Ruby

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

Eddie looked up at the question from Bluejay in the back, and took the moment to steal another long sip of overheated and oversweetened latte. After her sip she gave a small nod, and exchanged a glance with Nix. She knew what Nix was thinking, but she still wanted the visual okay from the man that it was okay if she responded the way Nix knew she would want to: with transparency. "The Militech suits in the BD that were killed by Tygers on the street according to your fiction, deleting the presence of the female assassin that actually did the killing? That's where the codes that get us into the facility without raising alarms come from. The mysterious woman is a contractor of mine, someone with a stake in this. Militech bought your BD account, we know because we've got a line in on their communications."

Still, having to admit to Shimada wasn't what she had in mind, even if the honesty was the best path in the moment. "There will be times I use someone outside this room for this effort. This isn't a Militech-centric effort; they're just the first job. We'll be hitting more corp targets that aren't Militech, they just get to go first. Lucky them. As for the BD, you'll get the pay and a bonus thrown in for Militech buying it. I've done work for this. Nix has. Bluejay there, obviously, has. This assassin has, and may again if I need her to. The client has given us nearly unlimited resources to get this done, and it's the only job I'm working as a Fixer. I've stopped everything else and given everything else to Dino. This is likely my last day in Afterlife until we finish all of this job. It's just too dangerous, the payout is just too great, for every single one of us."

That was, she wanted to add, even more true for herself...but that was information they just didn't need, and a thought she didn't like to dwell upon. "Valentine, Mac? Can y'all stay behind a minute?"

They'd been gawking at each other. Nearly every set of eyes in the room was on her, and had been glued to her, and the screen she displayed information on...but those two kept stealing glances and stares, and from her position at the head of the room, it was painfully obvious that something was there. And if something was there, she needed to know what it is, just in case it could potentially become a problem.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Maybe something X-related, I'll keep an eye on it and try to decide soon.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

Eddie post is up. Feel free to toss up small reaction posts, if you have them, otherwise you'll post arriving to the prep site. Eddie needs to talk to Valentine about the clinic, and Mac about gear. Let me know if anyone else needs Eddie's ear.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

She wanted coffee. Claire said something about making some, but Eddie dismissed it out of hand. She wanted a latte, something hot and sweet, something she might regret in an hour. Watson wasn't exactly the best place for such a request, but there was a spot that wasn't too far of a walk. She just smiled at Emmerick as he asked if she wanted him to go with her as she walked out of the front, a touch of amusement as she folded her hands neatly into the front pockets of the black leather jacket that fit snug around her upper body.

The shop was off a main street and not far from the water front, with enough eyes and access near an NRT station and an NCPD substation that it was a common haunt for a surprising cross-section of Night City residents. You were just as likely to find a corpo suit as you were a street artist as you were an Afterlife Fixer. The sound system was some hazy lo-fi jazz beat, the resident milk steamers behind the brass counter were abuzz with a small rush when she walked in. The mental math of the line, combined with the walk, and the time she needed to be back wasn't lost upon her. She might be late.

She just really wanted the drink.

Memory was her companion in the line as she waited, and even after she gave her quick mocha latte order and posted up with a shoulder leaned into the wall near the Order Pickup counter. Cold mornings in East Texas, truck driver seat synth-leather still frozen and hard from the night in the early morning. The drive through the pines as red morning light. The rusted water tower, the small town city center, the century year old red brick building with the large front windows and the glass panel door she had to unlock as the first, and usually only, employee there.

"Long wait?"

Her blue eyes flicked over to a smiling man with dark hair, pretty eyes, and a warm expression. It was the kind of moment she faced from time-to-time; did she coldly tell him to fuck off and expose herself as one of the dangerous in Night City? Did she smile and casually give a little laugh, like she was off to a normal job and a normal life? Before her mind seemed to make a decision, she felt her lips curl into a smile and heard herself give a casual little laugh. "Oh, yeah. Not that I'd let that stop me."

He laughed in return, clearly making conversation. "The determination is admirable. I remember when this place wasn't so crowded. I keep waiting for them to make it a chain."

"Eager for the quality to drop off a cliff?"

More laughter, "Inevitable in this city, I guess. I'm Ben."

Eddie felt herself stare a beat longer than was normal in such a situation, not that he seemed to notice. "Eddie."

He looked impressed. "Not everyday you meet a pretty woman named that. Where are you off to after this?"

"Meeting," she said, through laughter that teetered close to incredulous. He was after more than conversation.

"Oh yeah? I'm with Arasaka, up the water front. What about you?"

The smile she offered was guarded, her bright eyes instead offering amusement behind the shield and armor of her demeanor. "Private firm." The girl with the bright pink chrome arm and the brighter pink hair under a black beanie called to her from behind the Pickup Counter, a quick re-balance and she was on her feet to grab the drink and thank the girl.

"Good luck with the meeting."

Eddie couldn't help the smirk. "I'll need it. Good luck with the Arasaka Water Front, Ben."

Emmerick perked an eyebrow as she walked back through the front door of Afterlife, that and a chuckle the giant's only reaction to Eddie's return sipping on the large latte. Claire motioned to the back, "They're all waiting on you."

Oops. The assembled would probably take it as some kind of intimidation or screening tactic. Some sort of 4-D Holo-Chess move. Eddie had a reputation, afterall. Even if you worked with her before, you didn't seem to know her any better than you did when she was still just the mysterious Afterlife Fixer you hadn't met before. All she had to do was smile and stare, half the time, to keep the reputation people had heaped upon her. She was private, she was careful, and she was selective.

Apparently that was unusual among Night City Fixers.

The Crypt of Afterlife was more crowded than it had been when she left to retrieve her warm drink, though her eyes stayed on the drink as she took another long sip as she walked into the Crypt and towards the center of the room, just in front of the raised section of the room, at the table next to the desk with the console and monitors that were turned off at the moment, Crispin Weylend with arms crossed standing on end, Nix casually leaning against the desk on the other. She took up the center, scanned every face in the room as she took a last sip, and placed the mocha latte on the table in front of her.

"Gentleman, ladies, welcome to the Afterlife. Everyone had a drink? Good. Everyone sober?...close enough. Alright, before we get started, no one's on the line yet. The job I'm about to propose is both highly lucrative and highly dangerous. If that doesn't sound like your particular kind of poison, help yourself to a free drink or two on us upstairs with Claire. No hard feelings."

She waited. No one moved. "The job is a series of operations. The first one is a hit; a regional Militech manager. Location is the Militech Industrial Center in Arroyo. It once belonged to Arasaka, but was sold when Arasaka needed liquid capital after the incident at Arasaka Tower earlier this year. The firm that oversaw the sale had a lot of details about the site in a data fortress that our friend Nix here recently liberated for us. Surveillance indicates this is the location Militech is running increased Badlands and border operations out of, it's a vehicle depot and storage facility. This is a false flag operation; you'll be posing as an Arasaka strike team."

She turned and stepped to the side, allowing the monitor behind her to activate and display the facility in question.

"Notice the AV landing sites and the heavy security around the vehicle gates. We have Militech codes for the gate, so entry should be smooth. Since we can't leave any crumbs given we're hitting Militech, we'll have to source IDs from a Badlands patrol the same day, before they get found and reported. The vehicle we'll need, a Militech Behemoth, will be stolen from a repair depot in Jackson Plains. We know it's there, we know it's a soft target. Arasaka gear will come from a Tyger Claw crew that was given it from Militech for their own false flag operation, so nothing to trace back to us. We know the gear is there, not as soft a target as the repair depot...but that's why I'm hiring professionals."

Her smile was small, but evident, before she moved on. "Several possibilities on target location. Tagging him will be the off-site Netrunner's primary responsibility after infiltrating the system. Two teams; one goes for the target, the other secures escape transport. Recon shows some of the AV landing pads have been converted for a pair of Zetatech Valgus. AVs are an option, but they're much easier to track than a Valgus, so we steal the Valgus gunship. Pickup the hit team on the roof of the main building, and get the fuck out. Landing zone is an old Aldecaldos camp site in the Badlands, secure and hide the helicopter and we'll have transport to get both teams back to town."

A quick swipe on the monitor, and a warehouse came up, empty, large, former industrial.

"Site for prep storage and team coordination will be provided in Heywood. We'll have everything from an armory to a clinic, to a basic kitchen and bunk rooms. This will be the one and only time we all meet here at Afterlife. Everything from this point on will be at the site in Heywood. Both for this operation, and subsequent operations for the job. After each operation there will be a payout, and a short break in time to make sure the heat never gets too high on us. Run your errands and see your outputs during the breaks. Client has three operations lined up, although it's possible another gets added later. Payout for the first is seventy-five thousand, that will include a bonus if the Valgus is in good condition at operation's end; we have a Fence willing to buy it and strip it, but only if it's in good condition. Questions?"

Eddie went for her latte, almost surprised to find it still warm given the near morgue-like chill of the Crypt. "Oh, and if you need gear or equipment come see me after; whether guns or chrome or tech, we'll know where to get it at a favorable price."

Questions and Answers

i do not really have a favorite books but i love reading anything by nicholas sparks and a few other authors cant remember them all at moment

what movies do you like better dc or marvel ?

@wheels

Outside a gem like Shazam, Marvel. But then I can't bring myself to watch 'The Batman', even as a lifelong Batman fan, so...

When's the last time you felt afraid?

Our Final Nights: A World of Darkness Roleplay

"She's gone."

The girl felt lost. Her chest tightened into a vice, her head spun into madness and dizziness. Blood seeped in silent sobs, the city suddenly cold and empty, her vision blinded by the crimson blur of blood tears. Her hands reached out, desperate, for the softness of the thick, rich, rug under her feet. She either reduced her body to her hands and knees, or she collapsed where she stood when she heard the words.

"How did it happen?"

There were no words worth speaking. There was no rational reaction, no logical course. Every time her blurred eyes closed, she saw the woman's face, every time her hands pressed hard over her ears enough to numb the voices behind her. It did no good to hear those words, any words, or anything. Not now. It wasn't until she felt the hands on her that she realized she was screaming.

"What's happening to her?"

She felt she was dying. Suffocation for the girl who didn't need to breath; a violent cutting off not from air, or life, but of the very presence that meant all of that and more to her. Suffocation not of the body, or the mind, but the soul. She saw only blood tears staining white plush rug under her as the sheer strength of one of the men held onto her.

"I don't know. It's her sire, not mine, not yours, not yours...what about him? Mihail?"

The very blood in her body boiled at the thought of it. The scream turned inward, her body freezing in silence as her back arched and every muscle and joint that composed her physical frame locked tightly in place, her essence trying to find any and every avenue of escape. Sprint through the ghost yields. Spin through the darkness and beyond. Dive into the well of voices and minds even monsters dared not to touch.

"Where's Grace? Everything stops until we find her. Every agent we have should be looking for her."

Show me, she begged in languages only spirits spoke, in tongues too dark to ever have survived this world. Audibly she babbled the nonsense, feeling but not seeing the others present moving away and giving her space as her eyes faded from the present and blanked white as she drowned in the night of Los Angeles. Inaudibly she prayed the prayers of lost souls, into the abyssal nothingness where the eternal dreamt. She was a child along such a path, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, now.

"...she's doing something...how the hell am I supposed to know 'what'?"

She would dive and die until she felt that touch. The touch spoke any language they needed, but her's was in the off-colored tongue of the amateur and the desperate. Her body rolled as those around gave her space, her body digging into the floor of the mansion of glass and concrete, the house of the damned in the city of angels. Opened, blinded, eyes saw nothing but the black sun light up the sky over the edge of the sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica Mountains.

"She's losing it. Where the fuck is Henry? He was supposed to come with you."

Without doing too much, she was in a trance. Words were faint and distant sounds, her mind racing quick jerks around hidden twists and jarring turns, titans of evil and the devouring more than she'd been prepared to expect watching her blaze by in search of the light she'd spent her unlife hiding and sheltered from; towards the light. Her frozen frame heated, the unsweltered warmth of love dawning over that last crest, guiding her through nothingness and dimensional barriers she hadn't experienced before.

"What do you mean you don't know where he is? She looks like she's about to snap!"

She felt it, small and round like a tear, press and pass over her cheek; the same star, the Sun of the Morning. Brilliant and once blinding, now easily seen, murmuring a murmur so inaudible that even though she could feel her lips tremble against her mind, understanding was fleeting and like clutching onto grains of sand. It didn't matter. The touch was enough, her eyes opening, her body relaxing as she laughed--as she giggled aloud, staring at the ceiling, then the faces of Rachel, Andre, Maty, and Mihail peering over and down at her.

"...she's not lost." The relief rippled through her, a shockwave of soothing sensations and calming aftermaths. Blood tears dried, and her lips smiling large. "I heard her." Her tone was sunshine as she propped her upper body up with either arm behind her, palms on the blood tear stained rug supporting her weight. "Get Grace. Get Henry. Get our people ready for battle. We're going after Lubbock."

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

_{Collab with @Apollosarcher}

"Do you think he's a mole?..." For some reason, a reason she would never understand, the young woman lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned closer to her from the leather chair adjacent to the couch, "they do that kind of thing? They do, right?"

The young woman once too scared to do much more than apologize for nothing the first time they met was now sharing thoughts of espionage and conspiracies of the streets and the Corps that towered over them. Sora's response was a loud, loud, draw on a straw from a suddenly empty cup and the kind of look that could make Enstein feel like a fucking idiot.

"No, I don't think he's a mole. Would Wakako Okada try to plant a mole on me using an edgerunner of her own recommendation?"

Suddenly Emily looked less certain, withdrawing the few inches she had leaned forward just moments ago. "I guess not?...but like, why not?"

"You do know I'm more lethal than an entire small army of armed men, right?"

Emily's dark blonde brows furrowed, and her back shot up in straight-edged posture. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, yeah."

Sora didn't have to look to see the complex math going on in the blonde's pale green eyes. Am I safe? Just how dangerous is more dangerous than a 'small army of armed men'? She wouldn't hurt me, right? She'd just fire me, right? "You're safe, Emily. You're amusing, you're well meaning, relatively bright, and I like the way you look from behind when you bend at the waist." The young woman's face went from relief to shock and an uncertainty about the words she'd just heard in the beat of a heart, but Sora ignored it, stomping right past the moment, "If Wakako wanted to set a mole, she wouldn't be so obvious. Because obvious would be easily seen through and exposed, which would just make me angry, and after the warning I gave her...there's a reason the woman has outlasted every husband she's ever had, and it's not dumb luck."

"That makes sense. So this guy...this," Emily shot a look down at the datapad with a tilted look, "...Duston Rhodes...wow, Dusty Roads. If ever there was a Nomad name, right?"

Sora blinked, paused, and looked up at Emily as blank as an empty wall. "...huh, yeah."

The young woman blushed, even if for only a beat, "Not a mole? Can he be trusted?"

"I don't even trust you, why would I trust him?"

There was unexplained silence as Sora looked back down at the spreadsheets she studied, she didn't expect Emily to just stare at her in silence. "You can, you know? If you're that dangerous, that means being the only person in this building this close to you, I'm in some vague level of danger? That's fine. I accept that. You've already done more for me than anyone else in this company, ever, so you can trust me." But when the depth of emotion in the young woman's voice came through, Sora looked back up, but she wasn't done. Her green eyes danced, anxious, uneasy, up and down and back to Sora's brown-black eyes. "Do you have me followed?"

"No. I followed you last night. I stalked you the day before I approached you. I've been inside your apartment."

It hit Emily by surprise, but she didn't look shocked. She didn't look scared. Her green eyes just stared at Sora's with a new found intensity. "You can trust me. I don't have anything to hide...did you stalk him?"

"Rhodes?"

"Yes."

Sora's head gave a casual, little shake, as she unfolded her legs from underneath her body on the large leather couch and gave a lazy stretch in full black and white suit, long black hair reflecting the ambient light of the office, "No. I just found out about him. Nomads aren't office workers. I saw his car, I saw him, from vid footage stolen from NCPD servers. He's done it all, the legal, illegal, even driven celebs around. He moves around a lot. Seeing old contacts, getting his face seen, looking for work."

"Why wouldn't he want to work for you? I mean, you're both Arasaka and a big deal in Arasaka?...also what celebs?"

Her palms rested flat on the small of her back, and lightly pushed, the sound of a few pops and cracks sounding loud in the side lounge of the office. Again, Sora felt herself shrug. "He probably will, even the danger I represent is less important than a high level Arasaka contact for a 'Family' man. That kind of contact is worth more than Eddies to a Nomad family. He likely didn't find out it was an option until I had Wakako send him the message, and had you send the follow up appointment request to his phone. And...I don't know, the famous kind?"

"Is he dangerous?"

Sora's eyes narrowed, just a little, as her head tilted down and looked at the young woman. A hard, analytical, look. "He's an edgerunner. Yes, he's dangerous. Is he as dangerous as I am? No. Highly, highly doubtful."

Emily looked less than sure in that moment, pale green eyes flickering down, and back up again at Sora's applied gaze. "Do you like hurting people?"

"...sometimes," she said gently, lips in a faint warm smile.

Emily moved on quickly, tucking a strand of darkened blonde hair behind her ear, and going right back into the serious office worker, "I looked up the other name. James Vander...heiden, hayden? It's a hard name to pronounce--"

"--Vander-HYE-den."

Emily stared up again, the expression writ plain across her high glossed and artfully make-up applied face: Oh. You're kidding me. The tone wasn't quite as heavy as the look, some level of fear of Sora or unease about offering any real amount of sass to her new boss kept the young woman holding back, but there was enough trace elements to recognize, "So you've heard the name before. Yeah, him. So he's Canadian, or, well, was. He's dead."

"I knew he was dead, some people blame me for killing him."

"Did you?"

Sora sighed, deeply, as she retreated from the lounge section of the office back towards the office. Back towards the pack of cigarettes. With a light and a deep inhale, and lighter exhale, Sora's voice deepened from cigarette smoke finally voiced, "Depends. It was a rapid deteriorating orbit for both of us. Had I not been chasing, he wouldn't have died. Had they been better, had a little more luck, they would have survived. The other one survived, though I never did find her by the time I woke up after splash down. So was it my fault?" The sigh, this time, was much smaller and hidden in the act of the exhale of smoke, "Depends who you ask."

"...so, Canadian, worked for PetroChem as a Special Operator. Security. His record is pretty impressive. He disappeared from Canada, though he was still an active employee at that time. No real explanation as to what happened, Intel thinks it was inter-PetroChem politics he ran from. Shows up in Europe as a mercenary. There's a German marriage license, some work in Russia, then Europe again and shortly after that he's placed on an Arasaka-Europe watch list. I'm guessing that's when you come in?"

"Shortly after, but more-or-less. Any family?"

"None alive."

That, Sora thought, was deeply disappointing. "The other name?"

"The Republic of Texas responded with a non-response. I did like you said and used your clearance level to push them, but the Republic of Texas--"

"--doesn't care, yeah. Go figure, a bunch of Texans are the most stubborn and independent minded government left on the planet. They make Neo-Soviets look open-fisted, and make the Chinese seem trusted. Did they at least acknowledge the existence?"

"Uh...I have it, here," Emily shuffled a few datapads, and picked up her phone to read the screen, "they said, 'The Republic of Texas Attorney General's Office cannot comment on any entities, operations, or subjects that may, or may not be, included in the records sealed under the Sealed Records Act, Republic of Texas Congress. We apologize for any inconveniences this may cause our Arasaka friends."

"She exists, but we can't say she exists, and we can't say she exists because all facets of her existence have been sealed and classified. Great. But, hey, they called us pals. Cool. Thanks for trying, anyway...he's here."

Emily stood up, confused, "Can you...see through the door, or...nevermind. Should I go?"

"Yeah, invite him in."

Emily's heels were the only sound in the office as she walked across at a hurried clip, reaching the heavy office doors and slipping her slender frame in between door and frame so she minimized how much of the office was viewed as she exited. The blonde with the shoulder length, straight, salon styled dark blonde hair and the salon styled makeup in the white synthsilk blouse and leather black skirt, with black stockings and heels to match, smiled at the security escort before looking up at the man's face.

"Mr. Rhodes? Go ahead in."

She held the door open, and closed it behind him, as Sora leaned back against the front of her desk, staring at him, one arm over her chest, the other bringing the cigarette to her lips for another heavy drag, the modified Techtronika SPT32 Grad Power Sniper Rifle laid across the desk next to a cup of tea, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a computer terminal, and a few sheathed katanas.

Night City dazzled behind her, the entire back wall of the highly positioned office in Arasaka Tower floor-to-ceiling windows with an impressive view. She was little more than a silhouette with a tiny orange cigarette glowed face between his eyes, and the view.

"Hello, Mr. Rhodes. I trust you enjoyed the walk up." It was a rare thing, a walk from the front door of Arasaka Tower to the Senior Executive Level office suites. Few edgerunners had ever made the walk, the last one? V, maybe. "I seek a driver that I don't need to watch over my back around, which excludes everyone else that works in this building. Interested?"

Duston had just finishing rolling his own cigarette in the hallway. He hadn't been their long the call had come after he'd finished dropping off his smuggled goods. Cute little thing stepped out as the tall and well muscled Merc lit it before he stepped in.

Following towards the view he took a breath looking over the city. He couldn't understand how people saw this as beautiful. "If you want exclusive around the clock service its a heavy contract. But, it comes with the best driver and service next to Delamain. I don't talk about my clients work and I do all the service and technical work on the vehicles myself." He explained tipping the stetson to look into her eyes directly.

"Impressive rifle by the way... Now before we hash out our contract. You ask what you need from me. I know you did your homework, suits always do. But you ain't all corpo so you ask me the things that a file can't tell you. I'll give you that brutal Nomad honesty were all known for." He was to the point and focused, a small smile on his lips as smoke trailed out with it. Fresh real tobacco scent too as he leaned against the wall not sitting.

He cut a clean figure, a deep brown duster hung over a flannel button up shirt and a pair of white washed blue jeans. On his head a stetson of similar deep brown like that of fresh soil. "So basics, Contract, details, and all stay secret... I work for you, not Arasaka." He made the distinction himself which meant he knew something about her at least. He'd done homework too it seemed, even if he didn't have her resources.

"So... How long’s the gig and what all do I need to plan for? Picking you up in mornings? Safe houses? Gunfights? I gotta know to plan for expenses." He spoke after the assistant had left finally moving to sit.

"Have you ever fought a top tier Arasaka Ninja?"

"Top tier? No. I don't deal in 'big leagues' affairs. I move things, I do odd jobs between farm work, and I don't piss off people who got armies under their command. As for if I've gone up against more than common Arasaka goons. Yes. I'll leave it at that, I don't know what separates one ninja from another. So I can't comment on your definition." He reached into his jacket producing a flask taking a long drink.

"That a problem?"

"We're in true hell when the Nomads start litigating meanings and side-stepping questions. You're not from Texas, are you?" She flicked the cigarette after the wry joke, grey ash fluttering to the pristine waxed and treated maple hardwood floor. "Fair enough…gun fights? Maybe. Picking me up in the morning?"

Sora chuckled with her next exhale, entirely amused by the mental image. "My schedule isn't so standard. How long is the gig? Until my job is done, or I'm done with you, whichever comes first. The pay is sensational. You'd be a body man; whatever odd request. Mostly driving, waiting. I used a Nomad for this last time I was in town. Aldecaldo. Wakako recommended you because she arranged the odd marriage that was between that Aldecaldo and myself," and because she was trying to save her life. "I'm odd for a Corpo. I prefer to work outside the established procedure and policies of the corporate culture, but my job is my priority…I wouldn't recommend interfering with my function. Any more questions? Or do you want to tell me your special retainer fee now so we can get going?"

"Right, well two things. One my ride isn't gunned up, its armored so shooting starts we aren't focusing on shooting back. Two, no I'm from a traveling clan range across the Northeast to Midwest, sometimes further out. Texas isn't really my thing..." He spoke sitting on the table looking over at her again.

"If you wanna get to work I'm on the clock when you need. But I am more than a driver, not saying you need it but I can help anyway you need. Your paying I'm working however you want letter of the contract doesn't mean I stop." A Merc with a work ethic a strange thing but not bad. "That said, if things get crazy I'll stay with ya but I will speak my mind. You're the boss but I ain't the quiet type." He explained letting his ashes fall of his duster from his cig.

"Other than that happy to work. You seem like a right peach for a corpo killer." Chuckled Dusty as reached into his jacket for a flask.

"Let's pay Little China a visit, then, I've got a medical appointment that needs keeping."

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

"Start from the top," Eddie sighed, the Crypt ran cold and heavy with the scent of and smoke of sage, the hot black coffee in the black and bronze cup steaming as she took another sip. Of the four present, only Nix was at the main monitor, datapad in hand. With a flick of his wrist, they indeed started, Crispin and Dino settled in the center of the room on stools. Eddie stood, leaning her ass against the edge of what had once been used as an autopsy table.

The woman's image came up, first; her last official headshots for Trauma Team identification, as well as video captures from all over town. "First up, Connie Zhu. Her official status with Trauma Team is a bit murky, but it seems they've moved on and are just processing the departure according to their stricter than most corporate guidelines for termination. Father recently died, mother still alive, lives in a MegaBuilding. Seems to be in something of a spiral going off recent vid captures, but she is capable."

"She doesn't know we're watching her?"

Nix's mouth tightened as his head gave a quick shake to Dino's question. "No, she is one of the ones on this list that Eddie has not reached out to. But it's fair to say she needs the money and the resources. If accepted to this job, Eddie can make sure she gets every last bit of resources Trauma Team has cut her off from back into her life. That, plus the overwhelming financial reward, seems a good bet. Whether she's a team player, not my department, that's all you, Ed."

Eddie sipped at the black coffee with a touch of synthhoney, and shrugged.

"Right. Next up: John Brown." Brown's image came up, as well as a picture of a recent kill from a vid capture and a picture of the man looking downright peaceful in a diner. "A Militech trained killer, no other way to put this. No longer works with them, and it wasn't the most ideal of separations. This is a blunt instrument who may very well enjoy the Armory the job provides. He's an insight into Militech, and that's helpful enough, although Eddie has her Militech moles. Couldn't hurt. This seems black and white; Brown digs cash for kills, and we offer both the kills and more cash than anyone else. Record suggests a decent team player. Also, Dino, another one we haven't reached out to yet."

"That's you, Dino, if you don't mind?" Eddie asked, eyes shooting over to the other resident Afterlife Fixer.

Dino gave a wry crooked lips smile, and nodded with arms crossed over his chest, "Yep, I got you, I'll reach out to both and tell them job of the lifetime, come to Afterlife at such-and-such time."

"These two Eddie's worked with before, John Valentine and Abby Etienne. These also two work as a team, and frequent a Ripperdoc we know well enough in Straid."

"I asked him," the large Solo with the ocular cyberware broke in with his light accent, Crispin Weyland, interjected, "Says they're likely to agree and they're pretty good. Wanted to tell me why they'd be good for Afterlife, I said nothing more."

Dino chuckled, "Professional to a fault, Squama."

"I can see why he pushes them," Eddie said before another sip, her eyes on Nix. Nix brought up their images, although there was some hesitation in the man as he redistributed his weight between feet and brought in air with a heavy sound.

"Yeah, well, Etienne is slightly concerning despite your endorsement. Might be V.B. connections, Valentine is another former Trauma Team with Euro military experience beyond that. I did talk to your guy from Brussels, Eddie, and the military service was good. Seemed Trauma Team was a stake out for a different kind of life because of a wife and wanting a family...obviously that worked out for shit, but he's got skill if you're saying so, and Etienne is legit good in a number of facets, so that's a positive."

"Couple?"

Nix shrugged at Dinovic's question. "I dunno, hard to tell in this city, especially among Mercs who's an output, but I wouldn't rule it out. Think that overcomplicates it?"

Dino's answer was to turn his head, and look at Eddie.

Blue eyes widened, and Eddie smiled into her coffee for a second, her voice sounding the slight amusement she felt, "No. If their Ripperdoc is hyping them for an Afterlife gig, and if I didn't notice a problem before, I just have to doubt it will become one. People like to talk about that kind of thing," and she knew it, too, as word had gotten around about Etta and James, married Mercs that complicated their hiring status to far too many corpo Euro fixers at the time. "So yeah, I'll send them a message. The others are like these two, we've all met?"

"Yep," Nix brought up images for Conrad, Silvain, Qiara, and Mac. "Let's start with the Netrunner. She's corpo, NightCorp. Why they put her on the open market like they have, I don't know. She's paranoid, she's careful, she hates all of us before she's even met us--"

"--but I'm so charming--"

"--and she doesn't give a shit, Dino. But, and I say this with some expertise in the field, she's very good at the sort of deep Netrunning you'll want her to do. She uses other tricks to be present, but her physical situation...she's be a holo-presence, a ghost in their machines, and not much else. That's probably not a bad thing. Silvain is a tech and I'm...actually impressed with their work."

To a solo of renown like Crispin Weyland, what mattered more was, "Do they fight?"

"No idea. Eddie?"

She shrugged, "Is 'Bluejay' a solo like you, Squama? No. Can they handle some fireteam work if they're mixed in with some of the others? Yeah."

The dark skinned solo seemed less than warmed by the information, but it didn't stop Nix from rolling on, "Conrad. NetWatch. Fuck that, but Eddie...well. We all witnessed the madness of a Blue Glass job interview, didn't we? Claire mentioned he held himself pretty well considering Emmerick had to help him up the stairs, and he never noticed you left the table? Wow. Skilled, comes with a reference we've discussed before, and Eddie seems confident in him. A frontline, in the shit, Runner to go along with the deeper system attacks and monitoring of Qiara. It's actually a pretty good team if it works out. The last one..."

"Yeah," Eddie put the now empty coffee cup down, "former Clan, Euro military of a sort, prison. Turns out that blank spot in his timeline was time spent with a group that were Raffen Shiv. Not true Wraiths, but a group that started very much going down that line. There is a location in Rancho, there is someone present in their life, though I didn't pry that much, and it seems they bounced on the Shiv when they realized the kind of group they really were."

"Just curious, Fixer to Fixer, what about the Sixth Street 'Fixer' who sent him on your job?"

Eddie just snickered, "He, uh...he won't be doing anymore jobs in an area that isn't directly Sixth Street controlled anymore."

Dino's eyes widened, lips curled at the corners, head nodded, tone sounding as surprised as his face looked, "Interesting. I'm just shocked he can still offer any jobs after you visited him. Sure on this guy? He seems like a lightweight."

"Maybe he is, maybe he's seen more shit in Europe than we can quantify here in the Afterlife. Maybe it's just a gut feeling on my part, either way, he's in. I'll send him a message, Dino. Tonight, 10PM? Right here, in the Crypt? Have Emmerick and Claire tell them to head down as they arrive?"

"Sounds good. Need any thing concerning this?"

"No, thank you, Dino."

The Fixer tipped an invisible cap, stood from the stool, and made his way out. Once the door closed, Nix's discomfort came forward. "I've looked at the details on this job, I poked around a little at this warehouse we've got setup for it...this some serious fucking shit, Eddie. Rogue never touched anything like this. I know Crispin is stone cold, hell he stormed Arasaka with Rogue and V, I KNOW he's batshit insane. Are you sure about this? You know exactly what you're getting into? What they're getting into?"

There was no hesitation, no pause for thought, nothing but a stare from the blue eyes of the Fixer. "Yeah, Nix. I appreciate what you've done, and I'm not cutting you out of it. Qiara and Conrad aren't as trusted as you, I'll still need you in support just like I will Crispin. Just like I will the Nomad, and the Yakuza. Rogue didn't do something like this, but she stormed Arasaka on little more than a whim. This is planned, we're being careful as we can be, and if it blows up, then it blows up on all of Night City, not just the Afterlife. Dino went to make the calls, I'm gonna send messages to the rest. Be here at 10. You will, the both of you, make enough money to buy your own Afterlife after this so long as nothing fucks this up, so let's not fuck this up, chooms."

And me, she thought, I'll buy a chance to escape.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

Everyone should be heading to Afterlife as of my last post. Read the post so you know exactly where in Afterlife, and exactly what time. You'll either get a call from Dino (if you never met Eddie in the Prologue), or you'll get a message from Eddie (if you did meet her in the Prologue).

This starts Act I, so we've entered a more linear storytelling section of the RP. Questions? I'm always around.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

The cigarette lit in a brief orange blaze of butane lighter as she shouldered her way through the threshold of the Jig-Jig Street NCART platform. The immediate exhale was the heaviest and freshest of the entire cigarette; it was pure fire and chemically laced tobacco. The chemicals were largely filtered by her internalized systems, and the tobacco was one of the few things Sora found herself grateful about regarding NUSA's existence. A few looks were tossed in her direction, but she had waited until she was outside the designated no-smoking section of the platform and surrounding station itself--so the looks bothered her as little as ants passing in front of her as she walked in the direction of the market.

The main drag of the market changed, over time, but not enough. Though the names of the businesses changed, their purposes hadn't since she spent more time than she would have liked in the area as Danger Girl duties had required her. Being back in Night City was a nuisance, but at least it was the familiar kind of nuisance. The irritants weren't fresh and mysterious, even the signage was largely the same; blue and pink hearts, BD lounges, Joytoys in cramped, tiny sex clubs, and rent by the hour 'hotels' there were little more than fuck cubbies stained with sweat and blood and cum. A Joytoy tried to approach, but Sora's vision stayed transfixed, the thousand-yard gaze that saw through and past people, not at them. Even the vocally aggressive were walked past like they didn't matter.

The ground was cracked painted cement, the walls of the market seeming to lean overhead, like they might just collapse in on it all, as signs and cables and unofficial and unapproved add-ons to buildings were crowded into an already claustrophobic location. The pachinko parlor was still passed the slurp shop, now manned by a different cook than she recalled, around the corner, over the foot bridge spanning the small drainage ditch now protected by a metallic grating, and across from a window front of black mannequins modeling bondage suits and strap-ons. A plastic red chair was just outside the door, the same beat up old public terminal that had been there the last time Sora was still on the other side of the doorway.

It was in a back corner of Jig-Jig Market, the other buildings alongside it had no entrance, not that they needed to be--they were all just extensions of the same pachinko parlor. They were all property of the 'Fixer' that Sora had come to see: Wakako Okada. Okada had been wary around her even back during the Danger Girl days, but that had more to do with the connective tissue between Danger Girl and Arasaka, of which there had been precious few, than anything Sora had done...until one of the Danger Girl clients complaints led to the doorstep of one of Okada's sons. The favor Sora had done for the old woman, even then, hadn't gone forgotten by either party. The son still lived, still thrived in their little gang.

Sora had simply satisfied the client's thirst for revenge and need for safety in other words, with the blood of others, and a simple warning to Okada's involved son.

Even in the height of the afternoon the interior of the pachinko parlor was dark, moody, as if the negative energy of the past and current deeds of it's proprietress infected the very air of the place. The sounds were classic pachinko, and like every classic pachinko parlor Sora had ever been in, including the ones she would cut through as short-cuts on her walk home from school as a teen schoolgirl, were heavy with cigarette smoke with walls yellowed by it. Sora hadn't begun smoking cigarettes then, but even now she could smell it's toxic light-grey suffocation like she was still the same fresh-faced teenage schoolgirl from her past.

These walls were metallic, hued blue with neon, the floor black and white checkered tile also shaded blue with the blue neon strip under the gaming counter at the back of the parlor, under a wide advertisement screen, manned by a Tyger Claw. Sora never seemed to look at him, but she noted every line on his face, the way he favored his left side, the likelihood of which weapons he had on him, and a general guesstimate on just how capable he was as a combatant. Instead she stopped at an empty machine between two glass walls separating the empty machine from two occupied machines, and reached into her blazer pocket to retrieve some tokens she still had from the parlor dating back to her last visit, black spots of dried blood still on the token from that last visit.

She played the rigged game for a few minutes before the man behind the gaming counter disappeared. He needed to because the cameras got nothing but a dark blue from Sora's image. Where some optics blurred faces with surveillance blocking lenses, Sora's cyberware went farther, on more technical levels. She might as well had been a blurry wraith to optical surveillance systems. Sora began the count the moment the man behind the counter disappeared. He came back to his seat behind the counter after four minutes and eleven seconds.

The old woman wasted no time. The man behind the counter announced the parlor would close in five minutes. There was a sound of discontent by an old spotted man, but the rest of those at the machines just gathered their tokens, and left then and there. They knew the reputation of the parlor, and weren't going to end up dead because of Tyger Claw business. Sora stayed where she was, never looking up. Just token, game buttons, and wait for the screen to give her the cheated result of the loss. Sora got a win, just to keep her on the line, shortly before the five minute mark hit and the man behind the counter saw the last patron out, and locked the door behind them.

The old woman had been standing in the back doorway for a few minutes, staring a hole at the Arasaka operative.

"Sora Hayami. How is it you haven't aged a day in thirty years?"

Sora's response was no more than a shrug. After the win, she was straight back to back consecutive losses. She allowed a small sigh, putting the cigarette out on the cheap little aluminum ashtray that sat on the machine near it's buttons. "Your games are still rigged."

"They most certainly are not."

Sora stopped, and her head finally turned towards the woman, "I'm doing the math in my head with each turn, Okada. You never did know when not to lie to me." When she moved her body on the padded synth-leather stool, updated since the last time Sora was here, to follow her head in facing the old woman, the man behind the counter now standing sentinel at the front door tensed. The old Fixer shot him a look, Sora smirked.

"You can leave, Ryuin. She'd kill us both without breaking a sweat if she was here for that."

He left, but Sora didn't move, "Who says I won't?"

"Why would you?"

Sora's head nodded, her eyes dropped, and a deeper kind of sigh slipping past her lips, "Wakako, did you think we wouldn't know? Takemura. V. Hanako was kidnapped because of you."

The old Fixer remained steel-faced, stubborn, emotionless. "I can't say I know what you mean, Sora."

"I see your anger towards us never waivered...where's the sword?"

The old Fixer shrugged, "Not here. I gave it away a while ago."

Some of part of what Wakako said wasn't true, Sora was sure of it, but somehow Sora doubted the part about the sword being gone wasn't a lie; that was just how Sora's luck had been with good blades lately. "That's a shame. I liked that sword."

"If you're here to kill me, th--"

"--don't, don't do that," it wasn't anger, it wasn't a reaction of pride, it was...boredom. Sora was just plain tired of the same old dances, the same old dares, the same old attitudes. "Where is she, Wakako?"

The Fixer was, as far as Sora could tell, genuinely confused, "Who?"

"I know she's in town. I know she's active, in some way, and I will tear this city apart down to the irradiated bedrock to find her. So, Okada..."

"...I really don't k--"

Sora's eyes dropped, her eyelids shutting hard, tight, angry. Her fists shook so hard Sora didn't even realize they were clinched until she pushed off the pachinko machine she sat at and stood, unclenching her fists and regaining her composure. "Fine. You don't know enough to know, I'm honestly a little disappointed. So then let's discuss this betrayal."

"I am not an Arasaka pawn, Sora."

"Your precious children are, all of the little Tyger kittens. Should I go visit them, instead?"

The hidden anger filled the creases and wrinkles and spots of the old woman's face at the threat to her children, and grandchildren. Sora hadn't threatened her grandchildren, but Wakako knew the danger Sora Hayami represented better than most. "Do not bring them into this. I did what Fixers do, would you murder every person who touched anything V touched?"

"I would burn the city just to watch it burn, Okada, and you know this."

Wakako's head tilted right, then left, as her mind worked over the problem before her. "I did what I had to do, Takemura represented a connection I could not ignore cultivating, and V...a Fixer that neglects opportunities to put top Mercs in their debt are not successful Fixers for long, Sora, I know you do not understand this world. If I had the sword, I would give it to you, but I do not. When you were operating out of Night City last, you had an associate named Jonathan. A Nomad."

This time, it was Sora's turn to look slightly confused. "I remember. I liked him. He didn't die because of me."

Wakako let out a low breath, something close to frustration, her old slender shoulders deflating, "I don't mean to suggest you did, last I heard he had children and ran away with the Aldecaldos. This was months ago. I mean to suggest, however, that there is another Nomad that recently came looking for work. His name is Dusty. Perhaps history repeats itself in this case? If I recall, that is how you met Jonathan."

Sora's face had lost all the life and passion it had held when demanding an answer on Etta Autry. The former spy and lover was in Night City, but Wakako didn't know anything that could help with the limited information Sora had on the subject. Instead she just looked bored again, retrieving the lighter and a cigarette, putting the cigarette butt between her lips and staring at Wakako as she sparked the light, and took the first, freshest, drag to light the cigarette and start the smoke.

"How do you look like you haven't aged in thirty years and yet smoke those things? I had to give them up decades ago."

Sora never answered, just pocketed the lighter in the same blazer front pocket the tokens were retrieved from, and exhaled a tendril of pale gray cigarette smoke in the blue and pink neon tinted darkly lit parlor. "Sure, Okada, send me the Nomad. Why not. Betray Arasaka like that again, threaten the safety of Michiko, and, well...you know exactly what I'll do."