Futuristic F O U L - P L A Y :: I C

[Moldie]

F O U L - P L A Y :: P O S T S​

P O S T 1 - Mischka - Bayside Joyce
--- ---- ----------- ---- ---

D O B E R M A N - I N - T H E - D A R K​

“NOT AUTHORIZED; NO CREDIT” A robotic voice repeated. Suddenly a hand slammed into the monitor displaying the message, leaving a branching crack across it. With reddened knuckles Mischka stood there. She looked down at Honcho, who obediently sat by her side. “Honcho we are actually fucking broke!” Mischka exclaimed in a distraught tone. Her muscles began tensing up until in a sporadic movement the anger was released through a kick that hit, and decimated, a nearby trash can. Honcho angled his head and curiously looked up his owner, ears peaked. As soon as she began walking down the street he followed. “Shit man… Where’d all that money we got from the dude with the wig go? You know the one...” she asked, Honcho being a dog, remained silent. Mischka had her hands stuffed down her pockets and walked with an downtrodden aura weighing her down. She looked around as they strutted down the littered concrete street. The mood was shared. A hooded figure leaned against a wall, shivering seemingly out of fear. One laid past out in a puddle. Another was gruesomely throwing up through a cracked open window with the bile splashing onto the pavement only inches from the grounded hobo. A plethora a sounds and smells surrounded her, including the crushing of a bottle, furious shouting, even a distant gunshot? This wasn’t uncommon by any standard, but all truly have to watch their act in these parts as a wrong turn too often spells out one's last. Here most carry at least a knife and find their home in the form a gang rather than an apartment or house. That way they don’t have too much to loose. All these factors were signs of one thing, black market territory. She felt safe even in these parts, her most trusted friend in the entirety of the observable universe was by her side, and although not visible her guns were too. It wasn’t unusual for her to spend some time on the black market, doing small jobs with incendiary groups. Now she once again found herself at the buzzling bazaar of ill doings feet again. Eager to make some new friends, but even more eager to make some money.

 

[Kloudy]

Marx
(5YN-T4)

Initialising Start-up Sequence... Complete. Running Diagnostics: Multiple Errors Detected. Seek Repairs.

5YN-T4, otherwise known as Marx, opened his eyes to be met with the hustle and bustle of what appeared to be everyday street life. Of course, nothing was as it appeared in the Black Market and Marx was simply one of the many illegal items that would probably kill you if you for mishandling it. The only difference was, Marx wasn't being sold in a shop. Leaning against a wall in a nearby alley leading onto the street, the synthetic human got up roughly, staggering slightly. People passing by either sneered at what they assumed to be a drunk or squinted at what they thought was an easy target. So far, no one had tried to rob him but it was probably just a matter of time.

Looking down at his left arm, Marx attempted to assess the damage it had sustained. There were multiple tears along his nanofiber skin, but that wouldn't be difficult to fix. The main issue was the servo-motors in his elbow and shoulder were damaged, as well as the pulley muscle fibers. He'd need to find some actual mechanical engineering equipment if he was going to repair the motors and certain compound minerals to repair the 'muscles'. Looking at his other arm, Marx noticed that there was another tear across his palm. Taking a closer look, he noticed that his Electron Pulser seemed to be damaged as well but was still receiving some power. It was probably semi-functional at best.

As Marx was assessing himself, someone finally decided to come up behind him. Perhaps some wannabe crook, perhaps just a drunk idiot, the man grinned as he pulled out a 9mm handgun from his jacket pocket and aimed it at the synthetic's back, "Hey buddy, turn out ya pockets. This aint no place to stick around." Apparently unconcerned with his assailant, Marx ignored him and continued to stare at his palm. The mugger seemed to get angry at this and brandished his gun more threateningly, cocking it as he growled, "Don't mess with me. Ima blow yo ass all across the alley, punk." After receiving no further reaction, the mugger grunted as a vein bulged in his temple and he pulled the trigger, barrel aimed straight at Marx's head as the bullet shot forth with a crack.

Marx turned around just in time to meet the bullet literally head on. His head cocked back slightly from the close range of the impact and he froze for a moment. The mugger grinned for a moment as he saw the bullet connect, then froze in horror as he realised that his shot had been ineffective. Marx's face sported several tears that revealed cybernetic tissue underneath, the bullet having only sunk into his 'skin' slightly before popping out uselessly. The reactive skin armour was useful for fending off small arms fire, but Marx still didn't want the unnecessary attention. He walked forwards and reached out with his one good arm towards the now terrified mugger, who had now fallen backwards from sheer shock, "W-W-What are y-you?! T-The hell is happening?!"

Processing... Processing...

There was an issue with the current situation for Marx. His Main Commands were currently in direct violation of each other: on one hand he was supposed to cooperate with any individual, meaning he should indeed turn out his pockets for the man, but on the other hand his first directive was self-preservation and the mugger was currently threatening him. Marx made an executive decision then and there. The man didn't have another second to make sense of the scrambled thoughts in his mind as he was immediately sent into unconsciousness as Marx grabbed his head and lifted him, using the Electron Pulser to send an electromagnetic pulse into his brain to scramble his brainwaves. Having picked the man up easily with his super strength, Marx dropped the mugger mercilessly to the floor and turned away to walk into the street.

(Open)

 

[Roman]

Aurora
Location - Her warehouse, Bayside Joyce

Walking around the warehouse, taking notes on her inventory, Aurora had taken notice to something missing. She was down at least three packs of pistol ammo. The type that was taken wasn't anything too special, but it was her merchandise. "Fucking hell. Taking my shit, you're messing with my money you asswipe." She quietly muttered to herself, before she heard something fall over behind her. Then there were footsteps scurrying away right after. Maybe the little thief was still here. Honestly, that made her happy, because not only will she get to pummel the hell out of this idiot, but she'll have her merch back. Slowly walking around, Aurora began her search for the thief, able to hear his footsteps, since they seemed to be panicking. They were obviously more worried about getting out safely than trying to make their presence unknown. "Keep running and I'll turn you to ash you waste of breath." Aurora said, her voice getting louder so the thief could hear her. Aurora then made her way to the only known exit, waiting for her sweet sweet customer to make their way there.

There was a dark spot by the exit that Aurora hid herself in. It wasn't long until the thief made their way to the door, as she could hear their footsteps getting closer and closer. Just at the right moment, Aurora came out of her hiding spot, hitting the thief square in the nose with her pistol. The thief tried to explain that it was just some pointless little pistol ammo, but Aurora wasn't taking the time to listen. Placing her boot on the thief's chest as they lay on the ground, she took out a pack of cigarettes, and chuckled as he continued to talk, panicking under her boot. "Moving like this for no apparent reason. You won't be going anywhere. No, I can care less for the reason as to why you're stealing from me. What you should have considered though, is that I'm a black market dealer, and we don't take too kindly to those who steal from us... After all, I'm trying to make a living here. A very illegal living." Aurora said, taking a cigarette out of her pack, and holding it in place with her lips, she lit it. Aurora then took a puff of her cigarette, blowing the smoke into the thief's face. There was enough smoke to hide the gun that Aurora aimed down at their head, and in her opinion, it was a mercy kill. One round to the thief's brain and they were done for. "Ah shit... I forgot this was a one woman show. I really need someone willing to clean up the messes that are made around this place." She complained, putting the pistol back in the back of her jeans. Aurora soon began clean up, taking the body out back so she could get rid of it. "Next purchase: fucking cameras."

[ Currently free for interaction ]​

 

[Calcifus]

Soel: A Running Start
Bayside Joyce​

"Ah, excuse me! Sorry!"

Soel found themselves exclaiming this phrase frequently as they navigated through the sea of people. As another person tripped over them for the umpteenth time, Soel silently cursed their creator (whoever they were). Life as a robot was already tough without being the size of a small child! Well, it didn't really matter for much longer. That shop was just a left turn away, right? Their thoughts were interrupted suddenly as a firm hand harshly grabbed their shoulder.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, pipsqueak!"

Soel turned around and found themselves face-to-face with a brutish woman peering down at them. A wicked grin was plastered on her face. Immediately, Soel went still. Dented chassis and stolen bags had long taught them that these types of people were always looking for trouble. Still, maybe talking would work this time?

"Sorry, sorry!" Soel replied, turning away from the brute, "I'll be more careful next time!"

The woman only laughed as her grip tightened around their shoulder. "Hah! Sorry's not good enough for me! Gimme what's in that little bag of yours, bot!" She pointed to the duffel-bag that Soel was wearing like a backpack. If Soel had an actual face, it would have tightened into a grimace. Seriously? What did she think they had? Weapons? Goods? Actual money? Well, she was going to be sorely disappointed. Well, at least her grip loosened a little as they gently placed their bag on the ground. "Well, let's see..." The woman muttered.

Soel carefully unzipped the bag and reached inside to grab something. The thug raised an eyebrow, but peered closer...

...And got a face full of purple spray-paint for all of her troubles.

As the thug screamed profanities and clutched her face, Soel grabbed the bag and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them. No doubt she'd start chasing after them soon. They were so focused on fleeing that they barely paid attention to their surroundings.

-CRASH-

Soel ran right into somebody else! Immediately, they began to panic a little. "Oh no! My apologies!" As they quickly got up, they took a moment to look at the poor person they ran into. She was another woman, although unlike the thug from earlier, this one didn't look nearly as brutish. She had olive skin and chin-length white hair. She also had a...dog with her? Soel's fans started whirring loudly. They didn't even notice that their bag had been left on the ground.

Moldie

 

[adrian_]

♤ Brian Porter ♤
The Alibi | Bar
Bayside Joyce

Chapter One
Every Story Starts Off Calmly

Today had been busy for Porter, he'd been in surgery for six hours, mirrored iris's had been implanted, giving his eyes a metallic glint that would stop a large amount of light damage that could come his way. If anything, he didn't have too wear sunglasses anymore. The only thing he wanted too do right now was stay in the Alibi and drink a little.

He was thinking of going home and using some BluGlass™, but right now was bar time. He had recently tried too stunt his drinking a bit, now he was drinking the synthetic drivel that was shoveled out because crops are almost impossible too furbish nowadays. It tasted like a used-syringe bin in the slums. But atleast it was healthy. Sorta.

Looking at the guy across from him he saw that he was either high on a BTL Chip or he was dead. Either way made sense in this shithole. It was only when, ten minutes later the chip shot out of the guy's skull that Porter knew: A. That guy wasn't dead, and B. His disk-drive was utterly fucked.

"Jesus Christ! Slow down with that thing man. Atleast BTL-up at home or some shit if you're gonna try too shoot me." Nerve of some people, if you're cyberware is broken go to a specialist, and stay at home so nobody dies in an explosion because of your inability too use proper care. It's not that hard is it? Is it?

"Hey, fuck you shiny. Don't tell me what too fuckin' do." Brian decided he was going to walk out, looking for a card reader at the desk and realising the place didn't use credit he just left, the shit he drank was shipped out for practically free anyway, it's not like they needed any money. Moving too the outside he opened up his subdermal pocket by releasing the pressure seal, he then reached under his skin and grabbed his eCig from inside.

Pressing the power button on it's end he pushed it too his lips feeling the familiar magnetic pull of it's connection hitting his mainly robotic lungs. It instantly made his brain release a large amount of dopamine and he took a semi-large simulated pull. Theres one good thing about the future, and it has too be safe drugs. He heard the saddening *Beep-Beep* of it's low-battery alert and put it back in his pocket.

Just as he looked away from his forearm he watched a mugging right before him. Some android with a sweet set of subdermal plating getting shot in the face, only too pick up the poor fuck by his head and drop him mercilessly. "Holy shit..." Porter said it under his breath, walking up too the mugging turned self-defense homicide and letting out the most sarcastic whistle he possibly could. "And people call me shiny, how you doing metalhead?"

Decided i'd write this from Porter's heavily biased point of view, that's probably why i may sound really snooty lmao. Also if i'm going a little heavy on the movement of worldbuilding please tell me, i always feel like i'm being really rude.

Spoiler: Stuff i thought of and referenced that may make no sense without proper definitions

BluGlass - Like high tech fancy digital meth.

BTL Chips - A chip that can be inserted into a skull anchor too give the user a euphoric and 'better' feeling about themselves. Commonly referred to as 'Poor Kid's BluGlass'.

Kloudy

 

[Moldie]

M I S C H K A - Bayside Joyce Black Market
--- ---- -------- ---- --- ​

Honchos barking resonated like explosions filling the air around them, clearly aimed at little figure who’d been toppled over in the collision. Mischka instantly snatched a hold of his collar with an iron grip and gave it a firm tug, all of a sudden the feral doberman felt closer akin to a teddy bear. She felt 110% confident Honcho wouldn't ever attack anyone unless it was on her glass clear command, but she saw no reason in scaring the poor thing before it was proven guilty of what she suspected. Without a word in response Mischka began checking her pockets, run-ins like these were too often no accident but rather a sly excuse to pilfer a bit of this and that from unsuspecting pedestrians. She knew the concept well. When she was confident all her belongings were in order she crouched down in front of the little bot. She took the moment to carefully scan the character in front of her. Mischka recognized the model as a S0L, but she didn’t know any specifics about it. “Don't see any tags on you so I'm guessing you're not for sale… In that case tell me, what’s a damn S0L bot doing scouring around the black market all alone?”.

Calcifus

 

[Kloudy]

Marx
(5YN-T4)

As Marx turned around, he was met with the surprised face of an onlooker from the street. The man seemed slightly shocked yet awed by what Marx had done, so he calculated that preemptively silencing the man would not be necessary. As the man spoke, Marx’s eyes detected advanced cybernetic signatures and a quick scan later revealed that the man had undergone multiple body-enhancing procedures in his life, including his eyes and arms. As the man finished his sentence, Marx tilted his head slightly to the side in order to display his confusion; his facial nanofiber sensors were currently damaged so just expressing confusion normally was impossible.

“Metalhead.”

Marx’s voice was a smooth monotone. There appeared to be damage to his verbal communications system, it was likely that he’d only be able to repeat things he could hear until he could find repairs. And because he wasn’t connected to any networks, Marx had no idea what ‘Metalhead’ meant and his databases couldn’t offer anything conclusive. Calculating, Marx decided that it was probably the man’s name. It was then that the synthetic found several inbuilt verbal phrases stored into his database that he could use to communicate. His creators must have entered them in to ensure he could effectively follow his Main Commands, “You will be eliminated for your hostile actions.” That hadn’t quite been what he was hoping for and Marx stood there for a moment, simply staring blankly as he attempted to choose a better phrase, “Mr Metalhead, how may I cooperate?”

If Marx could smile and had a personality setting that would allow for it, he would have smiled at his success. His voice sounded perfectly human, but his programming certainly didn’t make him seem exactly normal, not from the monotone to the strange behavioural mannerisms he had. Still, Marx hoped it was enough to fulfill the second directive of his Main Commands. Cooperation was necessary for his existence, therefore he needed to cooperate with Mr Metalhead. Apparently having just remembered something, Marx turned around and picked his mugger’s 9mm pistol up with his one good hand. Concentrating, back turned to Mr Metalhead but making no attempt to hide his actions, Marx began to absorb the metals from the gun into his hand as the nanofibers in his skin rippled. As he did so, the tears that revealed the cybernetics underneath began to remould and repair, regenerating lost fibers and patching over all the holes. Eventually, after a few seconds, all the external damage was gone and Marx looked like a perfectly normal human again. Of course, running a scan on him would reveal that he was indeed not a human but a synthetic and his left arm was still completely inoperable, along with his right arm’s damage Electron Pulser. Luckily, Synthetics had either not been further tested or were not available to the public, as Marx was perhaps the only one in Joyce City to date. He turned around to face Mr Metalhead again and extended his working right hand for a handshake.

“I am 5YN-T4, designation: Marx.”

adrian_

 

[adrian_]

♤ Brian Porter ♤
The Alibi | Barfront
Bayside Joyce

Chapter Two
Guess I'm Mr. Metalhead Now.

"Metalhead." Porter looked at the bioroid. Staring at the torn and ruined synthskin on it's temple, "Uh, yeah, metalhead." he laughed nervously, the bullet must have fucked up the poor guy's brain. He tapped his foot on the ground, this was easily the most stup-

"You will be eliminated for your hostile actions." Shit. He reached for the gun he didn't have but was immediately calmed when it said something different, "Mr. Metalhead, how may I cooperate.", once again, Porter laughed nervously, it felt like that horrible retroware game he'd played, what was it called again? 'Facade'. Yeah.

Porter watched the bioroid pick up his mugger's gun, he got ready too jump out of the way, but he was surprised too see the synthetic just... De-Rezz it, presumably harvesting the metals from it.

"Uh, I don't know." He was completely confused now. The synthetic held out his hand too shake, Porter knew this could be dangerous, "I am 5YN-T4, designation: Marx." Oh, great. It's a German political leader.

Porter reluctantly shook it's hand, "Are you imprinted on me now or some shit? Cus' if you are I need some help with my groceries later." Porter understood that stray robot + amnesia + imprinting could be some terrifying corporate scheme. Either way, it was pretty fuckin' cool.

He started too walk towards his car, it was parked near the front of the Alibi, not too far. Opening his driver's side door he looked at the bioroid, waiting too see if it would try to follow.

"You better not be some programmed master assassin, robot, ninja. Or something."

Spoiler: Stuff i thought of and referenced that may make no sense without proper definitions

De-Rezz - Fucking vaporize something.

Retroware - The cyberpunk equivalent of saying something is a fossil when it's from the past. Usually pertains to electronics.

Bioroid - Catch-all term for a humanoid mechanical entity. An android or similar.

Kloudy

 

[Kloudy]

Marx
(5YN-T4)

Marx waited and listened to Mr Metalhead''s words, processing their meaning and picking out potential request conversational directions. Recognising one, Marx spoke up, "Understood. 'Help with the groceries later' filed for later reference." With that done, Marx then watched as Mr Metalhead crossed back over the street and got in his car, apparently waiting for him to get in. Marx knew this could potentially be a trap, but the probability was higher that this man had a series of tasks along with the 'groceries' directive. The synthetic decided the man was trustworthy enough to go along with.

Marx marched over the road as well, narrowly missing a passing car that managed to just swerve out of the way. Expression ever-impassive, Marx calmly got in the car and looked ahead, "Mr Metalhead. My programming is incomplete and main functionality is currently limited to Personnel Protection and System Hacking. I am operating at 57% effectiveness capacity due to damages." Hopefully, the man would aid in Marx's repairs in exchange for the synthetic's help. It was the course of action with the highest probability of success and these repairs would likely unlock clues as to who and what Marx was. His databanks had been wiped clean during the system purge and ultimately self-destruction in his creation laboratory's location and he had no other motivated other than the base Main Commands to guide his directives. The chances of enlightenment from this particular human could be exactly what Marx was looking for. The robot man waited for Mr Metalhead to respond or drive, awaiting their arrival at the other location.

adrian_

 

[garden_party]

Ash Bourges - Bayside Joyce
Honestly, Ash had no idea how she ended up in the Bayside. She couldn't remember much of last night, other than the fact that she scored a couple hundred units off some rich kid looking for a nice ride. Act like you care, knock him out, take his stuff, and get the hell out. She guessed it had been a normal night for her. But the kid lived all the way out here? It would take a whole other client just to get back to her hub. Not to mention the fact that this place had considerably less amount of lowlifes hanging around. What a hard life Ash lived...

Still a bit dazed, Ash leaned against a the wall of a nearby warehouse, trying to drown out the incessant noises of the ocean and the birds and all the disgusting people around her. One conversation, however, caught her attention. Above all the nonsense of the people around her, a conversation rang from inside the warehouse. Well, more like a girl yelling and another street urchin whimpering. A gunshot, and silence.

"Ah shit... I forgot this was a one woman show. I really need someone willing to clean up the messes that are made around this place."

Nothing like starting off the day with a little bit of first degree murder! Ash combed her fingers through her blonde hair, checked her reflection in the shiny metal wall, adjusted the strap on her heels, and walked towards where the girl was dumping the body. As soon as she turned the corner, she began to asses the woman. She seemed to be around the same age as Ash, with long pink her, and a half shave on the side of her head. She looked to be a mechanic or dealer of some sorts, and was smoking a cigarette while dumping the body of no doubt a thief of some sorts. Just another day, Ash supposed. She wasn't much better, selling herself to better herself. The girl's cybernetic arm would be a problem if things went south, so Ash figured that she would have to keep fighting out of the picture. Ash fired up her plasma pistol just in case though, and felt a sense of security as the machine hummed against her waist. It was concealed in her waistband, but easy to reach if need be.

"You know, if you're going to murder someone, you should at least make sure no one is around first. That pistol could be heard from a mile away, sweetie." Even though the woman was much bigger than Ash, she still used the same tone she used when talking to anyone outside of work.

Roman ​

 

[Roman]

Aurora
Location: Bayside Joyce, Outside of her warehouse

It had been awhile since Aurora had to shoot anyone, meaning it had been awhile since she last had to get rid of the body. From what she could understand about Joyce though is that there isn't much government involvement here, so there was a chance that she didn't even need to get rid of the idiot who tried to steal from her, but then he'd just stink up the warehouse and that wasn't gonna fly on her watch. Especially since it took a crap ton of money to buy the place. Once it was all done, Aurora decided to take in the fresh air, and enjoy her smoke outside. A habit she had picked up on, and one that she also regrets, but after what those clowns back home did to her, a cigarette was almost soothing.

A few moments passed by, not long after she dumped the body, she could hear a voice and some footsteps. Apparently her gun caught the attention of someone. And they obviously weren't a fan of Aurora's style, but in reality she could care less. If she could have blown that fucker to bits with something larger, she would have. Looking in the direction where this voice and footsteps were coming from, Aurora caught eye of a blonde woman. She was young, good looking, and probably lost or something. Not many people took to this area this early unless they worked here. "I don't care about who's around. Doesn't bother me. If they have anything they'd like to say about it, they can end up like the thief." She said, placing her cybernetic hand behind her back, and her cigarette hand up to her lips, the embers glowing brighter for a moment signifying that she took a nice puff before blowing the smoke out.

"But since we're on the topic, what are you doing out here? You don't look like the type that hang around this area, and I'm assuming you aren't here to buy from me or get a damn thing fixed by me." Aurora asked, flicking the cigarette out from between her fingers onto the ground in front of her. With a smile, she stomped it out, and focused her eyes on this girl more. "So? What is it, missy?" This girl was obviously not scared, but Aurora wasn't either. Any normal person would have ran or called whatever authority they could to come and get Aurora... Which raised another question: was she apart of the business too? Wouldn't be a surprise if she was, a lot of people in Joyce were in some sort of business. And high chance that business is illegal.​

 

[garden_party]

Ash Bourges - Bayside Joyce
Interaction: Aurora, Roman

A smoker. Of course she had to be a smoker. The stench wouldn't come off of Ash for days. Or out of her nose, for that matter. She always had low tolerance to nicotine and it's smell. Her clients that did smoke made Ash work faster, and made her jobs sloppier. This was going to be a rough morning. Ash wasn't sure how to approach this. She needed a ride back to The Hub, but she wasn't sure whether to ask the woman or just take from her instead. With the way that thief wound up, Ash knew it wouldn't be easy to steal from her. And who knew if the woman was even into her! She hadn't shown any interest yet. Females were always so much harder to read than males. So many variables for Ash to consider.

As the woman started talking, Ash grinned. Not the type to be hanging around? This woman had no idea. Despite her pounding headache and grumbling stomach, Ash put up a strong front. She would get what she wanted.

"Work brought me here, I suppose." Ash gave a dangerous smile, taking a small step towards the girl. "As you can probably guess, I'm not from around here. I could use some help. In return..." Ash extended her palms, leaving the deal open to whatever the girl wanted to interpret it as. If it was sex, so be it. That would make her job a lot easier. She studied the scars on the girl's face, and wondered just what sort of background she was from. The people of Joyce were always so... colorful.​

 

[Roman]

Aurora
Location: Bayside Joyce, Outside of her warehouse

Listening to sound of the cigarette crushing under her boot, Aurora sighed and her cybernetic arm was rubbing her head. At this point, she felt that maybe she didn't have to shoot the girl. Though a fight would be fun, Aurora had to accept that everything was guns and fighting when it came to everyone. Sometimes it was just a nice chat between two people... Scratch the nice part. Aurora rarely ever came into contact with nice people. One of the reasons she was so defensive around new faces. Besides, she seemed like her intentions were pure, and that she wasn't going to try anything funny. For now, Aurora would give her the benefit of the doubt because she just by the look of her, it seemed like there was a long night behind her.

Aurora wasn't surprised to learn that the girl wasn't from around this area of Joyce. Only made sense to her if she was being honest... And now she was asking for help. At least she was willing to return the favor. Seeing as the one thing that Aurora needed done was already done, she shook her head and crossed her arms.

"I can give you a ride, wouldn't be too much of a hassle, but I'll need to lockup." She said, chuckling as she shook her hands. Aurora could tell she was offering her hands as a way to say whatever it is you want I can do for you in return, but Aurora was on the happier side right now. She did just get rid of a thief after all. "But don't think I'm not watching you. This place is one of the most crooked places ever, and I'm not taking any chances. I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from."​

 

[adrian_]

♤ Brian Porter ♤
Joyce | Going to the ArtM
Central Joyce

Chapter Three
Woo! Joyce Traffic Is Garbage!

"Understood. 'Help with the groceries later' filed for later reference." Porter grinned, this could be his big break, a chance at recognition. Or he could just get shot in the head while driving down the road. Either way sounded good at this point.

Brian quickly felt the gun he shoved behind his seat, checking too see if he could reach it quickly if he had to. Satisfied with where it was he watched Marx get in the passenger's seat. He pressed his thumbprint into the identification pad on his dashboard, the car starting with a cheerful ding through the speakers, which, as usual, made him jump. Fucking Japanese cars.

"Mr Metalhead. My programming is incomplete and main functionality is currently limited to Personnel Protection and System Hacking. I am operating at 57% effectiveness capacity due to damages." Uh, what?

Great. The bioroid was damaged, "Jesus, fuck, how much will that cost?" Atleast he didn't have too pay for the synthetic first. Repairs couldn't cost that much could they? I mean, it would probably be worth it in the long run.

"Who the hell could have done you ugly? You're practically invincible." Porter pulled the umbilical from his dashboard and racked it into his skull anchor, feeling the electric rush he usually gets as a map of Joyce fills his eyesight.

He selected the ArtM near his apartment, a voice speaking in a different language telling him something about Central Joyce then confirming his request. The car automatically started too drive.

Porter opened up his subdermal pocket taking out his eCig and putting it on it's charging station, he was already getting withdrawal. This ride was going to take atleast twenty minutes, so he reclined in his seat, waiting for the ride too end.

Dunno if Japan was a place that actually existed in this rp, thought it would be a funny line. Tell me, if it doesn't exist.

Spoiler: Stuff i thought of and referenced that may make no sense without proper definitions

ArtM - "Artificial Meal" Convienence Store / Grocery store chain that sells mainly synthetic food

Umbilical - Any cord that connects too a skull anchor

Kloudy

 

[garden_party]

Ash Bourges - Bayside Joyce
Interaction: Aurora, Roman

Ash grinned. That was really easy. For once she didn't have to put on a mask. She was actually happy that she was getting her way for free. Maybe she could swipe a couple things here and there, if anything caught her eye. It wasn't on the top of her priority list, though. Maybe for once she should just be... thankful? What a weird feeling.

Ash waved her hand and killed the smile from her face, once again reigning control of her emotions. "Thank you. I'm not sure how I could repay you, but I do appreciate the help. I'm Ash. Lead the way."

This woman sure as hell wasn't a friend, but she wasn't an enemy either. Ash supposed it was nice to have someone on her side for once, but she knew the feeling wouldn't last long. As soon as the trip to The Hub was over, she would probably never see this woman again... that wouldn't do. Ash had to think of a reason to stay with her. She figured there was much more to this woman than meets the eye, and they could probably learn a thing or two from each other. She would just have to find a way in...​

 

[Calcifus]

Soel: Trying not to Die!
Bayside Joyce Black Market​

For one terrifying moment, Soel thought they had stumbled into an even worse situation than the one they were just running from. Only when the woman calmed her dog did their fans finally quiet down. Okay, so she wasn't like the thug from earlier. Since she seemed to actually have some wits about her, the "blind them with spray paint" trick would be much harder to pull off if things went south.

"Indeed, I'm not actually for sale." Soel replied. They'd have added a nervous laugh, if they were capable of it. "As for what I'm doing, all on my lonesome..."

Soel paused. What was the safest answer to give? Certainly not the whole truth, but maybe just a piece of it?

"Well, I was making my way to a particular shop when some thug tried to steal my bag. If you see a woman with purple paint all over her face, that's probably her."

Hm, that answer seemed safe enough. Speaking of...where was that bag?

Moldie

 

[Moldie]

M I S C H K A - Bayside Joyce Black Market​

--- ---- ---------- ---- ---​

Mischka wasn’t at all surprised by the story. The bot was the size of a child, a perfect target for some petty lowlife to pick on. “Purple paint all over her face?” Mischka thought to herself, she’d heard of similar fashion trends before but this area of the city wasn’t exactly a metropolis of modern wear.

Trying to scout out a candidate for the description she spotted the little bag laying on the ground. Assuming it was theirs, she picked it up in order to hand it to it’s rightful owner. As she did a spraycan fell out of the open bag and hit the pavement with a metallic cling. It was purple. She stared at it for a few moments before her eyes darted onto the little innocent looking machine. Her smile made a reappearance. With a little snicker escaping her she put the can back into the little dufflebag. “Hope you took the fuckers eyesight...” she continued, trying to communicate she was amused with the situation.

She didn’t necessarily trust the little thing, especially not knowing it could do some actual harm. It was no matter though, she was confident in herself and her abilities if things were to get heated. “So, where you heading now?”.

Calcifus

 

[Kloudy]

Marx
(Central Joyce - Going To ArtM)

Marx watched Mr Metalhead as he drove the car, the dully glowing light blue hues from his eyes spinning slowly and adjusting. A quick x-ray scan had revealed the firearm stored away behind the seat and he logged its make and registration. The weapon would not be enough to actually harm Marx but it was good to know his companion had some form of protection if they ended up in a difficult situation. Marx did not have much faith in his faulty Electron Pulser for ranged combat and there seemed to be a lot of those mugger-types armed with such weaponry.

Next came the fingerprint, Mr Metalhead pressing his thumb to the identification pad on the dashboard. Again, Marx's eyes kicked into high-gear and, through the use of telescopic sight, scanned every detail of the print left behind invisibly. Why? He didn't really know himself, perhaps insurance, perhaps safekeeping. The synthetic looked down at his own hand and watched the skin on his thumb shift, ripple and morph altogether, changing until the whirls and grooves shaped into Mr M's own. Nanofibers were a hell of an engineering marvel, nanotechnology in general was the bleeding edge of modern science. And Marx was the bleeding edge of that.

"Jesus, fuck, how much will that cost?"

"Uh, I don't know." The voice of Mr Metalhead came from Marx's mouth as a perfection imitation, copying what the man had said earlier to the very sound itself. After all, aside from preset responses and system updates, repetition was what he'd have to work with for now. In truth, aside from the scientists and engineers that had actually worked to construct Marx, it was highly unlikely that there was anyone alive with the knowledge necessary to even begin assessing the damage and drawing up repair plans. Simply put, his inner mechanics were just too complex for most modern engineers. No, Marx would have to assess it himself and seek the components he'd need to replace the broken or incomplete areas. Then he'd have to fix the programming problem.

"Who the hell could have done you ugly? You're practically invincible."

"Uh, I don't know."

Of course, he couldn't just find or hire a programmer to fix his code for him. Firstly, having someone he didn't know digging around in his source coding and neural cybernetics was a big violation in regard to the first directive of his Main Commands: Self-preservation. Who knew what that person would do to him, or even if they would be able to crack his encryptions to begin with. The language used was specially created and only used to make Marx's mind, to which his deep-learning AI system then used as a platform to achieve sentience. No other programmer or system would be able to interface with Marx without his help or by cracking the language itself, and he couldn't help a potential hacker if he was offline due to having his cybernetic brain being edited. No, he'd need something else. Deep-learning...

Marx's eyes widened for a moment as he stared ahead through the windscreen of the car, very much wrapped up in his own thoughts. He could learn... But how? Even with his enhanced mind, no matter how limited due to incomplete programming, he could learn to code much faster than any human. Marx could write his own program and install it into himself, consolidate the data over a short period of time and... and what? He wasn't sure what came next. Rewriting your own brain was a very risky and potentially dangerous thing, who knew if he would even be the same person? He looked down at his hands again, staring at the one thumb who's print he had thoughtlessly stolen without any particular reason. He had come online and escaped from the collapsed site of the laboratory he had been made in less than a week ago, was the person he was now really worth holding on to?

Marx turned to Mr Metalhead and pointed outside, slightly ahead of where the car currently was, "We have arrived at: ArtM."

adrian_

 

[DatGuyWelbz]

DOMINIC

Dominic hung upside-down from the fifth rung of a rickety ladder hanging from a fire escape. It wasn't an ideal position to be in, as the ladder could have easily broken which would have caused him to splatter across the alleyway below like an uncooked pancake, but it was the only way he could finish his masterpiece. This particular wall had been asking to be tagged for a while now. It was made out of old brick, a rare sighting nowadays, and was without blemishes—besides the heavy aging it had going on. But that was besides the point. The point was that it needed a bit of paint on it.

He currently had nothing else to do for the day, as he didn't have any jobs planned and he was good on credits for a few more weeks. Though, he did need to go out and buy more origami paper. Recently, he had used up all his making his infamous call cards—intricate, little red hawks. It was his party piece, something to let people know he was there. Because if he hadn't, no one would know he visited them. And where was the fun in doing something and not getting recognized for it? Then again, no one knew the Red Hawk's real identity so he kind of wasn't getting recognized either way.

Shaking his head at the thought, he finished up his painting of Downtown Joyce's skyline on the side of the old building. The neon colors contrasted beautifully against the molding, terracotta brick of the structure. After stuffing his half-empty paint cans back into his satchel and climbing onto the roof of the building opposite of the one he was working on, he blew a kiss at his masterpiece. He then made his way across the roof and to another ladder that would lead him down to the street. Once his feet touched down onto the sidewalk, he tightened his hood around his head, jammed his hands into his pockets, and hurried down the street.

code by DatGuyWelbz

Location: Somewhere in Downtown Joyce
Time: [EDIT LATER]
Interactions: OPEN FOR INTERACTIONS
Mentions: N/A

 

[Roman]

Aurora
Location: Bayside Joyce, Outside of her warehouse

Aurora's day seemed like it couldn't get any worst than the thief so far, causing her to assume the best for later. She didn't plan on doing much but taking this woman where she wanted to go and then she'd just make her way back to the warehouse and finish up on inventory. In a way, she almost dismissed the fact that she was in one of the most corrupted cities in their nation. Something she shouldn't look pass at all. Not only that, but the last time she had such immature views on a place, she was beat up and robbed for all she had. If she did that here, it will most likely end up with her being dead instead of a few bruises and cuts.

As the two of them spoke to one another, it was decided that Aurora would be helping without taking anything in return. Which was nice. But, Aurora actually did have an idea, and right after Ash revealed her name to Aurora, she smiled, holding up her cybernetic arm, "Sweet. Name's Aurora, and since you offered something in return, consider it a favor. One that I won't call in anytime soon I'm guessing. It only just occurred to me that going with something like that may be a good idea rather than nothing." She said as she turned towards her warehouse, walking towards the entrance.

Once Aurora finished locking up, she motioned for Ash to follow her around back. She managed to get a few things from her contacts, one of them being a car, which was nice. Everything seemed fine until Aurora stopped in her own tracks, and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Goddamn it! Stupid fucking thief!" Aurora stomped her foot on the ground, almost as if she were pouting. If it wasn't obvious already, something had happened to the car. "Little shit fucked up my car. Probably figured I'd need it to catch him. If you aren't in any rush, I can have it back up and running in about 20, maybe 30 minutes. You don't feel like waiting, I can pay for a ride, but if you wouldn't mind the wait, like I said before 20 to maybe 30."

garden_party​

 

[garden_party]

Ash Bourges - Bayside Joyce
Interaction: Aurora, Roman

Ash watched the girl intensely, thanking whatever gods still bothered to watch over the shithole of a place. Ash had time! Time to steal, time to plan, time to do whatever the hell she needed to get done. "Take your time. I'm not busy till tonight. I know how much a ride back to The Hub costs." Ash slid down onto the floor, leaning up against one of the many shelving units that decorated the place. She looked around, examining the room. A tradition black market warehouse. Stock upon stock piled onto the shelves, various parts scattered around the place, cleaning supplies. If she wanted to find anything useful, she would have to look a little harder.

Just as she turned her attention back Aurora, Ash's skull split with the pain of her headache. She ground her teeth in an effort not to scream, and shut her eyes tight. That kid must've given her something bad last night. Maybe she wasn't the only one that lost things. Ash rubbed her temples and tried to recall any memories of last night, but she could only remember vivid colors and clinking bottles. The kid probably drugged her, which wouldn't be a problem if she were alone. But currently, she was in a black market warehouse with a very tough looking girl. She wouldn't be surprised if the girl tried to snatch a couple things if Ash passed out. So the girl kept all of her attention on the mechanic in an effort to stay awake. She didn't want to pry, so she didn't ask any questions. She just pretended to watch her nonchalantly, studying her actions.​

 

[Roman]

Aurora
Location: Her warehouse in Bayside Joyce.

Aurora had started checking out her car, making sure what was destroyed could actually be fixed. For the most part, the parts could be fixed temporarily, but in the end, she'll have to either replace those parts as a whole, or completely fuck them up. If she does that, then it could lead to damage in other parts, resulting in her having to buy a whole new car. While she wasn't against the idea, a new car could be pricey for someone who hasn't made much money since moving to this dump. As she began her repairs, she heard Ash say something. Seems she had some time on her hands if she were willing to wait on Aurora. That or she just had no plans for the day. "Huh? I never said you didn't. Pretty sure rides are the same price everywhere these time around." She said, grabbing various different tools and parts, and placing them by the car.

The repairs seemed to be going well so far, which was, of course, a good sign. Also means Aurora didn't break anything more than it already was broken. All those years back home living alone paid off. Besides the sounds of the car being fixed, there was an awkward silence in the warehouse now. Ash, nor Aurora had said anything other than what was said before. Figuring it'd be up to her to break the silence, Aurora stopped working, and sighed, holding up a dirty wrench, "Hey, Ash. What do you do for work anyways? I'm assuming you're from the hub and well that's quite the ways from here. You don't have to tell me, but well if I'm being honest with you... Silence is fucking weird and I'm just trying to make conversation here... So uh, throw a girl a bone. Surprisingly, I know how to have normal conversations that don't involve guns." She said, laughing out loud, placing the wrench on the ground and picking up a different tool to work with.

If Ash was going to be in her shop, she was going to have to make sure nothing went wrong. She didn't trust her. Not yet at least. She could be another thief, which would be bad because honestly, Aurora didn't want to hurt her. After all, she seemed cool enough so far. The closest thing she had come to a friend even though they just met, though Ash was the only person Aurora had come into contact with for something other than business since she moved here.

garden_party
(((( Sorry it took me so long. I ended up busy, but I'm back! ))))​

 

[adrian_]

♤ Brian Porter ♤
ArtM | Grocery Store
Central Joyce

Chapter Four
Friends In Strange Places

"We have arrived at: ArtM." Huh? Oh yeah, ArtM. Groceries. Dissapointed, Porter jacked out of the umbilical. His eyesight refilling too show him the building up front. He was glassed, not too bad, but enough too be a little wobbly after the car ride. He was visibly excited for no real reason, smiling from the BTL high his fingertips felt numb, and his mirrored iris's were flashing yellow, a software catch that can help police identify drug users, useless this deep into Central. Police were dealing with an armed robbery, or some new insurrection hopefully.

"Whats with that copycat thing you're doing? It's getting weird."

Looking at Marx he unlocked the safety lock, getting out of his car and taking in a deep breath, which came out shaky due to the induced adrenaline rush. Looking up into the mainly neon sky he ducked his head into his car again, grabbing his eCig last second. He opened up his pocket, dropping the sleek metallic-godsend into his forearm.

He looked at the building, it was small in contrast too the huge buildings on the horizon, lit up with huge bay windows that show everything inside. It obviously used too be an AutoGas, de-wheeled and made into a new building. Porter walked towards the entrance, opening up the doors and waiting for Marx.

Spoiler: Stuff i thought of and referenced that may make no sense without proper definitions

Glassed - Stoned, high, fucked up. Digitally high after using a corded BTL

AutoGas - Company that created diesel powered convienence stores that traveled, it went under five years prior

Sorry for taking so long, i kept trying too figure out ways too lengthen my post and got stuck in a rut.

Kloudy

 

[Shadowspeaker]

I sat in a trance-like state in my 200-credit-a-week apartment with the AC in the background doing it's best to filter the smoggy air from the outside, but not doing quite enough, and the scent of cooking beef (factory made, of course) in the background wafting through the small space - I was not thinking, but instead observing; watching all the little ants of Joyce in their poor excuse of a march of life. I mean, I understand - it isn't their fault. From day one they have been influenced - controlled, monitored, and fed a face full of false advertising by our gods, and I'm not talking about some divine beings. I'm talking about the big-shots. Not the celebrities, or criminals, or that overly-ambitious stripper at some bar in Bayside Joyce; I'm talking about the corrupt "government" leaders - if you even want to give whatever we have the false label of government. About the guys at the top of the world's greatest and largest conglomerate corporations - the real world leaders... What would you really know without being connected to a network? Next to nothing, that's what, and that means everything you do know is what someone else told you.

People don't always tell the truth... more often than not here in Joyce they lie for their benefit.

I understand because I used to be an ant of Joyce - going out to get food (money) for the queen (the corporations). But then I was enlightened because I chose to question the queen. The ants exiled me, and here I am - looking down on them from a cheap 3rd story apartment. Of course, if I go out, I don't seem any different, but it's what I do that makes me an exile... and all I do is help people understand the truth. But enough about philosophy and the shit state of our society. I'm writing this because when I sat at that window, I saw a bioroid (as they call the General Intelligence AI today) get threatened by a short, stub-faced mugger with a gun at the back of the bot's head. The bot turned around and got shot square in the fucking forehead and didn't even get knocked back. I've seen so much shit that I barely ever get surprised, but I know about technology; what they're telling us the cutting edge tech is doesn't even come close to this. I continued to watch - forgetting all about my meat until the smoke from it burning clouded my view.

Dammit.

I got up as fast as I can and turned off the heat - but when I came back, the bioroid was gone - got in a car with some dude..

I've got to know what that is...

Without delay, I logged into my computer and then into the camera system on a tech shop nearby and confirmed what I saw. That tech is definitely not supposed to exist...
My search for information leads nowhere, but I'm able to use software I wrote to track the car it went in (using identifying information such as the licenses plate).

An ArtM roughly 5 minutes away...

With that, I logged out, grabbed my bag (which contained a laptop among various other tech and hacking related things) and mounted my hoverbike which sported a sharp, angular black body with dark blue stripes on the side.

I don't know exactly what I'm going to do when I get there, but I've got to see the thing in person...

 

[Calcifus]

Soel: What's a Witty Title?
Location: Bayside Joyce​

Soel took their bag, giving a quick "Thank you" before putting it around their back again. As soon as she saw the can of spray-paint, the woman had been able to quickly piece together the stunt Soel had pulled earlier. She seemed to be amused by it, although Soel couldn't help but feel a bit concerned. "I...hadn't even thought of that." Even if she had tried to mug them, blindness was almost a death sentence here. Had they gone a bit too far? No, no, this was not the time to think about that.

Luckily, the woman's next question interrupted their musings. "Well..." It didn't matter how friendly she seemed, Soel did not quite trust the woman. If things headed south, Soel had some doubts that they'd be able to get out even somewhat unscathed. Still, they had to give some kind of answer, didn't they? "Apologies for my vagueness, but I have an errand to run at a particular shop." It wasn't the best answer, but Soel was starting to feel pressed for time.

"Ah, farewell, Miss! Most people know me as 'Graffy', by the way!"

And with that, "Graffy" started walking back in the direction they came from.

Moldie