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Gabriel Rivera | Gabs

From a fuzzy screen, a dusty, messy head of dull white hair watched 'Mama Tsuki' lay a beatdown on a quartet of gangers from the Forgotten. Lounging on the seat of his hoverbike, Gabriel snickered as he watched the slightly grainy video feed from one of the bar's security cameras. Mama Tsuki rarely came down to the floor, so people-Gabs included, paid attention when she did: and as always, it was always a show. Gabriel paused and replayed the footage, enjoying it a second time before clipping it and sending it off to the networked devices of the rest of the gang.

>Gabs: Guys. Guys.
>Attached file: SC02.mp400
>Gabs: Fucking scrubs

"Oi, kemosabe." a gruff grunt brought Gabriel out of his thoughts. Gabriel didn't need to turn around towards the garage door of the rundown, beat up looking gun shop to see burly old man flagging him down. Without looking up from the his tablet screen, Gabriel flicked one of the bike controls, sending it almost careening into the open threshold. The old man flinched, but didn't dive for cover, he was probably used to Gabriel's shenagins by now. In the garage was a small little hover-pallet, loaded to the brim with boxes and crates, strapped down with heavy duty cables.

"Got everything?" Gabriel asked the man, already in the process hooking the pallet up to his bike before he answered. The pallet contained an eclectic and haphazard shopping list of ammunition, drone parts, mechanical bits, vehicle parts, firearms and other gear. The situation with the Forgotten, as funny as some of them were, was escalating. They were being more brazen about entering and causing trouble around the Kurosagi's little slice of Sakanoshita, and well Gabriel wasn't one to take it lying down. In preparation for what was about to happen, Mama Tsuki had sent Gabriel off to go get equipment they'd need for the upcoming days and weeks, and he gladly obliged- after making his own adjustments to the shopping list of course.

"Yes, yes it's all in there." the old man insisted, "The quality is always top notch, now are you going to pay for it this time? Or is-"

"Mama Tsuki sends her regards" Gabriel quickly interrupted before talk of pay could come up. Fully hooked up, Gabriel flicked the controls on his bike and brought it roaring to life.

"Just send her the invoice and you'll be paid in full!" Gabriel called out before the bike took off across the motorway.

"It took a week for the money to come through last time!" The old man bellowed after the hoverbike, an effort in futility.

The neon streets of the Sakanoshita district were a tumultuous sea of streets, people, buildings and lights. When he first came here, Gabriel hated it. All the sensory input played havoc on his mind and powers. He could see too well, and more than he either needed or wanted to. A man getting mugged, a hooker providing services in an otherwise hidden back alley, literal hundreds of people churning back and forth, it was enough sensory overload to put him in the hospital- not that he could even afford the medical fees.

Luckily for him, the Kurosagi's Anzen Chitai was Gabriel's safe port in the storm. After a short adjustment period, and Mama Tsuki's guidance, Gabriel was quickly a functional member of the gang. Gabriel took well to the life of a gangster, though one could argue the Kurosagi weren't quite as "gangy" as a typical street gang. Not that Gabriel particularly cared. He had the freedom to do practically whatever he wanted, and the backing of an unusually wealthy and dangerous boss to boot.

Pulling up to the combination workshop/bar, Gabriel was quick to deposit his vehicle in the garage before he unhooked the pallet and started pulling it down the stairs. If he wasn't paying attention, Gabriel might've run into the massive Hiroto standing by the doorway. But of course, Gabriel was always paying attention- and besides that, he could see Hiroto long before he even pushed the door open.

He whistled to get the larger man's attention.

"Hey big guy, how about a hand?" the shorter Kurosagi member asked, a casual hand slapping the back of Hiroto's shoulder. With a tilt. Of his head, Gabs gestured towards the burgeoning hover-pallet filled with supplies and materials for the gang that wouldn't quite fit through the door.

@King Cosmos

I do love cyberpunk, I'm interested.

INS Roanoke
Local time: 0830

“So much for a day off.” Ingram grumbled to himself as he quickly marched down the cramped hallways of The Roanoke. The squadron had only just finished PT and breakfast when Eva had appeared to inform him that he was to report to the bridge. He knew what they were supposed to talk about- after all, they had an Imperial Princess on board, kind of just… sitting around. The Captain needed to talk about their next steps and just what the hell was going on. There were still plenty of questions ringing through Ingram’s head: For instance, why was a member of the Royal Family this close to the front line? Obviously she was here to take command of her battlegroup, but why? Surely there were better places to have a Royal’s Change of Command Ceremony.

Captain Sarret either had the answers, or more questions to add to his already compounding list of them, Ingram figured, though knowing his luck he’d just get more of the latter. Ingram sidled his way into The Roanoke’s bridge elevator, returning a salute from a pair of security troopers that made room for him. Now with an armed escort, Ingram was seen to the top level of the bridge: what amounted to a small observation deck.

Mostly blank and featureless, consisting primarily of large open windows with unobstructed sight lines of the entire ship and its surroundings, an operations table in the center, and a small railing to prevent people from falling off the side and onto the other levels of the Bridge. The deck itself was set with a bluish glow, with occasional motes of purple or red, as the light within the room mostly mirrored the colors of the hyperspace outside the windows.

Captain Sarret stood in front of the table, facing out towards the windows, watching space fly by. Without knowing who she was, Captain Sarret struck a rather un-intimidating or meek figure: barely taller than Abigail, and slightly leaning over on one side, pressing the majority of her body weight against a cane. Not that anyone would ever say ‘meek’ or ‘un-intimidating’ to her face. Upon closer inspection one would see the look of a woman who had walked through hell, and came out thoroughly unimpressed: silver hair and olive skin contrasted against the matte silver/steel of prosthetic bionics that took up the majority of the left side of her body.

Hearing rather than seeing Ingram enter the deck, Sarret motioned for him to join her, her cane- a scorched chunk of starship plating, polished and reforged into a proper shape- indicating where he should stand.

“Good morning, Commander.” The Captain greeted him, not cold or unfriendly, but her voice always seemed to lack a warmth to it.

“Morning, Captain.” Ingram nodded, standing in his designated spot next to her. The Captain had a weird way of communicating with her crew, not quite as formal as receiving a report from across a desk, but not quite as familiar either.

“I read the reports, and spoke with the Princess on what happened. How are Harlow and Jakunta?”

“Physically? Well, a couple bruises and a mild concussion on Pips’ end, and Jakunta, well if he wasn’t good to fight he’d tell me- and he hasn’t said much of anything at all, so I’ll assume everything’s good.”

“The Direwolves performed admirably yesterday, protected the castle, saved the princess, and no casualties to boot.” Sarret commented, in about as pleased a tone as one would expect from her, “Commendations are in order when we get back to friendly space.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Ingram said, somewhat relieved as his shoulders relaxed a bit. “But I think getting some R&R will be reward en-”

“Which is why I’m sorry to say, it might be a while before we get back to friendly space.” The Captain interrupted him, her lips pressed into a thin line. Ingram managed to keep his jaw from dropping, but it wasn’t hard to read the emotions on his face.

“Not through my own choice, I assure you. Horizon Point was already overwhelmed by the time we left the surface of Cerol. Punching through a Coalition armada with a single ship and half a combat ready squadron was not a gamble I was willing to make, so I jumped us away from the enemy fleet.”

“Unfortunately, this means-”

INS Roanoke
Local Time: 1030

“-we’re going to be exiting hyperspace in the middle of the FEZ.”

Ingram mentally braced himself for the incoming deluge of upset pilots as he continued their briefing. Shortly after concluding his debriefing with the Captain, Ingram had to bring the rest of his squadron back to the officer’s lounge and bring them up to speed on the new developments. The lounge, filled with the members of the 7th, also had a guest with them: Princess Aurelia stood by the head of the table next to Ingram as he addressed his squadron.

"Luckily for us, we’re not completely up shit creek. The Roanoke will be dropping out of hyperspace nearby the planet of Randledon, Zeta Tau system.”

As he spoke, a dossier of the planet appeared on their holopads. Randledon was a moderately populated planet in the middle of the Free Enterprise Zone, also referred to as the FEZ- the unofficial name for the no man’s land between the largest theater of war in the UEE-Coalition conflict. Far from a prosperous metropolis like Earth or Mars, Randledon resembled a pock marked and cratered desert, bombed out and long abandoned by both UEE and Coalition forces. A former manufacturing hub for Coalition mobile armor, Randledon was a shadow of its former self: a collection of small settlements clinging to life, subsisting off scraps and salvage from ruined factories. Small settlements littered the planet’s surface, surviving off small wellsprings with stretches of barren, craggy terrain between them. Coalition presence on the planet was limited to none- much like UEE presence on the planet, but it was a hub for mercenary groups and raiders alike, who picked the remains of the factories to arm themselves with mechs and weapons.

“Randledon is home to the 8th Fleet’s ‘Fort Nyx’, a special operations outpost hidden on the planet. We’ve already made contact with them, and they’ll be receiving us for rearm and resupply. Now, the Roanoke is too big to land nearby, and we don’t want to give the FOB’s position away, so the Roanoke will be landing a ways away and hiding itself, the 7th will be making the journey on foot.”

“The Roanoke’s detachment of jarheads will be joining us in an armored convoy to carry the supplies we get from Fort Nyx. Needless to say, our job will be to make sure that convoy gets there in one piece.

“Leave your nameplates and uniform patches on your bunks, as far as Randledon is concerned, we’re just another merc outfit. The fewer people who know who we are and where we’re going, the better.”

Leaning in slightly, Ingram cleared his throat a bit, “Eva-”


“-close the doors and disconnect yourself from the lounge please.” Ingram quickly cut in before the VI even had a chance to appear in front of the squadron.

”Yes sir, sealing the lounge.” came Eva’s disembodied voice over the room’s speakers before falling silent, the doors to the lounge quickly shutting and locking. Turning back to his squadron, Ingram shrugged apologetically before continuing.

“The following does not leave this room, and will not be spoken about with anyone other than those currently in this room. Everyone understand?”

“We have reasons to believe that the Coalition attack on Horizon Point was specifically targeting Sunray. Her movements are state secrets, so that means someone in the fleet fed the Coalition information.”

Letting that sink in for a moment, Ingram continued, “Luckily, none of us grunts knew anything about her being here, and we were supposed to be cycled out anyway, so that more or less clears us from suspicion. The remaining suspects are the ISS bodyguards- who are dead or MIA, Captain Sarret, and the rest of the Roanoke’s bridge officers.”

“Now, while I doubt Captain Sarret would endanger herself and the crew of the Roanoke with such an act of treason, these circumstances mean that until we are relieved, protection of Princess Aurelia falls to us alone. As such, she’ll be coming with us. While she is with us, she is not to be referred to as ‘Princess’, we don’t want anyone overhearing us and getting any smart ideas.”

“Any questions? If not, get started on your own preparations. We drop out of hyperspace in 3 hours.”

Duncan Fang

Duncan breathed out heavily, his breath a visible cloud in the cool, early morning air. Up earlier than most people in town had any business being up, Duncan could see the first half of the sun as it rose into the sky, tinging the sky a mixture of orange and light purple against the cityscape of Philadelphia. Still catching his breath, Duncan bent over, his hands resting on his knees and spat out a blot of coagulated spittle, his face dripping with sweat as he watched several others run by. He had been on the university's sports field since 6 in the morning. It was part of the usual schedule, 3 mornings a week for the soccer team, 5 if you wanted to make a good impression.

"Hey! Duncan! Keep up!"

Whipping his head around, he saw his team captain running up behind him- meaning that he was about to get lapped. Easy for him to say, the team captain, Ricky, was a was called by many; the second coming of Hercules. With a deep inhale, Duncan got back to running. After a 5km warmup run, the team got straight into pushups, work out circuits, and sprinting drlls, which continued for another half hour before the team called it good for the morning.

With his bright orange cleats changed out for a pair of comfortable addidas runners of a smooth, clean white, Duncan made an easy walk through the courtyard. His one hand stuck firmly in the pockets of his black joggers, the other casually gripping the strap of a small, green and gray sack. A olive green bomber jacket hung over his shoulders, contrasting a plain white shirt. A backpack hung lazily off of one shoulder, dangerously close to slipping out of his grip. The backpack itself was relatively deflated, currently holding little more than his cleats, a sweaty pair of shorts and t-shirt, a laptop- in a case to protect it from the rest of his belongings- and a water bottle.

Duncan had found himself in his usual conundrum: He had time to kill before his next class- but not enough time to go back to his apartment and relax. At least the day was nice, he concluded as he found himself wandering in front of the university library- one of the larger buildings and general hubs for the students here. Having taken his sister's advice, Duncan found his way to a pair of close-by trees out on the lawn of in front of the library itself. Dropping his backpack to the ground, Duncan took his little gray and green sack and emptied its contents onto the ground in front of him- a hammock.

A few minutes later, and Duncan had himself a little setup, dozing comfortably out in the sun. Conveniently close enough to a red mustang parked on a nearby curb to enjoy the music coming through its open windows. Sure, he could and should probably be spending this time to get some studying done, but frankly, that was a problem for Future-Duncan.

I'll try to get something up tomorrow!
Started on this guy last night, finished him after waking up- I hope the ideas didn't get too muddled between sittings

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