and passing over the generic ones. Someone had finally got to Sk8te. “Shit’s about to get real interesting.” He smiled.
In Sk8te 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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