Burger

Cross Gear

Like an angel from the heavens, some higher power had heard the young boy's prayers. Though, that higher power must have had a sick sense of humour. The call of 'Yo, kid!' had turned his attention to his saviour: a slimy grease ball who had the brazen audacity to instantly ask for the largest cash reward. Beggars couldn't be choosers, though. He needed any help he could get. He could work with someone completely in it for the money. Having someone cash-brain was decidedly easier to handle than certain rivals. Before he could open his mouth to accept the newcomer and give him his thanks, an odd woman approached.

Well, less approach and more charge directly into his personal space and almost launch the young boy onto his ass. In some bizarre form of gymnastics, his entire body leaned back over the chair with only a single leg in the air to act as his counter balance. When the proverbial dust settled and the young boy could stand upright again, he was hit by her sudden introduction. Another weird one. More heroic than Michael, that was certain. When she gave a Roman salute, the young boy's cheeks turned a rosy pink as he let out a cough, averting his eyes from Da-Xia. Eye contact was something that the boy would have trouble with, at least for the first meeting.

"Well-" The boy said before being interrupted by the hyena-like laughter of a certain woman watching. He coughed in an attempt to compose himself. "I certainly can use the help from both of you. This was originally supposed to be a five man job, but uh. The four others who originally signed up for my contract... Not available anymore. 'Nyways, name's Hyun-jin. You could call me a researcher first and foremost. I can fill you in on the specifics of the job later, but the basics of it are that the pay's twenty five thousand credits and we're entering the _{night city gate} to do something important."

The basics were both enticing and dangerous. 25000 credits was a considerable amount of money. To put it in perspective, a single credit about equal to about $100. D.S. didn't ever let divers cash out for that much, but it was a substantial for one's debt and equipment. The debt for an AEGIS and basic Cross Gear was about 100,000 credits, and a diver could make usually about 2000 on a good week. Offering 12.5x that for a single job was unheard of for divers that still had enter the Diver Services office.

But with reward came risk. Colloquially called the Night City gate, it was one of the most dangerous gates nearby. In the past five years, 50% of outsider invasions nearby came from this gate. It took the form of a city's nightscape and held some of the most dangerous outsiders known. On a scale from 1 to 10 in terms of difficulty, it was probably an 8.

Of course, these thoughts were interrupted by the sudden (and unbalanced) entrance of a pervert getting slammed through the already-open front door, flying (more like running backwards in an attempt to catch himself) into the clerk's corner. While divers were effectively nerfed outside of the gates and weakened by the barriers that protected the cities, they were still genetic and augmented freaks that could bench more than any natty body builder. Before the perverted diver could even reply with "why I oughtta", the large investigator appeared between Erika and the lecher. He gave a silent sign to the lecher to stay there. The lecher gave a frightened nod as the colour on his face drained.

Then, he walked up to Erika. His face displayed no rage, disappointment, or joy. Rather, an amiable, emotionless smile that somehow made things worse was shown to the woman.

"While defending oneself in dire straits is certainly an allowed action, it only allows for necessary action in order to protect oneself or others. Please familiarize yourself with the full guidelines set out for divers." He warned her, then produced a small paper handbook from his breast pocket and handed it to her.

Well, he was an official employee of Diver Services, after all.

After that, he walked back to the lech. Picking him up by the shoulders, the lech was placed onto his feet, only for an arm to be wrapped around his shoulders as he was walked off into the backrooms of Diver Services. His fate, for the time being, was unknown. What was certain was that he wasn't going to get off with just receiving the guidelines.

Again, Hyun-jin coughed to break the mood's room.

"A-anyways, you guys still in?"

Cross Gear

@OwO do you mind if I have my post assume that the boy was going to stand up and start to engage with Michael? I have some plans for sillies.

@The 42nd Gecko

Go right on ahead.

Cross Gear

Alright. OOC is up with a few plot points if you want to follow them (or make your own). Feel free to do whatever you want and make really any sort of background lore you'd want.

Cross Gear

Off the coast of South Korea and Japan, the island city of Tsushima was one of the eight great cities for divers. A large number of gates alongside a disproportionately small amount of divers made for contracts and commissions to always be in high supply. Despite being a small island in the middle of the ocean, transport was no issue. Large bridges connected the small island to the adjacent lands. The modern age also made liberal use of planes, bypassing the need for bridges all together. Sporting a population of eight million, the once small, rural communities and townships have since been replaced by skyscrapers and neon billboards. The thin island had since been expanded with concrete, resembling nothing of its former self.

Tsushima's diver district was no different to the rest of the city. It had everything a diver would have wanted in their downtime - a place to stay, somewhere to eat, entertainment, equipment stores, and at the core of the district: Diver Services. It was as close to home as a diver could call it. The rubberized floor gave an unexpected comfort compared to the concrete outside. Posters littered the walls. Some were advertisements for hired positions. Some were advertisements for brands of equipment. Rhodes Wears Dewa Heavy Industry, a memorable poster depicting a man clad in black plasteel armour, his massive sword Cross Gear resting on his shoulder. Some were just plain motivational. Tsushima Wants You To Protect Mankind. The lobby of this Diver Services office wasn't as packed as other cities'. As a result, it became considerably easier to see what other, interesting looking divers were doing.

Brooding in the corner (or perhaps just waiting for someone), a man in a familiar uniform stood. An investigator for Diver Services, they were some of the only divers that had some form of uniform; it came with the position, after all. The exact duties of an investigator were unknown to the general populace. What was known was that becoming one was probably the most difficult thing for a diver to do. Becoming an investigator was an invitation only affair. Seeing one in the flesh was exceptionally rare and, more importantly, meant that there was something big going on.

Much more noisily was a boy at the reception counter. Speaking to the receptionist, he was under duress. Panic filled his voice and he gestured with the intensity of a thousand mimes.

"What do you mean they all cancelled?!" The boy exclaimed.

"Sorry sir, but that group of divers is currently unfit for any form of excursion as they are in the hospital. The cancellation clause of your contract will be repaid in fu-"

"It's not about the money!" He yelled. The glances of those nearby calmed his tone, forcing him to take a deep breath. "Sorry ma'am. Money's no object to me and it's just that this is a very time sensitive matter. Is there any replacement that you can give me?"

"I'm sorry," the receptionist bowed, "but we don't have any active groups able to help. There are plenty of independent divers. Certainly some of those here would be able to help."

The boy instantly turned around, approaching nearby divers. Like two magnets of the same pole, everyone he approached turned away. Even if he called out to them, they gave a shake of the head, sign of the hand, or blatantly said no. The boy was hopeless. The one group that actually heard him out was suddenly struck by a case of 'trapped on a hospital bed'.

The young boy racked his brain, tugged his hair, and took a seat on a nearby chair. For him, finding someone to help wasn't going to be easy.

Cross Gear

@KoL yuh yuh put her in the character tab since she's accepted

Cross Gear

IC will probably be done on Sunday.

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

same

Cross Gear

@The 42nd Gecko she's accepted so go countersteer right into that character tab

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

"Oh yeah, hey! I'm just a wheezing, battered, slightly toxic mage with golden finery who you just knocked across the street in a single blow, and now I'm lying miserably on the ground while you're standing above me holding a spear... WANNA TEAM UP!? I ASSURE YOU IT'S NOT FOR MY BENEFIT!"

@Xaltwind

he'll let her squish the fairies

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

---

Well. Leave it to those bottom dwellers to absolutely screw everything up. What could have been a nice, orderly search (with Locke getting there first, of course) turned into a shrieking bloodbath the moment anarchistic adventurers met orderly king-slaves. That wasn't to say that it was unexpected; having a full scale battle was going to happen at some point. For it to happen almost the second Locke entered the ruins...

That exceeded all expectations.

Fights broke out. Soldiers fought mercenaries. Mercenaries fought adventurers. Adventurers fought adventurers. Locke knew that he needed to escape the mess of carnage. Get to somewhere less chaotic than the entrance. Leaving was most definitely not an option. The sound of knocked arrows and screams could only mean there was a massacre. What a sad series of events and needless lost of life, was what someone who actually cared would think. Frankly, the only thing Locke thought about in that moment was how bothersome.

For now, he needed to escape. With a near inaudible whistle, the blue fairy that once surveyed the sky returned. While it had not spotted what the falling star was, it at a general approximation of where it was. With finger outstretched, it pointed to where he needed to go. Breaking into a sprint, Locke followed his fairy's directions as he avoided whatever conflict he could. His gaudy outfit lost much of its provocation as nearby splatters of blood and dirt quickly clung to it. It helped that most people were more focused on staying alive or murdering each other.

As he charged through the crowded fight, a nearby adventurer—bandit, more like—noticed him. With sword in hand, he charged at Locke. The attacking man's taunt sounded more like an unintelligible snarl. No, less than that. Even beasts had some sort of beauty and understanding in their posturing. Without a second thought, Locke prepared a magic.

"Izh icha sa izh."

Two black coils formed within his palms, connected together by a thin string. He threw his arms forward, the black coils unwinding as they flew towards two brawling men on opposite sides of the unclear path. As the black coils struck, they coiled around their legs. The thin string thickened as was absorbed into an ever growing black rope. The charging adventurer-bandit, unaware that the rope had formed, tripped on it. His face met with the ground as the running Locke ran over his body, not caring enough to actually fight. Approaching the collapsed end of the street, he spoke to his fairy once again.

"Send me over," he calmly been barked out.

The fairy quickly flew ahead of him, a cyclone of wind forming between its hands. It collected as Locke drew closer. When he finally arrived to the wall, the summoner leapt at the fairy. With a great blast of air, he was sent towards the sky. He could clear the ruins in a single bound.

But man was not meant to fly like this. As soon as he cleared the rubble separating the main road with side roads with rubble, he plummeted back towards the ground. His innate, mountain man physique came in handy as his feet slammed into the ground, carrying forth his body with a painful roll. Nothing was broken, but it was certain he would feel that for the coming weeks. In his pained daze, he pushed onwards to where the fairy was pointing. He was still cognizant of those hiding in the shadows. Someone hiding could be a death sentence. He moved from alley to alley, careful to not attract the ire of anyone.

What he wasn't cognizant of was someone with the audacity to charge through the alleys at maximum speed.

As he cleared the corner of another alley, he felt another collision. This time from the side, it launched him across the road he had once tried to enter, his body sliding across the ground. His clothes ripped as the rough dirt-rock road dug deep. The sheer amount of layers he wore managed to protect his skin. For only mere moments, Locke lay groaning on the ground. His small fairy did its best to lift him by his hair. Picking himself up to catch the identity of the carriage that rammed into him, he saw a woman and only that. It was almost as if it were a scene straight out of a shlocky romance novel that ever-so-cleverly disguised itself as a philosophy book.

Certainly she didn't have the visage of a freakish adventurer who was ready to murder him. Rather, she looked like a noble compared to the average adventurer. Though, that wasn't difficult. Any modicum of self-care would turn a pauper to a princess in comparisons. Appearances could always be deceiving, however. The fairy that pointed him towards the center could have just as easily wanted to see Locke eat shit. The fact of the matter was that she was standing with spear in hand. Locke was on the ground, dazed and battered.

Unlike his earlier approach of being a solo act, his approach had changed. He needed someone who he could trust to not stab him in the back. At least, not until he could escape. Wealth alone had been replaced with preservation with others. The apes who resided on the flatlands were strong together. He would begrudgingly follow that wisdom.

"Say, you seem to have your wits about you," he told the woman who just crashed into him, wheezing between words. For someone who had the wind knocked out of him twice, he was doing quite well. "People call me Locke, to whom do I have the pleasure of running into this... battle."

That's what the books about introductions said, right? Making a good impression, introducing yourself, and adding some "humour" to lighten the mood. Impression was a definite check, as he was launched a considerable distance. He introduced himself with a pun. Surely that humour would be enough, he thought. His tone was, unsurprisingly, cold. Little emotion penetrated his words, besides pain from all the wheezing.