Location: east slums, near the border to the party districtRoxanne’s ears were ringing as she pulled herself out of the shattered remains of the storefront and she tired to remember why she was there.
It took a few moments but she revealed she’d been returning from one of the gangs safehouses after running them some supplies when everything went wrong. The last thing she remembered was swerving to avoid an out of control vehicle even as her own senses failed her. She must have crashed here and been knocked out.
Well she was glad she was alive and from the looks of things the bike was sturdily enough made and the stores now ruined contents were soft enough that both she and it were intact. At least she felt intact and thus simply assumed everything was ok. It wasn’t till she spotted her hat laying in the glass and then tried to pick it up that she reilised something was off. First of all two hands reached out instead of the expected one, one small and skinny the other long and covered in some kind of stony or wooden armor.
”What” She looked down at her body, noticing her tone up clothing and weirdly bent and furred legs ending in sharp talons
”The” She looked behind here and found a tail covered in the same scales as where on her larger set of arms
”Fuck” Finally around her neck was a ring of odd spines. Suffice to say she was very, very confused at the moment. Compounding matters was the dust storm outside, which was reducing visibility by about 40 m in the slums, and the shouting, fires and alarms she could hear going on out there. The occasional bout of gunfire, screaming or monstrous roaring indicated that some people had woken up in considerably more dangerous situations than her.
Somewhat awkwardly she picked her way through the debris, pulling up her necker kerchief over her face to mouth to make an attempt to keep the biggest particles of the dust out of her lungs. It probably would not have worked closer to the center, but out here it was serviceable. It was a general goods store, run by slum denizens for other slum denizens who couldn’t or wouldn’t go to the marked district for goods.
While she scrounged she tried to call some of the people in the gang she trusted on her headset to see if they what was going on, but the lines were dead. She’d have to get back to base and see if the boss knew what was going on and what they should do.
Eventually, after looting the money from the till and shoving some cheap booze into her messenger bag(might as well, the store clerk was nowhere to be seen), she found what she was looking for: a stand that featured a bunch of poorly made safety gear. Some of the corporations were so shitty that they didn’t even provide the necessary gear to work in their factories and required the workers to provide their own lest they get injured. Some people simply went without but those that did not went with what they could afford, which wasn’t much. Among the cheaply made gloves and hardhats she found a pair of safety goggles. Made to keep hazardous chemicals out of workers eyes, they would hopefully do the same for the dust currently swirling through the air.
Eye protection acquired she went over to her bike and mounted it.
”Ok, either you have gotten smaller or I have gotten bigger.” It took a few moments to get used to how to sit with her new frame, talons gripping the foot rests one long arm grabbing the handlebars for steering and the opposite small one the accelerator and singular brake lever of the tracked bike. She revved the engine and backed out of the store, turned into the street and then gunned it through the dust swept streets for club Nova, HQ of the Red Sun Gang, tail whipping through the air behind her.
Izurich,
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