Smike

Rise of Rasalhague

She had paused her assault only to communicate with the lance leader, allowing the crew of the crippled Goblin a few extra seconds of panic before she unloaded the rest of her ire into them. A short burst from the autocannon hammered the tank's hull, blasting open the armor and obliterating the poor bastards inside as the ammunition cooked off.

The resulting corona of flame and fuel spray made Fuka snicker, just another firework among the glorious display. The little vehicles were nothing but a distraction, fun to play with but unremarkable save for their age. The real challenge would be the rival mechs! Fuka craved the rush that came with testing herself against her fellow pilots, and she knew she would get her chance when Ulrik ate a series of missiles.

"Finally!" she crowed in answer to Dash, throwing up dust as she stomped the valley floor. "Let's shred the bastards."

He was actually a step ahead of her, already facing off against one of the little Locusts as Fuka scrambled to reposition. The blasts of laser fire were blinding and beautiful in equal measure, but they were off-target. A poor start, but now wasn't the time to be giving critiques.

She would show by doing.

The autocannon swung up as the samurai locked in on the 1V, Fuka leading her target before squeezing the trigger. There was the satisfying ker-chunk of the autoloader and the jolt of a shell being launched, the autocannon shot splashing squarely against the 1V's right arm. Immediately she followed up with a beam from her medium laser, the bolt of blue slicing through the now weakened plating and into the sensitive equipment hidden underneath.

The Locust wasn't built to stand up to that sort of punishment, and as it stumbled to try and escape the crossfire its arm was simply sheared open, the machine gun hanging limply from the rest of the frame. Fuka had drawn its attention from her lightly armored comrade, and in doing so she had almost certainly left herself open for return fire, but no matter.

It was her job to look big and mean and shootable, if the enemy was targeting her then that meant things were going well.

Something was glowing off in the distance, a brief glance at the scanners telling her that the Firestarter was embroiled in a struggle of its own.

"Alvin, help the pyro out!"

Dice Results

A/C 5=Hit for 5 damage against LCT-1V Right Arm
Medium Laser=Hit for 5 damage against LCT-1V Right Arm (Destroyed)

STAR WARS: OUTCAST SQUADRON

Im interested, have a mando character I wouldn't mind reworking, but I'll have to see if my schedule clears up. Will know by tomorrow!

Rise of Rasalhague

Fuka had rebelled against her family and her homeland, rejected their patriotic dogma in favor of pure militarism. They spoke of honor and courage and loyalty, trying to hide a lust for power behind sentimentality. They would never refer to it as such of course, such a soft word did not suit the mighty Combine, but that's exactly what it was.

Sentimentality. Clinging to a way of life that was ancient before the DC even existed. Fuka found it quaintly amusing now that she was removed from it, but it had been enraging when it had controlled her life.

And yet, despite her drastic efforts to escape the Combine's clutches, she found herself succumbing to that same sin: sentimentality. She hadn't just enjoyed herself on the battlefield, she had identified herself by it. She was a pilot damn it, and a pilot without a war to fight was a whetstone without a knife. She craved purpose, a flight to fight for, and paychecks to covet!

Strapping into the Dragon was like coming home, the samurai beaming brightly as she drummed her fingers against the controls. The weapons were hot and the armor was solid, the bossman's warning coming in through the comms. Fuka refrained from replying, simply clinging to her support straps as the lander clattered to a stop.

An uphill charge straight into enemy fire wasn't exactly an easy task, but it was probably the one she was best suited for. Fuka had many flaws but a lack of self-awareness wasn't one of them. The fancy flanking maneuvers and tactical scouting were best left to more nimble folks, her lead foot would stay right in the thick of it.

The valley was beautiful in its cold hostility, and had she been given more time Fuka would have gladly sat down to take in the view. But instead of a sightseeing tour, she got an ambush, a wave of antiquated war machines opening up on her little lance.

"Moving!"

A manic glee had entered her voice at the show of violence, her Dragon lumbering forward at speed. As long as she kept in a straight line she could just about manage to move without falling on her ass, but it didn't leave her a lot of room for error. As she charged up towards the front one of the bastard Goblins sighted in, a burst of gamma rays shearing off some of her armor in a spray of slag.

Shit.

It wasn't a critical blow, the Right Torse was still relatively intact, but she wanted to keep the stress testing to a minimum. The tank responsible was reduced to scrap before she could turn her guns on it, Fuka making a note to thank Jaromir as she looked for a convenient object of ire.

An Edgar presented itself at an inopportune moment, Fuka raising her autocannon and aiming for its cockpit. At that range she barely needed the targeting system, cold eyes were more than enough to measure her shot. A squeeze of the trigger sent a shell straight through the viewport, all that "reinforced" glass doing nothing to stop the round from ripping it apart.

Then it was on the next. The Dragon turned to get a better angle at one of those nasty little Goblins, Fuka's second shot smashing through the treads. Good hit, no kill.

"Tell me if we're pushing up boss, I'm doing alright."

Orbis: The Liberation of Gyrland

That was the most nerve-racking part, the waiting. Sitting there in the dark listening to the crackle of comms, safe for the moment but keenly aware that you were balancing on the edge of disaster. One accidental sound, an unfortunate gust of wind to blow away the fog, the merest hint of paranoia in the enemy, any number of minor mishaps could flip the ambush on the poor idiots setting it. And as one of those poor idiots, Rimau was understandably concerned.

She drummed her fingers against the rickety armrest of her frame, beating out a silent rhythm as her team chimed in one by one. The golden child's AI friend tagged all known hostiles and Rimau whistled in approval, the markers a welcome addition to the signatures her own systems had picked up.

There was a dull thud of metal feet against sand, the sound of surf being displaced by some monstrous charging figure as the Ogre moved forward. The twins shifted into action against the bunker, and the telltale thump of a missile tube gave way to the horrendous sound of impact.

Rimau had no time to stare at the twin's handiwork, fingers already blurring across her jury-rigged setup. The hiss of smoke canisters comforted her as she surrounded herself with chaff, the Dustcloud suite activating in time with the shoulder of her weapon. At this distance she could stick with the HBR, sighting it on a Widowmaker attempting to acquire a target.

Two slugs punched straight through the tank's hull, a gout of flame spurting from the jagged gash as ammo and fuel cooked off. Rimau switched targets immediately, dropping her Frame to a kneel as she eyed a Lancer attempting to close the gap between it and Cardinal One. Another burst slammed forth, the shell blasting the chassis open before the pilot even knew it had been seen.

Anyone who happened to turn their attention towards the Chop Shop would see nothing except an inky fog rolling across the waves, a walking cloud moving at a steady pace towards the Ruzi defenses. The Dustcloud's constant activity ensure that Rimau was forever concealed, her Frame hidden from all. There was simply no way the enemy could get a lock on her, forcing the enemy to fire blindly at the roiling mass.

Another Widowmaker fired and hit nothing, a snapshot in return its legs out from under it as Rimau switched on her comms.

"Cardinals I'm moving up on you,I'll take the Widows if you can snag the Lancers."

Fallout New Vegas: Hope and Conflict

putting this here not to lose it

My Hider

Faction Name: Helaman's Army

Faction Leader: PC name here

Are they Canon?: No

Numbers: (Larger than 15, smaller than 300 unless you're a Canon Faction.)

Tech Level: Helaman's Army (or simply Helarm, as some of tribals call it) has worked hard to maintain a standard of equipment comparable to veteran units of the NCR. The lack of an established nation forces it to rely on outside sources of weapons, but years of cooperation with the Gun Runners and a network of traders allow Helarm to regularly resupply.

Much effort has been spent building up a base of knowledgeable mechanics, and Helarm has access to some scavenged vehicles.

Location(s): (Pick a Canon Location in the Mojave Wasteland to put your faction in; Maps can be found online. Note that unless you have a good explanation, the north of the Mojave is the best place for OC factions.)

History: (Your Faction's History.)

Orbis: The Liberation of Gyrland

It was never her preference to go in from the front. The Chop Shop was, by its nature, unsuited to leading glorious charges or anything of that nature but part of being a soldier was sucking it up and accepting the fact that things just weren't going to go your way. With the combination of her smoke and the howling storm, Rimau felt moderately confident the Ruzis wouldn't be able to lock onto her.

Or at least not before they got sidetracked by juicier targets.

"Hello Cardinal, no apologies necessary. I'm going to be flitting around, if you see anything particularly angry at you just shout it out."

She knew nothing about how they fought, only that it was now her job to provide cover. If only they had a week to run some drills, or even a weekend to discuss basic tactics! Frames were an inherently individualistic weapon, pilots finding their own particular way of doing things. In a well-ordered strike team this was an advantage, the various pieces of the whole were aware of each other's strengths and moved to cover their weaknesses. In this cobbled-together kill team it was a liability. Rimau just had to hope that the Cardinals weren't too unorthodox for her to keep up.

The AI was noticed but not remarked upon. There was nothing to say about it until it revealed its utility or became a problem, until then Rimau would trust Vinland's prized pooch to manage it. She would focus on piloting, the roar of the monsoon echoing in her ugly little cockpit as she followed her dance partners out into the surf.

It was never her first choice to fight blind, but she was far better equipped for it than the enemy. The Chop Shop existed to hit hard, finding targets regardless of conditions before reducing them to scrap. A few punched commands and her sensors were up and running, sonar pinging off the twins so that she didn't accidentally ram into them.

"I see them."

For a given value of sight anyway. The Chop Shop's thermal cams rendered the enemy as orange blobs amid the swirling blues and purples, Rimau shouldering her main gun in a ready stance.

"Hold for now, I'll check with the others. If they take notice light 'em up."

Switching frequencies was done with a dial of all things, not fancy touchscreen or simple buttons. Rimau slid back to the crawler's general comms so that the whole team could hear her.

"Ramshackle here, the Cardinals and I have infantry and Frames to the Southwest, five hundred meters. We've yet to be spotted but the clock's ticking. What's everyone's status?"

Geonet: Battle for the Megacity

Figured I should say it here because I expressed interest, I'll have to sit out sadly. I hope you guys enjoy!

Orbis: The Liberation of Gyrland

She was second-guessing herself again. Rimau, the social media darling who had been graced with the highest honor Gyrland, could not help but wonder if she was finally going to be revealed as the fraud she felt she was. Ten years doing hit-and-runs, building a reputation for bravery under fire and a willingness to put herself in harm's way for her comrades, couldn't shake the feeling that she shouldn't have been assigned to this ultimate drive for victory.

It was a war between the intellectual and the emotional, the clinical soldier in her pushing against the nervous kid who had just wanted to find a fight with meaning. She was one of the most veteran Framers the Homeguard could dig up, her hours in the cockpit outnumbering nearly all of her peers. She was fast, she was smart, she knew the Chop Shop in and out and was prepared for an arduous offensive.

But what if she wasn't? The medal that said she was worth pinning the people's hopes and dreams on had been at least partially manufactured. You didn't give your propaganda producer a medal without expecting them to use it as propaganda, so how could she know that it hadn't been the only reason?

Well, at least she wouldn't be the only unqualified person on the team. The legendary Phantom Brigade now recruited untested greenhorns it seemed. Klara had been an officer allegedly, but not one valuable enough to try and get back. Ingram was a vet but an infantry one, and the twins Rimau had no real sense of. Royce was supposed to be well-trained, but apparently, he hadn't mastered the art of knowing when not to fall asleep.

That left Ramshackle as the resident old woman of the team, a position she didn't much care for.

The din of the monsoon wasn't particularly disconcerting, the thrashing of rain against the crawler's decks almost reminding her of home. Temasek was a wet country, with rain a constant companion to daily life. As such its troops practiced in mud more often than not, giving her an advantage over those poor Ruzi bastards and their love of solid ground.

"Ramshackle here, all green my end. Chop Shop's good to go."

The cockpit was cramped and barren, crammed with panels and instruments torn out of at least five different frames from across two different decades. 'Green' was not an adjective people often applied to machines in that condition, but Rimau had worked hard to figure it all out. She couldn't sabotage the pride she felt in her ride, as much as she might have tried.

"Chop Shop's not going to do great in the water but once we get to land I'll be taking off soon enough. Shikari, I'm going to stick with you until I get out of the waves."

Orbis: The Liberation of Gyrland

Rimau

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Rimau binti Rayyan-"Ramshackle"	General Information Name - Rimau binti Rayyan Age - 36 Height - 5'10 Callsign -Ramshackle

Detailed Appearance

Rimau is tall and well-built, her frame not bulky but fairly broad-shouldered. Her fighter's build suits her well, giving her the strength and endurance needed to be a soldier. She wears her hair long and sticks to casual clothes covered by an armor vest as opposed to any sort of uniform, the break from protocol tolerated due to her exemplary service and her unique role.

Her arms are quite obviously cybernetic in nature, Rimau having replaced them after sustaining injuries in battle. Originally they had been covered up with flesh-toned plastic but the lacquer kept getting chipped, leading Rimau to simply strip it off. In addition, her legs and spine have been augmented as well. These modifications were originally just to allow her to move greater weights and handle extremely hot materials so she could make Frame repairs in the field but they've proven useful offensively as well. The drastic increase in strength (it's hard to calculate a specific increase but the literature says it's about 200%) means that she can demolish anyone who would dare to get within kicking distance, and the compact machine pistol built into her right arms ensures she will never be caught unarmed.

Personality

Rimau has two modes of being: what her adopted country wants her to be like, and what she's actually like. Gyrland needs her to present herself as a loyal and devoted soldier, dedicated to the cause and unwavering in her support. Ramshackle is upbeat in the face of danger but not blase about it, treating combat as a serious but righteous effort.

While there is an element of truth to this facade it covers up much of the real Rimau. She's spent her entire adult life manipulating people to get them to support one military or another, and while she'd never even think that she's on the wrong side she can't help but feel guilty. She knows for a fact that people from her home country have come to fight and die, feeling the weight of their fates on her shoulders (rightly or wrongly). The past ten years have been filled with doubt for her, and it's unlikely that she'll ever shake her worries.

In the meantime, she just keeps doing her job.

Bio

Rimau was born in Temasek, a nation stretched across tropical islands about far as possible from Gyrland. Once a disparate set of feuding tribes ruled by distant foreigners, Temasek had quickly modernized after gaining its independence, becoming a leader in technological research and development. By the year of her birth Rimau's hometown, the capital city Ancar, was renowned for its information industry. Her father worked in cybersecurity, her mother headed systems design at a major software firm, so it was of little surprise that Rimau grew up with technology.

Like many teens Rimau grew up with social media but she had a knack for online popularity that was abnormal among her peers. While not particularly interested in becoming any sort of media personality or influencer she did think it prudent to try and turn her talent into a career. Advertising seemed a natural fit, and Rimau went to university to study digital marketing.

This was not a field she enjoyed but it did offer decent pay. Before she could apply to any firm however the military got to her first, calling her up for the two years of service required of every young adult. Like every other cadet she was taught the basics of military service but when it came time for her to specialize she was pulled in two very different directions.

The Armed Forces knew about her studies and experience with marketing and thus wanted her to work with the recruiters, churning out videos and posts trying to entice people to sign up after their mandatory service. She was good at the work to be sure, but found it soulless and ultimately kind of ugly. She was drawn to the Battle Frames, the walking weapons that were changing the way wars were fought.

Rarely does the military do what its individual cogs wish for, but Rimau did so well in the tests that it would have been wasteful to keep her away from a Frame. Some kind officer made the decision to split the difference for her: she would create recruitment-driving puff pieces for the army, but as part of the Battle Frame Corps. Her job was to present as being a patriotic citizen who was just so glad to serve her country that she couldn't help but share her adventures with the world.

And that was just what she did. Rimau recorded herself and her squad mates at the range and during maneuvers, the footage carefully poured over by a team of PR people to squeeze the most value possible out of it. During her tenure reenlistment jumped by a little over forty percent, and while it couldn't all be attributed to her work she had undeniably played a major part in it.

Rimau was the face of Temasek's Battle Frames, and by her fourth year she was sick of it. For all the nation's fear-mongering and hoard-building she had yet to see combat against any force more powerful than jungle-dwelling rebels and pirates on captured tankers. After so much time playing pretend Rimau wanted to actually fight for a cause.

She had just resigned from the Corps to go search for civilian work when the invasion happened, and she jumped at her chance. Rimau made the trip to Gyrland and presented herself to the rapidly-disintegrating Homeguard, joining the first wave of foreign volunteers.

To her dismay, the Homeguard put her to work doing the same thing she did back home. In between sorties and probing actions against the Ruzis Rimau made calls for material support from Temasek, serving as a pretty face through which Gyrland could seek assistance.

The nagging doubts over the validity of her service came to a head when she was honored for bravery under fire. Five years into her time with Homeguard a force of requisitioned Frames supported by infantry and light vehicles attempted to push into one of the outer territories controlled by Ruziyane. Rimau was part of the supporting forces, and when the attack began to stall she was pulled up to assist.

The breakthrough attempt failed and what began as an ordered retreat threatened to disintegrate into a route. A unit of anti-armor infantry had overstretched itself, shunted out of position so that they were at risk of being totally surrounded. Rimau had the only heavy ordnance left in the area and thus swung into action, attracting enemy attention and laying down covering fire to give the Guards time to escape.

She sustained shrapnel injuries to her arms, chest, and neck as well as minor burns to her torso and was recognized for her gallant efforts with not only a Purple Heart but the extremely prestigious King's Star. Such a high honor was bittersweet due to there being no king to bestow it upon her, but she also couldn't shake the feeling that she wouldn't have been given it if she wasn't expected to parade it on camera.

Rimau considered leaving but stayed in hopes of eventually living up to the medal she had been given. She has failed to do so in the five years since.

Extras

• In addition to her role as Frame pilot and walking propaganda poster Rimau is sometimes called into service as infantry when a patrol needs to be rounded out or a unit is short on manpower in the aftermath of a raid. She actually enjoys ground-pounding because it feels more real to her than her piloting career at this point.
• Ramshackle was already something of a packrat in civilian life but a decade of scavenging for parts has made this a much larger part of her personality. Weapons, cash, useful salvage, anything that has a use she'll scoop up off the battlefield. She stashes foot patrol gear in her cockpit, carrying a rifle, sidearm, ammunition and spare magazines, food, water, and medical supplies as well as a small civilian model drone for reconnaissance or simple sight-seeing.
• While she's never been formally trained Rimau is a good artist, making use of paint and pencil in order to pass the time. She is a trained kickboxer and at one point had a real shot of going pro. She still spars regularly, manually limiting the power of her enhanced limbs to not simply behead her partners.
• Her cybernetics were far too expensive for her to afford on her own, and in fact, were a gift of sorts. When she made a video about her injuries in the field and mentioned the long recovery process a viewer started a crowdfunding campaign to get her back in the fight sooner.

BEL 0054-"Chop Shop"

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Battle-Frame Name - Hantu Belian 0054-"Chop Shop"

Weight Class - Ultra-Light

Description

The Belian is already an oddball within Temasek's Hantu-series of Battle Frames due to its parentage, a mixture of Gyrland's Basilisk and reverse-engineered examples of the Ruzi Watchman. The idea was to build an ultra-light Frame that could serve as both a long-distance reconnaissance unit and an 'assassin' to cripple or kill key components of a defensive network. It excels at this task, with the caveat that it's fairly vulnerable even for a light Frame.

Over a decade of scrounging, scrapping and reconfiguring Rimau has taken this to an extreme, cutting out most of what was left of the armor and stripping out all non-essentials in order to pile in bigger engines, better subsystems and a hell of a lot more firepower.

The "Chop Shop" quite frankly sucks to ride in. It's sweltering in the heat and freezing in the cold due to the removal of the cockpit's temperature control, its controls combine two already finicky setups with a series of aftermarket additions and the pilot is violently jostled when making sharp turns. Controlling the beast requires one to be able to read three different languages as well as understand low-level programming. Essentially, the user has to specialize in all of the disparate parts that make up the strange whole.

This is all a tremendous pain in the ass for Rimau, but the inconveniences are worth it. Ten years of experience and fine-tuning add up to what is an absolutely lethal predator. The Chop Shop is terrifyingly fast and carries enough ordinance to control a fire zone on its own, quite capable of dealing with Frames, vehicles and infantry. It can outrun and outshoot any problem it comes across, zipping across the battlefield at blistering speeds while saturating the enemy with fire.

Primary Weapons

Heavy Battle Rifle: The rifle used by a standard Basilisk, but modified to fire in full auto. Additional upgrades include a heavier barrel as well as custom porting to counteract the heat generated by firing.

"Mjölnir" Assault Shotgun Where the HBR is designed to deal with Frames and other heavy vehicles the Mjölnir instead focuses on infantry and other lightly armored targets. It primarily fires solid slugs and standard buck or bird shot, all upscaled to fit a weapon fired by a fifty foot war machine. A common usage of the MAS is cracking open the walls of a bunker with a slug and then turning the occupants into mist with a spray of birdshot.

The MAS can also fire specialized ammunition such as incendiary, explosive or gas shells but doing so requires the weapon to be switched to pump-action, as specialized ammo doesn't generate enough gas to cycle the weapon automatically.

"Ripsaw" Close-Quarters Arm Weapon: Only ever referred to by its nickname because CQAW is a horrible acronym. The Ripsaw takes the fundamental function of a standard oscillating bone saw and applies to it a short sword contained in the Chop Shop's wrist. Then the whole thing is superheated so it glows blue-hot. It will cut through Frames of all sizes, and make short work of any other barrier.

Missile Pods: Stripped from Ruziyane helicopters in the aftermath of an airfield raid, one attached to each shoulder. Generally one will have four heavy missiles loaded while the other has twenty unguided rockets for use in area suppression.

SubSystems

Sensors: A key component of the Chop Shop is that it can find the enemy before they find it. It boasts an advanced suite of optics, allowing it to zoom in on targets and switch between thermal and night vision modes, as well as cutting-edge radar systems for long-range detection. For use in short-range engagements or situations where the enemy is cloaked it also has access to sonar, bouncing sound waves off Frames to ping their location.

Shielding: Nearly every bit of physical armor has been stripped away to cut back on weight, but Rimau kept the Belian's systems protection. All electrical components have been hardened to withstand electromagnetic attacks and radio frequency interference, ensuring that it can't simply be crippled by way of electricity (at least not without entirely melting the Frame).

The Chop Shop communicates only through relatively a relatively primitive radio system to ensure that no signal can be seized upon by enemy hackers.

"Dustcloud" Suite: The Chop Shop is equipped with a chaff-laced smokescreen, deploying it to blind enemies while still being able to target them due to the aforementioned sonar.

Prototype System

Banshee Sonic Warfare System : The BSWS is essentially a dramatic upgrade to the venerable LRAD anti-personal weapons, a series of micro-speakers layered throughout the Chop Shop designed to project focused sonic blasts. Using Sound Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation (SASER) the Banshee can either project a field in a sphere around itself or fire a much longer-range cone of sound directly ahead.

At long distances, the weapon disorientates and temporarily deafens anyone caught in the field but as targets get closer to the source the damage becomes more intense. Glass breaks, ears bleed as the hearing loss becomes permanent and the body suffers physical trauma. At close enough range and high enough intensity the Banshee can quite easily kill, generating air embolisms that dramatically rupture organs. Pilots inside frames can suffer these effects as well, making the Banshee perfect for dealing with particularly hard targets.

It's major downside is that it can't be controlled outside of lowering the volume. Friendlies in the radius are just as susceptible as enemies so Rimau has to be careful with her positioning.

Nation

Nation name: Temasek

Membership: Suspicious of Avrupa and Ruziyane but closely allied to Vinland.

Position in the world: The Republic of Temasek lies far to the west of Avrupa, a small nation-state stretched across an archipelago.

Recent history: Temasek was once split between the nations of Avrupa, colonized by outsiders so that distant monarchies could get rich off the land's natural resources. After centuries of subjugation and the tribes and clans that lived on the island rose up against their Avrupan masters in a coordinated rebellion, one that was in part funded and equipped by Vinland. This sparked a strong relationship between the two countries, one that held together even as Vinland began to treat Avrupa with less hostility.

Its alliance with Vinland as well its relatively abundant supply of Therranite led to Temasek taking quite well to Battle Frames. The country is, while densely populated considering its small size, still drastically outnumbered by the Hegemony or any other major power that might wish to invade so technological prowess is a key part of its military strategy. Temasek invested heavily in Battle Frame and Therranite research, working with Vinland to back up its conscription-based army with powerful equipment.

In recent years Temasek has been particularly paranoid about the possibility of invasion. While it had no real connections with the now-largely defunct Gyrland, its brazen occupation has sent the republic's leaders into a frenzy. Some sectors have been converted from low-priority production of luxury items into wartime industry, factories churning out armor and ammunition to be stashed away until needed by military or paramilitary forces. The R&D community has particularly focused on further refining Therranite. Advances have been made in weaponizing the material, and early efforts to make Frames more fuel-efficient show promise.

Geonet: Battle for the Megacity [Cyberpunk Inspired RP]

I could be interested! Depends on how my schedule shakes out but this seems pretty cool