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₁ THΞ UNIVΞRSΞ [[ 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝙳𝚊𝚠𝚜𝚘𝚗 ]]
₂ 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘 = 'Welcome to the _Dream_ Command Line Interface'
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🡒 She was sitting on a wooden stool, standing on the center of a small, petty stage. The layout was cheap and put down unevenly. There was black tapestry trying to cover the awkward display of floorboards. Faux vinyl records were lining the wall. Plastic twirlies were hanging from the ceiling. A broken disco ball with missing pieces was twirling overhead. Small lights from the reflective piece were shimmering on the shabby walls. Paint was pealing from them, and crummy pencil graffiti was trying to secure lowlife signature arts.



Her bronzed, toned legs were hanging like a goddess's pair, sculpted and draped over one another. Nothing could harm her as she continued rocking and rolling her bare shoulders slowly to the karaoke jam. The microphone was securely in her hand, being held close to her plush lips, glistening with the broken disco ball. A small smile was dealt on her poker face as she looked at the drunken shadows of the audience.

The shadows were stirring in their positions sprinkled with cheap, shimmering lights. They were only half-minding the scanty woman on stage. Despite her thick, syrupy voice spreading romantic gossip through the conversations and electronic betting, they seemed more interested in their drinks than whatever she was bellowing. They were too intoxicated to care.

At least, everyone but him.



“Fffudge,” Michael mouthed with annoyance from his VR set. He'd drifted, again, and while NaoMi (Nao) was seated, she was not on the center of some stage romancing his soul. Instead, she was positioned in an orange couch. Her legs were still crossed over the other but only as her back fashioned an arch into the plush cushion. Her elbow with her hand was carefully crafted and rested on the arm of the sofa. Her other arm was propped against the back of the sofa. She had it stretched and available for any lucky suitor to come and join her.



The battle could have been better in relation to whatever the statistics said about victory. Nao had a mouthful of commentary on the subject, and Michael was eager to hear her use that sexy, electronic word horde of hers. He enjoyed the chocolate syrupy sound of her voice when she sank into her own ideas and opinions. She had a way of whipping her slang around, and now, after a battle of wearing no damage, her sass seemed all the more daunting to indulge.

Nao looked around the room at her guild members. She thought to move herself, leave the couch and make some busty entrance into a conversation, congratulate into a nitpicking sarcasm, but for now, she would count her credits. Her ebony arm dropped from the back of the couch and grasped her camel, leather satchel. A smirk was rested on her soft, plump lips, still wearing a solid gloss of unscathed scarlet, and her dark eyes cast downwards as she sorted through her earnings.

<<Logging in.>>
<<WELCOME TO THΞ UNIVΞRSΞ [[ KWON SUJI ]]>>
<<.....Now entering Legion of Lions War Room.....>>

---

The recent raid on the Fists of Omega had proved to be quite the success. Sure, there were some casualties, but all of that was normal in in raids such as these. Fortunately(or unfortunately for the loss), the ones among the Lions who had lost anything at all were to lower levelled members, and senior members such as Blink herself and her other comrades were very much unscathed, and could now begin to count their credits along with whatever loot they had acquired. She waded into the war room, her light blue bob bouncing lightly as she moved in the slick black formfitting leather suit she wore. Step by step, she made her way onto a spot next to Nao on one of the orange couches and took a seat.

Despite their haul, now their she had analysed their tactics, numerous ways that the battle could have gone better had presented themselves, and Blink knew that she was not the only one who had thought so. Her cyan blue eyes shifted towards the sensual ebony woman who was seated on the couch opposite her. If she knew anything at all about the woman, she knew that Nao had plenty to say about the matter. It wouldn't be like her otherwise. Not like she was intending on complaining anyhow. She loved the sound of her twang in the woman's speech, and her voice had a certain tone and accent that she couldn't quite explain why she liked so much. Maybe it was all that added sass.

Minutes past, and Nao was still busy counting her credits, just like everyone else, and perhaps she should be doing the same. But there was only so many times she could count the same amount of credits that she had counted already five times over. Unable to stand the silence anymore, she spoke the first word. "We done yet? Just how many times do we need to count these credits? I lost all interest the third time."

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₁ THΞ UNIVΞRSΞ [[ 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝙳𝚊𝚠𝚜𝚘𝚗 ]]
₂ 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 = raw_input("We done yet? A: Yes, B: No, C:
Ignore \n")
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The clicking of her credits stopped for just a single moment as Nao’s eyes slowly traced their feminine way to BlinkXII's dollish face. The same smirk ,she loved wearing, was still set on her scarlet, glistening lips as she admired the cute button nose on the Asian avatar. BlinkXII was always such a delight to tease inside Michael's head, and every single time, she lost to Nao, singlehandedly.

“Did yeah say somethin', mah Sweet Bea?” She raised a brow, knowing full well what the other had just said, “I was too busy countin’ to…” She paused and made a noticeably vain attempt to take back what she had just said, “Girl, have you been talkin’ this whole time?” Her hand slid from her pouch and lightly tapped BlinkXII's lower thigh as she leaned closely, “You really ought to just interrupt me if I ain't mindin’ you po-litely,” Her face was needlessly close to BlinkXII’s, and with a small huff, Nao drew back, again. “I think it's just flat plain rude to ignore a person like that, an me, out of all people, shou'd be aware. I ain't, an wit blue hair like yours...” she cocked her head several times and puckered her lips as she shook her head back-and-forth, “Nhnnm.”

The fluff of her afro swayed with her disapproval as the sweet scent of coconut drifted from her as she continued. Her hand slid from BlinkXII and tidied her satchel's strings, “People gunna be rude, but please dear Lord save me from bein’ one of ‘em. And, I mean, it. Amen.” She paused for what Nao would have referred to as a hot minute and then made an addendum to her speech before turning the conversation to its original intent, “Yeah really should speak up, mo’. How many people gunna fine me bein' im-po-lite? Can't get that reputation out or nobody’s gunna wanna come an gossip wit me. Now, tell me you got something good from the battle, ‘cause I'm boutta blow a gasket tryna get somethin' worthwhile from all these hauls.” Her lips puckered again, “Yeah really way tuh sweet to be ignored like that,” she lied, and with that, Michael grinned in his VR as Nao's hand reached forward to brush a faux-stray hair from her face, “There.” She leaned back, head popping back just a bit as she eyed the avatar in strange admiration.

[:: The Universe >> Legion of Lions War Room ::]
[:: user: Blake ::]

“Kasumi, are you in yet?”

“I'm in.” Her low voice, almost to the point of a whisper, acknowledged after a momentary pause.

It was supposed to be simple enough. Going through the path of least resistance wasn't anything new to her, and slipping in and out undetected proved to be much more fun. So much so, she held one of the highest scores for non-lethal run throughs in several tactical and stealth-based games within The Universe. Taking that route also helped her to gain a few extra bonus points each time, moving her further up the leaderboards and helping to elevate her clan, Legion of Lions. Blake despised violence quite honestly, in and out of the game, and so those values fashioned her avatar into decent infiltration unit, getting as far away from full-frontal combat as possible. However, the girl could still hold her own if it came down to fisticuffs.

“Alright, once you find the main control, then- “

“Yes, yes, I know, Rex.” She calmly interrupted. “This isn't my first power grid penetration.”

“This is true, K” The other chuckled. “But just remember the two-second on the panels motion detector.”

“Taken care of.”

“What?”

There was a pause before Kasumi allowed a slight sigh to escape her lips. “The motion was disabled, Rex. Would you just chill and let me do my job?...”

Even when interruptions from fellow clan mates and incessant comm chatter could annoy the woman to no end, she still tried to be polite while maintaining a professional attitude and focus on the job at hand.

“Please?”

During the battle, as usual, chaos ensued on all sides, and the Fists of Omega put up a hell of a good fight. For her part, Kasumi, made sure debuffs were a-plenty, and Omega's turrets and tracking systems were disabled long enough for Legion to sweep up the remaining threats. And while she made the task seem easy enough, it took a lot of planning on her users end to make sure each mission was executed with precision and efficiency. Besides, Blake wouldn't have it any other way.

In the War Room, everyone was counting the credits won, some more than twice out of sheer boredom perhaps. Of course, what was on the mind and hearts of all players was the “Challenge of the Gods” given two months ago, with no winners in sight as of yet. But even after so many years of being apart of the gaming community and having played within so many of the various games and worlds, the developers still managed to keep content fresh and everyone on the edge of their proverbial seats. It was really the only way to keep a lot of those trying to live a life outside of TU, from going absolutely mad. Tucked away across the War Room, Kasumi generally sat alone, especially after long raids and clan battles, just to reflect, and do a bit of personal inventory. Eventually she wanted to sell some of the higher tier items acquired over the last few months, upgrade her avatar’s gear, and perhaps even take advantage of real-world gadgets and goodies thanks to conversion and liquidation of assets within The Universe.

There was also a few minutes of downtime for Blake -her avatar in sort of an “AFK” mode- as she had to take a mental break after so many hours of being jacked in, and there were times where her joints felt sore. Of course, ever since the accident that rendered her unable to walk again, everything tended to hurt in some capacity. She hated being stuck in a wheelchair, and while it may be state-of-the-art courtesy of her father’s rank and influence within Hiroshi Technologies, it was still simply a crutch and a reminder of just how much of a useless human being she was outside of the virtual world. Sure, she had her intelligence, technical skills, and a myriad of other work-related assets that made her quite valuable within the company. But was that all she was?

The girl couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror without seeing a scarred, handicapped, monster.

Kasumi took over once again after about ten minutes of hang time, and she glanced across the room with a cheesy smirk, passed the gathering of her clan mates, to where Nao was casually sitting on the couch doing her best impression of “proud black female badass extraordinaire”.

For all of Michael’s faults, he still managed to make her laugh in and out of the workplace.

The sounds of her guild mates speaking behind the shop interface was anxiety causing. She wanted so badly to speak up, but she didn't want to lose her place in the shop and sometimes the two didn't work so well together. Charlize's knee bounced in the real world as she couldn't take it but another moment. She opened her mic, speaking her two cents, "We really hauled ass this time around, I can hardly wait to buy something. she admitted, even though she knew she should have been saving every credit she got.

Rose swiped away the interface in front of her and then back again. The page had updated, and she had lost her spot. She knew it was going to happen, but she felt a bit of betrayal anyways. She closed the shop as she leaned back on one of the couches that sat across from the two as they made silly exchanges. She wondered how fast Blink would respond to Nao's indulgences or if she would just ignore her as she sometimes did.

Looking to her direct left, Kasumi had returned from her down time and Rose couldn't help but speak once again, "Welcome back Kas. she said sweetly, giving a gentle smile, the petite purse of her lips always a bit mischievous in nature. Crossing her legs the other way, she let her body lean back onto the couch. It was clear that everyone had been tired from the big battle, but the winnings were worth celebrating.

Everything that had happened during the recent battle was par for the course over the guilds recent exchanges. The Fists played up and tried to troll some of the lower level Lion members before realising that they were no match for the senior members of the team. Even those who preferred a steering wheel in hand over a gun made short work of The Fists finest fighters. The Lions were well known and more than anything, they were respected. While banter was always a part of combat the Lions had a reputation for being humble in defeat and victory...for the most part at least.

Ataxia returned from his designated room in the guilds complex, storing his items away and changing his avatars clothes to something much more his style. The casual suit was something he felt much more comfortable in and almost granted him instant bonus points in the DDR World. He had progressively gotten better over the past two years and was hoping to improve on last years result.

He caught little of the conversation before he returned but did get a glimpse of Rosetta flicking through the store...again. Whenever he looked her way she always seemed to have the store open but maybe he just timed his glances in her direction perfectly. Approaching the table Ataxia smiled and gestured to the group with a lax salute. "Rose are you ever going to get off that damn shop?" With a chuckle Ataxia took a seat next to her, nodding at Kasumi and giving Naomi a thumbs up.

Given the size of the table the lack of people sat at it Ataxia began to wonder if they had lost more people than he'd thought. He looked around the room to see if he could see anyone hiding but given how open it was, the chances were slim. "Where is everyone or did we lose more people that I thought?"

Panic. A marginalised sense of fear that exponentially grew from stress inducing stimuli. She had kept it down for a short while, baiting it out and restraining it for the shortest of periods, to garner a brief, barely usable amount of time. She didn't have a choice - it didn't matter the tedium, there was importance in what she had to do. She had never been a mult-itasker, but to call this mismanagement of time, or lack of experience, or even just a mistake would be the greatest underestimation since the advent of the concept.

Cassandra had broken out into a full-on sprint. She weaved through streets, calling upon a mental map, listened with way-points, checkpoints and beacons of various kinds to navigate what otherwise would have been a complex route. This wasn't her first time running it, and God knew it wouldn't be the last, but committing it to memory made the trek slightly more bearable. Occasionally she got ahead of herself: failing to remember a pothole, or stumbling into an entirely new one; near enough, or sometimes entirely, barrelling into another pedestrian; making a miss turn in her boundless rush. If she hadn't learnt the route by heart it couldn't be told where she would end up.

Direction, balance, navigation - all skills she could display flawlessly in Universe. Of course, she had a digital map in there.

"Watch where 'ya fuckin' running, love!" the voice of one such hapless pedestrian called out, as Cassie tore through the street, only barely shouting back a "Sorry mate!" before she ducked into one of the many alleyways that dotted the run. Bundled up in one hand was a string bag, held taught in her fist to stop it swinging about as she ran. It was a reusable one, something she picked up a few years ago, because no way in hell was she paying for the luxury to carry things home.

With a few more turns, and a couple more incidents of dubious socially aware nature, she stumbled her way to her door. Out of breath and more than a bit embarrassed by the sorry affair that was her life, she fumbled her key into the multiple keyholes lining the metal shield, and pushed her way in, locking the door behind herself. But she had no time to rest - being in the house meant nothing, and the run was simply a test of her courage, her tenacity, and her dedication. The true challenge came now.

Immediately as she pushed through the central entrance way, she came into living room. Kitchen on her left, overlooking the settee straight ahead, shitty TV just to the right, and all the furniture pushed squarely into the walls for the Arc System in the centre. Treadmill, headset, gloves - everything she needed. As the largest room in the apartment, it made the most sense to station the thing there. Not like the workshop or bedroom could fit it, and the bathroom, oddly enough, didn't make much sense.

Cassandra kicked off her shoes, tossed the bag onto the counter to her left, and ran up to the Arc System, powering it up. With the new commotion nearby, something on the sofa stirred awake, rising herself from slumber with a powerful stretch and yawn.
"Alright you princess bitch, it's done, you hear me?" she called over to the sleeping figure, as she ducked back into the kitchen. From the bag, she pulled out a pouch, just as the figure herself ran in behind her and up to a bowl with a soft mew.

In one swift movement, Cassie tore the package open, and pushed the food out in front of the cat. As always, Isabella took priority. She knelt down beside the thing, as she dug into the wet food that had been graciously bestowed from above, and ran her fingers through her absurdly long fur.
"You've got enough for a week now, you best not bother me like that again, you God damned... snuggle muffin." Even attempting to scold her was a wasted exercise, as with a sigh she gave in, and took off to her Arc System.

Not moments later did she have the gear set up, and ready to run. Giving one last, cursory glass over to Isabella, who had moved onto licking the edges of the bowl, and the surrounding floor, clean, Cassandra pulled the visor down over her head, and let her vision be overtaken.



The purple suited, still armoured up avatar of Freischutz materialised into the War Room, where she had just previously, and unceremoniously, logged off. They were barely finished with the fight when Isabella had begun to beg for food. The cat was a glutenous sod, and could eat her weight three times over if anyone let her, Cassie understood that well. But she had already been fed hours prior - no cat should be able to eat that much food.

"Alright bitches, I'm back!" She announced. Moments after she had logged in, Freischutz took to de-equipping her gear. Shaed still equipped, guns still very obviously on her person, there had been practically no downtime. Between the raid and the run, mentally and physically she was exhausted. But at the very least, she was done now.

"Not dead, just tired as shit." she threw back to Ataxia, whose conversation she caught the arse end of as she joined, "You lot aren't still counting credits, are you? I just wanna escape the work, don't make me do moooooreeee." she cried, dropping herself onto a nearby chair, "Slaves, I'm telling 'ya. Sheeple, all of you!"

With the last comment, the irony was not lost on her.

3N1GMA sat quietly observing the shenanigans of his fellow clanmates. His thoughts were neither here nor there as he twirled tendrils of magical energy around his fingers, a devious smirk on his face. Leon took the opportunity to explore a slightly sinister attitude while occupying the Universe in an attempt to mask his true demeanor in the real world; he figured it might make him a little harder to identify if it ever came to it. That being said, 3N1GMA could be quite wicked and ominous at times.

The battle had been easy enough...the Fists, though a formidable clan in their own right, aren't much of a match for the Lions. Brute force doesn't always win out, after all. Battle is an art and takes a certain finesse that people like the Fists seem to lack. The loot was plentiful in any case and 3N1GMA’s virtual pockets were stuffed.

He always found Naomi's alluring nature to be amusing whenever she used it to tease members of the clan...nothing like a little seductive mind game to liven things up. As the chatter continued within the group, 3N1GMA didn't decide to chime in until Freischutz made her comment about sheeple.

”Baa.”

He smirked and tossed a tiny spark of magical lighting toward her arm meant to be nothing more than a startling shock.

While the others most certainly went off on their way back to the war room with their loot, Lux had taken a slight detour away towards their base after the success of stomping the Fists. If Jason, and so Lux guessed, the others would be busy getting back to base and counting their credits excessively, wasting monumental time that could be dedicated elsewhere, especially since he could just spawn there later. And he couldn't blame his comrades either, they had taken quite a bit from the Fists after that poor display of power they attempted on the Lion's lower members, and the only real gripe that Lux had with the entire scenario was their failure at properly protecting some of the lower members. If he had just moved a bit faster with his shields, opted to utilize his artifact, or even had a bit better aim, perhaps some of his guild members could have been spared the grind they now faced. A grind that Lux didn't mind giving some assistance in if they weren't working on some sort of project or the hunt. Either way, he opted to store most of his items in his base before heading up to his 'office' within the underwater complex.

Sitting down at the work desk with a holoscreen, Lux pulled up several new commission offers they had received, but none of them seemed worth the effort for the amount the avatars were offering. Not to say Lux didn't want the challenge or lack thereof sometimes, but lowballing a payment often meant whatever project the cheapskate was insisting on pushing on Lux would be axed and deleted from the messages. And besides, Lux had other, personal ones they were focusing on that Jason felt would make a killing on the market if he could get them down right. Though, figuring out how exactly he could create some schematics for his ideas, let alone the materials in the Universe was another question entirely... At least Lux seemed to have the funding for them, and as he glanced over his credits from the raid, Lux matched Jason's expression with a proud, passionate smirk. Oh yeah, he definitely had the funding.

Though with nothing new going on, and since the new commissions he was alerted about got the axe, nothing was stopping him from heading back to the guild base. They probably were wondering where Lux was, but luckily, he could just teleport into his own room in the guild base with some maneuvering through the interface. From there, Lux confidently strode through the base towards the War room to meet up with the others, opening the door with Lux's normal avatar attire. Jason had caught the end of Freischutz' comments as Lux entered the room, along with hearing the baa coming from 3N1GMA. Lux couldn’t help but cock their head slightly at the duo, letting out a small chuckle before finding a nice corner to lean against.

"Cheeky lot, aren’t you all? I take it you're done awing at your loot and ready to get on to other things, yeah?”